Free Her Mistletoe Husband by Renee Roszel

into some depraved den of iniquity.”
    Damien hauled his wife into his arms. “I’ll see what I can do to arrange that.” His voice was husky and meaningful.
    â€œDamien!” Helen squealed with mock consternation. “We’re doing cheeks and foreheads!”
    â€œWe’ll get to those later, sweetheart,” Damien mumbled, kissing her with great singleness of mind. Elissa could almost feel the passion they shared, and experienced a surge of envy so strong she was ashamed of herself.
    Both Helen and Lucy had quieter, gentler natures than she. Any man who might fall in love with her had his work cut out for him. He’d have to be turned on by a stubborn, smart-mouth who had to beat every opponent into dust. In all her thirty years there hadn’t been that many takers, once the awful truth of her personality had come to light. It was odd how men tended not to date a woman who whipped their backsides in law school and who could argue them into mush in the courtroom, and who-face it—even, on a couple of recent occasions, kicked them when they exasperated her beyond words.
    â€œOh, get a room, you two,” Jack admonished with a laugh.
    â€œLuckily they have one,” Lucy added.
    When the hot kiss finally ended, Damien and Helen stared at each other. Their breathing was heavy, and Helen’s cheeks were pink. It was clear something had begun beneath that mistletoe that wasn’t over solely because the kiss had ended.
    Elissa shook her head at them. “If you two have something pressing to do, we’ll watch the girls.”
    Damien flashed her a grateful look, and without a word, took his wife’s hand, leading her toward the stairs.
    â€œWhew.” Jack shook his head, looking amused. “It’s just a guess, but I think she liked his kiss best.” Walking into the parlor, Jack settled on the sofa beside his wife. When he looked at her, his expression was dear. “How are you feeling, Luce?”
    She lay her knitting aside and placed a hand on his thigh. Elissa noticed that he covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. She fought back a tear. Love was everywhere in her inn these days. You could cut it like butter. The joy her sisters had found was glorious, filling their lives, making them whole. She struggled not to be jealous of their good fortune.
    She tried to be philosophical, reminding herself that some people were meant to be part of a couple, and some weren’t. She simply wasn’t. She supposed she would have to satisfy herself with mothering them all. That was something, at least, and a role she found gratifying. “Look, you two,” she said as gaily as she could, “if you have business elsewhere, I’m perfectly capable of watching the girls for Helen and Damien.”
    They turned from gazing into each other’s eyes and beamed at Elissa. “We’re fine,” Lucy said. “Besides, we wanted to tell you something—offcially.”
    â€œAbout you being pregnant?” Her smile refreshed itself with the reminder. She noticed that Alex was coming into the room and taking a seat on a chair opposite her, before the fire. She avoided looking at him or acknowledging his presence. “I guessed it when you and Jack ran out on breakfast that first morning—and all the oatmeal you’ve been not eating.” She reached over and touched her sister’s hand. “When’s the precious bundle due?”
    â€œIndependence Day,” Jack said. “Talk about timing.”
    Elissa clapped her hands together. “It’s a sign. Another president in the family.” She cast a loving glance at little Elissa Gillian, who was chewing on the foot of her “Feed-and-Wet Frieda” doll. “Of course Gilly will have to be elected to a full two terms, first, but after that, we’ll get Baby Gallagher into office.” She closed her eyes in feigned rapture. “Of course, I will be