Page 140 of Snowbound Surrender

His lips left hers just as abruptly as he had kissed her, but he continued to hold her, the two of them staring at one another, his breathing just as ragged as hers.

Get ahold of yourself, Scarlett. Her attachment to him was growing, but as soon as the weather broke and the roads cleared, he would be back in London and she would be left here, alone. As the thoughts flooded in, she dropped her head, breaking their connection. When she looked back up, Hunter’s eyebrows had come together in a vee as he looked at her with some consternation.

“What were you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity as well as a thread of anger.

“Decorating,” she managed. She wouldnotbe cowed by him, though it was difficult to focus when she was still slightly shaken from her near-fall.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded now as he strode toward one of the chairs lining the side of the room, setting her down upon it as he crouched beside her. “You were standing on the very top of the ladder! You could have killed yourself.”

“Well,” she replied calmly, her hand fisting around her locket, twisting it from side to side as she felt the need to defend herself. “I didn’t, now did I?”

He ran a hand through his curls as he stood and paced before her. “What is going on here, anyway? My entire staff is bustling around, covering the house in … in trees!”

“Do you not recall last night?” she asked, raising her eyebrows, and when he stopped his movements and looked back at her, she knew he was remembering more than simply gathering some greenery.

“Of course I do,” he muttered. “But I never thought this would be the result.”

“This is Christmas, Hunter,” she said primly, “and as we are both stuck here, you best get used to it.”

CHAPTER 10

How couldshe sit there so calmly, as though nothing had just happened? Hunter had thought that his heart would leap out of his chest when he wandered into Oak Hall looking for his valet, and instead discovered his wife teetering dangerously on the top of a ladder. What if he hadn’t arrived in time? She could now be stretched out on the floor below him. She could have broken her neck, for goodness sake, and now she sat here, admonishing him for not enjoying the fact that she was littering his house with the scattering of trees and plants from outside.

“You’re right about one thing,” he muttered. “We are stuck here.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment regarding spending Christmas with your wife,” she said primly, and he looked down at her, at her hands which had finally stopped their fussing and were now folded in the lap of her cream morning dress. He reached down and straightened the material where it had slipped down her shoulder. His fingers stilled when they touched her bare skin, and her eyes dipped toward where they brushed against her. Did she feel the same fire that he did?

His breath caught as she turned her head, her eyes meeting his once more. Why did they captivate him so? He swallowed hard.

“It’s only … it’s only that I will be missing an important meeting,” he managed. “Of course I am pleased to be here with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he wasn't sure what he had said that vexed her so, but she didn't seem particularly happy with his response.

“Tell me, Hunter,” she said, standing and walking over to the ladder, and he followed her to help her straighten it, her scent of spruce and frankincense strengthened by the boughs around them. The entire house now smelled of her, and it was already driving him mad. “What is it that bothers you so about Christmas? Why did you never celebrate?”

He sighed. He hadn’t wanted to speak to her of this, to give her any more of himself until the time she decided to open herself up to him, but it seemed his wife was relentless when she wanted something — just look at the current state of Wintervale.

“My mother hated Christmas,” he said, wandering out of the hall into the Green Room beyond, and she followed. He took a seat in front of the fire, to ward off the cold that was filtering in, and she settled herself across from him in a matching Chippendale leather armchair. He shrugged. “There’s not much else to say, really. One year Nia decided that she would celebrate Christmas with or without the rest of us. We were here that Christmas. Nia cut boughs off the trees in front of the house — the ones that line the drive, you know which I mean. My father was furious. Said she had ruined the entire aesthetic. She spent the rest of the day crying in her room.”

“That’s terrible,” Scarlett murmured, bowing her head. “What of the other traditions? Do you go to mass? Do you give the servants their Boxing Day gifts?”

“We go to the church service,” he said with a shrug. “But only for appearances. There is no special meal after, no Boxing Day, no visit to the tenants as you have already forced upon me. Christmas is just another day.”

She cocked her head to the side as she studied him, and despite the frostiness that so often emanated from her, something seemed to melt as she contemplated his words.

“Well, Hunter,” she said with conviction. “This year you have no choice but to experience and celebrate Christmas. So you best prepare yourself.”

Was that a threat, or a promise?

They both jumped when they heard a slight cough from the doorway of the room, breaking the tension that had filled the air.

“My lady?” It was Spicer, his arms filled with greenery, with Scarlett’s lady’s maid just visible behind him. Ah, so this was the girl Scarlett had spoken of, who was so interested in his valet. It seemed Spicer wasn’t too averse to her attentions, from the way he kept glancing back at her, his cheeks a bright red. “We have the rest of the greenery for this room. Marion — ah, that is, Miss Parker, she has everything well organized for the rest of the house.”

Scarlett wore a satisfied grin, and Hunter tried not to chuckle. Somehow, he had a feeling his wife was behind this particular meeting between the pair of them.

“Wonderful!” she said, rising to her feet and clapping her hands together. “Perhaps you can climb the ladder, Spicer, as it seems I’m but an inch too short.”

“I’ll do it,” Hunter heard himself say, and all eyes turned toward him as he stood. For some reason, the thought of another man coming to the aid of his wife stirred a bit of jealousy within him. Which was ridiculous. It was not as thoughSpicer posed any threat of garnering his wife’s affections. But a man needed some pride, now, didn't he?