A MISTLEOTE KISS by Eloisa James It was humiliating to admit, even to herself, but Cressie knew precisely when they had met, at least, as adults. It was her debut ball, and her cousin had walked over to her and said, “Here, Cuz, dance with Elias; he’ll be a marquess someday so he’s good to practice conversation that’s not about that infernal Revelry.” She had looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful man in the ballroom and managed a wavering smile. Elias hadn’t said more than a few words to her and ignored her the rest of the evening. “Other than passing encounters as children, we met when I debuted,” Cressie said now. “Years before that,” Elias said impatiently. “In that case, I have no idea what you are referring to,” she said, managing to make it sound as if she was uninterested. “You were five years old,” he said, rather surprisingly. He took a long stride and caught her right hand. “Show me the last structure? I already missed the other grottoes. I don’t want to miss anything of this one.” Cressie didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “Right.” She tugged her hand…
