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Before she could help, he released her and ripped off his gloves, flinging them to the snow. Seconds later, his warm hands slid around her stomach between her wool jacket and her blouse. Dissatisfying as it was, it would have to do, for his mouth captured hers again and desire consumed her thoughts.

He grasped her mittened hands in his and raised them to the side of her head to rest against the saddle. It was to his credit that he had trained the horse well, for it shifted only slightly when he pushed her up against its side.

She recalled the last time they'd kissed. For whatever reasons, his honor always got in the way of complete surrender--a surrender she desired more each day.

She spoke, her voice husky with desire. "I want you. I think I've wanted you for a long time." She leaned forward to kiss his chin. "I fully accept the consequences of my actions...all of them."

Nicholas surprised her with the harshness of his answer. Moaning out loud, he kissed her again, this time nipping her lip and sucking the very life's breath out of her. His chest pushed against her breasts and his hips ground against her skirt. The warm clothes she had carefully donned were now a hindrance.

Still holding her hands captive, he kissed a heated path down her throat. When his hot mouth covered her breast, she groaned from the sheer pleasure that shot through her.

Even through the silk of her blouse and underthings, she felt his teeth graze her nipple. She tried to jerk her hands free but he refused to release her, pulling her hands even higher, which in turn thrust her breasts forward to his reach.

"Dear heavens," she gasped, wondering how they might possibly stay warm making love in the snow. It never occurred to her that they wouldn't. In fact, she thought she would simply die if they didn't. "Please, Nicholas."

"Shh, shh," he whispered against her mouth, merriment twinkling in his eyes now, for he apparently found humor in her pleading.

She didn't care. When he kissed the corner of her lips, she swiveled her head to capture his mouth, leaning into his kiss and refusing to release him. A soul-baring hunger stripped her of any pretense. She wanted him. She craved him like an addict after drugs.

"Dear God, woman, what have you done to me?" His ragged whisper touched her heart as his hot breath fanned her cheeks. He leaned his forehead against hers, squeezing tight on her hands which were still pinioned against the horse. She tried to kiss him again, but he tilted his head out of her reach. His eyes were closed and she couldn't read his thoughts until he gave a sad shake of his head.

"Damn you, Nicholas, don't do this to me again." Her threat was without venom, for she knew the struggle he fought. At the same time, she cried out for him to appease the passionate hunger he had created.

"Would you have me come to you, stripped of my honor?" He released her hands and stepped back. When he brought his head up and met her gaze, she saw the torment their passion caused him.

"I would have you any way I can." She took a step towards him, but he put up a hand to still her. Lightly, he caressed her cheek, his hand still warm against her cold skin.

"Sweet, sweet Jaci, how I adore you."

"Then, why?"

"It is difficult to explain, for women don't see the world the way men do. My honor is my bond--my mark for all of mankind to see and accept. To take you would take my honor, also."

Jaci fumed. "Well, if that's not--what does that make me, practically begging you for it?" Tears blurred her vision and she swiped a hand angrily across her eyes. "Do you think me cheap and dishonorable for acting this way; for wanting you as I do?"

He gathered her in his arms, tucking her under his chin and cradling her head in his large palm. "Sweet, merciful heavens, don't ever think that. A man would have to be a fool to think ill of what you offer, or to think less of you for offering it. Every man alive dreams of a woman aching for his touch; crying out as he loves her."

She felt a shudder race through him and was sadly comforted by the thought that he ached as badly as she did. He continued to hold her, rocking in a gently, soothing motion.

"But what about you, Nicholas? You speak in general terms, but not of yourself."

She couldn't have misread him. It was impossible for him not to want her as desperately as she needed him.
Need.
She had told herself all her life that she would never need anyone again; never depend on anyone for her happiness. Now here she stood, in the arms of a handsome, caring man, craving his touch and needing his affection. She felt him sigh, and wondered at his thoughts.

"I won't pretend not to care, sweetheart, but you must have patience. There are things to be resolved yet, before I am free to speak my mind." He loosened his hold and tilted her chin up with one hand. A gentle kiss on the nose was offered with a weak smile.

