Visions of Mistletoe: A Ridlington Christmas Novella Read online

  His demeanour was one of elegant simplicity; no Dandy tendencies or Byronic affectations. This morning he was garbed in a deep blue jacket and tan breeches, his boots mirror-bright, his waistcoat a whimsical shade of green. The shirt above it was pristine white and his cravat secured with a simple gold pin.

  Perhaps it was the touch of silver above his ears, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled…whatever it was, Grace had privately confessed to more than a few tugs of attraction whenever he was present. His behaviour toward her had always been correct, lighthearted and everything it should be.

  If she sensed a little touch of flirtation in some of his comments, well…it was more because she wished they were there. For surely she could not be the object of anyone’s personal interest. She was too old, for one thing, and too…

  “What do you think, Grace?” Max interrupted her inner cogitations.

  She blinked. “Forgive me. My mind was elsewhere.” She gave her annoying brother an apologetic grin. “What do I think of what?”

  “Perry’s suggestion.”

  “Goodness, I really must have been miles away.” Turning to the other man, she sighed. “I am sorry. What was your suggestion, Perry?”

  He grinned. “No apologies necessary. My own mind wanders when Max starts on his stories.”

  “Hey.” An outraged exhalation from her brother.

  “Hush, Max. ’Twas all my fault. Now, Perry…please? Your suggestion?”

  “As I was explaining to Max, I am looking at purchasing a tidy property outside London. I know you have a home in the country, and I was wondering if you’d be good enough to come and look at it with me this morning?”

  “Oh…I…er…”

  “I should perhaps mention I won’t take no for an answer.” He smiled, robbing the words of any sense of being an order.

  Which Grace felt they were. “Uh…”

  “I will also add that I have requested the staff to provide lunch for us. That way we can take our time.” He leaned back. “I would very much value your thoughts, Grace. I can certainly make judgments on the property; lands, buildings and so on. But I need a better sense of the interior design. Would it suffice for a gentleman of my advanced years? How many rooms do I actually require? Would I be buying a massive ballroom when I really wouldn’t need one, or could I convert such a space into something more useful?” He smiled sweetly. “You can see how much I need your assistance.”

  She was not seduced by that smile. Well, not a lot, anyway.

  “Surely there are others in your family who would be better able to serve those needs, Perry…” It occurred to her that she knew very little about his family.

  He shook his head. “Not really. My only relative is a nephew in Scotland. No help at all.”

  “Ah.” No luck there.

  “And is there not one wife of a friend who might act as advisor?”

  Again he shook his head. “Not a one. They’re all terribly busy this morning.”

  She raised a sceptical eyebrow. “How unfortunate.”

  “So you see why I’m at my wits’ end. You are my only hope, dear Grace. I must throw myself upon your good nature and beg you to accompany me.”

  “The man is offering lunch as well, sister. Take him up on his offer.” Max contributed his mite, earning a look of mild disgust from Perry.

  “I believe Grace is above the lure of food, Max. Unlike others in her family.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” she expostulated. “Don’t start bickering. I’m not above administering a box to both your ears. And Max knows I will do it.”

  “She doesn’t pull her punches, either.” He rubbed one ear as he reminisced. “You have to admire older sisters. If not, you end up with permanently red ears. And one or two frogs in your bed.”

  “I did not…” She paused. “Oh. Well. That was a long time ago.”

  Perry’s lips twitched. “Frogs?”

  “They were the lesser of two evils. I don’t like snakes.” An honest confession.

  “That settles it. You have to accompany me. I want to hear more of how you tortured this poor unfortunate here during his misspent youth.”

  Max sighed. “You’d better go with him, Grace. He won’t give either of us any peace until you say yes.”

  She looked across the table into smiling whiskey-coloured eyes. And surrendered to their mute appeal. “All right. I will go with you, Perry. But we must return right after lunch.”

  “Of course, my dear.” He rose and bowed.

  He was all smiles and charm. And she had the strangest feeling he was lying through his white teeth.

