Free His For Christmas by Fiona Shin Page A

just heard the most extraordinary tale.”
    Ivy felt a breath hitch in her chest and she bit her lower lip, trying to keep the tears at bay, wondering how long she could keep the warmth out of her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Miller?”
    The woman spared a glance over her shoulder, at the man who hadn’t taken his eyes off Ivy’s face, not for one moment. “He tells me you’ve run away from him. I told him you were a widow and surely he must’ve been mistaken…”
    Elliot opened his mouth, then. “Oh, I don’t think I’m mistaken, Mrs. Miller. I don’t think I am mistaken at all, am I…Ivy?”
    At the sound of his voice, his wonderfully low, husky voice, she could no longer keep the tears away and swiped at her wet cheeks. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I am so sorry.”
    Mrs. Miller’s gaze flitted from her to the man standing next to her now. “Perhaps I will give you some time, shall I?”
    ‘No! Don’t leave me alone with him!’ Ivy wanted to scream, but by the time she managed to draw in a breath to speak, Mrs. Miller had hastened out and she was left alone.
    With Elliot Whitley.
    He was silent again.
    Ivy clenched her teeth.
    If he didn’t begin talking soon, she was going to scream, she knew it.
    “You left a note.”
    Not entirely the way she imagined the conversation would start, but it was a start.
    She nodded. “I left you a note. I’m sorry I took your money. I was going to mail you what I owed tomorrow when I get my first week of wages.”
    Her voice shook, but then again, so did every other part of her body.
    “Were you now?” he asked, in that same, polite, even tone as if they were conversing about the pleasant weather. “And then what?”
    Oh, if he would stop looking at her like that! For all his voice sounded tame, cultivated, the look in his dark eyes promised revenge. “I…I don’t understand what you mean.”
    “What would you have done?”
    She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. “Elliot, I don’t—”
    An emotion flickered across his face, the first crack in his polite facade. “Why did you go?”
    She flushed, although it might have been because she was right next to the oven. “I couldn’t stay.”
    “No?” He took one step forward and suddenly the large kitchen seemed far too small. “You couldn’t? Tell me, Ivy, do you know what it’s like to wake up in a cold, empty bed?” His lips twitched. “Naked, I might add. I almost scared Mrs. Chang to death. She’s still recovering.”
    Was that a joke? “Elliot, I’m sorry I left. But I wrote a note.”
    “Ah yes,” he said and pulled out that small, white square of paper that was now, quite wrinkled and stained in several places. “The note. Dear Elliot. I’m sorry to leave in such a reprehensible manner. I cannot marry you. In time, you will come to understand. I will return the funds I have taken as soon as possible. Regards, Ivy.”
    Her face felt like it had caught on fire. To hear her written words in such a way…she wanted to slide between the cracks in the floor and never come out. “I couldn’t stay, Elliot!”
    He ignored her and slapped the note down on the cutting board with a thud that made her jump. “In time? In time I will come to understand? Well, it’s been a damn week and I still don’t understand. Would you kindly tell me what the hell I’m supposed to understand?”
    “You can’t marry me!” The words fell off her lips in a rush. “Elliot, I was a beggar! I lived in the streets for weeks until you found me. I begged for food and shelter. How can you possibly want me to be your wife? You need someone who will bring something into your marriage, someone with a sizeable trousseau, someone who comes from a warm family that will readily welcome you. I have nothing, Elliot. I have nobody.”
    Her voice cracked at the last word and he cut her off with an angry gesture.
    “You have Mrs. Chang. You have Timothy,” he ground out. “Do you have any idea what sort of lies I had to tell that little