One More for Christmas

“‘A book like that’?” She moved her hand lower. “You haven’t even read it.”

“In fact I have, but even if I hadn’t, I had the dubious pleasure of hearing your sister reading from it.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I downloaded it that same night. I told myself that if you had certain expectations of what it would be like here in Scotland, I needed to know what they were. I confess I found his sexual prowess a little daunting. I may have spent the intervening time thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t kiss you.”

“The main one being that we’re working together?”

“That didn’t even feature.”

“What then?”

“For a start I don’t own a carriage and horses.” He pulled her closer. “I did consider buying a carriage to enhance my rakish appeal, but a four-wheel drive is more practical on these roads. And it seems I’m supposed to have an unhappy relationship with alcohol—I have to confess that currently my relationship with alcohol is more than happy.”

She glanced at the bottle and the empty glasses on the table. “Mine, too.”

“You, of course, should be showing a certain ruthlessness toward me and creeping off in the dead of night in order to conceal your identity.”

“It’s a little late for that part. And if I slunk out of this cottage you’d find my naked body dead in a ditch tomorrow.”

“Which would be a terrible waste. Also difficult to explain. I did consider throwing you over my horse and galloping away with you, but Pepper is eighteen and has arthritis so that might not be the romantic ending you’re searching for.”

“Noted.” She kissed his cheek and then his jaw. “Anything else?”

“You should probably tell your sister for the record that I generally do remove my glasses before I make love.”

She lifted her head. “You heard that?”

“Your sister doesn’t have a little voice.”

Samantha grinned and kissed his shoulder. “I should be embarrassed, but I think I’ve moved beyond it.”

“Good.” He ran his hand gently down her back. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

“Do we have to?”

“No. We could spend the night here and then creep back in like thieves before anyone else is awake which, now I think about it, could be a scene right out of your Regency romance.”

“It could, although if that’s the way we’re going, you should probably find a way for me to climb unnoticed through my bedroom window.”

“Given that your bedroom window is on the fourth floor and I’m notoriously bad on ladders, I would propose the stairs, madam.”

She propped herself up so that they were face-to-face. His eyes were sleepy, hooded, and without his glasses she could see that his lashes were thick and dark.

“Right now you look more rakish and real than any hero in my books.”

“I shall be careful not to move or speak. That way I can’t shatter the image.” He put his arm round her and pulled her closer so that their mouths were almost touching. “I should have had champagne chilling in the fridge, so we could have dealt with all your fantasies at once.”

“Tonight has been better than any fantasy. I just wish we didn’t have to go back to reality.”

He tucked the blanket round her. “We could move to the bedroom. Despite the blanket on the floor of my office, I do actually own a bed.”

“I like it here.”

“You’re not cold?”

“I’m snug.” She lay still for a moment. “You said that if you fell, you’d break your glasses. Does that happen often?”