The night sped by, of course, just knowing that Pete would be gone before first light in the morning. Time and time again, Lila tried to arrange things so that she’d be standing or sitting near Peter, or involved in the same conversation circles as he. But as the evening came to a close, she realized she’d hardly spoken to him at all.
She bade farewell to the guests, wishing them all a Merry Christmas. Peter was still in the parlor speaking to an elderly gentleman and didn’t even glance her way as she passed the open doorway to the stairs. This meant that under her aunt’s pointed expression, she ascended the stairs alone.
Once in her room, tears slipped down her cheeks. She couldn’t help stop them. It had been a beautiful night, a magical time, but all she could think about was confessing her heart to Peter. Which was what she absolutely should not do, especially while still on probation. Especially since he was destitute. And especially since she couldn’t go through another heartbreak.
She lay on her bed, still in her gown, as she listened to the sounds of departure from the final guests. Her aunt would be exhausted tomorrow, and Lila was sure she’d have plenty of extra chores, even if it was Christmas.
Lila had almost dozed off when she heard a faint scratching at her door. She lifted her head and saw a folded piece of paper on the floor. Had someone just slipped it under the door? Her heart hammered as she climbed off the bed and picked up the paper.
Dearest Lila,
Meet me in an hour in the parlor.
—P.W.
Lila bit her lip to keep from shouting with laughter. She wanted to dance and twirl and run around her small room. Instead she climbed on the bed and read the note again.
By the time she crept down the stairs, it hadn’t been a full hour, but she couldn’t wait any longer. It must have been well after midnight, and the only light in the house was the dim glow of the dying fire in the parlor, its soft orange lighting the stairs.
When Lila reached the parlor door, she realized she still wore her green gown. She probably should have changed into something more sensible—and modest. She hadn’t even checked her hair or face; were there tearstains on her cheeks?
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Peter already there. He sat in a chair, facing the fire, his back to the door. As soon as Lila stepped in, he turned, then rose to his feet. It was as if nothing needed to be said. Lila walked toward him, and before she knew it, she was in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Peter inhaled deeply, memorizing the faint lavender scent of Lila’s hair as he held her in his arms. Finally. He’d never wanted to stay someplace so much in his life, even if it was this freezing cold farmhouse. He knew his days were limited with Lila—she couldn’t stay here forever. And with his journey to visit his mother tomorrow, he questioned whether Lila was all just some fantastical dream. What if, when he returned, she was gone?
His heart pounded as they stood together in an embrace. Mrs. Payne could wake any moment, descend the stairs, and catch them together. Their reputations would suffer. Especially with his failed engagement and Lila’s entanglement with that wretched bachelor.
Peter couldn’t let that happen, yet he had to say goodbye to her. Alone. That was why he’d slipped her the note. But as she had walked across the room and into his arms, his resolve to keep this goodbye to mere minutes began fading.
When he first saw her emerge from her room tonight, wearing that green gown, he knew he was in love with her. It wasn’t that she looked so beautiful, like a work of art, really, but because he finally saw her as she’d appear in high society. And he’d felt no reservation as he’d worried might happen. No twinge of concern. No lack of confidence. He realized for the first time since Dannelle that he was not ruined for love.
When Lila’s eyes had met his, the emotion in her gaze had struck him to the core. She cared about him, perhaps even loved him. He’d seen it in her eyes—something he’d never seen in his fiancée’s eyes.
Lila was pure and real, and now she was in his arms. He drew back and gazed at her. “I miss you already, and I haven’t even left yet.”
Her eyes blinked as if she’d just realized he’d spoken. Then she smiled that smile of hers and stroked his cheek.
This is becoming too intimate. Too dangerous. Lila touching him and looking at him in this way was perilous indeed. He exhaled. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so much. But it wasn’t only that. He wanted to be with her every moment. To... marry her. The thought should have scared him. A hundred complications stood in their way, but as her fingers trailed his cheek, then down his neck, he knew he’d overcome every single complication, no matter how long it took.
Chapter Eleven
How can he stand it? Touching, yet not kissing? Lila wondered.
Peter’s eyes closed as her fingers trailed along his neck. His arms were loosely around her, holding her, yet not nearly close enough.
Am I being too forward? Is this because of my former relationship with an experienced man?
No, she realized. Peter was different, and she felt differently about him. She wanted to kiss him, to touch him, but she also wanted to know everything about him. She’d even sit through one of his “poetry” recitations, or let him teach her how to clean out a horse stall. She wanted to meet his mother. She wanted to restore his father’s reputation. She wanted to do everything and anything for him.