She started to protest when a gunshot echoed in the distance. She jumped, but Nicholas didn't appear too concerned.

"Must be old Henry, the gamekeeper." He released her to pull his gun from the saddle sheath.

She needed closure to their discussion, but apparently he didn't. While she still ached for his touch, he conversed on an entirely different subject.

"With the preparations Delta and Mrs. Jeffrey are making, we'll need much more food than normal. Henry must be out hunting."

"If you have a gamekeeper, why are you hunting? And what preparations are you talking about?"

"I enjoy the challenge; you know, man against the elements." He grinned at her and she shook her head at yet another sign of the chauvinistic society in which she had been tossed.

"What preparations?" She repeated.

"The party. Have you and Amanda gotten Molly to sew you new dresses?"

She had forgotten about the party. Besides, she didn't want another dress. "You have been too generous already. I can't possibly ever repay you. I won't accept more."

"Nonsense." He began to walk.

She trotted to catch up with his longer strides. She felt unsettled, but Nicholas didn't appear affected. She would simply have to wait until things calmed down after the holidays. If she had to hog-tie him, she would find out exactly what he felt for her.

"If you don't care for the blue, Molly can find another fabric to suit you." He shrugged, sounding like a disappointed little boy.

"I do like the velvet, but surely members of your staff don't dress quite so elegantly." She hesitated, then continued, "Or even go to parties."

He frowned at her before answering. "We're not in town and don't stand on quite the formality. Besides, Amanda is family and where Amanda goes--"

"--so goes her governess." She finished the statement with a laugh.

"Good, that's settled." At the same time he spoke, he raised his gun to a shoulder, sighted and fired. A pheasant fell to the ground not thirty yards from them. "Are you going to bird-dog for me?"

"I thought that was Sir Lancelot's job."

The corners of his mouth lifted. "Alas, he was not brave enough to venture out with me."

Still struggling with her emotions, Jaci took in his devastating smile and said, "It appears Sir Lancelot is a lot smarter than I am."

* * *

Jaci and Amanda spent the day helping Mrs. Jeffrey and the entire staff decorate the ballroom for the Wildwood Christmas party. Garlands of fresh-cut greenery draped the doorways, mantels and windows, caught at the corners with bright red ribbon. A huge Christmas tree stood against the wall halfway between one end and the other. It had no lights like modern trees, but instead had fragile glass balls and tiny fabric bows tied to the branches.

Glancing around the enormous room, Jaci wondered why she hadn't ventured in here before now. Mrs. Jeffrey told her it wasn't used much, since the family living quarters were, for the most part, on the west side of the house. The housekeeper went on to say when Nicholas's parents were alive, the ballroom was constantly overflowing, as Mrs. Westbrooke loved to entertain and often had guests up for weekend house parties.

She tried to imagine the house full of people. A large partition unfolded to separate the ballroom from the formal dining area on the north end. Now the accordion type door was pushed back to allow guests to mingle along the dance floor, or take time to eat at the buffet table which had been set up in the spacious dining room.

Amanda had informed her that ice sculptures of horses were being carved in the icehouse and they would decorate the table. The dance was still several days off, but Mrs. Jeffrey was leaving nothing to chance and had the maids and house staff hopping. Even Mr. Selkirk was seen polishing silver in the kitchen.

"Aren't you excited?" Amanda quizzed her as they turned their decorating efforts to the family parlor across the foyer from the ballroom.

"Oh, yes," she responded automatically for the hundredth time.

"I peeked at your dress today. Molly almost has it done and it is divine."

She smiled. Amanda always picked adjectives that were larger than life--magnificent, marvelous, and now divine. Idly, she twisted a strand of hair. She had been letting it grow and it was far longer than she'd ever worn it, but she planned to curl it and wear it up for the dance. She wondered if Nicholas would like it. Actually, she wondered if Nicholas would like her.

