A Joyful Song: A Dry Bayou Brides Christmas Novella by Winchester Lynn

Author:Winchester, Lynn [Winchester, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Published: 2019-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

He smelled of grass and leather and man—there was no other way to describe the scent that was wholly Seamus MacAdams. It was a scent that made her mouth water.

I think I might be coming down with something. There was no other way to diagnose her acute symptoms. Sweaty palms, flushed face, rapid heartbeat, increase in saliva, and muddled thoughts. Surely, she was falling ill.

Sitting stiffly beside Seamus, she forced herself to not stare at him as he deftly and skillfully directed the surrey down the lane away from the house. She watched his hands—large yet gentle—as he worked the reins.

Throughout dinner, she had felt pulled to him, noticing his every half smile, every move of his hands as he ate, and even the movement of the muscles in his jaw and throat as he drank.

I am definitely getting ill.

And it wasn’t just his scent or his magnetism that drew her, it was how attentive he was to his family, how he listened intently, how he seemed to take up the whole room and yet be the quietest one of them all. But when he did speak, with that deep voice and the rumbling brogue, it made her heart flip every time.

Taking a deep breath to fortify her nerve, she said, “Thank you for driving me home. I know you didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”

If it were possible, the man stiffened even more. She could feel the tension roll from his broad shoulders. The muscles bunched in his back and she wondered if sitting so stiffly would hurt his wound.

“Tis my pleasure tae escort ye home, Joy… I only wish…it were longer,” he replied, his tone a broken sort of murmur. The lantern hanging from a hook on the footboard in front of them cast shadows over his face. She couldn’t see details, but she knew enough to know he was grimacing.

Despite indicating otherwise, he didn’t want to be there. And why would he? She hadn’t been the most warm and friendly of people. She couldn’t even have a conversation with him without turning into a blubbering idiot—one who blushed more than she ought.

She forced a laugh. “And torture you further? I’d rather not.”

He turned to her then, pinning her with eyes that blazed bronze in the lantern light. How was it possible for hazel eyes to change so much in a flash?

“It isna torture, I assure ye, lass.” That brogue, uttered from the depths of his chest, made her body vibrate. She clamped her mouth shut before she blurted something else.

They rode along in silence until they reached the road leading to town, then he spoke again.

“Do ye like animals?” he asked, surprising her.

“Well…I suppose so. I didn’t have any pets growing up because my father didn’t approve of them, but I’ve always wanted a puppy…or a ferret. Something that would entertain me but also comfort me.”

He smiled, his gaze on the road ahead. “A ferret, eh? When I was a lad in Inverness, there were many sheep, a handful of pigs, and three wild and loyal sheep dogs.

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