The Duke's Christmas Greetings by Rose Gordon & Ava Stone & Lily George

Author:Rose Gordon & Ava Stone & Lily George
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-11-03T08:00:00+00:00

Anthony re-read the same sentence in his book for the fifteenth time. He would not look down at Rosamond. He was not a love-struck swain, and she was not his beloved. He might have imagined her soft gasp when he touched her hair. She probably thought him far too old and too dour, and thanks to Genevieve, too much of a forlorn figure for romance. He could not resist the urge to look down at her, but did so on the pretense of picking up his now-empty teacup.

She had fallen asleep just moments ago, and was curled in her wool cloak, her chin resting on her folded hands. She was so small and so lovely. Never before had he noticed it. She had become a permanent fixture of their home, and he had always thought of her as Frances and Helen’s annoying little friend.

Why was he gazing at her? Why had he made the mistake of touching her? He was being a fool.

Grandmother and Danby wanted him to find a wife. Any young girl of good family would do. He had not relished the idea of picking a young woman as one did a horse. In fact, due in large part to Genevieve, the entire idea of matrimony had become repugnant to him. The careless way in which the whole proposition was made to him made him balk. If he was going to marry, he wanted a companion. He wanted someone who loved the things he loved. That woman seemed unlikely to exist. What young girl would prefer farming to a ball? And yet, here she was. Instead of flirting with him, or teasing him, or wanting to play games, Rosamond had started reading about the very subjects he held dear.

Would Rosamond be happy being a farmer’s wife? For that was all he desired to be.

No, no, of course not. He was being ridiculous. He rose and took the two teacups into the tiny kitchen. He glanced out of the kitchen window, where the snow had drifted against the windowpane. The storm had died down to an occasional flurry, and the moon was rising. They could easily make it home now. The moonlight, especially on the snow, would be as bright as day.

He should take her home now. There was no reason to linger.

He came back into the great room, where she still slept. He could let her continue sleeping, for she seemed so peaceful and comfortable. But the longer they waited, the more likely that he would have a great deal of explaining to do to his family.

There was nothing for it. He would have to awaken her.

He got to his knees beside her, and touched her arm gently. “Rosamond.”

“Hmmm.” She rolled over on her back, her eyes still closed.

He was close enough to be fully surrounded by her special scent of sandalwood. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Enough of this. He was truly acting the fool. He would not touch her again.

“Rosamond. Miss Hughes.” He said it more sharply this time.

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