The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,42
tinge of smug satisfaction to the pronouncement.
“Where?” she asked, and only stared up at him, all in a dither and wondering what they’d been talking about.
“Here.” He squeezed her waist, making her suck in a breath. “Do you eat at all?”
She nodded.
“You barely touched your dinner.”
She wrinkled her nose at the memory. “I don’t like calves’ feet, or cabbage.”
“Then why was it for dinner?”
“It’s cheap.”
“What about this morning?”
“Bread and jam.”
He shook his head, his expression fierce. “You gave most of it to George.”
“I did?” she replied, wondering why on earth he’d noticed.
“You did, and if you keep on, you’ll not be a slip but a wisp. Men do not wish to marry wisps, Miss Penrose. They’re dashed difficult to get hold of.”
“You seem to have… have a hold… of… of me.”
He nodded, a gleam in his eyes that made her silly, giddy, hopeful heart crash about like an unfortunate fishing boat around Vinegar Cove.
“I do,” he murmured, his voice all low, velvety, and wicked, and… and he let go and resumed his imitation of an exotic pasha, his expression so utterly benign she knew he’d done it on purpose. The rat. “Well, so far we have a gown fit for Susan and a tent awning. Is that it?”
Livvy swallowed down a distasteful mixture of disappointment and ire and returned to the chest.
“The moths got into my pink, it’s beyond saving. There’s this….”
She held up her final offering and King stilled, an anxious glint in his eyes.
“Does that… it does have a tail, doesn’t it?”
Livvy nodded. “Yes. We did some playacting one Christmas. I think perhaps I was supposed to be a cat?”
“Oh, good. I thought I was having a relapse.”
She snorted as he put a dramatic hand to his forehead and affected a swoon.
“A pity you weren’t in the play,” she observed. “I was dreadful, but I suspect you’d be a fine actor.”
He chuckled, tilting his head to one side. “Did you have ears?”
“Yes, out of paper. In fact….” Livvy searched about the chest for a moment. “Ah, yes, here we are.”
She had fashioned the ears onto a headband and they were a little bent, but otherwise none the worse for wear. For some reason that escaped her, she put them on.
King beamed at her. “Adorable. Did you black your nose, too, and add whiskers?”
“As it happens, yes,” she replied, feeling ridiculous.
“Such a pretty kitty,” he murmured, and there was that predatory gleam again.
He grinned, and Livvy could think of nothing besides pet crocodiles. He held out his hand to her.
“Come here, puss.”
Livvy swallowed and shook her head.
“Ah, don’t be shy now. I won’t bite.”
Crocodile. Crocodile. Croco….
Livvy looked down, wondering at what point she’d put her hand in his. She frowned at her fingers, perplexed, and then squeaked as he gave a tug and she tumbled onto the bed and into his lap.
“There, now. That’s more comfortable, isn’t it, kitten?”
“I am not a kitten,” Livvy retorted. “And it’s not the least bit comfortable.”
She was definitely getting better at dissembling. Her bottom was nestled perfectly in his lap and he was big and warm, and she wanted nothing more than to rest her head on his shoulder and close her eyes.
“But didn’t you want some practical experience? Don’t you want to make a man desperate to marry you?”
“Y-Yes,” she said doubtfully.
“Well, then. There are many men who like to think of their sweethearts as delicate creatures, kittens, or birds. It brings out our protective instincts.”
Livvy stared at him. “You’re not suggesting I wear ears and a tail to the ball, I hope?”
King snorted. “Well, it would certainly gain you attention, but perhaps not of the kind you are hoping for.”
“I should say not.” Livvy replied, trying to sound tart, but his hand rested on the small of her back and her spine was melting beneath his touch. Just to make things worse, he rubbed it up and down in a soothing motion, and it took every ounce of willpower not to purr.
“I think, all things considered, that we need to investigate your sister-in-law’s wardrobe.”
“We?”
He nodded. “Judging on what I’ve seen so far, I dread to think what crimes against sartorial elegance you would commit if I left you to your own devices. No. This must be a team effort.”
Once again, he’d distracted her from the implied insult, this time by the use of the word team. He was suggesting they were a team. The two of them, in it together. Something warm and fuzzy wrapped about her, like a snuggly blanket.