Page 255 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Mer?”

“Mer, indeed.” He tugged the comfortable heft of Barnabas against his chest and fell back onto the mattress, mitigating his wince when eight or more sharp claws pierced his shirt as the cat made bread, scones and any other baked good he could think of out of his chest. Purrs roaring and rumbling through the night, the sweet sound all that comforted Brier on this dark eve.

His own conscience wouldn’t let him sleep.

Regret? That he hadn’t taken that longed-for kiss?

Relief? That he had fled before embarrassing them both?

“Either way”—he breathed out through the tiny, repetitive pin-pricks decorating his skin—“think I might be doomed. Doomed to lament, doomed to desire. What does it matter anymore?”

For tomorrow would dawn sure as certain, and once the swelling went down, Lucinda would be gone.

“Meow!” The claw-kneading stopped. The cat took two steps forward and swiped at his nose.

Left a streak of pain and one of blood—he noticed when he dabbed the back of his hand against it. “Damn it, Barns. I don’t need to deal with your sulks on top of my own.”

He rolled the cat off and bounded to his feet. “I did not then entreat to have her stay; It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;

“I was too young that time to value her…”

Shakespeare’s words rolled through him, prompting the thought,I amnottoo young to value her.

So shall you entreat her to stay?

* * *

For about the forty-seventh time, Lucinda rolled over in the inward-dipping cot. Last night, she’d been too exhausted to notice much beyond the man, the cat—and the safety. Tonight?

Tonight, her entire body was a maelstrom of discontent. She’d woken this morning with her face aching abominably. Fingertip exploration had presented the swelling—and the touch had roused tenderness. But it wasn’t until viewing herself in the hand mirror that the full truth of her injuries “hit” home.

If only she could remember better those dark moments after the crash. But nay, anytime she pressed her mind for memories, the dull ache lining her forehead riled into a seething beast itself.

Restless more for the absence of the kiss his last words had taunted her with than anything else, her lips tingling and stomach fluttering over the lack, she flopped onto her back and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. With the curtain pulled, and night decidedly descended, not a shred of light illuminated her surroundings.

When she’d listlessly returned to the storeroom after his precipitous exit, she’d found all manner of ribbons and a few surprising sprigs of greenery, along with a note:

Make these useful, if you’re of a mind. Bring some holiday cheer to the back rooms. Be vocal if there exists anything else in the shop you could use.

~B

What a thoughtful, thoughtful man. He must have relocated the items and note onto the desk whilst she’d been exploring his shop. Rather than do as invited, after that blood-thrumming exchange of theirs that ended so abruptly, she’d fingered a spool of ribbon and let a lifetime of regrets, of missed opportunities flow out of her mind via the silent leak of tears down her cheeks until deciding enough was enough.

So, after consuming the food he’d brought down earlier, wandering around the empty shop, hoping he’d return—to no avail—she’d set herself the task of healing sleep.

“Unsuccessful task,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

The soft tread of near-silent footsteps met her ears and relaxed her jaw. She eagerly held her breath for more. Was he approaching her? Finally! Would he push aside the curtain and finish what he’d so carelessly tossed temptingly forth?

A kiss…

It would be her first. The first that would matter, of a certainty.

The inept fumbling of another twelve-year-old, when she was still a girl not yet budding into womanhood did not count.

But nay, her heart crashed down when the footsteps never neared, going the opposite direction, in fact. And moments later? When the back door opened, albeit on quiet hinges, and she heard him talking in a low voice with—

Luce tore from the bed and tugged the curtain aside a few inches to make room for her hungry ear…

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