Free Her Mistletoe Husband by Renee Roszel Page B

left the parlor, hoisting Gilly in an arm. “Come on Gilly, wake up.”
    â€œJuice?” Gilly asked sleepily, rubbing an eye with a chubby fist.
    â€œSure we’ll get some juice. After we walk.”
    Elissa noticed movement outside the parlor window, and was happy to see the mail truck lumbering along the road. She watched as it stopped at their box. “Finally,” she mumbled. “The mail’s getting later and later.”
    â€œIt’s Christmas,” Alex said, still sitting in the easy chair beside the fireplace.
    She jerked to look at him, having momentarily been able to put his existence from her mind. “Wow, there’s news,” she said sarcastically, spinning toward the door. “Christmas—a busy time for the post office. Who would have thought?”
    â€œUse my jacket if you want,” he called.
    She realized it was stupid to go out with the temperature below freezing, so she spun back. Stiff-jawed, she muttered, “Thank you,” grabbing up the ski parka.
    He nodded, then turned to stare into the fire.
    She slipped into his coat. It was huge, but warm. And it held his tobacco-cedar scent She snuggled deep into the collar when the cold wind hit her face, inhaling him with a combination of regret and guilty pleasure. He smelled good for a sleazy, property-stealing rat.
    Though it was rapidly growing dark, the sunset was fiery and breathtaking. She inhaled the cold evening air—and Alex’s scent—and found herself smiling. She decided the smile was for the crisp, fresh air and the striking sunset, and that was all.
    She had a feeling the walk Lucy and Jack and the twins were taking out back in the woods would be short. But it would certainly wake up Gilly. The cold air was exhilarating.
    Thumbing through the mail on her way back to the house, she saw it and staggered to a halt. This is what she had feared. Another smudged envelope with the same irregular scrawl. Her name, her address, in that heavy-handed brown ink. Just like the first letter.
    Her hands began to tremble, and she dropped half the mail. Envelopes began to blow around the yard, but she hardly saw it, didn’t care. “Oh...” she cried, her voice a quivery whisper. “Oh, no.” Tearing the thing open, she forced herself to read the coarse scribble.

    Don’t have you too happy a christmas, missy. I’m watching yu and I’m going to have my rivenge. You don’t got no chance to excape. See yu real soon, missy. But yu won’t see me coming.

    Of course it wasn’t signed. She didn’t expect it to be. She scanned the postmark. Kissie, Missouri, a small town not far away. The other had been postmarked from Hollister, another nearby town. Maybe this creep had been lurking in the woods that night she’d hidden in the D’Amour mansion, after all. Maybe somebody really was stalking her. He could have put the board in the road with the nails in it just so she would have her flat tire right there. Just so that he—
    â€œElissa, what’s wrong?” came a concerned voice, not far away. “From the window I saw you turn as white as a shee.”
    She shot a gaze at the tall man standing there coatless, watching her closely. For several seconds she was too affected to move, captured against her will by his arresting presence. For the blink of an eye, the crimson flame of the sunset gave him a radiant halo and he looked too perfect to be mortal. A thickness came to her throat, cutting off her ability to speak.
    â€œElissa?” he repeated softly, as though afraid she might panic and scream if he spoke too loudly. “What is it?”
    Pulled from her trance, she didn’t say anything—had no intention of involving him in her private life. She shook her head emphatically, hoping this letter would give police the clue they needed to find this lowlife before he decided to do something besides write letters. “It’s