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“Or perfectly awful. I had just climbed onto the stool to fix this sagging bough when you walked in and caught me in the act.”

“Timing is everything,” he teased.

She cast him an impudent grin. “Indeed, it is. And you are just in time to help me put up the mistletoe.”

“Does this mean I get to kiss you?”

She blushed. “I hope so.”

“That sounds promising. How many are you going to put up?” he asked, thinking he could not have arrived at a better moment.

“I have two balls of mistletoe.”

“Good, that will take us to kisses eight and nine,” he said, studying her lips with interest. They were just the sort of lips a man would not mind kissing, not thin or pinched, but full and soft.

“Eight and nine,” she said in a whisper, and looked up at him with eyes reflecting her regret. “Almost at an end.”

“Then I had better make them memorable for you.”

“All of yours have been unforgettable,” she said so quietly that he had to read her lips in order to make out her words above the festive din of volunteers, who were already exhibiting particularly good cheer.

Many were in their cups, which he found rather surprising, since they were in a church and preparing for charitable festivities.

He may have been partly to blame, since he had sent over a goodly supply of ale, wine, and mead along with treacle cakes and other assorted treats to provide them sustenance while they worked.

No wonder the boughs were sagging.

He assisted Ailis in straightening out those that were threatening to fall, but there really was not much left to be done with the decorations other than hang the mistletoe.

Ailis was not the only one stringing them up, but she was the only one he intended to assist and then kiss. Two other young ladies were doing the same, and each had two or three young men eager to aid them.

No one had lined up for Ailis, but this was likely because he was with her now and no one dared approach.

The other young ladies had started on theirs, each playing up their work to the cheers and bawdy comments of those gathered around them. As each ball of mistletoe was put up, a young man of the lady’s choosing was invited to kiss her.

Jonas noticed these were not tame kisses.

Good.

His would not be tame, either.

He held Ailis by the waist while she climbed up three steps of a small ladder to reach the height of the first doorway.

Since her injured arm was still in a sling, she struggled to hook her mistletoe onto the bough of holly and ivy already strung across the transom.

It took her several tries, but she was in no danger of falling while he held her securely about the waist.

He felt a current of attraction flow through him every time he touched her.

Even earlier today when he had been in such a rage, the mere sight of her had soothed him.

She was soft as a lamb and had magical eyes that always seemed to sparkle, and golden hair that seemed ready to burst from its pins at any moment.

When she was through, he lifted her down from her perch, keeping his arms firmly around her so that she would not fall even when she suddenly lost her footing and accidentally slid down his body.

“Ailis,” he said with a groaning laugh. “Are you trying to torture me?”

She clutched his shoulder in desperation, having only the one good arm for support while the other was still bound.

It was a deliciously slow slide.

The crowd enjoyed the show. Everyone moved over to them and began to chant, “Kiss her!”

Jonas winked at Mrs. Curtis, who had been helping out with the church decorations along with her regular housekeeping duties at the vicar’s manse and now cheered hardest.

Heaven and earth, he was going to kiss Ailis breathless.

And he did.

A roar sprang up throughout the crowd.

He barely heard the thunderous bellows and whistles, for all had faded into the background the moment he sank his lips onto Ailis’s rosebud mouth and felt the soft give of her lips as she responded with shyness, at first, and then gave in to the moment with all her heart.

He did not release her when it ended.

He could not release her, for she looked thoroughly dazed and decidedly out of balance. Nor did he want to let go of her now that she had admitted her feelings. Somehow, she had become a part of him, the missing part he had been longing for during all those years of battle, blood, and captivity.

Other ladies began to offer their assistance, calling out to Ailis to hand over the second mistletoe to them.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

He took the mistletoe out of her hand and clutched it firmly. “Where do we hang this next one?”

Ailis pointed to another door, one that led out from the nave.

Now all the volunteers followed them to it, cheering as Jonas swept Ailis into his arms and lifted her once again onto the third step of a small ladder. Cries of “kiss her” began before she had finished hooking the mistletoe atop the doorway.

