Miss Mistletoe - A Sealed With a Kiss Christmas Novella
Excerpt
She closed her eyes, assaulted by a barrage of memories so
strong, it was as if she were once again standing in Aunt Vivian’s ballroom,
surrounded by the trimmings of Christmas and the low roar of a hundred guests
laughing and making merry.
She had strategically situated herself beside the
mistletoe, hoping against hope that Finn would reemerge from wherever he and
Richard had gotten off to. She knew there wasn’t much time, and each second
that ticked by was both unbearably slow and entirely too fast. Nervousness had
her belly doing somersaults, and she pressed a hand to her middle in the vain
effort to quell her fluttering nerves. Her eyes darted to the arching doorway
above her for perhaps the twentieth time in the past ten minutes. Of course,
nothing had changed in the last fifteen seconds.
There were still only two berries left on the mistletoe.
Two.
She swallowed, glancing around the crowded room.
Blast—where were they? She willed the people around her
not to approach the alcove in which the bough was hung, not to kiss one another
and carelessly strip one of the few remaining precious berries from the
mistletoe. She knew the tradition—once the berries were gone, that was it. No
more kissing until next Christmas.
The problem was, she couldn’t wait until next year. There
was no telling if he would even be here then. She had waited for at least seven
of her sixteen years to be noticed by him—if it didn’t happen tonight, then it
never would. Since he had graduated from Eton last spring, she knew there would
be no more summers together at Hertford, where she visited her cousins, and
Finn rusticated with Richard for a few weeks before their next semester began.
Soon he would be off to university—Oxford to Richard’s Cambridge—and if he was
to think of her ever again, she had to do something he wouldn’t forget. Something
that would open his eyes to her, and force him to see her as the young lady she
was becoming, and not the girl she had been.
And this was her chance.
At last she saw him, his dark mahogany head catching her
eye as he and Richard entered the back of the ballroom. Relief and hope washed
through her like a cool breeze in the overheated room. She had only to catch
their eye—a friendly wave should be enough to get them to come say hello.
Another guest, Mr. Brody, stepped into her line of vision
then, and Cece suppressed a groan. Being short was such an inconvenience. Her
irritation was quickly replaced by alarm as the man started toward the
mistletoe, Miss Carrington giggling at his side. Oh no—the two of them were
practically betrothed! They wouldn’t hesitate to take part in this particular
Christmas tradition.
But even as she longed to block their path, Cece knew there
was nothing to be done. She watched helplessly as they stepped beneath the waxy
green leaves. Mr. Brody pressed his lips to his sweetheart’s cheek, then winked
at the crowd as they smiled indulgently. When the deed was done, he reached up
and plucked a berry from the arrangement before escorting Miss Carrington to
the punch table.
Only one berry remained. One precious, irreplaceable berry
that could mean the difference between finally catching Finn’s notice and
losing him forever.
As if sensing her desperation, Richard suddenly looked up. Their
eyes met and she lifted a hand to beckon him over. Her cousin grinned and
nodded, tapping Finn on the shoulder and pointing in her direction.
Cece’s blood went first cold then boiling hot as the corner
of Finn’s lip tilted up in a slight smile before he started toward them. He was
coming! The knot of tension in the middle of her chest loosened a little more
with each step they took. It was an absolute wonder that no one seemed to
notice the thundering of Cece’s heart as she looked from the last, tiny white
berry, to Finn, and back. They were almost there. If no one else stepped up in
the next fifteen seconds, then her plan might work.
Richard and Finn were saying something to each other,
laughing as they slipped through the crowd toward her. Taking a deep, shaky
breath, Cece stepped to her right, finally positioning herself beneath the
mistletoe. She desperately tried to act as though she had no idea that the
festive greenery was suspended above her, an earthly halo that would make her
dreams come true.
“Well, look who it is,” Finn said, smiling at her as he and
Richard came to a stop in front of her. “How different to see you in your Christmas
finery, and not the light muslins of summer.”
Cece smiled, allowing herself to be lost in the deep green
of his eyes. “Good evening, Finn—I mean, Mr. Edgerton. You are looking well
this evening.” She imagined that she could make out his woodsy scent among the
cinnamon, nutmeg, and spirits flavoring the air.
He leaned the slightest bit forward, his eyes flitting down
her frame and back up again. “Not nearly so well as you, Cece.”
The hair on the back of her exposed neck stood on end, and
she scarcely dared to breathe. This was it. He would lean in now, he would kiss
her, and the taste of his lips would flavor hers for eternity, as she would
never let anything touch them again.
“Thank you,” she responded, her throat so tight the words
were barely above a whisper. She unconsciously licked her lips, glad that the
beeswax balm she’d stolen from Evie had made them soft and supple despite the
punishing weather they were having.
“Well, look at that,” Richard said, pointing above Cece’s
head. “You’re under the mistletoe, little cousin.”
The heat that swept Cece’s cheeks was swift and searing.
Leave it to her cousin to get to get to the point of the matter. Cece looked up and gave a nervous little laugh. “I am, aren’t
I?”
Her eyes flitted to Finn, but she was so nervous she couldn’t
even meet his eyes. Instead, she let her gaze fall to somewhere in the vicinity
of Richard’s shoulder while she lifted her cheek slightly, like an offering to
the gods.
Richard chuckled. “Well, never let it be said that we
Moores don’t appreciate tradition.”
What? What did he mean by . . .
Her eyes went wide as she realized what he was about to do.
No—Finn was supposed to kiss her, not Richard! But
before she could muster any sort of response, her cousin pecked her upturned
cheek, exactly as a brother or father might. She stood frozen in horror as he
reached up, plucked the very last berry from the mistletoe, and held it aloft. “Last
of the kisses, my friends.”
There was a smattering of applause from those nearby, all
completely oblivious to her devastation. Richard smiled at her and turned to
leave, and Finn followed suit. No, this couldn’t be happening! This was
supposed to be her moment, the one she had waited hours, days, perhaps even
years for.
As Finn took a step away, she saw the moment for what it
was: her absolute last chance. If she didn’t give him a reason to think of her
as a grown woman, then he would walk away and forget her for the girl she was.
Without thinking, she lurched forward, not even knowing
what she was about to do. Her hand closed around his wrist and he stopped at
once, turning with his brow knitted in question.
She didn’t pause, didn’t consider any of the thousands of
repercussions the moment, played out in front of a whole room full of people,
could bring. Instead, she sucked in a breath, raised on her toes, and pressed
her lips to his.