Page 35 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“If a woman accidentally walks beneath it, she’ll have bad luck unless she’s kissed.”

“Hmm,” she muttered. “A woman having to submit to being kissed… Something tells me it was a man who thought that up.”

His lips twisted. “A man willing to sacrifice himself to evil spirits to protect her.”

“By kissing her?” Clara blew out a disbelieving breath. “Convenient.”

“I don’t make the rules for breaking curses,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I just use them to my advantage.”

“Veryconvenient.”

He grinned and held the sprig over her head, then feigned surprised. “Oh, look! An unmarried lady beneath the mistletoe.” He gasped like a shocked Mayfair miss. “Whatever will she do?”

What she did was hold her breath. He was going to kiss her…

He leaned toward her. “I’m honor-bound to kiss you now,” he murmured, his mouth so close to hers that his warm breath tickled her lips.

“Am I honor-bound to let you?” But she didn’t pull away.

His eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t want to welcome bad luck into the house, would we?”

She remained still as a statue as he tilted his head and touched his lips to hers. The chaste kiss was over almost as soon as it had begun, yet her pulse spiked.

He leaned back while she blinked in a poor attempt to clear her spinning head. She stared at him, silent and stunned.

Then, she was even more stunned when he plucked one of the berries, tossed it away, and said, “One.”

“Pardon?” The word emerged as a throaty rasp, not the squeak she’d expected.

“The woman has to be kissed once for every berry on the sprig. Didn’t I mention that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, you didn’t.”

“My mistake.” He quickly counted the berries. “Eight more kisses required to ward off bad luck.”

“Eight?” This time, her voicedidsqueak. Death by mistletoe… Her heart would never survive it.

He leaned toward her again. “Hmm. I might have miscounted. There might be many, many more berries here.” His lips brushed against hers in a featherlight caress with each murmured word. “We should err on the side of caution, don’t you think?”

She couldn’tthinkto answer at all. Her senses were too overwhelmed by the warmth of his body leaning toward hers, by the strength and masculinity radiating from him, by the unbidden memories flooding back of being in his arms and feeling loved.

She knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t resist the allure of him, the old affection and security she felt with him. Slowly, her lips softened, and with a sigh she moved them invitingly beneath his.

He slipped his arm around her and drew her against him as he kissed her, this time not giving her the frustratingly chaste kiss of before but one of longing. The intensity increased along with the pressure of his lips until the embrace grew heated and a pulsating need blossomed inside her, until she slid her hands up his chest and encircled his neck to pull herself closer.

A low groan rose from his throat, and he murmured her name. Tenderly, but with growing desire, he continued to worship at her lips. Each kiss become slightly more demanding, slightly more entreating, until he teased the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips in a cajoling plea for her to open to him.

A hot shiver twined down her spine. Unable to resist, she opened her mouth with a sigh.

His tongue plunged between her lips. He captured her soft gasp beneath his kiss as he began to tentatively explore the deep recesses of her mouth. His arm tightened its hold around her until her breasts pressed against his hard front, until their pounding heartbeats echoed into each other’s chest. He swirled his tongue around hers in a taunting dare for her to seize her own pleasure, but she couldn’t. She was too overwhelmed, too overwhelmed by him to do anything more than simply drink in his kisses.

His hand holding the mistletoe slowly lowered to her shoulder, then down her side. The leaves brushed over the soft muslin of her dress to her hip, and beneath her dress, goose bumps formed across her skin everywhere he touched. Then his tongue stopped exploring and began to thrust decadently between her lips in long, smooth slides that flared an aching heat between her thighs.

She moaned, and the sound vibrated her lips around his tongue. Her hand slid to his nape to tease her fingers through his hair. Oh heavens, as silky as she remembered… She dug her fingertips into his scalp, unable to stop touching him, unable to keep from arching into him.

He slid his mouth away from hers and trailed openmouthed kisses across her throat. From the way he smiled against her skin, she was certain he could feel her racing pulse beneath his lips.

“Clara,” he whispered, and the hand that rested on her hip began to sweep its way upward.