Hugh nodded, catching her whimsical meaning all too well. He leaned his head back and looked up, only to smile too broadly for the moment. “Well, perhaps an occasional tangible hint.”

Elinor looked at him. “Oh?”

He only pointed up.

She looked, then grinned and began to laugh. “Ugh, it follows me.”

Hugh straightened and stepped closer. “Can you blame the poor mistletoe? Why wouldn’t it want to follow you?”

Elinor’s smile faded, and she stilled. “I can give the mistletoe a list,” she whispered, her eyes now trained on his.

He shook his head slowly. “Mistletoe doesn’t need a list.”

“No?” She took in a sharp breath and took a step towards him.

“Be careful,” he warned. “We’ve been here before.”

A small smile graced her lips. “Nothing happened.”

“Well,” he said with a soft gruffness, “mistletoe is quite dangerous, as we have learned, and more may occur than meets the eye.”

“Really?” Elinor replied playfully. “Such as?

He shrugged. “Who can say? It might not be so easily defined. Dangerous thing, mistletoe.”

“I’m well aware, Mr. Sterling,” she informed him, a laugh in her voice, “and I’m not afraid.”

“No…” he murmured. “No, you wouldn’t be, would you?” He raised a hand and cupped her cheek tenderly. “Does anything scare you, Elinor Asheley?”

Elinor inhaled almost silently. “Yes…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Tell me.”

“This.” She brought her hands to his chest and slid them along the lapels, drawing with them the breath in his lungs. “This scares me, and I want it anyway.”

Hugh swallowed once, already swaying towards her. “So do I,” he breathed just before his lips touched hers.

She arched into the kiss, and his arm snaked around her waist in response. There was no hesitation on either side, tenderness and passion at war as their lips molded together, caressing and nipping, drinking from each other without reservation. She was sweetness itself even as her hands moved to grip his neck and his face with an eagerness that had him fairly laughing into the wondrous depths of her mouth.

He poured the very breath of life into this kiss, into this woman, professing all he felt or could ever feel in the truest form known to man. Her lips worked wonders against his, and the end of this kiss would surely end his life as he knew it.

His lips moved down her jaw, a soft kiss going to the base of her ear before he traced his way down the graceful column of her neck. Her fingers curled into his hair as he did so, and she cradled his head against her, bringing his lips more perfectly against her skin. Her shoulder received the faintest whisper of a kiss before she dragged him back for another foray of their joining lips.