Letters at Christmas Read Online Free Page A

her bedroom, but her fingertips—they knew him by touch. Bunched skin on his knuckles, and smooth, short-cropped nails. Coarse hair on the back of his hand that had appeared one day in their youth, as if by magic. That was the back of his hand, the known, well-mapped terrain. His palm was a different story, one of adventure and hardship, of darkness and secrets. Calluses had formed over calluses, her explorations told her. Mountains of thick skin, formed to protect him. Valleys in a man too young to wrinkle—it was experience that had aged him more than the years.
    While she explored him, he explored her right back. Hands only. His thumb fanned the delta between her forefinger and thumb. Back and forth; she knew he’d found the scar.
    His fingers tightened on her briefly before relaxing. “What did this?”
    “A cat,” she admitted. “The dislike seems to be mutual.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    “Well, it was a boating party. Only I hadn’t read it right in the invitation. I thought it was a picnic. So I arrived with a large basket filled with cold salads and Poppet.”
    He tensed beside her, but she couldn’t credit that he was really worried. Like him, whatever social trials she had faced in the interim, she had clearly come out just fine. Aside from tree climbing mishaps.
    “I couldn’t very well leave him on the shore, so I brought him on board with me. I thought it would be fine. He had his basket to stay in, and then his leash—”
    “You have a leash. For your cat.”
    “It’s more of a ribbon. A thick ribbon that ties around his neck and has a handle. So, yes, a leash. He doesn’t mind, usually. He likes to explore, on land. But we hit choppy waters, and he climbed up my neck. There was a bit of struggle. His nail jammed through the skin.” She shrugged. “I had to feed him bits of chicken until he relaxed enough to sheath his claws.”
    He made a choking sound. Laughing, she supposed. Ah, well. A smile played at her lips. It had been funny, in a most painful and humiliating way. At some point, she had given up pretending to be a graceful, poised young lady, and accepted her growing reputation as a rather clumsy adventuress. She had even seemed to attract suitors that way. They wanted to protect her.
    They wanted to imprison her.
    All she’d wanted was someone to have adventures with.
    “I got invited to all the boating parties after that,” she added. “But I never took Poppet again.”
    “See? I always said you’d be the center of the party.”
    “Yes, and I thought you meant that in a nice way.”
    He laughed. “I did. I do.”
    He tugged her closer between the linens. His face hovered next to hers. She could feel his breath mingling with hers, but the dark kept him hidden. She didn’t know where he was exactly, where his mouth was, until he kissed her.
    His lips found hers unerringly, as if his vision was stronger than hers. He slanted his head to meet her more firmly, his warmth, his knowledge, impossibly intimate. For a moment, she panicked, the same way she had done for every terrace liberty and courtyard peck she’d ever allowed since him. But then the taste of him flooded her senses, memory Hale and this living, breathing stranger merging into one. Who are you? she thought, and then immediately, I know you, I feel you.
    I love you.
    How could the years fall away so quickly? But she found time had never really stood between them. It had been distance. And now that the miles were crossed, the air evaporated from the room, leaving her stunned with fatalistic joy.
    He cupped the back of her neck and kissed down her jaw. She bared her throat to him, knowing, inviting. His lips were tender against the sensitive skin, caressing the hollow at the base of her throat. He reached for the hem of her nightgown, and she jerked in surprise, feeling shock at how fast they were moving…and wonder at how good it still felt.
    He shoved his hand between her legs, probing her with blunt