A/N:

I hope your holidays have been wonderful so far, and may 2022 bring you and your loved ones much joy, peace, good health and prosperity. Happy New Year!

This is the first of my Mistletoe Berries stories, published last week before Christmas on the Scarleteers website as part of the Mistletoe Berries 2021 Fan Fiction Challenge, in which I took part. The links to my two original holiday stories have also appeared on the Scarleteers Facebook page this past week. I hope to publish my second Mistletoe Berries story in a few days, perhaps on New Year's Eve.

Thank you for all your support and kind comments over the past year. I've enjoyed hearing your thoughts on my other William and Eliza stories, and I hope you will enjoy these two new stories as well. Special thanks to STM4 for her editing help on my two Mistletoe Berries stories. So without further ado, here we go.

Sixteen-year-old Eliza Scarlet was vexed. Why did her father have to invite some of the new police constables from the London Metropolitan Constabulary to their house just before Christmas? Eliza groaned inwardly. Weren't they supposed to be out "ensuring the streets of London were safe for ladies" such as herself? And why was He coming to the party? He wasn't even a police constable yet. He was only 19 and not quite old enough to apply to join the police force.

Eliza had known that her father was planning to hold a small holiday gathering at their home for some time. She had even tried to prepare herself for the very likely eventuality that William Wellington would be attending the party as her father's up-and-coming protégé. But when Eliza had been upstairs in the drawing room, helping Ivy replenish the tables with hors d'oeuvres and drinks for the visiting policemen, she had been startled when she turned to see William entering the drawing room, his intense green eyes scanning the faces of the other guests in the room as if in search of her.

His dark curly hair was neatly coiffed and slicked back from his forehead, and he was impeccably dressed, as she had known he would be. She suspected that he had saved his wages for weeks, if not months, to purchase his elegant attire for this sort of festive gathering. He wore a burgundy brocade waistcoat with gold accents threading through the pattern and black trousers. His black boots, with buckles on the side, gleamed as if polished just for this occasion. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up past his elbows, and he had loosened his black ascot, his top shirt button undone, giving his appearance a more casual air.

Why did he have to be so handsome? She might have been able to put him out of her mind if she was not attracted to him, if she did not remember how it felt to be wrapped in his arms, his warmth enfolding her, his soft lips moving against her own, teaching her how to kiss. He was the only boy she had ever kissed, and if she was honest with herself, he was the only boy she had ever wanted to kiss. Now, nearly six months later, after they had become estranged from one another following their first kiss, in the quietest chamber of her heart, Eliza could admit that she had enjoyed their kiss and wished she had not slapped his face that day.

In truth, she wished many things about that fateful day. She wished her little dog Skip had not escaped from the house, run into the street, and been killed under the wheels of a passing carriage. She wished she had not cried with such abandon like a damsel in distress to the extent that William awkwardly felt compelled to comfort her. She wished that he would have asked to kiss her rather than simply pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers, sending a spark through her that she had never known could exist between the two of them. And she wished more than anything that she had not lost her nerve when she felt that spark and slapped him across his face so hard that her fingers stung afterward.

Because everything had changed between them after she slapped William. The ease of their banter whenever they saw each other was gone. That impish twinkle that appeared in his deep green eyes when he was sparring with her or teasing her was gone. Their friendship, however unlikely, between a boy from the rough streets of Glasgow and east London and the upper-middle-class daughter of a respected Scotland Yard police detective, was gone. Oh, Eliza would never admit how much she felt the loss of their bond to Ivy or her father, and certainly not to him. But simply put, she missed William Wellington.

As all these thoughts flew through her head, her gaze met his across the drawing room, and she saw his eyebrows quirk and a wry smile pull up the corners of his mouth. Was he amused that his presence disconcerted her? Had he sensed her alarm when he stepped into the room?

She noticed that Ivy had finished arranging the platters of food on the tables and had tucked the serving tray under her arm, preparing to return to the kitchen. Seeing her chance to escape, Eliza fell in behind Ivy until William stepped in her path, preventing her from following Ivy out of the room.

"Eliza, how lovely to see you again," he said, as his eyes swept admiringly over her tea-length burgundy velvet dress, with its jewel neckline, half sleeves, and sash that tied in the back and accentuated her narrow waist. William's gaze lingered on her mother's wedding ring, which Eliza wore suspended from a thin gold chain around her neck, then settled on her lips for a moment before he looked back up into her eyes to smile at her. He took her hand in his, and she could feel the rough calluses on his palm as he slowly raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed her fingers. "I trust that you have been well?" he asked in a gentle voice as he let go of her hand.

But she did not hear his question, her mind distracted by the scorching sensation she felt where his warm lips had pressed to her skin. Looking up into his glittering eyes, she forced herself to swallow hard against the lump in her throat, her voice coming out as a croak. "Pardon...what did you ask me, William?"