Her thoughts turned to the creation Molly had sewn to her specifications. Did she have the nerve to wear it? The dress draped off bare shoulders and down the back, leaving her back almost bare. After the conversation she and Nicholas had in the grove, she had decided seduction was the name of the game. Come hell or high water, she would make him lose control and do something.

She brought her thoughts back to the present. As she lifted Amanda to hang the mistletoe over the doorway to the parlor, Amanda giggled as Jaci told her about the mistletoe tradition.

That evening, she read to Amanda by the fire, waiting for Nicholas to return from town. When he spoke from the doorway, his voice startled her, the masculine timbre sending shivers down her spine. She drew a steadying breath as she stood and gazed at his handsome countenance.

"Hello, ladies, and how was your day?" His arms were crossed over his chest, the black evening coat he wore stretched taut across his wide shoulders. Matching black trousers clung to his muscular thighs, one shiny boot kicked in front of the other in a casual pose.

Amanda quickly forgot her ladylike manners as she flew across the room and launched herself into her uncle's arms. Nicholas effortlessly caught and swung her high. He grinned as he hugged her close, and Amanda planted a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, Muffin, what was that for? I've only been gone for the day."

"You're standing 'neath the mistletoe, and that means all the ladies in the room get to kiss you." When he quirked a brow in disbelief, she nodded her head to emphasize her point.

"What are you talking about?"

She pointed overhead at the string of green leaves hanging from the doorjamb. "It's a tra...tra...." Amanda turned to Jaci for help, looking quite angelic when compared to her tall, scowling uncle.

"Tradition," she said, supplying the missing word.

"Yes, that's it. Mistletoe is a tradition. Miss Eastman says so." As she talked, Amanda tugged on Nicholas's neck, apparently trying to pull him into the room even though she was well off the ground and couldn't budge him if he wasn't inclined to move.

Nicholas's eyes gleamed as he strolled towards her. Too late, Jaci realized she should have been more specific about the tradition.

"The tradition states that all the ladies have to kiss me?" His grin was infectious, and even though she should know better, she found herself smiling in return. By this time, the two of them were very close to where Jaci stood by the fire, and she wasn't sure if the heat from the flames or her own wayward thoughts brought a blush to her cheeks.

"Well, I--"

"Now that I think on it, this tradition is familiar. And I'm sure it is intended for everyone present." His smile melted her bones; his silver gaze seared through her like an electric shock to her heart. He lowered Amanda to the floor, his gaze never leaving Jaci's.

She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat prohibited any response to his silent request. Request? More like a demand for compliance, and Jaci felt her will to resist evaporate in the heat of his gaze.

Sighing in defeat, she decided to get it done. A quick peck on the cheek would redeem her in Amanda's eyes and yet keep her from getting too close to the source of her discomfort. Besides, every time they kissed, they got carried away, and she didn't want Amanda witness to that.

She lightly placed her hands on his lapels, leaned forward on tiptoes and closed her eyes as her lips puckered towards his cheek. At the last possible moment, she felt him turn, and her lips were captured by his. Hot, liquid fire raced through her and she swayed. His large hands captured her shoulders to steady her, but he refused to release her from what should have been a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

When he finally lifted his head, his hands still held her close as he whispered against her heated skin. "That is definitely a worthwhile tradition. Are there others that would interest me?"

She couldn't think with him standing so close, and said the first thing that came to mind, not realizing the consequences of her words. "We used to hang our stockings by the mantel on Christmas Eve."

His brows shot up in surprise and his grip tightened on her arms. She felt his heart hammering beneath her fingers, still flattened against his chest.

"Ah, I shall definitely be close at hand on the Eve--in case you need help removing your stocking."

She blushed hotter; her legs tingled as though his hands were already beneath her skirts removing the silk. Luckily, Amanda decided she had been ignored quite long enough and took that moment to tug on Jaci's skirt.

"Uncle Nicholas, Miss Eastman. Why are you still kissing? You're not standing under the mistletoe now." With the naturally short attention span of a youngster, she quickly changed to another subject of interest. "Uncle Nicholas, did you bring Papa home with you? Will he be here by Christmas?"