Page 123 of Her Beast

Not in the six years the woman had worked for him had she given him such a severe look.

Malcolm’s face heated because he deserved the look. “Happy Christmas, Kemp.”

“The same to you, sir. Miss Julia is here to see you, sir.”

He heard the disapproval in her voice and saw it on her face.

He didn’t care.

“Show her in.”

Kemp frowned but opened the door wider and stepped back for Julia to enter.

Malcolm had seen the dress before—of course he had, it was his store and he knew every single item he sold—but he’d never imagined it would look likethis.

One trip up and down her body was not nearly enough for his eye or brain, he needed a second, and then a third.

He’d seen a plate of the dress when he’d flipped through this season’s clothing orders and had not been especially taken by it.

Now, after seeing it molded to Julia’s body—the polished black cotton looking so much like leather—Malcolm decided that he would cancel all future orders for the gown because he didn’t want any other woman wearing it.

The gown came with three possible bodices and Julia had chosen the most concealing—a high neck with long tight sleeves that made her look as if she were encased in black leather.

Large onyx buttons fastened at the side of the neck and cut across the bodice. The skirt was narrower than usual—an edgier design that the dressmaker, a young Englishman, had argued was the coming trend—and was smooth-fronted with a froth of black ruffles cascading down the back.

Malcolm swallowed down the moisture that had pooled in his mouth.

And then swallowed again.

At her throat were the black pearls he’d given her and her only other jewelry was her bracelet.

Like Malcolm, she wore black leather gloves covering her hands, making the two of them a matched set.

Well, except for his mask. And all the burns beneath it.

She cleared her throat, making Malcolm realize that he’d kept a lady standing just so he could ogle and drool.

He swallowed for the fourth or fifth time. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured vaguely toward the seating area, unable to take his eye from her for even a second.

When she moved, he saw a brief flash of silver beneath her skirts and knew immediately which shoes she’d chosen from the store. They were black kid with an oversized silver buckle that was studded with brilliants. At four inches the heels on the shoe were ridiculously high, quite the tallest he’d seen. Wearing them brought her head almost to his shoulder.

Rather than sit, she stopped in front of him and held out her hands. “This is for you.”

Malcolm was surprised to see a rectangular package; he’d been so busy staring at her person that he’d not even noticed she was holding anything.

“It is a Christmas present,” she explained with a faint smirk when he looked at her like a dunce.

“Thank you,” he said, and took it, a smile curving his lips at the wrapping paper. It was newspaper—which is what the few gifts he’d received at the orphanage had been wrapped in. Socks, always a pair of socks knitted throughout the year for each of her charges by Mrs. Thomas.

Malcolm laughed when he saw the story on the front of the package. He looked up and grinned at her. “I like it.”

Her cheeks flushed and he could see that she was pleased, rather than horrified, by his crooked smile. “The actual gift isinsidethe wrapping, Malcolm.”

“Ah, is that how it works?”

“But I am glad you like the paper. I’d planned to just paint the newspaper until I saw this story.”

Bythisstory she meant a photograph of Barton’s Emporium and an article about a charitable program the store contributed to every year.

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