Free A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella by Christina McKnight Page A

Pippa. Call me Lucas.” Indeed, her skirts did muffle his words, but the lighthearted nature of them showed through. “Now, will you hang that bloody thing already? I know I appear as strong as an ox, but I cannot hold you here all day.”
    Pippa giggled—something she hadn’t done in many years.
    She reached high, though the peg was still a few inches away. “A bit higher, Lucas, if you please.”
    She was unsure how he accomplished it, but he raised her the remaining distance, and she popped the branch back into place, giving it a small tug to make sure it would not fall again. “It is hung. You can return me to the ground.”
    â€œIf I must,” he teased. “I was beginning to enjoy the scent of your garments. Is that lavender?”
    â€œOh, you,” Pippa squeaked and swatted at him. “Set me down before we topple over and we are both hurt.”
    â€œAs you wish.”
    Pippa felt a moment of weightlessness, and she flipped about in his arms, now facing him as she slid to the floor—their bodies rubbing against one another in the most intimate and scandalous of ways.
    Her breath hitched at the sensation that flooded her, pooling at her most guarded spot.
    When the air finally left her lungs, it came in several quick pants.
    Pippa blinked to bring her vision back into focus. Yet, all that did was have her breath catching once more because Lucas’s face was a mere inch from hers.
    And he was staring at her in the oddest of fashions.
    Suddenly, Pippa noticed he held his breath, as well. It was as if they both feared breathing for it would end this moment, this highly unexpected moment.
    â€œI think this should hold nicely,” she said, breaking their stare.
    Lucas looked up to assess her work, still holding her tightly to him.
    She followed his gaze to avoid staring at his neck, which she knew led to his chest. His muscular, solid, capable chest.
    â€œMy lord,” she whispered, and he turned his eyes to hers once more.
    â€œLucas.”
    â€œLucas,” she started again. “You may release me now.”
    â€œAnd if I refuse?”
    â€œThen we shall be found in short order by my servants, in a position most scandalous.”
    â€œAnd we do not want that to happen?” This time, it was a question, not a statement. He was asking her if she wanted him to let her go—demanding she say the words aloud. But his words begged her to say no.
    Pippa wanted nothing less than to be released. “Surely, the wisest decision would be that.”
    â€œAre you a wise woman, Pippa?” he asked, his breath fanning her face. “Because, I assure you, at this very moment, I do not feel like a wise man.”

Chapter 8
    L ucas was flirting with danger . Every square inch of his body was on high alert—waiting. She need only say the word, or smile at him, and he’d pull her closer still. Bloody hell, if she so much as breathed, she’d likely set him ablaze where they stood—the heat being the undoing of them both.
    But he was helpless to resist as she continued to stare. There were far worse places to be than lost in her deep, pooling eyes. For the second time, he sensed he was trapped in a story, a fairytale that he was hesitant to escape from.
    â€œAh, well.” She glanced above them once more, to the mistletoe-laced garland. “It would be disastrous for me to deny you a kiss a second time, would it not?”
    Her words were all the encouragement Lucas needed.
    Slowly, giving her ample time to resist, he lowered this mouth to hers.
    But she did not pull away as he set his lips to hers. Her luscious mouth tensed slightly at his touch but quickly relaxed and began to move with his. Their breaths melded together as if it were the most natural of occurrences, as if they did exactly this each day—every hour. Surprising him further, she increased her insistence, taking the lead from him as she parted her lips and ran