Read Online Christmas at Ravencrest: A Dark Hero Christmas Short (Reluctant Heroes) by Lily Silver - Free Book Online
Authors: Lily Silver
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soup is delicious, my pet.” He replied. “And no, we don’t make soup from these little imps. We toss them into the sea and allow them to mature.”
“I cannot talk you away from your disgusting soup, can I?”
Donovan rolled his shoulders. “It’s a staple in the Indies, dearest. And a luxury in England, I might add, imported and served only in the finest households. I could stop enjoying the dish to please you, but what of the rest of the world, my dear?”
Of course, he would counter her sentimental plea with logic.
Elizabeth picked up one disk with flailing fins and cupped it in her hand. “Good journey, little one. And please don’t visit me again on my husband’s dinner table.” With that, she tossed the little disk into the waves and stood on the shore gazing out at the curling waves. The turtles were beneath the shimmering surface of the water now, safely beyond one hurdle but destined to encounter more before they reached maturity.
Donovan’s arm slipped about her. He, too, was gazing at the sea. He seemed as pensive as she was as he watched the ocean swells come and go before them. “Do you like this dress?”
The question was odd. Elizabeth turned to him with a frown, not following his meaning. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“Do you like this dress?” He insisted again. “If so, I’ll buy you another just like it.”
“Why?” She asked.
Donovan slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.
“Salt water is hard on clothing.” He shouted, running into the water with her in his arms. He didn’t stop un til the water as up to his waist. The sea was warm and briny as it soaked into her dress. It felt nice, like a soothing bath. The waves buffeted them. “Keep your arm up.” He directed, and hefted her higher so her bound arm remained well above the water. “I don’t wish to have to rewrap the bracings when we return home.”
“You are a scoundrel, sir.” Elizabeth chided but with her lips turning up so in a broad grin she knew her words lacked force.
Don ovan was smiling as he stood waist deep in the water cradling her in his arms. “I promised to teach you to swim a few months ago.” He reminded her. “And I keep my promises, my lady. Once your arm has healed we will begin your lessons. I just wanted you to feel the warmth of the ocean, love. It’s very soothing. It will be like having our own private Bath resort with no crowds like the one in England. We can swim in the sea whenever we wish, in private, in the moonlight.” The deepening of his voice at the last word implied much, as did his eyes.
El izabeth sighed. She was being overcome by his romantic inclinations. He was a charming rogue if ever there was one. “I’ll expect you to keep that promise, my lord.”
His lips made good on the promise, as he engaged her in a slow, tender kiss that did much to make up for his earlier boyish pranks.
As they headed back to the plantation house a short time later, Elizabeth’s mind turned over the tasks still awaiting her. As she made list of the trappings of a traditional Christmas in England, she realized her efforts to recreate it here would not suffice. Her grandfather and her brother would see only the deficiencies in her efforts. Michael was already complaining about the Christmas pudding and it was not yet served to receive criticism.
Oh sure, she could substitute palm branches, vines and exotic tropical flowers for the traditional Christmas greenery. She asked the cook to make mango tarts instead of apple or cherry ones. She could offer crab and lobster cakes to her guests this evening instead of mince pies. She seemed to be aiming for the moon with a sling shot. Perhaps she had overextended herself and set everyone up for disappointment in this mad scheme.
It didn’t even feel like Christmas. The weather was balmy, perpetual summer. She missed the snow creating a magical landscape. She missed the enticing aroma of a plump Goose
“I cannot talk you away from your disgusting soup, can I?”
Donovan rolled his shoulders. “It’s a staple in the Indies, dearest. And a luxury in England, I might add, imported and served only in the finest households. I could stop enjoying the dish to please you, but what of the rest of the world, my dear?”
Of course, he would counter her sentimental plea with logic.
Elizabeth picked up one disk with flailing fins and cupped it in her hand. “Good journey, little one. And please don’t visit me again on my husband’s dinner table.” With that, she tossed the little disk into the waves and stood on the shore gazing out at the curling waves. The turtles were beneath the shimmering surface of the water now, safely beyond one hurdle but destined to encounter more before they reached maturity.
Donovan’s arm slipped about her. He, too, was gazing at the sea. He seemed as pensive as she was as he watched the ocean swells come and go before them. “Do you like this dress?”
The question was odd. Elizabeth turned to him with a frown, not following his meaning. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“Do you like this dress?” He insisted again. “If so, I’ll buy you another just like it.”
“Why?” She asked.
Donovan slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.
“Salt water is hard on clothing.” He shouted, running into the water with her in his arms. He didn’t stop un til the water as up to his waist. The sea was warm and briny as it soaked into her dress. It felt nice, like a soothing bath. The waves buffeted them. “Keep your arm up.” He directed, and hefted her higher so her bound arm remained well above the water. “I don’t wish to have to rewrap the bracings when we return home.”
“You are a scoundrel, sir.” Elizabeth chided but with her lips turning up so in a broad grin she knew her words lacked force.
Don ovan was smiling as he stood waist deep in the water cradling her in his arms. “I promised to teach you to swim a few months ago.” He reminded her. “And I keep my promises, my lady. Once your arm has healed we will begin your lessons. I just wanted you to feel the warmth of the ocean, love. It’s very soothing. It will be like having our own private Bath resort with no crowds like the one in England. We can swim in the sea whenever we wish, in private, in the moonlight.” The deepening of his voice at the last word implied much, as did his eyes.
El izabeth sighed. She was being overcome by his romantic inclinations. He was a charming rogue if ever there was one. “I’ll expect you to keep that promise, my lord.”
His lips made good on the promise, as he engaged her in a slow, tender kiss that did much to make up for his earlier boyish pranks.
As they headed back to the plantation house a short time later, Elizabeth’s mind turned over the tasks still awaiting her. As she made list of the trappings of a traditional Christmas in England, she realized her efforts to recreate it here would not suffice. Her grandfather and her brother would see only the deficiencies in her efforts. Michael was already complaining about the Christmas pudding and it was not yet served to receive criticism.
Oh sure, she could substitute palm branches, vines and exotic tropical flowers for the traditional Christmas greenery. She asked the cook to make mango tarts instead of apple or cherry ones. She could offer crab and lobster cakes to her guests this evening instead of mince pies. She seemed to be aiming for the moon with a sling shot. Perhaps she had overextended herself and set everyone up for disappointment in this mad scheme.
It didn’t even feel like Christmas. The weather was balmy, perpetual summer. She missed the snow creating a magical landscape. She missed the enticing aroma of a plump Goose
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