Page 79 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

Yes, that was true. The longest three hours of her life. To avoid looking at him, she’d recorded the number of scuffmarks on her boots, identified every variety of shrub among the frost-covered tangle they passed, and calculated interest rates in her head.

Regrettably, as the coach bounced, so did her gaze.

Tanner looked dreadful. Emaciated. Pale blue eyes hollow in their sockets, normally bronze skin the color of chalk. Arm supported by a dirty sling. A nasty red scar snaking beneath the stubble on his chin. His good hand shaking as he lifted his cheroot—which he’d not asked permission to smoke—to his lips. The wind had snatched it from his fingers and thrust it, smoldering, atop her paisley shawl.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged tight. What did it matter? She hated the man. She truly did. However, she didn’t delight in his looking so frail. Senseless when, not long ago, she’d wished to see him at his worst: strung from the highest limb in Richmond, dragged down Bank Street behind a galloping horse, tarred and feathered and forced to run through Town Market. Naked. She shivered and closed her eyes as an image of his muscular physique, as clear as any daguerreotype, popped, unwelcome, into her mind.

Scratch the tar and feather idea. Too easy to visualize the mob of women, plucking feathers and pinching Tanner’s tarred behind. She punched the pillow, clenched her fist tighter, and punched again.

And his face, still so handsome that when she’d gotten her first good look—light from the carriage window spilling over him, making him appear innocent and golden—a breath of air, thick as cotton, almost choked her.

Even the greenish cast to his skin could not alter such undiluted beauty.

Kate flung the pillow to the floor and drew her knees to her chest. Breathing in the scent of lemon verbena, she let her gaze rove the room. Faded doilies and somber furniture hemmed her in.

Oh, and the colorless prospect of marrying a man she did not love.

A debacle she’d fumbled once before, maladroitly, but with a sincere measure of naiveté. Why, why, did the same man seem to be once again standing in her way?

* * *

“Sweetheart, tell me you didn’t.”

Charlotte Chase pressed her lips to her husband’s shoulder and snuggled against him. The teasing scent of leather drifted from his skin. He released an exasperated groan, but slid his hand from her knee to her waist, drawing her in. She smiled. Perhaps, this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. “You’ve been busy writing the feature on” —she kissed his chin— “Harriet Beecher Stowe and” —the corner of his mouth— “with the amount of work here, I figured—”

“You figured you’d stick you nose in Miss Peters’ business,” Adam said, disgust lacing his words.

She sighed. “If you must state your case so bluntly, I suppose, yes.”

“Oh, Charlie.”

“Oh, Charlie, nothing. This will keep Kate occupied while she’s here. The project interested her. Besides, September was the last time you tabulated our subscription accounts. Heavens, she’s a bookkeeper in Richmond, perfectly qualified to review our records. A bookkeeper when she can find work.”

“I hear the edge. Another crusade for the independent woman?”

“No, but” —she tapped her fingernail against his chest— “you should have seen her mother’s face when I suggested it. Mrs. Peters is as likely to approve as she is to sprout wings and fly to the moon. Plus, I like Kate. She has spirit.” She shook my hand when she met me.

“Wait until Mrs. Peters realizes Tanner is in town. They’ll hear her shrieking on her flight to the moon.”

Charlie popped up on her elbow. “Kate and Tanner? What is this?”

“I came across them clawing at each other by the stagecoach. Pretty obvious something was going on. No woman would be that angry unless emotions were bubbling beneath the surface.”

“Did you get any information out of him?”

“Christ, Charlie.”

“Adam Jared Chase.” She jabbed him in the chest.

“All right, all right, get that bony nub away from me.” He captured her hand. “Tanner said they knew each other before, something about a newspaper article. He lied to her, tried to explain things, I guess. Hell, the man seemed ready to pitch to the floor. I didn’t ask anything else.”

“And, you waited this long to tell me?”

“Yes, I waited. I wanted to avoid some harebrained scheme. Like this one. Tanner just happens to stop by the office to write an editorial and who is there but Kate Peters. Doing the subscription accounts for the newspaper, my ass.”

Mercy, he understands me well, Charlie thought, and plopped to her side, the bed ropes squeaking in protest. “She has quite a mathematical mind. Even Mrs. Peters said so, and she wasn’t giving praise. Intelligent and beautiful. What more could the woman want in a daughter?”

“Yeah, well, what do you expect from that old crow? I guess Kate told you about Tanner?”