Yuletide Treasure Read Free Page A

indicated his unshaven face and unruly hair—“on the whole, you look much the same.”
    â€œI don’t remember you.”
    An ever-so-faint smile. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
    Pensively, he scrutinized her. “Since you know who I am, I assume you’re also familiar with my shrouded past, and my ultimate—and permanent—seclusion.”
    â€œI’m aware of your reputation, yes.”
    â€œYet you’re not afraid of me?”
    â€œNo, my lord, I’m not.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    A peppery spark lit her eyes, warming them to a radiant golden brown. “Stupidity, probably. But, you see, I’ve spent the past year and a half teaching children—two dozen of them, in fact, ranging in age from four to fourteen. As a result, it seems I have become impervious to both shock and fear. Even in the case of a notorious man like yourself.”
    â€œBrigitte!” The vicar’s anxious voice interrupted, as he finally made his way to the roadside. “Are you all right?” He reached for her hands, clasping them in his.
    â€œI’m fine, Grandfather,” she assured him gently. “Dusty and disheveled, but fine.” She rubbed one smudged cheek. “We all are—Noelle, Fuzzy, and me.”
    Grandfather? Eric’s eyes narrowed on her face as a wisp of memory materialized at last.
    A tiny child with a cloud of dark hair, trailing behind the vicar at every church function. A skinny girl in a secondhand frock giving out coins and sweets to the parish children as they exited after Christmas services. A gawky adolescent smiling shyly at him as he passed through the streets, gazing at Liza as if she were some sort of exalted angel.
    The vicar’s granddaughter.
    How old had she been when last he’d seen her? No more than twelve or thirteen at the most.
    Well, it was five years later. And the skinny girl, the gawky adolescent, were no more. To be sure, the forthright young woman who stood before him, her nose streaked with dirt, bore traces of the child she’d once been. Slender and petite, the crown of her chestnut head scarcely reached his chest. Her features, too, had remained dainty, from the delicate line of her jaw to the fine bridge of her nose to her high, sculpted cheekbones. Her manner of dress, a result of financial hardship, he suspected, was also unchanged; her gown, beneath its newly acquired layer of dirt, was as plain and well-worn as ever.
    And yet—Eric’s probing gaze continued its downwardscrutiny—despite the gown’s faded, rumpled state, it could not detract from the feminine curves it defined; curves that had not existed five years past and which completely belied the hoydenlike behavior he’d just witnessed.
    This unexpected whirlwind was a far cry from the person in his dim recollections.
    â€œMy lord?”
    With a start, Eric realized she was speaking to him—and he looked up swiftly, seeing the uncertain expression on her face. “What?”
    â€œI merely noted you seem a bit unnerved, which is understandable given Noelle’s narrow escape. May I offer you something? A cup of tea?”
    His decision burst upon him like gunfire.
    â€œYes, you may offer me something,” he pronounced. “But not tea.” He caught her elbow, staying her initial steps toward the church, curtly dismissing her objective in lieu of his more pressing one. “Miss Curran—it is Miss Curran, is it not? I see no wedding ring on your finger.”
    She glanced bewilderedly at his viselike grip on her arm.
    Instantly, he released her. “I’m not going to harm you,” he affirmed, sarcasm lacing his tone. “In fact, my intentions are uncharacteristically honorable. Now, is it or is it not Miss Curran?”
    â€œIt is, my lord,” she confirmed, brows drawn in puzzlement.
    â€œExcellent. You’re unmarried. Next, are you betrothed? Bound to one suitor?