Read Letters at Christmas for Free Online Page A

All her worst fears had been reality.
    “I did see you in a ball,” he muttered.
    “What? Where?”
    “It was at the Chadwick’s. A coming out party for one of their daughters.”
    “Georgette,” she answered dazedly. He’d really been there? And not spoken to her? She would kill him. She wanted to hear it first.
    In a dry voice he admitted, “I skipped the receiving line and came in through the garden. I just wanted a glimpse. And that was all I got. You were surrounded by people. Friends. Admirers .”
    She scoffed. “There’s no room to breathe at those parties.”
    “You smiled like a queen at court bestowing favors.”
    “Now I know you’re lying. I was more like a country maid than a queen.”
    “I know what I saw.” He shrugged. “Then I left.”
    “You left,” she repeated, still in disbelief.
    “Our ship left port in a week. And it had already been a year by then. No letters, no contact at all. You would have been furious to see me.”
    Unlikely. Even now, she struggled to hold tightly to her anger. She had some sort of medical condition wherein she thought the best of him and wanted to be near him. Love, or insanity, or both.
    “No.” She spoke quietly now, more sure of her answer. “That wasn’t why you didn’t talk to me.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Why then?”
    “Because you didn’t want an emotional reunion with a teary goodbye. Maybe you feared you wouldn’t get on the boat again if you saw me. You didn’t want to put anything down on paper because then you’d have to feel something.”
    His eyes blazed as he pulled her close to him. “Is that so wrong?”
    “No,” she whispered. He was brave and afraid all at once, but wasn’t that love? Wasn’t that life? He’d done what he had to do—for him, for her.
    He bent his head and pressed a warm kiss against her lips. His tongue swiped against the seam of her lips until she opened. He invaded her mouth roughly, hungrily. She felt consumed by him. Her sadness fell away, replaced by desire. Her fear faded into the past, and she felt only hope.
    His hand cradled her neck, tilting her backward until she reclined half in his lap. He was more forceful than he ever had been, taking her, guiding her. Submit to me , his mouth said, and her supple body answered in kind. Take me, love me.
    He touched her breast through her dress, molding the flesh. Her bosom seemed to swell beneath his touch, the tips growing firm between his forefinger and thumb. He pinched gently— then harder. She moaned into his mouth. She felt dizzy with intimacy far greater than physical, and passion deeper than she had ever known before.
    She managed to pull back. “Not here.”
    “Here,” he countered. “And now. I’ve waited for three years, don’t deny me any longer.”
    “I was with you last night,” she protested faintly.
    “You know what I want,” he muttered, kissing a line down her jaw and along the edge of her dress. “Marry me.”
    The word hovered on the tip of her tongue. Yes. Maybe. Please. But she couldn’t even process what he’d told her. My God. So much had happened to him. So much had hurt him. Would he resent her? And if he didn’t, she had plenty of guilt welling up. Right now she just wanted to assure herself that he was here, and safe, and alive.
    Her fingers tangled in his snow-dusted hair, clenching around ice-cold locks and pulling him closer. Switching their places, he moved her to the seat. He knelt on the floor of the sleigh, his body nestled between her legs. He was so hard everywhere. In his taut muscles and fierce expression. Hard in his heart, she thought faintly.
    He’d had to be, to survive. But that had been a shield, constructed of ice, and she would melt it.
    With their every touch, heat grew. A fire inside her body raged higher.
    He reached for the hem of her skirt. She gasped a small protest, but he quickly covered her with the furs. The tree line protected them from the worst of the wind. The afternoon sun beat