Max paused and glanced over at her. She avoided meeting his gaze and instead stared at the window display. A pair of heeled gold slippers sat next to the dress, surrounded by a wreath of greenery. She sighed in feminine appreciation.
“We should head to the coaching inn to meet Mr. Bromley,” Max said softly.
“Yes, of course,” she replied. They walked down to the end of High Street, where it intersected with a large square of green space in the center of town. The grass was more brown than green, and the water in the fountain was frozen solid. The bare branches of the trees arched over the square and crisscrossed the blue sky above. The wind seemed to increase its bluster as they crossed the frosty grass. “By the weekend, the festival will be set up here in the square. It runs for eight days. So there will be plenty of Christmas cheer for you to enjoy.” Olivia hunched her shoulders against the wind.
Max abruptly pulled them to a stop. “But not for you to enjoy?” He turned to face her, blocking the wind with his broad back. “What’s going on? I can’t help but feel you are trying your best not to enjoy the Christmas season.”
How did he know?“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. “We’ll be late.”
Max put a finger under her chin and tilted her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Livvy, what’s going on?” he repeated.
His eyes soft with concern, he waited patiently for her to divulge her thoughts. He always had a terrible talent for seeing straight into her soul. A tear sneaked out and ran from the corner of her eye. She tried for a smile, but it wobbled, and she gave up trying to pretend. “Henry loved the Christmas season. We always spent December at Belhaven. We had friends over for dinner parties, and the house smelled of fresh greenery. He always came up with the most extravagant gifts.” She rolled her eyes. “No matter how I protested that it was too much, he would try to top his gift from the previous year.”
“Sounds just like his father. He always loved elaborate surprises.”
“It’s not that I’ll miss the presents. It’s that…well how can it be Christmas without Henry? I certainly have no talent for entertaining and creating fun. That was always Henry’s strong suit.” More tears rolled down her cheeks. “It feels wrong to celebrate when he is gone.”
Max brushed his thumb across her cheek, gently wiping her tears away. Then he brought his palm up to cup her chin. His amber eyes glowed with understanding and something else far more tender. Olivia recognized that half smile of his one second before Max leaned in to press his lips against hers. The first brush of his mouth was brief as though he was testing his memory of her lips. The second press of his lips lingered longer. He changed the angle of the kiss, and they sank against each other.
His lips were soft and gentle as they nibbled and tasted hers. Olivia parted her lips on a sigh of pleasure. The feel of his mouth was so familiar, as though she had been kissing him every day for the past eight years. And the desire that coursed through her took her by surprise. It had been so long…she took hold of the lapels of his coat to keep herself steady.
Slowly, fractionally, Max pulled away.
Olivia opened her eyes. “Why did you do that?”
He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “I never could stand to see you cry.”
She blinked and willed her brain to begin functioning again. She shouldn’t be kissing Max in the public green. She shouldn’t be kissing him at all. Or rather, he shouldn’t be kissing her. Olivia took a large step back. “This is entirely inappropriate.”
Max stared at her for a long moment. Olivia looked down and adjusted her scarf to escape his direct gaze.
“Livvy—”
“I think we should go and meet Mr. Bromley.” She had no intention of talking about the kiss. “The stage should be arriving any minute.”
“All right.” Max held out his hand.
But she ignored it and began walking toward the inn. She couldn’t touch him right now. He was like Christmas, sparkly and cheerful, but not for her. She would, of course, make gift baskets for her tenants and go to church on Christmas morning. But all the fanfare and trimmings were for other people—those who still had some Christmas spirit left. Hers had died on the side of the road last December.
Chapter Thirteen
Max was impressed.He hid his smile behind his glass of ale as he watched Olivia. She had spent the last hour interrogating Mr. Bromley. To his credit, the man had answered every one of her questions respectfully, even though Max had already hired him for the position. Olivia slowly started to warm up to Mr. Bromley, and the two of them had been deep in discussion about crop rotation for the last quarter hour. Max sat back and enjoyed his excellent ale. He had nothing to offer the conversation, and frankly, the other two probably forgot he was sitting here.
It allowed him the opportunity to think about kissing Olivia. The kiss they shared had shaken him to his very soul. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He really hadn’t. But what he said to her had been true; he couldn’t stand to see her cry. He just meant to offer a small gesture of comfort, but the kiss had tumbled him back in time to the breathless, frantic kisses they used to share. That same desperate desire had thrummed in his veins as he tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Her soft sigh had enticed him to deepen the kiss.
Max took a long gulp of ale. Olivia had firmly put him in his place afterward. He knew he’d overstepped the boundaries that she carefully constructed around herself. He sighed. How did one go about winning back the love of your life when the woman in question loved someone else, mourned someone else?
“What do you think, Lord Rivenhall?” Olivia’s voice penetrated his thoughts.
“Pardon? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he said.
She frowned. “We were discussing Mr. Bromley’s living arrangements. I informed him that the house set aside for the steward would need to be cleaned out and most likely a few repairs done before it could be ready for him. Is it all right for you to pay for his room at the inn until the house can be readied?”
“Uh, yes, of course,” Max replied. “Will that work for you, Mr. Bromley?”
David Bromley nodded. “Yes, that is fine. I am a bachelor, so there is no need to rush. I’ll be just fine here. If the food is always as good as today, I will be eating like a king.” He patted his stomach.
“Mrs. James’s food is always good.” Olivia smiled. “If you will both excuse me, I will just go say hello to a friend. Good day, Mr. Bromley.”