Scarlet Lies_Author's Cut Edition_Historical Romance by Jo Goodman

Author:Jo Goodman [Goodman, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781644570036
Amazon: B07L5BVPWG
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

"Christmas is only two days away," Ryland said. He looked up from shuffling the plans on his desk and Brook didn't respond. She was sitting in his chair, her legs crossed like a tailor while she repaired the hem of one of her dresses. He didn't pretend that she hadn't heard him. Although her face was a study in concentration, he knew she was ignoring him. Except for a few frigidly polite exchanges at breakfast, Brooklyn had done her damndest to keep their conversation to a minimum for the remainder of the day. Night had already settled on the valley. Starshine glittered on the icy crust of snow. In an hour or so, they would retire for the evening, and Ryland was continually having his face smashed by the barrier she had erected the night before. "I was thinking of bringing in a tree tomorrow. Would you like that?"

"Whatever you want," she said, biting off a thread and smoothing the material in her lap.

"Well, I want a tree," he said firmly. "And I want us to decorate it and I want you to bake cookies." He dropped his papers and stood up, crossing the room to the bookcases. Running his fingers across the bindings, he found the volume he wanted and pulled it down. "And I want us to read this." He waved the slim, leather-bound book under her nose. "Perhaps it will put a little Christmas spirit in your heart."

Brooklyn spared the book the briefest of glances. "I'll help you decorate," she said tightly. "I'll bake your silly cookies. But I will not, will not, join you in reading some stupid book!"

"Stupid book?" He looked at it, a frown creasing his forehead. "It's a wonderful little story. A Christmas Carol. I haven't read it in years; in fact, the last time was when I read it to Drew, the Christmas before I left for school. He enjoyed it. I thought you would too."

"I'm not a child," she snapped. "I don't have to be entertained."

"It's not precisely a child's story either, and I was thinking of our mutual pleasure." Her anger mystified him. It seemed completely out of proportion to his simple request. She was shaking, actually shaking, with it. When she looked up at him Ryland nearly recoiled from the blaze of blue-white heat in her eyes. She was perilously close to tears, and he hadn't any idea why. He dropped the book on the table beside her. "Forget I mentioned it," he said, turning on his heel. He had gone about four steps when he felt one corner of the book slam him in the spine. Ryland spun around immediately, kicking the book to one side when it fell at his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you do that?"

Brooklyn stood, tossing her mending on the floor, and lifted her chin belligerently. "You know so damn much! Figure it out for yourself!" She started to march out of the room, head high and

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