Page 46 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
“I believe you were trying to scold me, when all I mean to do is learn about wreaths,” he replied, a faint smirk upon his lips. “I should, however, warn you that I do not take kindly to a scolding. It would warrant punishment if you were to be so bold.”
Valerie stood sharply, half-formed wreath in hand. Flustered and flushed, she muttered something about, “No, this will not do. This will not do at all,” and hurried off before Adrian could tempt her into something hewasgood at.
Indeed, as he returned to his own hopeless wreath, he wished he had insisted on traveling with her in the carriage, instead of catching up to her on horseback.
Half an hour later, with two reasonable wreaths placed proudly on the table before him, Valerie finally returned. And she had returned with reinforcements: a whole orphanage of children running in, loud and chaotic, to ensure that Adrian did not get that close again.
“Now, children, I need at least fifty wreaths and plenty of garlands,” Valerie announced like a governess, refusing to glance in Adrian’s direction. “If you need help, summon me and I will show you what to do, or ask someone who already knows how to make them. But enjoy yourselves and make them exactly as you wish to! The prettier and more unique, the better.”
The children cheered as they descended on the long table where Adrian perched, little hands grabbing for the greenery and the bows and ribbons. The girls were in their element, but the boys seemed eager too, until the room was filled with shouts of advice and requests for assistance.
Only Isaac seemed to notice that Adrian was there, the boy coming to sit in the chair that Valerie had vacated. “They’re nice,Your Grace,” the boy said, nodding to the wreaths. “Will you show me how? I’ve never made a wreath before.”
A funny feeling prickled between Adrian’s ribs, his frozen heart beating weirdly as if he were… nervous.
“You ought to ask someone else,” he replied gruffly. “I am not an expert.”
Isaac just smiled up at him, undeterred. “But I like yours the most. Reminds me of brambles, and Iloveblackberries.” He held up laurels and a whip of willow, optimism in his wide eyes. “Show me how to make one just like yours. Please.”
“Well… it is… nothing really,” Adrian muttered, clearing an odd lump from his throat. “You weave it together, however you please.”
He began to twist some willow with some fir fronds, surprised to find the boy watching intently, then copying him exactly. In his chest, Adrian’s heart clenched again, as if something were thawing in there, warming up in a way he had never thought possible. All because of a wild woman who had turned up at his door in the middle of a snowstorm and the orphan urchins that she had welcomed into his home, as if it were her own.
“Ours are going to be better than anyone’s,” Isaac said happily, his small hands far more dexterous than the scarred bear paws of Adrian’s. “Not that it’s a competition.”
The ghost of a smile tugged up the corners of Adrian’s lips. “No, it is not a competition.” He paused. “But yoursisrather good.”
A short while later, and secretly enjoying himself rather a lot thanks to the steady chatter about everything and nothing that rattled from Isaac’s lively being, Adrian became aware of eyes on him as he studded some holly and mistletoe into the wreath he was making. Lifting his head, he found the source of that prickling burn of being watched, and locked eyes with Valerie.
She wore a curious smile, her green eyes bright with merriment, her hand pressed to her heart as if she, too, could feel the thaw. A moment later, with a shy air to the movement, she looked away again.
Adrian puffed out a breath.A vexing woman indeed…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
With two days to go until the grand party, the town hall was close to completion. Standing in the middle of the main hall, Valerie could not believe the transformation: it was a wonderland of festive cheer, the walls adorned with so many garlands and wreaths that it felt as if they had brought a forest indoors. The green and gold and red bows added rich color, while the paper angels—crafted by the children—added whimsy, and draped bunting added the finishing touch.
Once all the candles are lit and all the food is arranged on the tables and the musicians are playing, it will be utterly perfect.She could envision it already, her heart swelling with pride and happiness.
The local church had promised to lend their choir, the baker had eagerly insisted on bringing some delicacies despite Valerie trying to explain that there would already be plenty; the butcher had pledged a roast and had sought out five geese, though Valerie had no idea how he had known they were needed;morechildren from the town had brought decorations, their motherscoming in to help out the stranger who shared their desire to return the old days of Christmas festivities to their town.
All around, there was an air of merriment, of anticipation, of keenly welcomed nostalgia, of Christmas.
“I cannot imagine there is anything else to do,” a rumbling voice tingled up her spine, though she had no more laurels to fan herself with; they were all on the walls and windows.
She did not turn to look at Adrian, though she knew it was him. Rather, she listened for the soft sound of his footsteps across the parquet,sensinghim getting closer. Wondering how close he would actually get before he stopped, for all the volunteers were gone; they were entirely alone, aside from a few clerks who were upstairs in the offices, trying to get some work done after days of disruption.
“No, I daresay everything is done,” she replied, her voice unsteady. “At least until the food is ready to arrive, but that will not be until the day of the party.”
Throughout the past few days of her toil at the town hall, Adrian had insisted on accompanying her to and from the venue. He rode on horseback as an escort, she traveled in the carriage… and wondered what sort of seductive trick it was, tonotjourney in the carriage with her.
She would have assumed it was to make it clear that he wanted distance, if he had not sought any opportunity to be near her once they were actuallyatthe town hall. Indeed, had it not beenfor the diversions and accidental interventions of the children and the helpers, she had no doubt that he would have found an excuse to be closer still.
For her own sake, she had been particularly careful to avoid walking under any of the mistletoe that hung in several doorways.
“You have done well,” Adrian said, pausing a short distance from her; she could feel the air thicken between them, the pressure pushing the breath out of her lungs.
Good girl… Come for me…
