Page 141 of Snowbound Surrender
“You’re not … busy?” Scarlett asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Not anymore,” he said with a shrug. “There is no chance of me making my meeting with Lord Falconer tonight, and when I am able to travel, I am already prepared to discuss my proposal.”
“You’re — you’re decorating for Christmas, my lord?” asked Spicer, his eyes wide, and Hunter fixed what he hoped was his best glower on the boy. “Yes, Spicer,” he said, trying for patience. “Now, what’s next?”
“Here,” said Scarlett, picking up the ball of greenery that had fallen from her hand to the floor when Hunter had caught her. “Why don't you hang the mistletoe?”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked at the sprig. “Is that what you nearly killed yourself fixing to the top of the door?”
“I find, Hunter,” she said with a saucy grin, “that one can never have too much mistletoe. It provides for a rather fun game of avoiding it — or looking for it — depending on your preference.”
She cocked her head at the pair of young servants making eyes at one another near the door, and then winked at Hunter, and he nearly choked. Who was this woman?
Scarlett hadto laugh at her husband. As much as he grumbled about the trees she had brought into the house, she could tell he was enjoying himself. Before long, he was getting into the spirit, telling the footmen just where the evergreen boughs should behung, and arranging the sprigs of ivy, holly, and rosemary over the dining room table with as much precision as a housemaid.
She leaned against the door of the room watching him until he finally must have sensed her presence.
“Are you ready?” she asked him.
“Ready for what?”
“To find the Yule log, of course.”
“Can you not just take one of the logs already cut?” he asked, a pained expression on his face, and she couldn’t resist teasing him further.
“Of course not,” she said. “We must venture into the woods and find the very best.”
“Why didn’t we simply find one the other day when we were gathering the boughs?”
“Because,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “This is a tradition. Every Christmas Eve we choose the Yule Log then light it for the remainder of the season.”
“It’s Christmas Eve?” he asked with bemusement, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“Of course it is.”
“Hmm,” he said in wonderment. “I was going to return home today. I didn’t realize Lord Falconer would want to meet on Christmas Eve.”
“Apparently he has the same regard for the holiday as you do,” she said with an arched eyebrow. “Well, I will be going. You are welcome to join or I will meet you here once I have found what I’m looking for. I am rather an expert, you know.”
“And what, pray tell, qualifies someone to become an expert at choosing a tree branch?”
“A Yule log,” she corrected him with a pointed stare. “It comes from years of experience, Hunter.”
“Very well then,” he said, feigning disinterest. “I suppose I had better come learn from a master.”
She couldn’t help the grin that stretched over her face. “I’ll meet you outside after I change my gown.”
Hunter had thoughtthey would simply find a tree, cut a log, and be done with it. But no. Scarlett inspected tree after tree, always finding a reason why it didn’t suit. Too thin, too thick, too much greenery. Fortunately, they hadn’t wandered far from the house, just to the first line of trees in the distance. Wintervale, in fact, was still in sight.
“You know,” he remarked, “there are perfectly good logs in the shed beside the manor.”
She quelled him into silence with a look, and he threw up his hands. At the very least, the snow had finally stopped falling, though it was piled so high he knew it could be days before he would be able to leave for London. His wife was stuck with him. Although, the frozen walls around her seemed to be melting somewhat, so perhaps now was the time to see if he could bring them down entirely. When she allowed it, she showed him glimpses of the person she was when she wasn’t trying desperately to keep as far from him as possible. The woman who gave to his tenants, who was beloved by children and servants alike. Could she find room in her heart for him — and did he want her to? He could admit that the thought scared him a bit, but also brought about a longing that he hadn’t known was within him.
“I’ve found it!” she finally exclaimed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hefted the axe from his shoulder. “Do you have any instructions as to where I should cut?” he asked.
“Here.” She drew a line with her finger, and he went to work. It was slow going at first — Hunter hadn’t exactly spent his youth outdoors doing hard labor — but soon enough he found a rhythm, and before long his wife’s Yule Log lay at her feet.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed, and a thrill ran through him at the joy that overcame her due to something that he had done for her. Well, he supposed, if something so simple could make her happy, then so be it. If only she would look at him the way she looked at the Yule log.
