A Winter Wish (The Read Family Saga #1) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,33

wistful and far-off. “I believe that is what I heard you call them. You and Ewan were outside my window.”

“And he wouldn’t join in,” she said, finishing part of that telling for him. “Because he didn’t wish to have his garments wet and miserable…”

“And I wanted to be down there with you, Merry. Because I’d never done anything so light or foolhardy or free,” he said softly. The wind howled once more, lending a greater sound to his words and dusting flakes of snow around them. “And I wanted you to do this now because it isn’t work or required. It’s not even something that, when we finish, will remain long past the next gust of wind or snowfall.” His eyes held hers. “It is something to do simply for the joy of it.”

Her throat moved, and she clutched her hands reflexively in the fabric of his jacket.

He held a palm out, and she stared at his outstretched fingers before placing hers trustingly in his, and then she joined him on the ground.

Shivering, she lay so that only several paces were between them, and he reclaimed his position on the cold, unforgiving ground.

Merry stretched her arms and legs up first slowly, as if trying to remember those motions, and then there was an increasing zeal.

He stared on, unable to look away from her and the bright-eyed glimmer in her eyes. Or her wide, dimpled smile. Nay, he didn’t want this to end.

Laughing, Merry found the rhythm, and her limbs glided in a perfect sweep, and that joy was so very infectious, he matched the pace she set until his laughter blended with hers.

They stopped and lay there, looking up at the night sky, their breath forming little clouds of white around them in the cold night air.

The snow crunched as she angled her head toward him. “Luke?”

He looked over. Emotion blazed from within the depths of eyes so vividly bright.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered, twining her fingers through his like ivy. An electric current passed between them, heat when there was only cold around them.

Not breaking that contact, not ever wanting to separate from her, Luke held tight to her hand, and standing, he carefully drew her to her feet, guiding them away from the masterpieces they’d made in the snow.

They remained there, Merry’s gaze locked with his, as time melted away.

Looping an arm about her waist, he drew her close and touched his lips to hers.

Merry melted against him as they devoured each other’s mouth. Parting her lips, she let him inside. Heat. So much heat. How, as frozen through as they were, was it possible that there was this scorching hotness? He stroked his tongue against hers, and she met every bold, unapologetic lash. Gripping the lapels of his jacket, Merry pressed her trembling body against his.

Another gust of wind whipped across the grounds, battering the greenhouse doors.

Reluctantly, Luke drew back, breaking their embrace. He palmed her cold cheek. Her eyes remained closed as she leaned into his touch like a contented little kitten, absorbing the warmth he proffered.

I love you…

Incapable of feeling cold right now, he folded Merry close in his arms and just held her.

Chapter Ten

Since she and Luke had returned an hour and thirty minutes ago, the world had come alive. All around her, the music room bustled with servants rushing to and fro. With great care, young men and women carried about the garland made by her and Luke—and many of the other maids—and hung those brightly adorned evergreens throughout the gilded music room.

The staff was in the final frantic stages of preparing for the impending arrival of the household’s guests.

Standing from the side of the room, overseeing the final arrangements, Merry was unable to keep from smiling.

Luke had pulled her away from her work and once more reminded Merry that she was as deserving of those moments of levity, compelled not by work, but rather by her own right to happiness.

And he makes me happy… Luke Holman.

Her heart quickened. Where there would be a time for horror and fear of the implications of that discovery, now there was only a giddying lightness that filled every corner of her person. It left her buoyant and—

“Her ladyship has requested your presence, ma’am.”

Just like that, the announcement brought Merry crashing down hard to earth and, along with it, reality. “Her ladyship?”

“She awaits in the White Parlor.” Did she imagine the faintly pitying look the butler, Blake, favored her with as he patiently waited for her?

Merry stole a