His Christmas Countess

When she snuffed the candle a thin line of light showed beneath his door. He was home.

Kate reached for the wisp of negligee that lay at the end of the bed, then, with a shake of her head, fetched the old flannel wrapper. This was no time for seduction. Either this marriage would hold because of what was in their hearts and in their minds, or it would not.

She made no effort to be quiet as she opened the connecting door. Grant was sitting on the side of the bed in the position she knew meant that he was contemplating pulling off his boots and was really too tired to bother, or to ring for Griffin. He looked up as she entered and she stopped, thinking wryly that when she had been rejecting thoughts of seduction she had not counted on the physical effect that her husband had on her. He looked saddle-weary, travel-stained and beyond tired. And he also looked magnificently male, strong and determined.

‘I am so glad you are home,’ she said simply. ‘Let me.’ And as she had once done before, when she had first come to Abbeywell, she straddled first one leg, then the other, and pulled off his boots.

‘Thank you.’ He waited until she turned and then reached out, put one hand on either side of her waist and drew her in to stand between his spread thighs. ‘I went to see Charlie first, woke him up. I wanted him to know I kept my promise to be back.’ He looked up at her, serious, watchful.

‘Of course.’ She resisted the urge to smooth his wind-tangled hair. Goodness knew what had happened to his hat. ‘Has he gone back to sleep or did he tell you the plans for tomorrow?’

‘He told me and went back to sleep. I had to promise to inspect all the decorations, right down to the very miniature yule log in the drawing room. You’ve done a magnificent job between the pair of you.’ He put his head slightly to one side as he studied her face. ‘Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?’

‘I don’t care, so long as you are back here.’ It was the truth. She trusted him to deal fairly with Henry and she knew he had not called Baybrook out. He would not risk killing Anna’s father. She gave in to the urge then and lifted her hands to cup his face. ‘I missed you.’

‘I lost my temper back there in the inn.’

‘I noticed.’ Was that the faintest curve of his lips? ‘You lose it so rarely that it is most impressive when you do.’

‘I swore.’ Yes, that is most definitely the beginning of a smile.

‘But not at me.’ He had her tight against him now and the old flannel wrapper seemed to be having no effect on his body’s responses.

‘No. At me.’ The ghost of the smile flickered and was gone. ‘Kate, you have a very short-sighted husband who could not see what was under his nose, nor read what his heart was telling him.’

It was suddenly very hard to breathe, let alone speak, so she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips until the gentle returning pressure gave her courage. ‘You can read it now?’

‘Yes. And I love you, Kate. I think I have loved you for a long time and had no idea what it was. I should have realised in that moment in the receiving line at the Larminster reception that what I was feeling was something far more than happiness.’ His voice was harsh, but the green eyes locked with hers were tender and vulnerable and full of promises. ‘I puzzled over why I trusted you despite your deceptions, despite what I heard with my own ears, and then it hit me in the Ship Inn. And I had been cold and grudging. I made you tell me your secrets as though I was forcing a confession out of you, when I should have taken you in my arms and held you and protected you and trusted you without reservation, without you having to explain a thing.’

‘Oh, my love. You aren’t a saint.’ She tugged at his arms and he came to his feet, held her by the shoulders as he stared down into her face. ‘We could both have trusted more, risked more—if we were perfect, but we aren’t. We are human and we had both learned the pain of love betrayed.’

‘You called me... Kate, you can’t...’ How could the fact that this strong, articulate man was having trouble getting a simple question out make her so happy?

‘I can. And I do. I love you, Grant. I have loved you for months and I did not dare tell you.’

‘Did not dare?’

‘You would have been kind to me, wouldn’t you? You would have felt sorry for me. I could live with loving you without hope of that being returned, but I could not bear your pity.’

‘Oh, Kate. That must be the only thing you would not dare.’ Grant pulled her in close so that she was against the hard strength of him, safe and surrounded by love. By impossible, wonderful love. It didn’t matter that Grant smelt of leather and sweat and horse. It simply made this moment more real, more certain that it was not a dream. ‘I love you so very much.’