Page 287 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Without him.

He was here now, but she didn’t need him.

She had neverneededhim. But for a short while, she hadwantedhim.

He had been too foolish to see the distinction, and realize how much better it was to be a partner than a pocketbook.

His chest ached.

Now that he understood what she’d been waiting for, was it too late to prove to her that she’d always had it?

He’d believed in her from the beginning.

His complete faith was the reason he’d taken his ill-advised road. He’d wanted to provide for her, not because Aaron thought her incapable or helpless, but becausehefelt that way. She deserved all of her dreams to come true. He ached to give them to her.

Now that she’d accomplished it on her own... what did he have to offer?

CHAPTER4

“There.”

Estelle pointed to a curve in the road, just beyond the outskirts of Cressmouth. They’d passed the last signs of life—a horse farm on one side of the road, the blacksmiths’ shop on the other—three hundred yards past.

Despite the two-mile hike down the mountain in the falling snow, Aaron was still cheerful as he planted the wheelbarrow next to the spot she had indicated and set about installing the first sign.

Estelle stared at him in consternation.

Dratted man.

Swinging an iron pick to the cold earth was not remotely part of a solicitor’s usual duties.

Nor should he have looked so fine doing so.

Watching him lift the enormous wooden post from the wheelbarrow as though it weighed nothing, then wield the pick and the shovel and the thick iron hammer with his strong arms...

It was not cold at all today, if one asked Estelle.

Downright balmy, despite the snow.

Just looking at Aaron made her skin flush hot and her lungs struggle for breath. She had not known how attracted she would be to the sight of a lumberjack in a cravat and waistcoat.

No. She had to be stronger than this.

As strong ashim.

The only way to protect her heart was not to let him know she was still hopelessly in love with him.

Yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

He tossed the iron mallet into the wheelbarrow and stepped back from the sign, wiping perspiration from his brow.

It was definitely warm out here.

Too warm.

Perhaps Aaron ought to take off his neckcloth?

“It’s a splendid idea,” he said gruffly, befuddling her anew until she remembered he was talking about theWelcome to Christmassign, and not the idea of exposing a sliver of his naked throat and chest. “Except you misspelled ‘Cressmouth.’”

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