Page 133 of Princess of Pride
Pippa eyes Lachlan as if he’s a rake from a historical romance. I know it’s because she’s jealous. She wanted him, and I got him. I feel a bit bad that her husband is a monster. If he were kinder and more attentive, maybe Pippa would be less of a bitch.
“Huntington sleeps better in his crib.” She excuses her reason for leaving. “It’s been a long afternoon for him.”
“I completely understand,” I say with a warm smile. “Thanks for coming and for bringing him.” She doesn’t take him to a lot of places yet. This is an honor in a way.
Her gaze lands on Lachlan’s hands and how they’re now wrapped around my waist from behind. He can’t be near me and not touch me—although part of me believes it’s territorial.This is mineneanderthal behavior.
She turns to leave, and I say, “Don’t forget Huntington’s party favor.”
I had a table of them set up for the celebration. Everyone gets to fill a book tote with romance books of their choice. I have a few from every genre, as well as bookmarks, coffee mugs, teacups, blankets, kindles, and miniature desserts. I did the same for the soft opening, which was specifically for book club members and giveaway winners.
I have so many event ideas for the store: readings, signings, audio books in the afternoon, book boyfriend date night, Make Me Laugh Monday, Tie Me To the Bookshelf Tuesday, What are you in the Mood for Wednesday, Thrill Me Thursday, Fantasy Friday, Stockings and Bodices Saturday, Small Town Sunday. The list goes on.
She makes a face like one of my romance party favors is the last thing she wants for her son.
“His is age appropriate.” I explained this on the phone when she called to complain that the weather said possible showers and if it rained at the time of the party she wouldn’t come. “It has baby toys, a stuffed animal, and the latest children’s books. I read a couple. They’re really cute. I could come read them to him sometime, if you don’t mind. You can never start too early,” I add with a shrug.
It’d be good practice for me, and my little nephew is the sweetest baby with so much pudge I want to eat him up.
Despite being a tyrant, Pippa is a good mom. She has thenanny for help, but she devotes a lot of her time to Huntington, trying to make up for the lack of his father’s presence. Hunt’s either working or “working”, as in doing his mistress.
Pippa’s features soften and she almost looks gentle, standing in her pale blue dress, her figure thinner than it was before she was pregnant.
Her gaze shifts to the roses behind me. “It’s a good thing what you did. For Mom and for them. They’ll be happy here.”
So there is a bit of kindness left in her from the first trimester of her pregnancy. Or maybe it was always there just hidden under her haughtiness.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll call you about coming over.”
I nod and she walks toward her little cherub as the nanny tucks him into the stroller.
“Do you think she’ll call?” Lachlan rubs my arms.
“Honestly? No. But I didn’t expect her to be nice just now either, so who knows.”
Lachlan bends to my ear. “Have I told you how incredible you look in this color.” The red doesn’t scream spring, but it has pink flowers.
I never wore red. Not because I didn’t like it. Mom always had me dress in light or neutral colors, and I never thought to stray. But I chose a red gown last December for a holiday party and Lachlan lost his mind. He couldn’t keep his hands off me and bought a ridiculous amount of red lingerie for me for Christmas.
That was also the night he told me he loved me—finally giving me those three traditional words. Our wedding wasn’t until May, but he said them on that day too, and every day in between and after.
We’d hosted our first holiday ball at our new estate. Mom helped me arrange the party so that it looked like a winterwonderland. The mansion is too new to have a ballroom, but it has a gallery that is grand and large. We use it for events. The holiday company party went off beautifully. White and gold was the theme with accents of red—hence my gown.
Red silk fell to my feet. The top went to my neck, but the back was open to the crest of my butt. Mom’s eyes almost popped out when she saw me, but she’s learned to keep her mouth closed when it comes to my appearance, especially with Lachlan complimenting me and touching me nonstop. What could she possibly say? I was married, and my husband treated me like I was a goddess—hisgoddess.
The night had ended with Lachlan and me alone in the orangery he had built for me, connected to the house through an enclosed hallway.
He brought me here to show me something.
The roof is all glass on this one. I’d never seen a night sky so clear, especially in winter. The stars shone like diamonds, twinkling above us. With all the foliage the room was warm and humid, despite the frigid temperature outside.
“Dance with me?” he said and held out his arms.
“There’s no music.”
“Wait for it.” A moment later,Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmasdrifted through the speakers, Michael Bublé’s voice soft and romantic.
