A Merry Wicked Winter by Scott Scarlett

Author:Scott, Scarlett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Happily Ever After Books, LLC
Published: 2022-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

Stop thinking about his lips.

About the way he kissed you.

That deep, delicious rumble he made low in his throat.

Do not recall the hardness of his chest, the brawny strength of his shoulders, the heat radiating from his big body, the prod of his thick—

The book she had been holding slipped from Sybella’s fingers, landing on the floor with a thud. Good heavens, this was not like her. Hastily, she bent to retrieve it, checking for damage. With a little aid from the very pleasant Mrs. Meyrick, Sybella had found the castle’s library.

But her efforts to distract herself from the intense embrace she had shared with her handsome host had thus far proven wholly inadequate. Some time had passed since he had stalked away from her in the wake of the kisses that had nearly brought her to her knees. She could not be certain how much. Perhaps hours—there was no mantel clock here in the library above the hearth.

Meanwhile, the snow outside continued to fall.

Unless there was soon a break in the weather, she would be remaining as a guest at Castle Upton for weeks instead of a mere day as she had originally supposed. Why, it was possible she would not reach Abingdon Hall until well after Christmastide. Brightling and Peter were likely dreadfully worried about her, and the Winter family would no doubt fret as well if she failed to appear.

The small leather-bound volume in her hands felt unaccountably heavy at the notion. She paced the length of the chamber and ventured near to the windows. From her vantage on one of the upper floors of the castle, she had a clear view of the rolling park. The landscape glistened with a frosting of snow, the effect creating a breathtakingly beautiful charm.

But it was not the snow that held her in its thrall, but rather thoughts of the man who had kissed her earlier. Callum.

Had she displeased him?

Was he angry with her?

There was a sudden, crackling tension in the air that told her she was not alone, a warm tingle at the nape of her neck. Sybella turned to find him standing there at the threshold. Tall and brooding and magnificently handsome.

His hair was damp, she noted, the golden-red shimmer muted. Perhaps he had bathed. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

Remembering herself, she dipped into a curtsy, still clutching the book she had liberated from its shelf to her bodice. “Lord Darkross.”

He sketched an elegant bow, and she belatedly realized that he held something in his hands as well. “Miss Clarke.”

They were being formal again.

After those wild, untamed moments in the ballroom earlier, this return to propriety felt wrong. And being in his presence again was enlivening in itself. Every part of her was already strung to an acute sense of awareness, by mere virtue of his presence.

He crossed the chamber, moving toward her in long-legged strides.

When he reached her, he extended an intricately decorated box to her. “The snow shows no sign of relenting yet. I thought ye might wish for something to occupy yer time.

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