When she was done, he set her down and drew her into his arms.

As he closed his mouth over hers for kiss number nine, he already knew what kiss number ten had to be.

For all the depth and heart of their ninth kiss, for all the sweetness of her lips and the possessive claim of his, neither this kiss nor all the others that had come before would match the splendor of kiss number ten.

Still, he held this kiss for as long as he dared. And ended it with greatest reluctance.

But he also realized that as her volunteers sobered, they would begin to wonder if something more was going on between him and Ailis.

Well, that could not be helped.

But he sought to dispel any rumors by staying on after the decorating was done and game stalls had been built, sharing a drink with the men and mildly flirting with the ladies while they cleared the tables and prepared them for the piles of food to be delivered at the start of tomorrow’s festivities.

When the night drew to a close, he walked Ailis next door to the manse where she and her uncle resided. The day had been a long one for her, so he did not delay her when she retired to her bedchamber while he spoke to her uncle.

The vicar had not been present during the volunteer work, no doubt hiding in his office while his parishioners drank too much and indulged in a little too much revelry.

Jonas liked Vicar Temple because he was not one of those righteous moralists. He understood that sometimes a little sin was permissible, for the world was too often a bad place and people needed a release from the torments of their daily struggle.

“Vicar Temple, I have something important to ask you.”

“Come into my study, Your Grace. It is not nearly as fine as yours, but more than adequate for my needs. Here, let me clear off this pile of books from the chair. Please, do have a seat.”

Once they were both comfortably settled, the vicar opened the conversation. “Now, Your Grace, what is it you wish to ask me?”

“Well, vicar…”

The night was cold and a stiff wind was blowing by the time Jonas left the vicarage and walked to the Marble House Inn to meet his guests, who had only now finished their elegant supper and were ready to return to Langford Hall.

His mother and brother were the first to walk out.

The Tenneys and Montroys stumbled into the cold night soon after them, none of them feeling the chill, since they had obviously imbibed too much.

Carstairs and his daughter came out last and did not bother to acknowledge Jonas while they climbed into the last carriage of their small caravan along with Pomeroy.

Only his mother and brother dared to climb into his lead carriage. “How was your supper?” Jonas asked, not really caring but knowing he ought to allow for some conversation.

“Terrible,” his mother responded as his pair of matched bays got underway. “The food was excellent, but Viola was insufferable. Her father does no good by indulging her petulance. Of course, Pomeroy fawned over her all night long. He will have Carstairs approving of his match to Viola by tomorrow.”

“And Whitcomb? Has he had any success with Willa Montroy?”

Edward shrugged. “Most likely. Neither of those young ladies will get offers from a serious gentleman. Willa’s father knows he will get no one better than Whitcomb stepping forward.

If his only choice is to pick the best of the fortune hunters lined up in queue at his door, then Whitcomb wins out handily. And how was your night?”

Jonas shrugged. “Good.”

Edward laughed. “That’s it? Just good? Did you spend the entire evening in Miss Temple’s company?”

“It was a madhouse, but all the preparations are now done. The vicar is holding an early morning service tomorrow and then the fun and games begin. I’ll have the Langford carriages available for anyone who wishes to attend his service, and for the later festivities as well.”

“Pies and games? Sounds dull.”

“Edward! Show a little respect,” their mother said. “We shall be there, Ramsdale. It is our duty to attend the service and the charity affair. Ignore your brother.”

“Yes, ignore me. Everyone else does,” Edward muttered.

Jonas caught the undercurrent of hurt in his brother’s voice. “Well, take heart,” he said, casting him a wicked grin. “I’m sure the Tenney sisters won’t mind cheering you up.”

“Yes, they are a most enthusiastically bouncy pair.”

Their mother sighed. “I have raised heathens.”

Jonas winked at his brother. “Join me for a drink in my study before you retire for the evening. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“You are not going to lecture me about my moral decay, are you?”

“No, you clot. Join me, all right?”

Edward nodded. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Temple, would it?”