to take care of your goddaughter while I take a turn about the room. I’ve sat here so long, I’m at risk of losing the feeling in my legs.” She gestured to her husband. “Ross, darling, help me up, would you?”
“Oh…” Edward hesitated, stepping back. “I don’t know, I…”
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “Come on, hold your hands out.”
He reached out and she dropped Edwina into his arms. In a clumsy, awkward gesture, he curled his arms and held the baby close. Edwina let out a wail.
“Mrs. Trelawney, I’m not doing this right!” he said, his voice rising. “You must take her back.”
“Good lord!” a voice exclaimed. Susan Claybone strode across the floor and grasped Edward’s arm.
“You’re holding her head all wrong,” she chided. “You don’t want it flopping all over the place.”
“You hold her then, Miss Claybone.”
“Oh, no, you’re not going to shirk your responsibilities,” she retorted. She grasped his hand and moved it until the flat of his palm was against the back of the baby’s head. “All you have to do is hold your hand still, like this, see? Then she’s supported. Lord knows, your hand’s big enough.”
“You speak as if large hands are an affliction, Miss Claybone,” he said.
“On the contrary,” she said. “They can do much, but only if they’re being used to the best of their ability.”
“Leave him alone, Miss Claybone,” Ross said, crossing the floor to help Alice up. “Those hands you’re quick to criticize were instrumental in bringing Edwina in to the world last night.”
“Mr. Trelawney,” Edward said, a note of distress in his voice, “I’m sure Miss Claybone meant no harm. You shouldn’t…”
“I can defend myself, thank you very much, Mr. Scrimgeour,” Susan interrupted, “I don’t need a man to fight my battles for me.”
“Good,” he replied. “Women should be permitted to fight their own battles. In my view, gallantry’s overrated and often walks hand in hand with insincerity.”
Miss Claybone’s eyes widened and the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile as they stared at each other.
Alice exchanged a glance with her husband and smiled. “I believe Miss Claybone may have met her match,” she whispered. “There’s a sprinkling of love there, I think.”
“What—our neighbor and Miss Claybone?” Ross shook his head. “You do talk nonsense sometimes, my love.”
“Look at them,” Alice said.
The subjects of their conversation had stopped arguing, and Miss Claybone was showing Edward how to hold Edwina properly. As they chatted, she reached up and brushed her hand along Edward’s arm, as if removing a speck of dust from his sleeve, and a slow smile crept across his lips at the gesture.
“I think, with a little encouragement, the magic of Christmas will ignite the spark of love,” Alice said. “We’ve been blessed with two miracles this holiday and, as you know, miracles always come in threes.”
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily Royal
Headstrong Harts
What the Hart Wants, Book 1
Queen of my Hart, Book 2
Hidden Hart, Book 3
London Libertines
Henry’s Bride, Book 1
Hawthorne’s Wife, Book 2
Roderick’s Widow, Book 3
About the Author
Emily Royal grew up in Sussex, England, and has devoured romantic novels for as long as she can remember. A mathematician at heart, Emily has worked in financial services for over twenty years. She indulged in her love of writing after she moved to Scotland, where she lives with her husband, teenage daughters and menagerie of rescue pets including Twinkle, an attention-seeking boa constrictor.
She has a passion for both reading and writing romance with a weakness for Regency rakes, Highland heroes, and Medieval knights. Persuasion is one of her all-time favorite novels which she reads several times each year and she is fortunate enough to live within sight of a Medieval palace.
When not writing, Emily enjoys playing the piano, hiking, and painting landscapes, particularly the Highlands. One of her ambitions is to paint, as well as climb, every mountain in Scotland.
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Past, Present, Future
The Daring Dersinghams
Lynne Connolly
Chapter One
Past
Christmas, 1760
Rhona MacKay gazed out of the window of the highest tower of Bosven Castle. She started every day here in this tiny room, even though her bedroom was a floor below. Nobody else came here. She could take ten minutes for herself and plan her day.
She didn’t care that fifteen years ago, a man who had tried to become king had cowered here, hiding from the soldiers who came to search. That was history now, over and done with. The handsome young prince had become a disillusioned drunk, drifting around Europe. He’d nearly taken the owners of this castle, the new, youthful