Read One Wicked Christmas for Free Online

widow after all. He spent that night getting quietly drunk.
    In the years that followed, he pushed down and ignored his feelings, convinced himself they didn’t exist. He befriended Cassie, learned of her sweetness and intelligence, which only made her more beautiful. And he searched for solace in other beds, other pursuits. He almost convinced himself he didn’t care for Cassie in that way.
    Until he kissed her in the rain, and all those feelings came roaring free. After making love to her, tasting her passion—passion that equaled his own—he couldn’t let her go. Even though he knew he should, that she deserved far better than a rogue like him.
     
    He glanced back at her gown on the rumpled bed. She had run away from him last night. But he wouldn’t let her run for long.
    Cassandra slid down low on the settee by the library fireplace and tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands. She had thought she could hide in there, both from Melisande’s other guests and from her own worries over what she had done last night.
    Everyone else was engaged in a wild game of hide-and-seek along the corridors and up in the attics, so they weren’t likely to look for her, especially in the library. But her own thoughts…those were harder to escape from.
    Every time she looked at the page, she saw Ian’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. Instead of the warmth of the fire through her thin muslin gown she felt his touch. Last night had been wondrous, beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She had never known pleasure like that could exist in the world. And to find it with Ian…
    Cassandra snapped the book shut with a sigh. Last night with Ian was perfect. But when she opened her eyes to the light of dawn and saw his peaceful, sleeping face on the pillow beside hers, she was beset with doubts and fears. What if it was too perfect? What if he turned away from her again?
    So she fled to her own chamber, not even going back when she realized she’d left her dressing gown behind. She had to decide how to behave, what to say, when she saw Ian again. Running to him and throwing herself into his arms as she longed to do couldn’t be an option.
    There was a soft knock at the door. Glad of a distraction, Cassandra called out, “Come in.”
    It was Smithers, Melisande’s butler. He held a folded letter in one hand and her fur-lined cloak in the other. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, my lady, but this message came for you.”
    “A message for me?” Cassandra said, puzzled. Who would be sending her letters here? Her sisters were all scattered about the countryside with their families for the holiday, her parents off at Brighton with the youngest. Surely nothing had happened to them?
    Smithers gave her the note and she ripped it open. It was very short, written in a dark, spiky scrawl, and definitely not from her sisters.
    Meet me outside the front door in fifteen minutes. If you say no, I’ll just come in and find you. Ian.
    Cassandra swallowed hard as she read the message a second time. He hadn’t run from her after all. He was waiting for her just outside.
    She couldn’t run from him.
    Smithers gave a discreet little cough and held out her cloak. “I was told you would need this, my lady. And these.” He produced her boots and gloves.
    “Thank you, Smithers.” In a dreamy haze, she quickly donned her outdoor garments and hurried out of the library and through the front door.
    Ian was indeed waiting for her there, holding the reins of a small white-and-gold sleigh drawn by two white horses. It was a beautiful conveyance, seemingly made for a snow queen, gleaming and opulent in the silvery sunlight. But surely the most beautiful part was the flash of Ian’s smile as he waved at her.
    “Come for a ride with me, Cassie,” he called. “It’s a gorgeous day, is it not?”
    Cassandra laughed. “If you enjoy freezing your nose off, I suppose,” she said, but she let one of the footmen help her up