He exhaled, his thumb still moving temptingly against her, the layers of fabric seeming to burn away under his touch. “I don’t blame you,” he whispered. “I fully earned every curse your lips could ever utter, and then some. You saw me for what I was, and I admire such honesty of sight.”

“I should have been more generous with my opinions and thoughts,” she countered, her fingers reaching out for the edge of his jacket, trembling with hesitation. “I should have been more like Izzy, or Prue, or Grace…”

Hugh’s hand was suddenly at her cheek, silencing her at once. “I would not wish you to be anyone other than Elinor Asheley, madam. If you please. Is that understood?”

A pounding began in Elinor’s ears, beating a steady cadence that drowned out everything else but the less steady breathing of her lungs. “Yes,” she somehow heard herself whisper, not entirely sure what question she was answering.

He smiled a perfect, gentle smile at her, and his thumb stroked her heated cheek. “Good.” He glanced up then, and his mouth curved with some amusement before his eyes were back on hers. “Your favorite plant, Elinor.”

“What?” She looked and saw, ironically, a bunch of mistletoe hanging just above them.

Of course, it was.

“What do you mean by that, I wonder?” Hugh mused.

Her eyes fell back to his, her heartbeat picking up. “Did I say that out loud?”

He nodded slowly. “You did. I wonder what tone you wished those words to have.”

His thumb caressed her cheek once more, and she shivered at it.

He seemed to laugh without actually laughing. “No one is here but us,” he pointed out. “No one would know if you walked away.”

Walked away? When the moment was so delicious?

She wet her lips, and Hugh’s eyes darted there before slowly dragging back up to hers with new interest. “You’re not walking away.”

“No,” he whispered, stepping closer. “No, I’m not.”

They stood there, a breath apart, her skin only growing more heated beneath his touch, the moment suspended between them. Tradition dictated they kiss.

Her heart yearned to obey. Her lips tingled further still, waiting.

The kiss was there, hovering on the air.

All they had to do was…

Hugh slid the hand on her arm down until it reached her hand, cradling it in his own. Then he brought it up to his mouth, his lips caressing the back of her hand, her knuckles, and the base of her wrist, each one eliciting a further shiver that rippled across her skin.

He turned her hand over and pressed the gentlest of kisses to the burning palm of that hand, exhaling softly against the skin.

Oh, to burn in such a place and at such a time…

“Elinor?” the voice of Elizabeth drifted down to them. “Papa has asked that we sing again and requested I seek you out. Can you come?”