Free Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy by Jo Beverley Page A

claimed.
    She placed the candle on the carpet. "Gather round."
    Ned and Pol slid over quickly enough, though alm ost as if stuck together. He was slower, but shifted slightly so as to form part of the circle. His resistance lay beside her like a deep shadow, and she felt almost guilty at forcing this on him.
    She looked at the candle, but spoke for him, longing to convert him. "It has always been a tradition in our house to light a Yule candle. To celebrate both the birth of our Savior and the blessedness of light."
    " I hesitate to object," he said, still eating, "but shouldn't Yule be celebrated on the shortest day of the year? You're rather late, Miss Mayhew."
    " I know it. The candle should be lit on Christmas Eve, but this year I neglected the tradition because of mourning. I now see I was wrong. Tradition, even pagan tradition, is precious."
    He said nothing more, but she began to tremble. She knew now that he would not welcome this at all. He wouldn't be moved and change his mind about Christmas. He would see this as pagan, unseemly, or even sentimental.
    She'd thought to convert him, but now she feared that he might change her, might ruin this for her.
    She thrust that out of her mind and summoned the words her mother had always said. Immediately, she was back in this moment last year, remembering how they had dedicated this tradition to the memory of her father.
    Tears threatened, but she fought them. She would do this for both her parents, and tomorrow she would begin to make something good, something bright, of her life.
    "The world fell into darkness," she said, unable to clear her throat enough to avoid huskiness. "Then God sent His son to be a light -- light to show the spiritual way, but also to bring warmth and brightness to our hearts. This recalls a more ancient gift, a gift dating back to creation, when God gave His world the sun, and then fire. Fire -- the means to make light and warmth even in the coldest, darkest times of winter, just as Christ's love will bring grace into even the most joyless, sinful soul. Let us celebrate, therefore, the gift of light."
    She handed Pol the spill. "The youngest should light the candle."
    As Pol turned to the fire, Kitty continued, her voice clearer now. "But there are other gifts for which we give thanks as the candle glows -- the daily gifts of love and joy, the treasures of our family and friends."
    Features serious, Pol put the splint to the wick. It caught, and in moments the flame spread up in its perfect mellow shape, weaving slightly with the movement of the air, touching each face with warmth.
    "Let us give thanks to God, therefore, for sending His son to be our light, but also for the heavenly sun, and for fire, which symbolizes love and joy in our family and friends."
    She sat staring into the gentle flame, thinking of her mother speaking the words last year, of the tears that had run down her mother's cheeks....
    She wasn't aware of her own tears until he brushed them away.
    She started, turning to him, braced for something hurtful. His expression was sober, though, as he kissed her lips, gently, comfortingly, there on the carpet in front of the servants.
    She should have objected, but she surrendered to tenderness.
    " You really feel that, don't you?" he said at last.
    " The kiss?"
    " The light."
    She turned to look at the candle, but still within his arms. "Oh yes."
    She thought he wouldn't say anything else, and hoped in a way that he wouldn't.
    "It's not that I don't love my family," he said, as gruffly as she had spoken. "It's just that Christmas...."
    " But why? Why Christmas?" She looked back at him, needing to know.
    He studied her, this alien male who'd brought her down to her drawing room carpet. "Come sit in my lap and I'll tell you."
    Kitty stiffened and glanced at the servants.
    They'd gone!
    " We should-"
    " No, we shouldn't. Their attachment is genuine and they'll be married soon enough. What are you frightened of?"
    " You."
    He cocked his