Page 62 of The Virtues of Christmas
“I’ll miss you, lass.” His arms came around her on that cryptic admission, and for a long moment, Patience remained in his embrace. To be held like this was fortifying, a boon most couples probably took for granted after the first few weeks of courting.
And yet, holding Dougal was frustrating too. He made no move to kiss her and no move to leave her embrace.
Was he humoring her?On that horrifying thought, Patience drew back. “Fetch your tea, and I’ll finish up these last paragraphs. I won’t know what to do with myself, now that—what day is this?”
Now he smiled. An indulgent, understanding smile. “Tuesday, December 21, in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and—”
“I forgotbakingday. I’ve made nothing to contribute to baking day and I can’t arrive empty-handed. The Windham ladies will be wroth with me.”
“Heaven forbid you lost track of baking day. Shall I send Harry off with a note conveying your apologies?”
Beyond the window, a proper snow squall was in progress. “Not in this weather. I’ll send an apology tomorrow.”
He kissed her forehead. “Don’t fret. At the pace you’ve been working, it’s not unusual to become absorbed in the task. The instant you’re finished with your last column, I’m walking you home.”
And then he was gone, yelling for Harry to shovel the walkway and steps, lest the lord mayor of London fall on his bum and on their very doorstep.
“I like working here,” Patience informed the cat. “I like working here all too well, and Mr. MacHugh kissed me. Not much of a kiss, but something. How am I supposed to concentrate after that?”
George yawned, stretched, flicked his tail a few times, and commenced washing his paws.
