His hand took mine across the table.
“But if we live today right,” he said quietly, “it’s enough.”
The air between us suddenly electrified, and my hand trembled beneath his. Slowly, he started to lean across the tea table....
Mrs. MacWhirter coughed from the doorway, and Edward and I pulled away, blushing like teenagers who’d just been caught kissing.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” she said, “but I wanted you to know I’m getting ready to leave. The rest of the staff has already gone.”
“Fine.” Edward cleared his throat. “Good. I hope you have a nice holiday.”
“Yes, indeed, sir,” Mrs. MacWhirter said warmly. “The staff wanted me to thank you for the extra large Christmas bonus this year. You’re always so generous, but this one topped it all. I nearly fell over when I opened the card. Sophie said she’s going to surprise her boyfriend and take him to the Seychelles for Christmas. I’m going to get my sister that new roof, and I’ll still have some left to put by. Thank you.”
“It’s the least you all deserve for putting up with me,” Edward said. “Especially over the last few months. I haven’t always made it easy.”
Her lips lifted into a smile. “You haven’t been so very bad as all that. Considering all you’ve been through...” She hesitated. “I needn’t go to Scotland for Christmas, you know. I could stay over the holiday, if you think you might need me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “You’ve been talking about visiting your sister for months. You get the week off, as always.”
“But in your current state...who will take care of you?”
“Miss Maywood.”
She eyed me dubiously. “What about in the kitchen?”
“In the kitchen,” he said gravely, “as in all areas.”
He didn’t meet my eye, and a good thing too, since I could barely keep from laughing.
“In that case...I’m off.” Mrs. MacWhirter looked relieved. “Happy Christmas, Mr. St. Cyr, Miss Maywood. Take good care of him,” she added with a beady glint in her eye.
“I will,” I murmured, feeling new appreciation for her, now that I knew she’d been caring for Edward since he was a child.
And I kept my promise, all right. I took very good care of Edward over Christmas week. Just as he took very good care of me. We huddled in the warmest rooms of Penryth Hall, lighting a fire with a Yule log, and watched the snow rise in the chilly wind outside.
We had sex for Christmas. Sex for Boxing Day. Sex for New Year’s Eve. In between, we had champagne, opened Christmas crackers, wore paper crowns and gobbled up a Christmas goose we’d prepared ourselves—Edward actually knew how to cook, somewhat to my surprise—and a great deal of trifle.
I’m not going to lie. It was a very naked week. Alone just the two of us, we barely bothered with clothes. Edward said it was more efficient that way, plus he just liked the look of me. We lit fires in every room, in every possible way.
Christmas morning, we made love beneath the tree and it was so explosive that at the critical moment, ornaments and tinsel fell on Edward’s head. Edward looked up with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“I’ve heard about choirs of angels singing,” he grumbled, looking at the angelic item that just had landed on his back from the very top of the tree, “but this is ridiculous.”
With a laugh, I pulled him back over me, and we wrapped ourselves in tinsel.
But on New Year’s Eve, as all the world looked with anticipation toward the bright, shiny new year, I felt building sadness, the sense that our time was running out. I tried to ignore the feeling, telling myself I should be grateful for the magical weeks we’d spent together. But all I could feel was misery, that soon Edward would return to London, to work long hours at a job he didn’t particularly like, and I would go back to California, to face the scandal I’d left behind, and see if I had the courage to try acting again. Just thinking of it made me want to cover my head with a pillow. And as for the thought of never seeing Edward again, never ever....