Regency Christmas Gifts. Carla Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ November sun. Her right leg ached for its position around the curved horn of her sidesaddle, her hands itched for the feel of reins in them. Never to ride again seemed the most awful thing and one she had not allowed herself to dwell upon since her accident.

      She forced a smile. “So, he has a good seat, does he? Then he must have a pony!” She shot Michael a worried look. “Surely you haven’t set him up by himself on a fullsize horse!”

      “Yes, but on a lead. He managed very well.” Napier’s large hand cupped the boy’s shoulder for an affectionate squeeze. Then he maneuvered himself to the settee and offered the crutches to David. “Settle these for me, would you? Good man,” he said, when the boy had stacked them neatly against the arm and within reach.

      David beamed at the praise. He was such a sturdy little fellow and the absolute spit of his father. Amalie felt a surge of something strongly maternal whenever she looked at David. She shared a meaningful look with Napier that defied mere words.

      “Well, I’m off for a quick wash before tea. Want to come, David?”

      “Yes, sir. Riding’s turrible dusty. Da?”

      Napier waved him off. “I’ll bide awhile. You’re the one who reeks of horse.” He added in a stage whisper. “Remember to bow.”

      David did so. “Excuse us, please, Miss Amie.”

      Amalie nodded and when they had gone, she turned to Napier. “His manners exceed yours.”

      “And yours,” he retorted.

      “And those of his grandmother! Frightful beast of a woman!”

      He frowned at that. “Never speak ill of Mrs. MacTavish.”

      “Why? Her one goal in life seems to be making you out a villain of the worst order. And she’s none too fond of me, that’s for certain!”

      “She believes I let her daughter die and now will take away the child who replaced her loss.” He expelled a sigh. “And how am I to do that to her?”

      “How can you not? She’s sending him away to school next year! At seven!”

      “Not away. I spoke to her about it. He’s going to a school there in Maidstone.”

      Amalie regretted broaching the subject and decided to turn it since there was no point to the confrontation. “My back is breaking in this confounded chair.” She tried to move it, but the wheels were stuck on the edge of the rug.

      He grasped one of his crutches and hooked the handle over her front wheel, tugging her onto the carpet. Then he pulled her chair closer and beckoned for her to lean forward. When she did, he grasped her body and lifted her onto the cushion beside him. “There. Better?”

      The strength of his arms amazed her. The sudden closeness of him overwhelmed her senses. He smelled of fresh air, leather and sandalwood soap. Perhaps a hint of evergreen. She breathed deeply and leaned closer, her shoulder and arm resting against his.

      When she raised her eyes, he was looking down at her and the tempo of his breathing changed. His lips opened as if he would speak, but he said nothing. Instead he lowered his head and kissed her softly.

      She felt his hand at her waist, the other cup her neck as his thumb caressed her chin. The kiss grew deeper, stealing her breath and her reason. Desire flowed through her veins like warm honey, sweet as the taste. Amalie shuddered, lost in the feelings she had only dreamed about.

      He released her and peered into her eyes as if looking for something he desperately sought.

      “What is it you want?” she gasped without thinking. “Tell me…show me.”

      Her question might have been a dash of cold water. He sat back immediately, releasing her and moving away as if she’d suddenly screamed for help.

      “Nothing,” he said, his voice curt. “For a moment, I lost my head. I haven’t kissed a woman in a very long time and here you were.”

      “Where you put me!” she snapped. “So any woman would have done, I suppose.”

      He cleared his throat and avoided looking at her.

      “We kissed by the stairs. Have you forgotten that so soon?” She hadn’t, that was for certain. The feel of his lips on hers had disturbed her sleep and a great portion of her waking moments.

      He did look at her then. “I didn’t forget it, but it was you who kissed me if you recall. This was my doing.” His voice was soft with a touch of regret. “You’re not entirely safe with me, you know. Everything about me works but one knee. It would be wise of us to have a care or we could find ourselves wed for good and all.”

      “What? How else could we be wed? Surely you are not suggesting a silly handfast marriage such as you have in Scotland! That’s absurd! Not even legal here.”

      At that, he smiled. “The custom is a bit frowned upon these days, even north of the border. Nay, I’d thought that once you recover the use of your legs, we could arrange an annulment. Unless we…you know.”

      “Consummate the marriage?” Amalie asked bluntly.

      He blushed. He actually blushed. Fancy that.

      Oh, Lord. Amalie realized she was staring at him, shaking her head, giving him the impression she might want to…you know. Well, perhaps she did, but she would never admit as much to him.

      It was only curiosity on her part, surely. She had only kissed two men before. Boys, really. She had never even entertained the thought of physical relations with them. But Napier had stirred something inside her that felt rather dangerous and very enticing. Damn him for it!

      She tore her gaze from his. “Fine. If that is what you wish, so be it.” How much plainer could he make the fact that he could never want her as a wife? “Would you leave?”

      “Of course. I can be on my way directly after the wedding.”

      She rolled her eyes. “I meant immediately. Leave the room.” If he did not, she feared she would grab the nearest heavy object, like the marble lamp on the side table, and brain him with it.

      Alex snatched up his crutch and hopped over to retrieve the other one. If he had learned anything in his twenty-eight years, it was that a woman in a snit was best left alone. He couldn’t figure what he had done to make her so angry. He was the one suffering for the restraint, not her.

      Michael obviously hadn’t discussed the idea of an annulment with her. Once she’d had time to digest it, she would see it was for the best.

      He swung the crutches forward a step, loving the feel of being upright whenever and however long he wanted and not having to balance on one foot to do so. If only he could devise a brace of some kind to make his knee stable, he could probably manage a cane. “I’ll find a way,” he muttered under his breath.

      Alex had just cleared the doorway of the parlor when he saw her.

      “I daresay you will manage,” Mother MacTavish said, her tone bitter. “But for her sake, you should not.”

      Alex СКАЧАТЬ