She wandered into the dressing room. “Only a little.”
“Flick, you’d better plan to come back here,” he called with gratifying impatience.
As she opened the door to the huge rosewood armoire in the corner, she smiled. How very nice it was to have a gorgeous man eager for one’s company. “In a moment.”
She returned, burdened with a large mahogany box. His face alight with curiosity, Edmund pushed up against the bedhead. “What the devil is this?”
Feeling very pleased with herself, she braced to extend the heavy box in his direction. “Happy Christmas, my dear husband.”
He took it with a delighted smile. “I’d forgotten.”
“So had I, even though I’ve just been to church.”
He grinned and caught her hand for a quick kiss. “How clever of you to have a gift for me.”
Felicity perched on the end of the bed, and folded her legs up under her nightgown. “It was luck as much as anything. I had no idea where you were this year. And I wasn’t ready to entrust all my hard work to the War Office with the hope that they could find you. I thought you might write for Christmas, and I’d know your location then.”
He lifted the lid of the box, to reveal neatly wrapped packages resting on a bed of white linen. “New shirts,” he said with transparent pleasure. “Bless you. I always had the softest shirts in the regiment.”
She’d sewn, washed and bleached each shirt with just that object. The way she had for the last seven years. “I hated to think of you over there with scratchy linen.”
“All made by you?”
“Yes.” Every stitch a silent declaration of love.
“Thank you.” When he lifted one of the smaller packages, a piece of greenery fell from the wrapping. “Mistletoe?”
“For Christmas.” This year, she’d placed a few mistletoe sprigs in with his present and made a wish for his safe return as she did it.
He smiled. “For kisses.”
“For luck.” Feeling very daring, she picked up a sprig and held it over his head as she stretched up to kiss him. Only when he drew her closer and the corner of the box bumped her hip did she recall what they’d been doing before pleasure distracted them.
“Edmund…” she protested, as his hand slipped under the top of the nightdress.
“Mmm?”
Heat rippled through her when he squeezed her breast. “Your present?”
“Mmm,” he said, nibbling his way down her neck and making every hair on her skin stand up.
“Present…” She sounded less convincing by the second and was almost sorry when he pulled away.
“Stop tempting me.” He kissed her with unmistakable purpose, then returned to his gifts. He unscrewed a silver container. “Bonbons.”
“In one of your letters, you said you like peppermint.”
“I do.” He offered her a sweet, before taking one for himself. “Fancy you remembering that.”
Felicity remembered every word he’d ever said or written to her. His delight in the sweet made her smile, even as a burst of fresh mint flooded her mouth. The taste, however delicious, couldn’t compete with Edmund’s kisses.
“Did you make these, too?”
She nodded. “I made everything I could.”
“I’ve married quite the housewife,” he said. “Did you always make everything? You never said.”
She blushed. Again. “I know it’s not very countessish, but I wanted you to receive a Christmas present that came directly from me.”