Free Christmas Delights by Heather Hiestand Page B

to consider his love for Alys as something out of an old story about the Round Table. A pure, bright love that didn’t need kisses to maintain it.
    Surely an earthier love had its merits. As he stared down at Lady Allen-Hill, a flushed, pretty widow, he willed himself to stay in the moment, to provide her the congress she so ardently desired.
    “Lewis?” she whispered, a hint of doubt creeping into those lovely eyes.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. He couldn’t behave like this. Dust sheered the floor under the sofa, the floorboards were hard, and she was a lady. “You must think I’m a madman to assault you on the floor. I do apologize.”
    “Lewis,” she said again. “I was enjoying myself. Weren’t you?”
    He shook his head slightly, not knowing what to say. Her fingers shook as she rebuttoned those tiny buttons that had been such an object of desire to him only moments before. She sat up, then stood.
    “When did you decide I repulsed you?” she asked, exhaling sharply.
    “You don’t repulse me.” Surprised by her question, he took her hand and held it between his own much cooler digits. “Not at all.”
    “Then what?” She pulled her hand away and tucked it behind the other.
    “I realized I had never conducted myself in this manner. I realized it wasn’t like me.” He came to his feet.
    “I don’t think I understand. I mean, you have been with women, yes?”
    For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Men didn’t blush or simper. “I have never engaged with a titled lady at a house party,” he said.
    “I was plain Victoria Courtnay before I married,” she said. “No better than Lewis Noble.”
    “I misspoke. I have never trysted at a house party, any more than you. We are both novices.”
    “I see. Such antics are beneath you. I suppose that is better than you finding me repulsive.” She crossed her arms over those delectable breasts and shifted from side to side.
    “I am sorry. Your beauty went to my head.”
    “I apologize for disturbing you.”
    He heard the break in her voice and felt absolutely terrible. “I will escort you to your room.”
    “No need. We are on the same corridor, Mr. Noble.” With a stiffness in her gait very different from her usual flowing, hip-centered walk, she pulled the edges of her wrapper under her chin and stepped to the door. Without looking back, she opened it and departed.
    Lewis closed his eyes as the door clicked decidedly behind her, as if it chastised him. What would have been more gentlemanly under the circumstances? Refusing her or agreeing to romp?
     
    Victoria felt more restless than she ever had in her life as she sat with Penelope and the Gill women in the morning parlor the next day. Should she depart? Her father had moped at breakfast as well, making her wonder if he’d had a tryst go wrong, too. Some things could not be discussed between father and child, but somehow she knew they were feeling a similar level of disappointment.
    “Victoria, stop woolgathering,” Penelope ordered. “What is Princess Everilda going to do?”
    Victoria cast her thoughts in the appropriate direction. “She was meant to search her father’s castle for the masks.”
    “What did she find?” the girl whined.
    Victoria dug deep into herself for the next kernel of story, hiding behind her fretful thoughts of Lewis. “She was at the highest level, so she searched the attics first but found nothing. Then she went to the floor on which the family lived. She searched the bedchambers and the solarium, then the chapel, all to no avail. On the ground floor, she investigated the main hall, even peering up the massive fireplace until her face was covered with soot. This was particularly troubling because, of course, the prince was expected to arrive that day and she hadn’t quite given up hope that he would appear. But the day progressed and even when her face was clean Prince Hugh had not arrived.”
    “She knew the curse was real,” Penelope said. “By