Candlelit Christmas Kisses. Anne Herries

is untouched. It died one hot Spanish night, and I do not think I can feel love—or any other decent emotion except guilt and regret.’

      Robert stared at himself in the mirror as he dressed for dinner that evening. He had decided to take Miss Searles up on her invitation, for it seemed foolish to make the staff serve two separate meals when they might all dine together. And if he was a little curious to discover whether or not anything remained of the young woman he seemed to remember kissing in a moonlit garden, he would not admit it—to Nor or to himself.

      No, it was simply a matter of practicality. Until his chef arrived, it would just make more work for her cook. Besides, he did not fancy dining alone with Henry in the great hall. They could, of course, eat in the library, but it would still make extra work.

      Tying his cravat in a style that had taken him some years to perfect, he brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his coat and prepared to leave. His memory of that night in Bath was distinctly hazy. He thought he’d kissed her, but he could not recall what he’d said or what she’d replied. He had a feeling he’d gone a little too far and she’d broken away from him, but his memory would not function properly, and he did not know what had happened after the kiss.

      Did Miss Searles remember him? Had she even known his name? He must surely have introduced himself. But she would have forgotten the small incident long ago, wouldn’t she? It could not have meant anything to her—the clumsy attentions of a drunken officer. If she did remember, she could feel nothing but animosity towards him.

      Was that why she dragged her hair back and made herself look older? Was she afraid that he might try to take advantage of her again?

      Robert felt the heat spread over his entire body. It was embarrassing. He had been a foolish youth, carried away on a tide of excitement and fear. Even while he’d longed for adventure, he’d known full well that he might be killed.

      Yet he’d come through the wars almost unscathed, apart from a few small wounds that had healed easily. No, his scars were mental. He would never forget Juanita’s broken body, or the way she had wept in his arms before she died as the result of the cruelty of a pack of drunken dogs. They had thought her one of the enemy and had raped her brutally, inflicting wounds on her body and her mind—wounds that she could never have recovered from.

      His own men. Men he’d nurtured, cherished and wept for had behaved like animals. He’d been forced to punish them—to hang the ringleader, a man he’d truly liked until that moment. It had been unlike Harris to behave so ill, for he had been generally a good man and caring of his soldiers, but in the heat of bloodlust, he’d gone berserk and committed the foulest of crimes. The look in his eyes as Robert had condemned him to hang had been like a dagger thrust in his heart.

      It was not that he’d loved Juanita, but she’d helped him to nurse Henry through his sickness and had not deserved such a cruel death.

      How could he ever forget the things he’d seen and done out there? It was impossible. He was dead inside.

      If he married it must be for the getting of an heir—to a sensible older woman who understood what such a marriage would be about. Was Miss Searles such a woman? Robert wasn’t sure. The girl he’d kissed on a moonlit night was someone different—a dream of love that had vanished under the punishing heat of Spanish skies. Robert hardly knew her. Henry seemed to have broken all barriers and was already treated as one of their family, but he … he was the earl, and they were guests in his house.

      He sighed as the elusive memory disappeared like mist. Perhaps if he found it hard to remember then she did, too. He hoped so, for otherwise … Good grief! Had he made her any promises that night? His thoughts whirled in confusion, then he dismissed them. She’d surely known he was drunk. She was far too sensible to have believed anything he’d said that night.

      No, he doubted she even recalled the incident. She would have given some sign. Besides, she must have had other suitors. He could not imagine why she had not married. Even if she had little dowry, there must have been someone … Mr Breck had told him her cousin wished to marry her, but she’d taken this house on rather than accept. Clearly she was not desperate to marry or she would have accepted the offer.

      Frowning, he left his bedchamber and walked slowly down the stairs, through the library. Even before he reached the dining room, he could hear laughter. Henry sounded so relaxed and happy. He hadn’t heard him talking so animatedly for years.

      Smiling, he walked into the room—and then caught his breath as the woman in yellow silk, trimmed with an overskirt of black lace and similar frills to her neckline, turned to look at him and memory came rushing back into his mind. She had been wearing yellow that night, too, and her hair had been dressed in becoming ringlets. The colour suited her, and if she were to soften her hairstyle a little, she would still be beautiful.

      Robert felt the ice round his heart crack a little. Surely he had called her an angel … and he’d done other things, too—things that made the heat rush through his body once more.

      How could he have forgotten? For one glorious hour, he had fallen madly in love. He’d always intended to contact her, to tell her that he’d meant every word, but caught up in the excitement of his first campaign, he had forgotten—and then it had all turned sour …

      CHAPTER FIVE

      WHY was the earl frowning at her in such disapproval? Selina’s heart caught. Did he think she had put off her blacks too soon? Was he shocked that she and her sisters were all wearing colours this evening? Amy had chosen lilac trimmed with grey lace, Millie a dark blue trimmed with satin ribbons of a matching shade.

      ‘Miss Searles. You look remarkably well this evening.’

      ‘Mama told us before she died that we were not to wear black for her longer than a month,’ Selina said a trifle defensively. ‘We shall continue to wear grey during the day until Christmas, but we promised that a month after her death we would wear colours in the evenings.’

      ‘You have no need to explain yourself to me, Miss Searles,’ he replied a trifle stiffly. ‘I confess I was a little surprised to see the change, but I find it pleasant.’

      ‘We talked it over and decided that we would follow Mama’s wishes,’ Selina said. ‘However, when we drive out we shall continue to wear mourning so that we do not shock our neighbours. I was intending to ask you this evening if we might have the use of your uncle’s carriage and horses tomorrow, should you have no use for them. My groom will take us, as we should like to drive into the nearest town to purchase some materials and things we need to ensure that Christmas is a success.’

      ‘Of course you may have the carriage whenever you please. The horses are in need of some exercise, and I should take my own curricle if I wished to go visiting—which I have no intention of doing for the moment.’

      ‘Thank you. You are very kind. I do not wish to presume on your good nature more than necessary, sir. I am sure there must be moments when you have wished us all to the devil.’

      ‘There you would be wrong,’ he replied, and smiled. ‘You and your sisters have brought this house to life, Miss Searles. It will be a pleasure having you all here until after Christmas. I have not yet decided whether I shall take up residence here, but there is plenty of time for me to make up my mind next spring.’

      ‘Your gardens will be so beautiful in the spring, sir,’ Millie chimed in, without being asked. ‘It would be a shame to destroy something as beautiful as this house. Do you not think of all the history that has gone on here—of the people who have lived and laughed here?’

      ‘Millie!’ Selina and Amy spoke together in unison.

      ‘You really must not speak your mind so freely,’ Selina continued, her cheeks hot as she threw a look of apology at the earl. ‘You have no idea of what you are saying.’

      ‘Miss Millie meant no offence,’ Henry said. ‘Robert knows that, Miss Searles.’

      ‘Of course.’ The Earl inclined his head to them, though the