Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,262

that looks good. What do you think?”

He blinked. Wister was standing in front of him holding up a hand mirror. On her face sat a hopeful grin.

He examined his reflection in the glass and was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. Wister had cut neatly up both sides, leaving a soft mop of wavy hair still sitting on the top of his head.

The cut wasn’t the over foppish look of a full Brutus. She hadn’t left him as a poor imitation of a dedicated follower of fashion. She had actually given him a surprisingly good haircut. He liked it. “It’s perfect.”

She clapped her hands together with unrestrained glee. “You really like it?”

He found himself laughing and smiling along with her. The haircut was the best he’d ever had, but it was her open and generous nature that set his heart all aflutter.

If Deri could see me now, he would be chuckling. I am at this woman’s mercy.

“Yes, Wister, I sincerely do like what you have done with my hair. It doesn’t need anything else. You are quite a talented lady.” He studied the joy on her face, and it occurred to him that Wister was a woman not used to receiving warmth or praise. She had lost her family and then been forced to live an empty existence at Kington House.

What if she didn’t have to be lonely anymore? If you offered her the chance to explore what could be possible between the two of you?

“Thank you. I am pleased you like your hair. Now, are you ready to trust me with an open razor and your throat?” she asked.

He replied without hesitation. “Yes.”

Wister busied about the kitchen. She topped the large ceramic bowl with more hot water before carrying it back to the table. “Lay your head back a little please. I want to soften your bristles with a hot cloth.”

While Wister mixed the shaving paste with some water, Rhys savored the pleasant sensation of a warm, damp face washer over his beard and whiskers. After removing the washcloth, Wister came to stand behind him once more and lathered the shaving mix over his facial hair in gentle circular motions, humming to herself while she worked.

“Now, the secret to a good shave is for you to stay perfectly still,” she said.

Rhys wasn’t going to argue the point with a woman holding an open razor in her hand and simply nodded.

Wister chuckled. “Nodding one’s head is not keeping still.”

Tingles rippled through him as Wister placed her finger under his chin and tipped his head farther back. The first scrape of the razor against the side of his face had Rhys closing his eyes and trying his best to become like a statue. The sexual tension running through his body a constant reminder to him that he was most certainly not made of stone.

She worked methodically, humming that same soft tune as she shaved both the sides of his face and the delicate area under his chin. With her slender, feminine fingers gently stretching the skin up, the blade moved smoothly, never catching or nicking.

“You can sit upright now. I just need to shave your lip line,” she said.

As Rhys righted himself in the chair, Wister handed him a clean wet cloth. Freeing his hands from under the towel, he proceeded to wipe the rest of the shaving paste from his cheeks and neck.

“This is always the tricky part. I have to get very close to do it right,” said Wister, pulling up a three-legged stool and taking a seat right in front of Rhys.

She was so close he was able to study the color of her eyes in great depth. He had thought they were pure brown, but now caught glimpses of gold and pale brown flecks. It seemed that every time he got near to Wister, Rhys discovered something new about her.

“Rhys?”

Blinking he came back to the real world. Twice now he had lost himself in thoughts of her.

He silently chided himself. That was a lie. He was often thinking about Wister. His interest was fast becoming a secret obsession. “Sorry, I was woolgathering,” he replied.

Wister set the blade of the razor gently to his face, a half inch above his lip, then dragged it down. After wiping the shaving paste and facial hair on a spare towel, she repeated the motion, slowly moving from right to left. A quick rinse of the blade in the bowl and then she was back giving a final touch up. “I think