Page 82 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
Sophia’s heart sank. She’d hoped that at least once in her life, a man would treat her as a lady and let her sleep on the soft down pillow. With a sigh, she rose and pushed the settee toward the fire for warmth. At least she didn’t have to sleep outside tonight.
“Thank you, but I can manage,” Wolfgang said, a woolen blanket in his hand. He’d removed his boots and wore fuzzy woolen socks.
Confused, Sophia folded her hands and stared at him. She’d learned a long time ago not to ask dumb questions. Especially not when she was alone in the room with a man who was stronger than her. He didn’t look that sick.
“Please, just blow out the candle on the night table when you are ready.” And with that, Wolfgang sprawled on the settee with one leg on the back and the other on the armrest. He was altogether too long and looked like a bird that had outgrown its nest.
But to Sophia, it was the most beautiful picture she’d ever seen. A gentleman. Never had a man given up sleeping in a soft bed for her.
She walked over to the bed and shrugged off her shawl.
* * *
His eyes fellto Sophia’s slim silhouette under the covers. Her shoulder and hip formed two perfect curves, and her lovely legs an elongated flare. He’d peeked at her body when she sat like a tailor before the fire cracking her little seeds. He chuckled. It had only been a day, but already, thinking of her made him warm in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Or ever. And yet, she was a dangerous spy who might pose many risks to him.
He twisted and turned, but it was most uncomfortable on the little settee. He moved down to the floor, not too close to the fire. The carpet smelled a bit like a wet dog, but he could tolerate it if he closed his eyes and focused on the smell of the Christmas tree only a meter away.
Another glance at the bed and those perfect ballerina hills and valleys. His breeches stretched uncomfortably, and he faced the fire. What should have been soothing heat felt like the flames of purgatory. Touching her was taboo. She just wanted to sleep, and he barely knew her. It would surely complicate their mission. Bad idea.
Wolfgang pulled up the knitted throw, making sure his erection didn’t stand up like a tent pole.
“Stop moving so much, I’m trying to sleep,” she mumbled from in between the soft bedding.
“It’s the stupid tea. It’s going to keep me up all night. But I’ll be quiet. My apologies.”
She sat up, pulling the covers over her breasts—although he could imagine them just fine.
He shuffled, trying to get comfortable. “I’m used to having aKirschwasser, cherry schnaps, at bedtime. They don’t have that here.”
“I don’t know about cherries, but I have something that might help you sleep.” She got out of bed and rummaged around her valise.
He could see her arms, shoulders, and the silhouette of her middle under the transparent white fabric of her shift. She came back with a flask and stood over him, the light from the fireplace illuminating her figure. Her breasts were perky, and her nipples poked out hard under the thin material. She looked like an angel aflame with her hair wildly cascading down her shoulders and framing her face. She handed him the flask, which he took and unscrewed, speechless at the sight of her. She must not have noticed how the fabric had stretched over her thighs and risen just enough to give him a perfect view of … He pulled the cover up again, checking that there wasn’t a tent situation.
“It’s my last, so enjoy it.”
He took a sip and cherished the violent burn that tore through his throat. “Ahh!”
“Good, eh?” She smiled brightly and reached for the flask. “Did you finish it?”
“In one gulp? Of course not! This is strong.”
“What? This?” She smiled slyly and shook the flask. The liquid splashed around and sounded like water. But it wasn’t water at all. “It’s ninety-six percent, the best you can get.” She smelled it, then tilted her head back and tried to pour the liquid directly into her mouth—without touching the metal to her lips.
Wolfgang’s mouth went dry. Her lower jaw bones were beautifully angled. She’d parted her lips in anticipation of the clear liquid, and he stretched his neck and saw into her mouth. His hand flew to his cock, to control and hide it. But he’d want to do something else entirely as soon as she fell asleep.
Plik, plok.Just one tiny drop came out of the bottle and wet her lips. She licked the fluid off and leveled her head. “You finished it.”
“Sophia,” he croaked like a green boy. He knew his gaze was hooded. She must have put on that show deliberately.
“If you had touched the flask to your lips, you might just as well have kissed me.”
She bit her lower lip and frowned. “I have never been properly kissed, Baron. I don’t do that.”
His heart lurched, and he sat up. “You’ve never been kissed?”
She shook her head. “I never wanted anyone to. They only ever hurt me.”
He tasted acid. How could anyone hurt such a beauty? She was like the white rose she’d worn in her hair the first time he saw her.
