Free A Pirate for Christmas: A Regency Novella by Anna Campbell Page B

on the hunt for some obscure reference about Julian the Apostate.”
    “Not very exciting for a young girl.”
    “I’ve been left to run wild, my aunt says.”
    “Your aunt?” They entered the snowy yard behind the house.
    “Yes, my mother’s sister. She lives in Newcastle, along with my four beautiful cousins, all of whom made advantageous marriages.”
    “She never tried to find you a husband?”
    “She brought me out in local society, but I didn’t take.” Bess cringed to recall how gawky and provincial she’d felt at the Newcastle assemblies.
    Channing’s bewilderment went some way toward soothing the sting. “I can’t imagine why not. You’re utterly charming.”
    She stopped so sharply that his hand dropped from her arm. “Nobody’s ever called me that.”
    “You’ve charmed me into fixing the Abbey and holding a Christmas dinner and, most horrifying of all, playacting.”
    “I made you do all that,” she mumbled, even as her heart expanded under his praise.
    “No, you made me want to do it. There’s a difference.”
    She studied him. Low cloud hid the sun, but the snow’s white glare threw him into stark relief. “You’re a kind man, Lord Channing.”
    It was his turn to look uncomfortable. “Nonsense. It’s blatantly obvious that if Newcastle didn’t fall at your feet, there’s something wrong with Newcastle, not you. How old were you?”
    “Sixteen the first time, eighteen the last.” In all the busy years since, she’d almost forgotten the ignominy of failing to cut a dash, and of her aunt’s bitter and voluble disappointment.
    “You’re an original, Miss Farrar. Believe me, in London, you’d be the toast of the town. As a humble second son, I’d have been completely below your lofty notice. You’d cut me direct and waltz away in the arms of a handsome marquess with fifty thousand a year.”
    She laughed wryly. “What nonsense you talk.” Especially as she was positive that even as a humble second son, he’d stand out as exceptional.
    “At least my nonsense has made you smile. Did no fellow have the brains to see what a jewel you are?”
    Her cheeks heated under his admiration. If they hadn’t been in the open, with interruption likely at any moment, she’d kiss him again.
    She decided then and there that the next chance she got, she’d ask him to kiss her. Surely that light in his eyes indicated that he’d cooperate.
    And what if he doesn’t want to stop at kisses?
    Wicked excitement weighted her belly as she contemplated more than kisses. Although she knew she steered into dangerous waters. “There was a gentleman my aunt favored.”
    “But you didn’t?”
    “No. He was forty-five and had six children.”
    “There must have been someone else.”
    “How do you know?”
    His glance was mocking. “You said you’d been kissed before.”
    How very interesting. It seemed his mind dwelled on kisses, too. “There was a very nice man without prospects.” She hadn’t thought of Tom Wilson in years. “He liked me, but he needed to marry money. My portion is respectable, but not enough to restore a tumbledown estate and support an extended family of indigent relatives.”
    “Did he marry money?”
    “I heard he wed a rich widow from York.”
    “And I’ll wager he’s spent every day since cursing his fate.”
    She laughed. “I doubt it. Our little romance was very boy and girl, not something you eat your heart out over for a lifetime. I can’t even remember what he looked like, although at the time, I thought he was breathtakingly handsome.”
    “I’d never forget you. I’m sure he hasn’t either.”
    She tried not to seize on Channing’s remarks as a sign that he cared about her. It would be so easy to mistake his kindness for something more. “I hope he has. It was all so silly. Although I convinced myself it was a grand passion and cried into my pillow for weeks when I came home. But then I just got on with things here.”
    “Waiting for your Prince