Free Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy by Jo Beverley

whole household had sung this at some point during the Christmas season. She saw Ned glance at his employer, but then he began to sing, too, in quite a pleasant voice.
    Kitty refused to look at the man who detested Christmas.
    If he wanted to sulk, let him.
    He didn't sing, but suddenly he sat beside her, close beside, so his legs brushed hers and his body was there, all along her. He even leaned past her, pressing against her, to place a chestnut on the edge of the fire. "I will think of a suitable revenge," he murmured into her ear.
    " For what sin now?"
    " Carol singing."
    She turned and met his eyes. "If you're so set on revenge, my lord, I shall have to do something to really deserve it."
    She stood and went off to find her Yule candle.
    She had made one this year, continuing the family tradition even though she hadn't intended to use it. Traditions were hard to break, and all her life she'd helped her mother make the special candle, which was eighteen inches high and thick as her arm.
    She took it off a shelf in the pantry, missing her mother so dreadfully that she thought she'd collapse into tears. She fought it, though, knowing Mama would want her to light the candle in celebration of the joy and optimism of the season, not with the sadness of loss. She placed it securely in its silver holder and returned to the drawing room.
    She confessed to herself that she was a little nervous. In talk of Christmas, Lord Chatterton had seemed almost violent. What would he do about this?
    She paused just inside the door to study him.
    He was lounging on the carpet, picking morsels of roasted chestnut out of the skin, his long strong body edged by the light from the fire. Perhaps because he was so close to the fire, he'd taken off his jacket and cravat, so he resembled the rakish man she'd first encountered.
    Or perhaps it was another calculated cut of his revenge. He must know his attractions and how to use them.
    He looked up at her, and his expression reminded her of their first meeting, too, while something in his lazy, sprawled elegance reminded her of his rakish cat.
    " A candle, Miss Mayhew?" he drawled. "And such a big one. Are we to sink even lower?"
    " A Yule candle," she said defiantly, and continued into the room -- to halt when she saw Pol. The maid was actually in Ned's lap, laughing and letting him feed her with bits of chestnut. At Kitty's stare Pol bit her lip and straightened, but not much.
    " I think we have light enough," Lord Chatterton said, dragging her attention back to him.
    " Not for long." Kitty decided she really couldn't lecture Pol just at this moment, and set about extinguishing the candles.
    She slid a wary glance at the man who didn't like Christmas, half expecting him to stop her by force. He just continued to pick apart chestnuts and chew on the meat while watching her in a way that made her feel...
    ...feel undressed, she realized!
    So, that was his true revenge.
    How extraordinary that he could do it.
    And he was even managing to look undressed himself, to look naked. She could imagine his body beneath the clothes, as if he were a statue from Ancient Rome.
    Forcing her eyes away, she put out the last candle so only the firelight broke the darkness. The clock sounded the quarter to midnight. Christmas was almost over.
    She headed for the mantelpiece, intending to place the candle there as usual. She, her parents, and any guests had always stood around in front of the fire to watch the candle lit. That was the way it should be done, the respectable way. But she looked at Pol and Ned, so cozily together, and at Lord Chatterton lounging in arrogant ease, and wasn't sure she could get them up and neatly arranged in time.
    With an apologetic prayer to her mother, she surrendered to a new way and settled back down onto the carpet.
    But everything else would be done properly, she resolved, even if she was twelve days late. Traditions were the glue that bound both family and society, or so her mother had