  Being a mature woman, Grace is not easily swayed into romance, but she’s never run into anyone quite so determined as Perry. It’s quite a chase through snow, snowball fights, music and passion…

  *~~*~~*

  And the one Christmas novella that began this habit (and will introduce you to the glorious beverage known as Chillendale ale - even though it’s got nothing to do with the Ridlingtons)

  The Mistletoe Marquess

  Prologue

  Chillendale Hall glowed with lights as the snow began to fall. It had come early this year, smiled the residents of Little Chillendale, happy because snow was the harbinger of the Festive season. And if anyone knew how to celebrate that time of year it was the hardy folks who called that delightful village home.

  There would be parties of children sent out into the forest to gather greenery; sharp bundles of fir, some crisp evergreen leaves and whatever else would work for decorating their homes. Plum puddings and fruit cakes had already been stirred on one special November day and were tucked away in brandy-soaked cloths, aging to perfection. A successful stirring guaranteed good luck in the new year.

  All these things were also done at Chillendale Hall, of course, but in that elegant country home, less than a mile from the village that bore its name, there was a great deal more on the list of things to attend to.

  Sir Rodney and Lady Jocelyn Chillendale, along with their household, were already preparing for the upcoming events. They were overseeing a variety of activities on the part of their staff; everything from log gathering—with special attention to the selection of the Yule log—a workable baking schedule which would keep the kitchens lively for several weeks, and the final selection of the ale to be served this year.

  That was Sir Rodney’s favorite part of the entire process, since it meant he got to spend more than a few days tasting his own ale and wandering happily through the Chillendale cellars, singing carols now and again. The ones he could remember the words to.

  He refused to accept he might be a little inebriated, but did wonder now and then how he had lucked into such a delightful chore.

  The Young Master—Reid Chillendale—was everywhere, helping where he could, making sure his father didn’t overdo the ale tasting, and also stirring a pudding for luck, when Cook would allow it.

  He liked the season and enjoyed the fun, but in the back of his mind lurked a somewhat more troubling spectre.

  This year it would be his turn to become The Marquess of Mistletoe—and it would be his turn to take a bride.

  Tradition had it that when a young Chillendale man turned twenty-eight and was still unwed, a suitable bride would be chosen and announced at the Mistletoe Ball. The thinking behind the idea was that if a lad couldn’t do it himself after at least a decade of looking, then someone else should damn well do it for him. One such fellow was selected from the pool of eligible lads every Christmas.

  Reid had prayed there would be plenty of others in the village of that significant age. But, to his horror, none of the local lads had reached that milestone. He was the only candidate.

  Of course, the heir to Chillendale being this year’s Lord Mistletoe was cause for enormous excitement. While none of the village girls really expected to be chosen for Mr. Reid, there were, nonetheless, plenty of fluttering heartbeats beneath the dimity bodices and homespun spencer
s.

  Reid was viewed as the local “catch”; a title he ignored, much as he ignored his height, regular countenance, rich brown hair and dark eyes. He did not think of himself as handsome, or an eligible bachelor. In fact, he seldom thought of himself at all.

  His commitment was to Chillendale and the Chillendale ales, which he fully intended to see attain the reputation he knew they deserved.

  All this fuss and bother about picking him a wife…well, that was something best left to his mother, if necessary. In his opinion it wasn’t, not right now anyway, but persuading everyone else of that was turning out to be all but impossible.

  He’d been to many county affairs, balls, afternoon teas, summer picnics and whatnot, and enjoyed them all. He had friends, a thriving estate he helped run, some wonderful horses, and his life was—not to put too fine a point on it—bloody near perfect; serene and comfortable.

  He had absolutely no interest whatsoever in acquiring a wife. And that was that.

  But then the days drew in, the snow arrived, and with it the inevitability that he would have to assume the title of Lord Mistletoe for the duration.

  And he’d have to accept the wife selected for him.

  Lady Jocelyn informed him that there was only one name in the running as far as she and his father were concerned.

  Miss Emmeline Southwick, daughter of Sir Francis and Lady Mary Southwick.

  Upon being told about Emmeline, Reid had nodded. She was the most suitable, of course. Her background was unimpeachable, her beauty had made her the reigning belle of most every local event in the past two years, and she would be nineteen within a few months. She was due to make her debut in town in the New Year when the Season began.

  If Reid didn’t snap her up, declared his mother, then she would be off to London in and he would have lost his chance.

