After a messy breakup, Leigh Holloway is ready to start her life over. Until her parents put the family home on the market and call her back for one final, memory-making Christmas. Too bad the only bar in town is owned by a guy she seriously wronged in high school. But anything is possible if your holiday comes with a twist…. Missing her—loving her—and living with making the wrong choice in life were what made him who he is.
Two hearts … creating everlasting love stories
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Delia pressed her lips together. Are you expecting applause? A standing ovation, perhaps? Delia sniffed. The man studied her face for a moment, noted her baffled expression, and all at once he seemed to grow bored with her.
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Delia huffed out a breath. No reaction. Delia stopped and waited, but not even a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He must know who Lord Carlisle was? What possessed you to go scampering around the countryside like a curious little rabbit? You interrupted me. Delia crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. There was no way she was going to ask. He was mad indeed if he believed she would. He smirked. Tell me. Precisely how much of my fornication did you witness?
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That would explain why you stood there for so long, gaping. The shock. Delia glowered at him. I heard a noise and so I followed it, and there you were, right in plain sight. What kind of noise was it? His eyes narrowed. Delia bit her lip to keep from laughing. My sister is waiting for me to return with a conveyance. He waved his hand imperiously, as if he were the lord of the manor and she a lowly servant.
Go on. She took a deep breath and recited the facts quickly, before he could interrupt again.
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I need to find the inn, procure a conveyance, and fetch them both at once. He fell from the box when the axle broke and twisted his ankle. Delia hesitated. He must have read her thoughts on her face because his arrogant gaze moved deliberately from the top of her bedraggled bonnet down over her muddy traveling dress, and came to rest at last on her ruined boots. Delia gasped in outrage. He was insulting her? He shrugged, then turned again and started back down the road, leaving her no choice but to stagger behind him.
Delia supposed he meant to shock her, but she was beyond shock at this point, and hardly turned a hair at this scandalous comment. She followed behind him, scrambling to keep pace with his long-legged stride. Well, that explains why you felt compelled to undress your friend on a public road. How terrible it must be, to be so at the mercy of your animal passions. The crisp waves curled and caught a bit against his long fingers. Did that mean he was nettled, then? Oh, she hoped so.
She had just begun to enjoy that idea when he whipped around to face her. She was so surprised she crashed right into him. Instead he pulled her just a bit closer—not so close his body touched hers, but more than close enough to completely unnerve her. His velvety dark eyes caught and held hers. For one moment Delia was mesmerized, staring at him as if he were a snake charmer and she were rising from her basket after languishing there for decades.
But then she noticed a hint of a smirk on his lips and jerked free from his grasp. Goodness gracious. Her face heated yet again. Another careless shrug.
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Awful, teasing man. They walked along the road for a while, the only sound now the soft, wet thud of boots against mud. After a half mile or so he turned off the road and pulled back some overgrown bushes. As soon as Delia passed through the thick brush, she could see the path, and there at the end was the Prickly Thistle Inn.
She glanced resentfully at her silent companion. Delia breathed an immediate sigh of relief when they entered the inn. It was almost dark outside and growing colder, but there was a massive stone fireplace at one end of the main room that threw out considerable light and heat. A grizzled little man was running a damp cloth over the scarred wooden surface of the bar. He was looking at her, a smug grin lifting the corners of his wide mouth.
Delia stared back at him, aghast. Oh, no, no, no! But even as her brain worked frantically to deny it, she began to remember certain little details. His concern over the injured coachman, a coachman who had been sent by the Earl of Carlisle to convey them to Kent. The fine quality and fit of his clothes—that is, when they were fastened. And who else but an arrogant earl would dare. Delia wanted to stamp her foot with ire. Her mind struggled to think of anything that would prove her dreadful suspicion wrong. The woman. The giggler. Delia closed her eyes in despair. Alexander Sutherland.
The fornicator. The debaucher. He was Lord Carlisle. What debut authors have you discovered this year?
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The banter between Alec and Delia is so much fun. Do you enjoy a heroine who gives as good as she gets? No travel! No hotel rooms! Grand prize is a publishing contract with Pocket Star.
Practically a whole new keeper shelf of romances! Saturday October 24th. To follow along please use. XOXO Connects.