Page 77 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
She looked down at her toes which, he noticed, were bare beneath the hem of her skirts. They were very pretty toes belonging to very pretty feet, and he wished her hem wasn’t quite so long because he would bet anything she had very pretty ankles, too. She dug at the rug with one of those toes, hugged herself a little tighter and looking down with great interest at the floor. “I suppose there have been times when I’ve been ... less than kind to others.”
“Why?”
She still wouldn’t meet his eye. “Didn’t we already discuss this?”
“Tell me again,” he said, distracted by that pretty foot and the way her breasts were bunching up beneath her crossed arms.
“I was jealous. I was betrothed to Lord Charles de Montforte since we were both children, but he cast me aside, jilted me in favor of someone else and yes, it hurt ... it hurt my pride and my feelings and the heart that everyone seems to think I don’t have. So I lashed out. I hit back, taking pleasure in bringing doubt and pain to his new wife because I wanted what she had.” She looked up then, her eyes luminous in the darkness, almost haunted. “But you already know all that. Why are we going all over it, again? Is this part of the repentance part?”
Repentance part?He tore his gaze from her foot. “I can assure you, Lady Katharine, that I do not share whatever gifts of prophecy you appear to possess.” He smiled. “You give me far too much credit.”
She looked back at the floor. “I wish I hadn’t been so unkind.”
“Did you ever apologize?”
“No, and I was beastly when Lord Charles’s younger brother Gareth also rejected me in favor of another.”
“I see.” He did not, of course. “And besides husbands, what did these two ladies have, that you did not?”
“They are kind-hearted and good.”
“And you are not?”
“You know that I’m not.”
“I know,” he said softly, “that you opened the door to an injured man tonight, a man covered in mud, soaking wet and freezing cold and wanted for a crime, and that you took him into your house.”
In the darkness, he heard a strange, hitching sound and saw her wipe furiously at her eye. She was weeping.
“I know this same woman who claims to be a shrew, who says she lacks a kind heart and a good soul, took that same brigand not only into her house, but installed him in her bedroom at great risk to her reputation.”
“Please stop, I am not a nice person.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I am selfish and spoiled, angry and resentful, and I know that the only reason you’re here is for my redemption and I’m not worthy of so great a gift.”
“Your redemption?”
“Yes! Don’t you remember? You came to me in a dream!”
“No, Lady Katharine. I came to you on all fours, dragging myself through mud and snow while your neighbor scoured the countryside looking to finish a job he started.”
“But you’re Him!” she all but wailed.
“Yes, I’m him. Nollaig O’ Flaherty, your humble servant, forever grateful to you for your kindness.”
“Stop pretending to be someone you’re not. Iknowwho you are!”
He gave her a quiet, level stare and said gently. “I think, Lady Katharine, that I know better than you do, who I am.”
“You’re not ...Him, then?”
“I am, him.”
Her eyes widened yet again. “You said, ‘I Am.’”
“I did.”
“So you are Him, then.”
“Lady Katharine ... you are a beautiful woman, and I quite enjoy your company, but you speak in riddles and I don’t think I’ve ever been as confused as I find myself to be right now.”
