Mary's Christmas Knight by Moriah Densley

Author:Moriah Densley [Densley, Moriah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781940695082
Amazon: 1940695082
Barnesnoble: 1940695082
Goodreads: 19337451
Publisher: EsKape ePress, LLC.
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

What is this fragrance softly stealing?

Shepherds! It sets my heart a-stir!

Never was sweetness so appealing

Never were flow'rs of spring so fair!

What is this fragrance softly stealing?

Shepherds! It sets my heart a-stir!

~Traditional French Noel

Nothing for it; she’d been caught. He must have seen her reflection in the windows. Drawing her robe tighter at the collar, Mary approached the table separating the chairs. “What are you doing here, Sir Wesley?”

“Brushing up on horticulture in the Galapagos.” He lifted a leather-bound book with his finger marking a page near the middle. Ah, he’d kept the fire burning high in the grate. Waves of warmth teased her stiff fingers and the cold tip of her nose. Just a little closer…

“Fascinating.” Mary rounded the table, careful not to bump the lantern, and her blasted stomach growled. She must have blushed brighter than the fire, but he didn’t seem to notice. She sat in the wingback chair opposite his, tucking the baby into her lap. The relief of warmth made her want to sigh in satisfaction. Hopefully she would appear casual. Alarming that her lips tingled, either in memory of what he’d done to them, or in a perverse wish for him to repeat it.

“I was rather trying to bore myself to death. Or at least to sleep.” Oh, his voice! Like purring and thunder, both at once.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Her gaze locked onto the crystal dish filled with peeled orange slices; her mouth stung and she swallowed over the sudden rush of desire. She drew shallow breaths, praying her stomach wouldn’t rumble again.

“And so you procreated instead. Inventive.”

It took her a moment to register he’d make a joke about her holding the baby. “I do work fast.” She tried not to look at him, not at his open collar revealing crisp hair she already knew the texture of. Especially unwise to dwell on his searing sea-blue eyes, reflecting the soft orange glow of the lantern, which gave the illusion of a fire and ice paradox. He’d been arresting enough covered in gutter slime; bathed and shaven, he looked fit to top the Christmas tree as some sort of ironic fallen angel figurine. Mary watched out the dark window, uncomfortable with letting the silence hang.

He lifted the dish of oranges and set it on the arm of her chair. “Do have some. They’re delicious, if a little tart.”

Mary preferred tart citrus to sweet. Her mouth watered, her throat tightened, and it was no use trying to resist. “Thank you.” She tried not to inhale the first piece. Before she knew, four slices had disappeared, and she knew her fortitude had crumbled in a heap. She was going to eat them all. At least it was fruit and not sugarplums.

After awhile, Sir Wesley opened his book again. If he observed her eating his last orange, he didn’t let on. The clock struck three. She wished she didn’t notice him rolling his shoulders and rubbing his arm. It woke Mary the Nurse, whose altruism overshadowed her discretion.

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