The Cavalier's Christmas Bride: A Sweet Historical Romance (The Chase Brides Book 8) by Lauren Royal & Devon Royal

Author:Lauren Royal & Devon Royal
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781634690867
Publisher: Novelty Books
Published: 2017-10-09T22:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

SEATED THREE HOURS later at the pretty hexagonal table in her bedchamber, Chrystabel cocked her head. “If you’re sure there’s no lavender, rosemary should do.”

A knock sounded only seconds before Matthew opened the door.

“Uh oh.” Arabel’s eyes widened as she handed over the vial of rosemary oil. “I warned you,” she whispered, “he’s going to be furious.”

But Chrystabel hadn’t been worried, and she wasn’t worried now. When Matthew approached, one look at his face told her he was not furious, although she suspected he’d pretend he was for a while.

She knew her brother.

“You said you were coming back,” he scolded, just as she’d expected. “Why didn’t you come back?”

“I was awfully cold, and I realized I had too much to do.” Wearing her best mask of blithe innocence, she unstoppered the vial and took a delicate sniff. “I had to finish decorating, and now I’m making perfume for gifts. And I still have to oversee Christmas Eve supper. Did you find a good tree to cut for the yule log?”

“Yes. That took us only a few minutes.”

Purposely delaying her reply, she made a note on a little card before dipping her dropper into the rosemary oil. It seemed she’d run out of lavender oil, but the rosemary would add a lovely lavender-like top note to the scent she was creating for Lady Trentingham. “If finding the log took only a few minutes, then why did you and Creath take so long to return?”

“Maybe because we were waiting for you?”

She peeked up at him through her lashes. “Or maybe not?”

Shying away from her knowing gaze, he skirted the table and wandered over to the curved oriel windows. Then he just stood there, looking down on the snow-blanketed Tudor gardens in silence.

She added two drops of the rosemary oil to her bottle and swirled it gently. “Spill it, Matthew.”

“I don’t know what happened.” He remained facing away, his warm breath fogging the glass as his words tumbled out in a rush. “We talked and talked. And walked and talked some more. It was cold, but I didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to, either. I think I could talk to Creath forever and never run out of things to say. I just met her yesterday, yet I feel I’ve known her for years.”

Chrystabel’s mouth hung open. Never in her life had she heard her brother speak this way about a girl—or speak about girls at all. Not in front of his sisters, anyway. Though her heart soared, she made herself stay silent. She sniffed her concoction, decided she was pleased, and corked it. One more gift crossed off her list.

Passing over an empty bottle, Arabel met her gaze, her big brown eyes full of disbelief and excitement.

Chrystabel flashed her a grin Matthew couldn’t see. “Creath is sweet, don’t you think?” she said conversationally, using a little silver funnel to add alcohol and water to the second bottle. “I think a floral scent will fit her. Orange blossoms, and maybe some vanilla. Lilac,

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