Page 22 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“Unless I refuse?” She took out a small porcelain robin from the case. “You sent me this when Mama died. My grandmother used to tell me that when a robin appeared it was a messenger from someone beloved who had passed. To let those who still remained know they were at peace.”
Lucius rose and joined her, peering in the dark cabinet and recognizing several of the figurines he had sent her over the years. “My mother told me the same folktale. I thought of it when your mother died and hoped it would give you comfort, even though I could not.”
“It did—it does—more than you know. When she died, I was sitting in her bedroom, crying in a heap on the rug. I looked up to see a robin perched outside the window. I was sure it was Mama. I went back every morning for a week to watch the bird. And then it was gone. It seemed as if I had lost her all over again.” She looked up at him with glistening eyes. “Then your gift arrived. It brought me light in my darkest hours.”
“I’m glad.” A giant vise locked around Lucius’s heart and squeezed. To think of the pain she had gone through, alone, knowing she was truly without any family. He couldn’t imagine the emptiness.
“It was a very thoughtful gift, Lucius. Something a dear friend would give to another dear friend.”
“You are more than that to me,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to be my world, to let my life revolve around you, loving you, protecting you, making you happy again.”
He gently took the robin from her and placed it back on the shelf. Cupping her neck with one hand, his thumb stroking her jaw, he pulled her close with his free arm. “We need to leave the past behind us and look to our future. For we have one, my sweet bird, if you’ll only let it be.”
Her lips were soft and warm and inviting. He accepted her offer and traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue, asking for entrance. Her lips parted, and he swept in, tasting the sweet red wine, feeling her hands move around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. He groaned as she yielded and pressed against him, giving in, giving him hope. Giving him strength to never let her go.
When he ended the kiss, her head fell against his chest, her breath coming in pants. “Your parents would want you to be with a man who makes you happy and feel safe. I believe I’m that man.”
“You make me doubt everything I’ve known to be true for so many years: Most men are beasts. One of the few who isn’t, after I abused him and am no longer worthy of his attention, still wants me. So forgiveness—even of myself—is possible.” She blinked up at him, shook her head, as if dispelling a cloud surrounding it. “But it can’t be that simple, especially the latter.”
“Love is that simple. We are the complication.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a thumb. “I can forgive you for being naïve and listening to a skilled liar. I can forgive myself for being more boy than man, for not fighting for you as I should have. We’ve both made mistakes, but staying apart would only be a worse blunder.”
Christiana took in a shaky breath, her palms sliding down his chest. “I’m afraid you have turned me into some kind of martyr, set me high on an unsteady pedestal. A year from now, two years from now, you may wake up one morning and realize I’m not the woman you remember. I’m just a weak, foolish countess who doesn’t deserve such attention.”
He barked a laugh. He couldn’t help it. “Never. I’m not seeing you or the world through some magic lens, creating a fantasy which doesn’t exist. I love you with all your imperfections. And I pray you can look past mine.”
With a half sigh, half moan, Christina pushed away from him. “You give me much to think about.”
“That means I’m on your mind.” He waggled his brows.
When she reached the door, Christiana turned. “What can be touched but never seen?”
He looked at her and responded without hesitation, “My heart.”
“And mine.”
His expression sobered as she left the room, the hulking shadow of the butler following her. Had she just hinted that he’d touched her heart?
Christiana was a complex woman. She was dedicated to her tenants and the villagers and cared about their welfare. She had the courage to help other women find retribution. Yet, she wasn’t brave enough to forgive herself. For if she did, she’d be vulnerable to being hurt again. And like him, neither could survive another heartbreak.
CHAPTER 10
27 December
Christiana woke to a splendid day. The sun shone brightly, the layer of snow glistening across the lawn, tiny icicles clinging to the branches, sending a shimmery spray into the air with each light breeze. Every day with Lucius seemed to lift a bit more of the burden from her shoulders, lightening her load and her mood. Now, her first inclination was not always negative or doubting another’s sincerity. Perhaps with time, her once optimistic self would return permanently. If…
Her stomach rumbled, and she scooped an extra egg onto her plate. Lord and Lady Elwood sat across from her, and Lord Bentson sat on her right. Lord Frederick was either sleeping late or having his breakfast in his room, which suited the rest of the guests who were tired of his incessant whining.
“Shall we dress for the outdoors again, Lady Winfield?” asked Lord Bentson.
“Since the weather is being cooperative, yes.” Christiana returned to her seat next to the elderly man. “Shall I tell you what the contest will be?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Please.”
“Of course,” they all said at once.
“Archery.”
