Page 264 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Aye, those.”

Really, his talent for farce was lost in the mercantile. Her rescuer, Brier (with an E)—he of the demanding kitty, strong arms and heated kisses—had missed his theatrical calling.

“There’s Eve.”

“Eve? Not Pinprick? Or Pointe,with an E, of course.”

“Luce. Your mistrust is like one of Sharpe’s phantom swords to the heart.”

She rubbed her ear and gave him a doleful look beneath her lashes. “All right.Eve.Born on the eve of Christmas, no doubt.”

“Nay.”

“Midsummer’s, then. From the play.”

“Shakespeare’sA Midsummer Night’s Dream,you mean? Noevein sight. Tut-tut, Lucinda. Whoever was responsible for your literary education? Wrong again.”

He bent to scoop up Barnabas, who draped over his master’s shoulder as though he did it every day. “Nothing so predictable,” he chided, scratching fingers over the cat’s striped back. “By now, Mama had reached the end of her list of names. Fortunately Papa was reading aloudMeasure for Measure.Named for ‘All-hallond’s’ eve, she was. Better known as the evening before All Saints’ Day.”

“You would have me believe pretendEvewas named after Halloween?” Luce shoved at his closest (cat-free) shoulder. “You are core-rotten to jest so handily at my expense.”

When she reached for his empty plate, he clapped one hand over her forearm and stayed her. “You do not want to hear about the rest?”

Her entire arm heated from his touch; belly clenched. Lips tingled. “How many more?”

“Clayton. He has an affinity—”

“Where’s the E?”

“His second name. Clayton Elliot Jeremy Chapman.”

“Of course. Pardon my interruption. Affinity for…?”

Barnabas squirmed and Brier plucked him off his shoulder and let the cat slide to the floor. “Bugs. Insects,” he said, rising. “He likes dirt—”

“Dirt! Did I not say you would profess a brother just so?”

Brier just gave her an indulgent grin. “His name is notDirt; well…Clay. You may have me there. But truly, he isenamoredwith it and the nasties it teems with. He collects specimens—”

She gave a shudder—not quite feigned. “Who else?”

“Well, there are the triplets, Shakes and Spear and—”

“Now Ireallydo not believe you! Not a word.”

“They aren’t exactly—”

“You fiend.” She slid her hand free. “’Tis the sharper I have before me now.”

“You shall see…”

“See what?”

“Whether I play you false—if you will agree to stay by my side, for all our Christmases to come.”

* * *

Had he really said that?

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