The wry twist to his mouth reappeared, and she had the distinct impression he knew he had unnerved her with his kiss. "I asked whether you've been well. I haven't seen you for several weeks. Eliza..." She had not expected him to be so attentive to her or well-mannered in kissing her hand. She felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to step away from him, his nearness unsettling her.

"I'm sorry, William, but I'm not at liberty to stay and talk with you," she cut him off. "I should be helping Ivy in the kitchen at the moment." She knew she was being impolite and considered adding, "Perhaps we might speak later?" But the words lodged in her throat and would not come. She brushed past him, trying to make her way from the room quickly. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned once more to see that William's eyes had followed her, and she was surprised to find a hint of disappointment in them. Her cheeks colored and grew hot under his unwavering gaze, and her heart raced in her chest.

Feeling akilter from her interaction with him, Eliza hurried down to the kitchen to find Ivy stacking the serving tray with more tasty morsels to offer their guests.

"What can I do to help you, Ivy?"

"Lizzie, what's going on? You've never been one to linger in the kitchen, asking to help with food preparation or serving. Is this about that Wellington boy? Are you trying to avoid him? And do you think you can hide from him down here with me?" Ivy asked in a disapproving voice.

"Can't I?" Eliza replied peevishly, placing her hands on her hips as she began to pace the length of the kitchen.

"I think your father would want you to be hospitable to all of his guests, including William," Ivy answered matter-of-factly. Having filled the tray with hors d'oeuvres, she lifted it and began to carry it toward the back staircase. "You may take a few moments to compose yourself down here, my girl, but then you will come upstairs and be cordial with the people your father has invited here this evening."

Left alone in the kitchen to gather her thoughts, Eliza continued to pace. She noticed that a sprig of mistletoe had been hung in the doorway leading out of the kitchen, and she wondered about its placement downstairs. What had her father been thinking by placing an obligate hemiparasitic plant in the doorway of the kitchen? She turned her back to the mistletoe and wrapped her arms around herself as she let out a sigh.

She could do this; she could go back upstairs and be courteous to William. It was Christmastime, she reminded herself, a season of good cheer, a time to let go of hard feelings and come together again. Perhaps if she and William spoke, they could make amends and become friends again.

She was looking at the ceiling, gathering her courage to return to the drawing room, when she heard footsteps echoing in the hallway as they approached the kitchen.

"Eliza? What are you doing? Why are you staring so intently at the ceiling?" From behind her came that deep, lilting Scottish brogue that made her heart flutter and beat faster than she would ever care to admit.

She spun around to face him as he leaned against the doorjamb. "William. Why have you come to the kitchen? Ivy just went upstairs to set out more food and drink for Father's guests. You must have missed her in passing." Her arms hugged her chest even more tightly as their eyes met.

"I came to see if you're all right. You hurried out of the drawing room earlier when I tried to speak with you; you seemed…unsettled. Is something the matter? May I be of help to you?" he asked, his voice softening the more he spoke to her, her defenses lulled by the low, undulating timbre of his voice.

Shaking her head as if to stave off his spell of enchantment, she replied, "I'm fine, William, really I am. I appreciate your making the trip down here to check on me, but at present, I do not need your help."

He stood up and took a step closer to her, then stopped and put his hands in his pockets. He waited as if not daring to move closer to her and gazed at her long blonde locks falling over her shoulders, held back from her face by a burgundy-colored satin ribbon that matched her dress and tied in a bow at her temple. Slowly he shifted his gaze down to her lips, which she licked nervously with the tip of her tongue.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and keeping his voice steady, he told her, "Well, Eliza, I need yours."

She could feel a flush creeping up into her cheeks, her eyes blinking back her surprise. Was William toying with her? How could he possibly need her help? But her curiosity to know what he had meant by his statement was getting the better of her and prompted her to ask, "What is it that you need, William?"

He took another step closer to her before he stopped and shifted his weight on his feet, his eyes not letting hers drift away. Clearing his throat, he softly replied, "I need the chance, if you'll allow me, to apologize for kissing you on the day Skip was killed. I should not have done that, especially without your permission, and for that, I am very sorry. It was never my intention to take advantage of your grief; I only wanted to comfort you. I hope you will consider forgiving me so that we may be friends again. I've..." He paused and momentarily looked away from her as he ran a hand through his dark hair. He let out a deep sigh. His eyes returned to hers before he continued, "I've missed you, Eliza. I've missed our friendship. In the spirit of this Christmas season, might you be able to forgive me?"

Astonished by his words, she was stunned into silence for a long moment. Peering into his eyes, she could discern the sincerity of William's desire to make things right between them. Whatever she might have expected him to need from her, she had not anticipated that it would be her forgiveness.

