A Midwinter's Scandal - A Novella Duet by Erin Knightley & Heather Snow

Author:Erin Knightley & Heather Snow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: London England, Frost Fair, regency romance, short story, botany
Publisher: Erin Knightley
Published: 2016-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

“Ouch!” Malcolm released Phoebe’s hips and brought his right hand up to clutch at the spot where she’d punched him. Damn, but that hurt! Phoebe wasn’t a delicate flower, by any means. She’d always packed quite a wallop, even when they were children. But he swore the pain was compounded by the blows of her punches past. He rubbed at the throbbing ache and growled, “What the deuce was that for?”

Phoebe didn’t answer. She was too busy scrambling to extricate herself from his lap, while the ice did its best to thwart her. He rather enjoyed her squirming efforts—or would have if his arm didn’t smart so much—but after a moment, he took pity on her.

Levering himself by bracing his hands at his sides, he pushed to a seated position. Then, planting his feet, he placed his hands beneath Phoebe’s arms and lifted her up enough that she could gain her feet. The moment she did, she leapt away from him.

He rose to his own feet before he resumed massaging his upper arm.

“And how, I ask you, do you always manage to hit the exact same spot? Every time.” He glared over at her, but Phoebe was not appreciating his righteous disgruntlement at all. She occupied herself with smoothing her skirts and righting her appearance. “I suspect you stick your middle knuckle out to inflict the maximum agony, too, you bloodthirsty wench. I swear to God, Pheebs,” he said, using his childhood nickname for her, “if I develop a permanent knot there, I’m laying the blame solely at your feet.”

“Do hush, and take it like a man,” she quipped.

She looked up at him then, her withering stare belied by a tugging at the corner of her mouth. He grinned for both of them. How easily they fell back into their teasing banter, even after all these years.

But even the ghost of her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. “Besides, you deserved it.”

Malcolm’s grin faltered. He’d never seen such a look on Phoebe’s face in all of the years they had known one another. He’d seen imperiousness, laughter, vexation, mischievousness, triumph, sadness, and—to his shame—confusion and betrayal. But never anger.

It was gone so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. But no...it had been there.

Malcolm swallowed. He’d hurt her feelings the last time they’d seen each other, but that was years ago...a youthful folly. Surely she’d forgiven him after all this time. No, she was more likely angry that he’d spooked her into falling. “I didn’t intend for you to take a tumble.”

Phoebe waved him off. “Of course not, though you shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that.” She dropped her gaze from his and began to search beneath her cloak for something.

Heat crept beneath his cravat on a trek to the tips of his ears. She was angry about the liberties he’d taken with her person, then. Rightfully so. What the hell had come over him? Certainly, he was a healthy man in his prime and Phoebe was.

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