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He accepted this easily. It would be frustrating to have a veritable declaration but not know who had penned it. At least, Wesley assumed the note was a declaration of sorts. He had not read it himself.

Millie stood, lifting her kissing bough. “Will you help me tie this to the chandelier?”

“Yes.” Wesley circled the monstrously long table and found his way to her side. Climbing onto a chair, he reached for the bough, and Millie put the loose ribbons in his hand. Her fingers scraped along his palm as she released it, and he felt that touch clear to his stomach.

What the devil was that about? He shook away the feeling and focused again.

“How will anyone share a kiss if this is hanging over the table?” he asked.

Millie’s cheeks grew pink. “This one is for decoration. I thought we could place Helena’s bough above the doorway.”

“So everyone who enters the dining room will share a kiss?” He lifted his eyebrow. “Do you not sit beside Mr. Stroud each night?”

“Not everyone. Goodness, Wesley, do you not know how these work?”

“I know if you are caught beneath one with a woman, you need to kiss her, then pluck a white berry.” He glanced down at her lips. “Once all the berries are gone, you needn’t kiss anyone.”

“Precisely.”

Wesley blinked at her. “I am still missing something, I fear.”

“Only those who stop beneath it will need to kiss.”

Wesley hung the kissing bough beneath the chandelier and tied it tightly. It was centered over the table and looked festive. White berries from the mistletoe and red berries from the holly were scattered around the greenery in a beautiful spherical display.

He dusted his hands and stepped down from the chair.

“How beautiful,” Millie said.

“Now this one.” Wesley lifted Helena’s kissing bough in one hand and a chair in the other, carrying them toward the door.

“Will it hang from that carving?” Millie asked, pointing to the design inlaid into the wood above the door.

“It might.” Wesley climbed onto the chair and slipped the tied ribbon over a portion of the carving that was sharp. It stayed when he released it, and he climbed down from the chair, landing beside Millie. They both looked up, finding the kissing bough directly above them.

Wesley glanced down at her lips, noting their plump pinkness. They were typically curved into a smile or pressed together, unamused, when she faced him. Now, though, they were slightly parted, showing a flash of her white teeth. He found himself wanting to close the distance between them, to see if her lips felt like silk.

Blast, but this was Millie. The young girl who would chase him around the estate begging him to pretend to be the monster in her games with Nell. The same one who would chase him, once they were older, and beg him to assist in the construction of a secret hideaway for her and Nell. The same one who peered at him through her lashes at the town assemblies when they were even older, giggling and batting her eyes in a ridiculous manner.

He had never been drawn to her before, but now he wanted to take advantage of the kissing bough, even though he knew he could not. To say nothing of the fact that Wesley had been appointed her protector while her sister was resting.

He was similarly trusting friends to look after Nell. What if they were attempting to steal a kiss as they decorated their assigned room? He would be livid.

Wesley jumped back, lifting the chair and carrying it to its place at the table. His throat was dry. He swallowed, coughing lightly.

Millie stood beneath the open doorway, watching him with a look of bewilderment. Whether it resulted from the moment that had stretched between the two of them or Wesley’s hasty departure, he did not know. The very last thing he needed was for Millie to add him to the list of suitors who might have left her that note.

They needed to focus on the task at hand. “Shall we put the pine bough along the mantel?”

“Yes.” She seemed to shake her disconcertedness. “I will lace the remaining pine and holly together for the center of the table if you want to focus on the mantel.”

Wesley nodded, glad for the separation of tasks. He needed to take control of his heart again. It was beating rapidly, and it made no sense. Aside from the way Millie had clearly grown into a beautiful woman, she was still his younger sister’s dearest friend. She was too young, was she not?

But Nell was three-and-twenty. Did that not make Millie close to the same? “How old are you?”

“If you intend to argue that I am too young for suitors, you may hold your tongue, Wesley Prescott. I am two-and-twenty, which is a perfectly reasonable marrying age.”

It was. By all that was holy, she was more than old enough to become a wife.