A Little Christmas Magic: A Holiday Novella by Bowlin Chasity

Author:Bowlin, Chasity
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

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She had not thought to simply offer herself to him. But when she had realized that his withdrawal the previous afternoon had not been because he was repulsed by her forward behavior and thought her reprehensible, her relief had quickly given way to confusion. Had he truly thought that he had taken advantage of her? And then she’d realized that he would, because he was a man who valued honor—both his and hers.

Honor, however, was the very last thing on her mind. She only wanted to recapture those glorious feelings from earlier. Heat. Need. Pleasure. He’d been correct in his estimation of her degree of innocence, but she wasn’t the typical sort of milk and water miss he would have met in London. She lived on a farm, after all, and knew well how it all worked, at least in theory. And Mavis had shared more than a bit with her.

Whenever Polly had expressed her confusion and dismay at why women would seek the aid of a love spell to win the heart of what was surely a bad man, Mavis had talked of passion, of being swept away by the promise of it all. Even then, it had all been a very abstract concept for her. But now she understood only too well why women would go to such lengths and take such risks.

As he approached her, she backed away. It wasn’t fear. It was choosing the higher ground, metaphorically speaking. She did not intend to engage in such carnality in the kitchen—not when there were perfectly good beds just up the stairs.

“Stove,” she said. “The stove is still lit.”

He altered course slightly, long enough to close all the dampers on the stove so that the fire would die out entirely.

Polly didn’t wait for him, but instead turned and made for the stairs, walking up to the landing. There she paused just long enough to unbutton her dress. The simple garment closed in the front—most of her garments did since that made it easier without having a maid present.

Polly climbed the stairs hurriedly. She was far less concerned about changing her mind than she was about Oliver changing his. She was desperately afraid that his overdeveloped sense of honor and very traditional morals would assert themselves once more for herself, she was only anxious. Anxious to feel, to leave, to experience. She wanted, at long last, to feel passion and desire—and to let those feelings sweep her away in a natural progression to what she could only hope would be a very satisfying conclusion. Based on the kisses they had shared, it could be nothing less.

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