Snow by Caroline Lee

Author:Caroline Lee [Lee, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-29T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Snow sang under her breath as she tied off the last of the tatting. “Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant! Oh come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem!”

Joyful and triumphant.

The thought brought a proud grin to her face as she plucked out the pins which had held her latest creation against the tatting cushion. This design, about as wide as both her hands when spread out, was one of her most difficult. She’d used techniques and knots she knew, but had expanded them wider so she could convey her message.

But it wasn’t just her latest creation which made her feel joyful and triumphant. No, that was thanks in large part to yesterday’s kiss. She still felt as if she was walking on air, and couldn’t help but break into random songs.

Christmas carols, of course.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel Hunter’s arm around her, still taste his kiss on her lips. He’d made her feel alive and perfect in the best way, and yes, even joyful and triumphant.

And he’d given her a gift! The apple—round and shiny—was sitting beside her on the small table next to the lamp, waiting to be eaten. She’d promised herself she’d finish this project first, then eat it.

Yesterday she’d returned home without Lucinda noticing—or caring—and had immediately gone to her small room. She’d done a bit of lying on her bed and sighing in pleasure, remembering his touch, but after a while, her thoughts had begun to turn to what she could give to him. There wasn’t much she could think of he might need, and nothing much she could buy him, not with her limited funds.

But there was one gift, one she suspected he’d be thankful for.

She could tell him how she felt about him, in the only way she knew how.

So she’d pulled out her tatting cushion and thread spools and sketched out a design on some of Rose’s old papers. Then she’d settled into the parlor in her heavy robe and began to work. She tatted through dinner—she wasn’t at all hungry, not after the delicious luncheon Hunter had treated her to yesterday—but it wasn’t until late that evening she’d realized Lucinda hadn’t demanded food.

When she’d found her stepmother locked in the kitchen with her potions and concoctions, muttering frantically to herself, Snow was happy enough to sneak away quietly and retreat back to her cozy spot in the parlor. Of course, it would’ve been nicer—more festive, at least—with a tree and some decorations, but the small fire was cheerful enough.

She’d worked late into the night, then started again this morning.

And now she was done.

She lifted her creation to peer at it critically. There were imperfections here and there, but she doubted anyone other than a professional lace-maker would be able to recognize them. The letters were clear enough, and she prayed Hunter would like it.

Would reciprocate it.

“Oh come, let us adore him; Christ the Lord!”

This particular song always buoyed her spirits, and today was no different.

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