  Biting back his immediate response, which was that he really wouldn’t mind very much, he just sighed.

  Emmeline was a good sort. A bit girlish, but what young woman wasn’t? She would certainly grace his table, and it wouldn’t be a hardship to have her as his wife.

  But something—something he couldn’t describe—was missing.

  When she wasn’t there, it took a bit of effort to recall her appearance. There was no…no spark in Emmeline, nothing that lit an answering spark in his heart. Or his body for that matter. In fact, when he actually considered the matter, there wasn’t much spark in his life overall.

  And that bothersome notion was what sent Reid out into the first winter snowfall to gather more evergreens for Chillendale Hall.

  And changed his life in a most unexpected way.

  He couldn’t know that at that very moment, a woman was feeling an unusually strong compulsion to bundle herself into her cloak and go out for a brief walk in the snow…

  About the Author

  British born and bred, Sahara Kelly has enjoyed writing and reading Regency romances for many decades, beginning in her childhood with books by Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland.

  Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels, all the original James Bonds, and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings.

  She never quite managed to attain a level of comfort with the American way of spelling, however, and creating a Regency novel offers challenges in that regard. So you’ll see words that British readers will recognize, but American readers might perhaps find unusual. It’s a choice… should one write an English romance using English spelling? Sahara has come around to that belief. She can now enjoy the extra “u” which has always seemed so colourful…

  After more than two decades of writing, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene and looking forward to many more such experiences.

  Being freed of external controlling restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)

  To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:

  Sahara Kelly’s website

  This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a beach in Aruba and be pampered with massages accompanied by drinks with umbrellas in them. She’ll send you a postcard. Thank you.

  When not dreaming of lazing on tropical beaches, Sahara has a modestly active social presence on the Internet. Take a look:

  Follow Sahara on Twitter

  Friend her on Facebook

  Follow her on BookBub

  Get lots of her news from Amazon

  Also By Sahara Kelly

  (*- co-written with S.L. Carpenter)

  A Melody for Rose

  The Wednesday Club, Book Two

  A Gentleman for Judith

  The Wednesday Club, Book One

  ~

  The Dowager Countess

  The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book Two

  Lady Adalyn

  The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book One

  ~

  The Landlocked Baron

  Book 1 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series

  St. Simon’s Sin

  Book 2 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series

  Word of a Lady

  Book 3 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series

  The Mistress Wager

  Book 4 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series

  Blackmail and the Bride

  Book 5 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series

  Mistletoe Masquerade

  A Ridlington Christmas Novella

  Music and Mistletoe

  A Ridlington Christmas Novella

  ~

  The Mistletoe Marquess

  Outrageous Ladies

  ~

  Honor and Secrets

  Book 1 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series

  Control and Compassion

  Book 2 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series

  Endings and Beginnings

  Book 3 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series

  ~

  Consent

  Sword Play

  ~

  Oh My Laird!

  Book 4 in the Regency Rascals Series

  Deverell’s Obsession

  Book 3 in the Regency Rascals Series

  The Fifth Wife

  Book 2 in the Regency Rascals Series

  Julia and the Devil

  Book 1 in the Regency Rascals Series

  ~

  Discreet Madness

  The Viscount and the Witch

  Feels So Right*

  ~

  Whole Lotta Love Series

  Love in the Cards*

  Love on the Road*

  Love Under the Lights*

  ~

  Haunted Seductions*

  Happy Endings*

  With a Little Help from my Friends (with Ciana Stone)

  Letting Off Steam

  Winding Her Up

  Stripping Her Gears

  My Renaissance Romance

  Hired Help*

  Open House

  So Into You*

  Faerieland needs YOU

  My Wish

  My Prize

  My Hero

  Showing Off *

  And more…

  *~~*~~*

  Sahara would like to mention that she and S.L. Carpenter co-own a small business, and have been up and running for over five years. They have blended another of their shared passions — art —
and formed an online graphics business focusing on the complicated world of writers. If you’re interested in seeing what they get up to when they’re not writing something twistedly hot and sexy, they’d like to invite you to come visit their company at the link below and check out some of the amazing cover art they’re creating. No wonder they have no time to be bored!

  P and N Graphics

  www.pandngraphics.com

  Happy Reading.