Noble Holidays by Anthea Lawson

Author:Anthea Lawson [Lawson, Anthea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781680130560
Publisher: Fiddlehead Press

4

Chapter Four

Their gazes locked, and Eliana felt herself falling into the blue of his eyes. What was happening to her? This reserved wolf was not at all the type of gentleman she’d envisioned meeting this evening. Or, perhaps, ever.

A commotion at the doorway of the refreshment room made her blink and look away, both relieved and disappointed by the distraction. A maskless fellow had rushed in, cheeks flushed and hair damp.

“It’s snowing!” he announced. “Nice, big flakes, too. Perfect for wishing upon. Come out, everyone.”

“Lord Whitcomb,” Eliana said. “Always looking for the fun in everything. No doubt he and his cronies have started a pile of snowballs to pelt the unwary.”

Count Nikolai’s lips twitched up in a smile. “If it just started snowing, then I doubt he’s been able to gather sufficient ammunition. Now is the perfect time to venture outside and watch the snow fall. Shall we?”

He set his mostly untouched wine aside, rose, and offered his arm.

Should she accept? Slowly, Eliana put down her own glass of wine. The count must have sensed her hesitation, for he leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“Mademoiselle Red, despite my appearance, I assure you I do not bite. Nor will I attack you with a snowball or attempt to stuff snow down the back of your cloak. But I would like to see the snowfall. It will remind me of home.”

The wistfulness in his tone, more than anything, prompted her to rise and slip her arm through his.

“How long has it been since you’ve been in Kiev?” she asked.

“A very long time.” His voice held a wry note.

She wondered what had sent him from his home, but she was too much of a lady to pry. They barely knew one another, after all.

“I take it you’ve been traveling about Europe?” she asked instead.

“I’ve been living abroad for some years, yes. Would you care to fetch your pelisse before stepping outside?”

She glanced at the drawing room where the butler had taken charge of everyone’s outer garments, and shook her head at the line already forming.

“We won’t be out long. Unless you’re worried about your fur?”

“I believe wolves are used to the snow. But what of your cloak? Will the snow not mar the velvet?”

She paused at the side door leading into the garden and untucked her hand from the crook of his elbow.

“Simple.” She untied the cloak and whirled it about, a flutter of bright red, then resettled it inside-out upon her shoulders.

The lining was more durable than the silk velvet, which brushed softly against her bare arms. The cloak began to slip, and he caught the edge, his fingers grazing her shoulder. The contact made heat flare under her skin. Seemingly oblivious to how his touch affected her, he pulled the cloak closed and helped her fasten it.

“You are a resourceful woman,” he said.

The compliment warmed her, and distracted her from her giddy reaction to his nearness. No one ever said she was resourceful or clever—they reserved those words for her sister. No, Eliana was beautiful and charming and witty, and she was growing rather tired of it.

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