Countess by Christmas by Cheryl Bolen

Author:Cheryl Bolen [Bolen, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency romance
Publisher: Harper & Appleton
Published: 2021-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

After dinner that night and after she’d tucked in Stevie, David challenged Mrs. Milne to a game of cribbage. The drawing room, illuminated only by the light from the fire and a single candelabra near the door, was incredibly intimate. Ballard had set up the game table directly in front of the hearth. David kept thinking about capturing her for a kiss beneath the mistletoe.

He was growing mad with want of her.

As their game progressed, he realized she was a skillful player, so much so that she was not inclined to converse with him. Not at all what he had in mind.

Ever since she’d complimented him that afternoon by comparing his merits to the non-existent ones of Blatherwick, he’d felt as if he were walking on clouds. Did she really find him admirable? Could she be attracted to him?

A week ago he hadn’t known her. Three days ago he had despised her. And now his fondest hope was that she could want him in the same way he wanted her.

He hadn’t enough experience with these kinds of emotions to know exactly in what way he wanted this woman. Certainly, he wanted her in his bed. But somehow, even after so short an acquaintance, he did not think she was the kind of woman who would consent to such a prospect.

Did he want her for . . . good lord, his countess? His heartbeat drummed. Not in his entire eight-and-twenty years had he ever thought of marrying. He’d never before met a woman who appealed to him that strongly.

Until now.

God help him.

Clearly, he was not concentrating on his game. She handily beat him.

“Perhaps,” said he, “we could sit on the sofa, have a glass of port, and watch the fire. It’s so soothing on a chilly winter’s night.”

She favored him with a smile. He helped her to the sofa, and then he moved the table and chairs away from the hearth to allow them clear vision of it. When he came to sit on the sofa, he sat closer to her than she had chosen to sit by him the previous night. He poured her drink, handed it to her, and offered a toast. “Permit me to drink to a happy Christmas and healthy lungs for Stevie.”

Her glass clinked against him. “Thank you. You’re so good to him.”

They drank.

“Will you give your permission for me to take him—in my enclosed carriage against the cold—tomorrow to the village so he can purchase a Christmas gift for his mother?” he asked.

Her sweet mouth opened. “How thoughtful you are! I’m sure Stevie would love that.”

“Perhaps you can suggest something for me to get Mrs. Ballard.”

She thought on this for a moment. “There is something! There’s a man in the village who sells spectacles that enable older people to be able to read small print. Poor Mrs. Ballard’s eyes aren’t what they once were. Just the other day she was lamenting she could no longer read her Bible. I believe she would love to have those spectacles, but I understand they’re rather expensive.

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