Taking a step toward him, she let her arms fall to her sides, as she said, "Yes, of course, I can forgive you, William. Thank you for your apology. I wonder though if I might ask you to forgive me? I wish to apologize for slapping your face that day after our kiss. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'd like for us to be friends again too." She smiled at him, hopeful that he would forgive her as well.

"Good. That's settled then. We've forgiven each other and are friends once more. Shall we head back upstairs and rejoin the party?" He extended his hand to her, and taking it, Eliza began to move past him until she reached the doorway. She felt him tugging on her hand and turned back to see him eyeing the mistletoe hung in the doorway.

"Eliza," he said, his voice low and husky, "you look quite lovely this evening in that crimson velvet dress." He hesitated, and he seemed to be debating with himself whether he should continue, his eyes glancing at the ribbon tied in her hair before returning to her expectant blue eyes. "Could I give you a kiss on the cheek, a Christmas kiss, under the mistletoe? To express my gratitude for your forgiveness, of course."

Her eyes holding his, she considered his request, then slowly nodded her head. She was close enough to him to see the flecks of grey, brown, and blue in his alluring green eyes, their pull like that of a magnet.

She stepped closer to William so that she was directly beneath the mistletoe and watched as he reached up and plucked a small white berry from the sprig. She could feel his warmth wrapping itself around her as he drew closer. He gently pressed his soft lips to her cheek, lingering there for a long moment before he whispered in her ear, "Thank you."

He started to pull away from her when she reached up with her hand to cup his cheek and hold his face close to hers, her thumb delicately stroking his quivering half-parted lips. She could smell the light citrusy tang of his cologne and see all the freckles on his fair-skinned face. "William," she breathed out in a whisper and saw his eyes darken, then close in anticipation, as she slowly brought his lips down to hers.

The white-hot spark she had felt during their first kiss coursed through her body the moment their lips touched again, and the six months lost between them evaporated in an instant. She felt William's lips moving slowly against her own, gently coaxing her lips to respond more fully to his, and as his lips began to tease hers, asking for more from her with greater insistence, Eliza's mouth answered him without hesitation. She felt his teeth drag lightly along her lower lip and then the warmth of his tongue as it traced the edge of her top lip, seeking permission to deepen their kiss. She parted her lips for him and felt his tongue slide into her mouth as she stifled a whimper of pleasure. Her tongue began to move with his in an intricate dance that was at once familiar to her and which she had replayed countless times in her mind whenever she thought of him. The tenderness of his kiss was sweet and intoxicating to her, and as he ravished her mouth more deeply, she slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers lacing through the dark curls behind his ears. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer to him as their kiss became more searing and passionate.

She did not want any of it to end - not the tightness of his arms around her as they held her close to his beating heart, not the gentle but sure pressure of his soft lips guiding and tantalizing hers, and not the flickering flame that burned deep within her as she allowed herself to feel and to be with William in that moment.

"Eliza," he murmured as he slowly pulled his lips away from hers. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest as it pressed against hers, then sensed that he was trying to calm his unsteady breathing when he leaned back from her. She gazed deeply into his smoldering green eyes and there beheld his unmistakable desire for her.

"Eliza? Eliza! Are you all right, my girl?" Ivy's concerned voice roused her from her daydream. Eliza spun around in place, embarrassed, her arms wrapping tightly around herself again.

"Hmmm...what? Why do you ask, Ivy?"

"Because it sounded like you were whimpering just now when I entered the kitchen. Are you feeling ill? Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes look glassy. Are you feeling feverish?"

"No. No, Ivy, I'm fine. Perhaps I just need to leave the warmth of the kitchen and return to the drawing room. I fear I have not been a very gracious hostess or much of a help to you or Father for the party this evening."

Smoothing her dress and sweeping her golden curling tresses back from her shoulders, Eliza took a deep breath in, slowly exhaled to calm her nerves, then asked, "Ivy, is William still in the drawing room? I was quite rude to him earlier when he tried to speak with me. I must go and apologize to him. 'Tis the Christmas season, after all." She smiled at Ivy as she moved toward the doorway out of the kitchen.

"I believe he is still there, Lizzie. Interestingly, William mentioned something very similar to me. He was asking after you, wondering where you'd gone. He said he owed you an apology and needed to speak with you this evening because Christmas is a time to heal the past and forgive old trespasses. I do hope the two of you will be able to set aside your differences and become friends again."

"I hope so too, Ivy. I very much hope so too." She paused beneath the mistletoe sprig and reached up to lightly finger its berries. A resoluteness took hold of her as she plucked a small white berry from its stem. She turned then, and with her heart beating a little faster, a faint blush still on her cheeks and a puckish grin playing on her lips, Eliza made her way back upstairs to the drawing room.

End Note:

The title of this story is a take-off from a line in A Charlie Brown Christmas. Lucy says to Schroeder, "You know, Santa Claus and Ho Ho Ho and Mistletoe and Presents to Pretty Girls," after she has asked him repeatedly to play Jingle Bells on his piano.