Page 144 of Snowbound Surrender

A smattering of applause began amongst the servants, who shortly thereafter began to filter out of the room to see to their duties. Lavinia and Baxter remained, looking slightly bemused.

“Hunter Tannon celebrating Christmas,” said Lavinia as she strode toward them. “I never thought I would see the day.”

“It’s just a log, Nia,” he muttered in response, surprising Scarlett as his face became shuttered. “It doesn’t much matter.”

“I would beg to disagree,” his sister argued. “You are quite an influence, Scarlett. I’m impressed.”

Scarlett shrugged, not understanding why it was so significant. Neither of them seemed to want to discuss it, however, and before long, they were making their way to one of the drawing rooms. Scarlett was going to change for the evening, but Lavinia insisted they would be leaving shortly after dinner, so not to go to any trouble. Looking down at the deep blue of her outdoor walking garment, Scarlett began to disagree, but when she strode past the blue drawing room toward her chambers, she caught sight of Marion with Spicer. Hunter’s valet had his head bent low next to hers. They were cleaning the room of the remaining greenery and ribbon from earlier in the day, but it seemed they were much more interested in one another than the task at hand. Scarlett grinned. While she wasn’t sure what the future might hold for the two of them, Spicer seemed to be a sweet young man, and if this was what Marion wanted, then Scarlett hoped she found in him what she was looking for. If nothing else, it would make for a lovely Christmas.

As for her own romance this season…. She slowed her steps as she returned to the main drawing room, where Hunter and his family awaited her. She hadn’t wanted this. She had expressly kept herself as far from Hunter as possible, turning him away at every turn. Yet, somehow he had managed to find his way through the thick shell she had built around herself, becoming far too intimate with not only her body but her thoughts.

While he would be returning to London soon, it wasn’t the last she would see of him. This man would be with her, at one point or another, for the rest of their lives. She was longing toallow him into her heart, but she knew when he left it would only break it clean in two.A few more days, she thought with new resolve.Just find your way through the next few days and all will be as it was.

Only she knew that things would never be the same again.

Hunter pacedin front of Scarlett’s room. His sister and her husband had finally left, thank goodness. What they thought was a quick dinner had turned into an evening of reluctant entertainment. Damn Baxter Shaw. Hunter never enjoyed the man’s company, but today had been something else entirely. Had he not entered the room when he did, Hunter could now be in bed with his wife, enjoying the consummation of his marriage that had been so long in coming.

Did he go to Scarlett now? His body screamed at him to knock down the door and take her, as her body responded to him with more willingness than any other woman he had ever been in company with.

But tonight, when he had said goodnight to her, looking deep into her eyes with a promise of more, her hazel eyes had been dark and shuttered.

“Goodnight, Hunter,” she had said, turning from him at the divide between their rooms without any further invitation. Did he attempt to go to her, or would he only be rejected? He could only take so much of it from her. Perhaps he was pushing too hard, too fast. For he didn’t simply want her to open to him physically, but he yearned for her to share more of herself with him.

He didn’t have much time, however, until he would make his return to London. He wished he knew how he could convince her to come with him, to truly be his wife, but she seemed quite settled here. He would ask her in the morning. Everything would be well — tomorrow. It was Christmas, and, he had been told, Christmas was a day for miracles.

CHAPTER 12

“Good morning, my lord,”Spicer entered Hunter’s rooms the next day humming that cheerful tune again.

“Good morning, Spicer,” he replied groggily. Hunter had never woken easily, taking some time to ease out of slumber.

“Your coffee,” Spicer said, bringing a tray around the bed, and Hunter took it gratefully.

“You’re a saint, Spicer,” he said, as he did every morning, though Spicer’s laugh seemed slightly more jovial today than it did most days. “You’re in good spirits this morning.”

“Of course — it’s Christmas, my lord! Happy Christmas!”

Hunter shrugged. It was Christmas, true, but it was simply another day, though one in which he went to church and had yet another dinner with his sister. And — oh yes — this year, it was the day in which he must convince his wife that she should be happy to be married to him.

Spicer continued to whistle as he went to the wardrobe and began to choose Hunter’s clothing. Hunter looked over at him with narrowed eyes.

“Has anything … occurred, Spicer?” He had given Scarlett a hard time about her preoccupation with the servants’ affairs, but now here he was, questioning his valet like a young girltittering about the latest love affair. What the hell was wrong with him? “Never mind,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “Has any post been able to come through?”

“It’s, ah, Christmas Day, my lord,” Spicer said apologetically, and Hunter sighed. Right. He felt like a bit of a beast as he looked at his young, eager valet. The lad had tried to wet down his own unruly hair, but pieces of it were standing straight at attention. Hunter gulped down a couple of sips of coffee.

“It’s the lady’s maid, isn’t it?”

“Pardon me, my lord?”

“Your good spirits — they would be due to my wife’s maid?”

“Marion,” Spicer said, a smile stretching his face and a faraway look coming to his eyes. Hunter let out a low chuckle.

“Women will do that to you,” he said, hearing the ruefulness in his tone.

“Ah, how long do you suppose we will stay in the country?” Spicer asked, looking up at him hopefully as he laid out Hunter’s breeches and waistcoat.

“Until the roads are clear enough,” Hunter said, pushing back the bedcovers and walking to the window. He set his coffee down on the windowsill as he drew on a robe. “It didn’t snow overnight,” he observed, “So as long as a fair amount of traffic comes through, in a day or so we should be back in London.”