Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy by Jo Beverley Page B

flushed.
    Kitty wondered if she were flushed, then realized her skin would hide it. "You're rather good at this," she murmured to the man by her side.
    " At what, dear lady? Kissing or playing gooseberry." A teasing wink disarmed her outrage. "As for the latter, I have a sister, remember. I've seen it in operation. Had to play my part now and then."
    Soon they were at a card table, enjoying a simple gambling game for outrageous stakes. Lord Chatterton cheated, and soon Pol learned from him, with both Ned and Kitty protesting at their tricks. Kitty laughed more than she had in a year, and enjoyed herself perhaps more than she could ever remember.
    At one crystal moment, she realized that she could love to live like this. But this was a momentary sparkle in the dark, like the stars from fireworks, enduring only for a moment.
    Soon Pol would be the maid again, and she the mistress. Lord Chatterton would have his servants back and live as a noble should. He would attend splendid balls, dine with important people, and if he played cards, it would be for more moderate stakes, but real ones.
    Kitty would be alone again, perhaps without even Pol for company.
    She shrugged that away. She had this moment with perhaps more of them before Twelfth Night. She would enjoy them while she could.
    At ten o'clock, they prepared to return home, finding a sleek black tomcat waiting by the back door.
    " Is your cat safe?" he asked Kitty as he arranged her shawl around her shoulders.
    " I believe so."
    " Then I'll let him out. He's not used to being confined at night."
    " What if he sets up his serenade outside our house again?"
    He smiled down at her. "Then you can imagine him my minstrel, sent to serenade you, my moonbeam queen."
    Kitty sucked in an unsteady breath. "You are a wicked man, my lord."
    " Aren't all toms?"
    The two men escorted them back, the tomcat slipping ahead into Kitty's garden. His owner opened the gate and Kitty went through with him before realizing Ned and Pol had hesitated on the other side.
    "Another kiss?" she asked in humorous comment.
    " Why not?" he said with a smile.
    Kitty didn't pretend to struggle as he kissed her warmly in a way that created an excellent illusion of tender care.
    "Good night, dear lady," he murmured afterward, adjusting her shawl around her. "I wish I could believe that you will dream of me."
    She shivered slightly at his tone. "Will you dream of me?"
    " Oh, undoubtedly." He kissed her hand, looking into her eyes. "Pale, slender, and bathed in starshine."
    Kitty did step back at that, freeing herself and pulling her dark shawl even closer around her black dress. He hadn't said "naked", but she'd heard it.
    Perhaps she was playing a much more dangerous game than she'd thought.
     
    <<-->>
     
    If there was danger, it was elusive, for the courtship progressed as it had begun. While London celebrated the Twelve Days of Christmas, Kitty, Lord Chatterton, Ned, and Pol met each evening to talk and play games.
    And to kiss.
    Or at least, Lord Chatterton kissed Kitty. She could only assume that Ned was kissing Pol. It would be intrusive to ask.
    Surely they must be kissing, for they showed no sign of tiring of each other. In fact, Pol began to act as if she'd given her wits into Ned's keeping the way she wandered around during the day letting things burn and boil over.
    Kitty found herself a little absentminded herself now and then. She felt different, different all over. Sometimes she caught herself stroking her own body, imagining a man's arms around her. Thank heavens there was no one to see!
    Perhaps the sanest creature in the house was Sherry, now restored to disinterest in the male of the species. This didn't prevent some of the toms from lurking and squabbling in the garden, but most of them had clearly left for more promising spots.
    Rochester stayed around, however, occasionally caterwauling his claim to his territory, sounding remarkably like a lover serenading beneath the window of his