Teach Me Under the Mistletoe By Kay Springsteen

According to Caroline “Kitty” Tyndall’s friends, a young lady who’s gone two seasons in London with nary a nibble from a prospective suitor is well on the way to spinsterhood. But what’s a girl to do when she’s never been kissed, and the worldly man she wants regards her as a child?
Hugh McCollum spends his days as a stable hand staying out of trouble and saving for his planned emigration to America. When Lady Caroline asks him to teach her how to kiss so the man she’s set her cap for will find her more sophisticated, he knows he should run in the other direction. But when a pretty young woman falls into his arms and begs for his help, what’s a red-blooded man to do but oblige?
If learning to kiss leads Kitty to love, will the man of her dreams be the man of her heart?

From the Inside Flap

Lady Caroline didn’t seem inclined to speak, nor to exit the carriage, so Hugh waited. Some small animal rustled in the brush at the edge of the track, and Alexander stomped his foot. The late autumn sun beat down upon them, but any warming benefits were lost to sporadic stiff breezes.

In a blur of motion and a whisper of fabric, Lady Caroline twisted in her seat and faced him straight on, holding his gaze with her intense stare. “Have you ever kissed a woman?”

The reins slipped from Hugh’s boneless fingers. He returned her stare, all rational thought having somehow vacated his mind. “I-I beg yer pardon?” he managed to sputter.

Deep crimson rose from beneath her collar until it engulfed her face as she regarded him through feverishly glazed eyes. “I… that is… of course you’ve kissed a woman — several of them, I imagine. Unless you don’t like them, I suppose.” A sudden frown creased her fair brow, and she leaned toward him. “You do like women, don’t you?”

“What?” Hugh blinked at the crazed lady before him, trying to figure out what she was asking.

He wouldn’t have thought it possible for the red that had spread over her face to darken, but it did. Her frown deepened, and she seemed to struggle for words. “You’re not… er… you like women, not…”

The meaning behind her question struck him like a blacksmith’s hammer and heat swamped his entire body. “Aye,” he mumbled, bending and retrieving the reins. Unable to meet her excited gaze, he looked out over the reflecting pool instead. After a moment, he recovered enough to look at her again. “Yes… I like women.”

Heaving a loud sigh, she sagged, a wide smile curving her lips. “Good. Perfect.” The redness ebbed from her face, leaving just a trace of pink in her cheeks. “I need you to teach me how to kiss the way a man truly likes it.”

The reins slipped from his slackened fingers again.