Hampshire, 1816
Garrick, Lord Westerly, has forbidden the hanging of mistletoe, yet the holiday house party at his country estate sizzles with sensual desire. And though Theodora Southern decided long ago never to marry, she has been enjoying the erotic fantasies that haunt her each nightâfantasies featuring her handsome, brooding hostâ¦.
Since returning from the war, Garrick has been in no mood to celebrate. But suddenly the nightmares that plague him are making way for much more pleasant dreamsâdreams in which his childhood friend Theodora is very much a grown woman. The question is, has he fallen in loveâor fallen under a wicked spell?
A Festive duet from Barbara Monajem
Wicked Christmas Wishes
AUTHOR NOTE
When I was a child, our whole family stayed up late on New Yearâs Eve, and at the stroke of midnight, we all went onto the front porch and banged pots and pans. While staying up late was in itself a real treat, getting to make a huge racket in the middle of the night was fabulous. I never questioned why. It was fun and therefore good.
It turns out we were driving away evil spirits, whether or not we knew it or believed in such things. I learned this while researching English Christmas customs, and since I enjoyed this event so much as a child, I put it in both stories of my current duet. In Under a Christmas Spell, the evil spirits are driven out of the house on New Yearâs Eve, just as in my childhood. In Under a New Yearâs Enchantment, the pots and pans (and a volley of gunfire) are part of the custom of wassailing the apple trees on Twelfth Nightâgiving thanks for the current crop and driving the evil spirits away so the trees will produce well again in the coming year. The tradition of wassailing the apple trees is still alive and well in parts of England today.
Hampshire, January 1816
Thank God thereâs no mistletoe. Theodora Southern swerved to avoid one of the rowdy guests at the New Yearâs Eve celebration at Westerly House. She had had enough of the worst Christmas house party ever.
She glanced behind her, but Maynard Buxton, the bane of her existence, was doing his best to coax one of the serving maids into a corner for a kiss without the benefit of mistletoe. Garrick, Lord Westerly, whom she had known since childhood but seen rarely during the war years, had forbidden mistletoe this Christmas, except in the servantsâ quarters. At first, Theodora had been dismayedâsheâd hoped for a kiss from Garrick. But on the other hand, it meant less of having to be on oneâs guard.
Or it should do, but something was most peculiar about this party. There was always some illicit behaviour at house parties, and this one was a fortnight long, making a few affaires unavoidable. But this year Westerly House seemed to sizzle with sensual desire.
Thank heavens the first wassail ritual, in which the villagers made a lot of noise and clamour to rid the great house of evil spirits, was over. The guests, high and low alike, mingled in the great hall. Ladling the wassailâhot, spiced aleâinto the cups of the thirsty throng was Theodoraâs responsibility, but when her friend Lucille had offered her some respite, Theodora had taken advantage of the opportunity to escape.
She hastened upstairs and down the passageway to her bedchamber. Judging by the grunts and moans from one of the rooms, some guests had already left the great hall and were once again indulging their baser instincts. âOne would think this was a bawdy house,â she muttered. She was unwed and therefore a virgin, so she couldnât risk indulging herself with an affaire. Usually, she didnât even wish she could. She had a completely satisfying secret lifeâdaydreams in which a handsome lover pleasured her in multiple ways. She had long ago decided she didnât need a real flesh-and-blood man.
But something about Westerly House this Christmas made her feel as if she did.
Not Maynard Buxton, though.
At the moment, Theodora had better things to think about than lust. She grabbed a cloak from a hook in her bedchamber, slipped downstairs and through a corner of the great hall, and hurried down a deserted corridor. In the gun room, she found and lit a lantern. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her hair and set out through a side door into the cold night.
She crossed the meadow toward the abbey ruins, thankful for the chilly wind, which meant no one would venture outdoors. Ever since sheâd learned that Garrick had discovered the remains of a Roman villa under the ruins, sheâd been dying to take a look. A proper look, not a glance as one of a gaggle of young ladies whose only interest was in batting their eyelashes at his lordship. Sheâd thought about asking Garrick for a brief tour, but heâd been in a withdrawn, unfriendly mood since her arrival a week earlier. Heâd spent much of his time alone in the ruins and hadnât even tried to hide his annoyance when Lady Westerly had shepherded the ladies up to gawk at him. Very well, then! Since he had returned from the war a complete curmudgeon, Theodora would visit the ruins by herself.