Peter’s eyes opened, their endless depths nearly swallowing her whole.
She didn’t know where he got his endurance, but hers had snapped. “Kiss me, Peter,” she whispered.
It didn’t take long for him to obey; it was less than a second before his lips were on hers. Her pulse throbbed as his arms pulled her close, and her body slowly became inflamed as his mouth moved tenderly against hers as if he savored every moment.
When Lila finally had to breathe, she drew away.
Peter’s hands moved to her face, cradling it, and his dark eyes bore into hers. “Come with me in the morning. I want you to meet someone.” His mouth brushed hers again, so sweet, so gentle. “And then if you like my mother, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Lila could only stare at him. Every part of her body trembled. Peter had said marry. But she wasn’t afraid or confused. In fact, she wasn’t really surprised. It just confirmed that Peter felt the same way about her as she did him.
“Don’t worry, Lila, I know I have much to accomplish before your father would consent to our marriage.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “But will you wait for me?”
She inhaled his scent, then moved her hands up his chest, behind his neck, until her fingers tangled into his hair. “I will wait,” she whispered, “but on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“That you kiss me every day we are waiting.”
His mouth turned up into a smile, then, surprisingly, he released her. When she was about to question him, he drew her to the side of the fireplace. He pointed upward, and she saw the mistletoe on the high mantle.
She laughed softly.
“I have no problem with kissing you every day,” he said. Before she could respond, he pulled her into his arms again and kissed her cheek. “Is that good enough?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No.”
He kissed her other cheek. “Here?”
“Not quite,” she whispered.
He kissed her jaw, and she laughed again. “You are terrible.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” His lips met hers.
She inhaled sharply as his kiss turned hot and demanding. She thought she might melt against him, and the only thing keeping her standing was being held in his arms.
“How’s that?” he whispered against her mouth.
“Perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”
About Heather B. Moore
Heather B. Moore is the author of nine romantic historical thrillers, written under the pen name H.B. Moore (so men will buy her books). She’s the two-time recipient of the Best in Sta
te Award for Literary Arts in Fiction, and the two-time Whitney Award winner for Best Historical. Heather is also the co-author of the Newport Ladies Book Club series (2012), and the co-author with Angela Eschler of the inspirational Christian book, Christ’s Gifts to Women. These co-authored works are written under her real name (so women will buy them). Her author website is: www.hbmoore.com Twitter: @heatherbmoore Facebook: Fans of H.B. Moore
Heather owns and manages the freelance editing company Precision Editing Group, just because she isn’t busy enough. Her editing website is www.precisioneditinggroup.com. Heather lives in the shadow of Mt Timpanogos with her husband, four children, and one pretentious cat. In her spare time, Heather sleeps.
Other Works by Heather B. Moore
Daughters of Jared (as H.B. Moore)
http://www.amazon.com/Daughters-Jared-H-B-Moore/dp/160861395X/
Athena (Newport Ladies Book Club series)
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=newport%20ladies%20club
Christ’s Gifts to Women
http://www.amazon.com/Christs-Gifts-Women-Angela-Eschler/dp/1608618617/
Visit Heather B. Moore’s Amazon Author Page
http://www.amazon.com/Heather-B.-Moore/e/B007HLYZ6A/
Visit H.B. Moore’s Amazon Author Page
http://www.amazon.com/H.-B.-Moore/e/B001K8942Q/
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Coming Spring 2013:
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Spring Vacation Collection
Six Contemporary Short Stories by:
Josi S. Kilpack
Annette Lyon
Heather Justesen
Sarah M. Eden
Heather B. Moore
Aubrey Mace
Table of Contents
The Road to Cavan Town, by Sarah M. Eden
About Sarah M. Eden
Other Works by Sarah M. Eden
It Happened Twelfth Night, by Heidi Ashworth
About Heidi Ashworth
Other Works by Heidi Ashworth
An Unexpected Proposal, by Annette Lyon
About Annette Lyon
Other Works by Annette Lyon
Caroles on the Green, by Joyce DiPastena
About Joyce DiPastena
Other Works by Joyce DiPastena
A Winter’s Knight, by Donna Hatch
About Donna Hatch
Other Works by Donna Hatch
A Fortunate Exile, by Heather B. Moore
About Heather B. Moore
Other Works by Heather B. Moore
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection Page 26