Read Online Home for the Holidays by Johanna Lindsey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Johanna Lindsey
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her.
He wasn’t going to remark on it, though, for which she was most grateful. He said a few words to the servant who poured his wine. She had declined wine herself, didn’t usually drink it with dinner, but she caught the servant’s eye now and indicated she’d changed her mind. She needed something, anything, to help her get through this meal, now that she wouldn’t be having it alone.
The silence between them was embarrassing in itself. They ought to be talking to each other. It was the civilized thing to do. Surely she could manage some normal conversation that wouldn’t lead to a burst of emotion. And she had Thomas’s request still in mind.
He’d asked her again today about adding their Christmas decorations to the baron’s tree. She didn’t plan to be here for Christmas, hoped to find other accommodations by then, though she didn’t tell Thomas that. And just incase she had trouble finding a suitable place in time, she really ought to cover the subject with the baron.
It was a simple request, after all. Nor could she imagine why he might deny it. And it was conversation! Desperately needed, because the continued silence was beginning to heat her cheeks.
She began, “I’ve noticed you haven’t brought in a tree yet for Christmas. When do you usually decorate one?”
“I don’t,” he replied simply as he sat back with his wineglass in hand and gave her his full attention.
She should have realized that. She simply couldn’t imagine him doing anything so festive. He no doubt left the task to his servants, then merely enjoyed their efforts.
So she rephrased her question. “But when do you usually have one decorated?”
“I don’t,” he replied yet again.
She was so surprised she couldn’t hide it. “Are you saying you don’t have a tree put up—ever?”
He raised a brow at her. “Why are you having trouble with that fact?”
“Because—I’ve never not had a Christmas tree myself. I thought everyone … But how did you celebrate Christmas as a child?”
“I didn’t.”
She thought of her own many Christmas experiences as a child, the fun in decorating a tree, the excitement aspresents gathered under it … That he had never experienced any of that, she simply couldn’t comprehend.
“You
are
English, aren’t you?”
He laughed. She saw nothing funny in the subject. Thomas was looking forward to decorating a tree with his own lovingly crafted ornaments. He
would
have a tree to do so if she had to go out and cut one down herself.
“Quite English,” he answered after his laughter wound down to a smile. “I merely never had anyone to share the holiday with.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were orphaned that young.”
“I wasn’t,” he said with a shrug. “My parents died after I had reached twenty.”
Larissa stared at him. She also gave up. His family must have simply been—strange.
If he had a wife, the lady would insist on a tree. With that thought occurring, she asked him, “Why have you not married yet?”
It was the wine. She never would have asked such a personal question if she hadn’t gulped down her first glass of wine and was already working on the second, nor asked it so bluntly. She wished the footman with the wine bottle would go away. No, actually, she wished he were standing closer rather than so far across the room, he wasn’t even within hearing distance.
The baron didn’t take offense, though; he even answered her. “I have yet to find a compelling reason to marry.”
She should have apologized for the personal question, instead pointed out, “But you have a title to pass on.”
“My father’s title. I despised him, so why would I want to preserve his title?”
“That’s rather harsh,” she replied. “Surely you didn’t really.”
“You’re quite right. The hate didn’t last more than a few years. Indifference prevailed thereafter.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? I’ve never known anyone to not love
He wasn’t going to remark on it, though, for which she was most grateful. He said a few words to the servant who poured his wine. She had declined wine herself, didn’t usually drink it with dinner, but she caught the servant’s eye now and indicated she’d changed her mind. She needed something, anything, to help her get through this meal, now that she wouldn’t be having it alone.
The silence between them was embarrassing in itself. They ought to be talking to each other. It was the civilized thing to do. Surely she could manage some normal conversation that wouldn’t lead to a burst of emotion. And she had Thomas’s request still in mind.
He’d asked her again today about adding their Christmas decorations to the baron’s tree. She didn’t plan to be here for Christmas, hoped to find other accommodations by then, though she didn’t tell Thomas that. And just incase she had trouble finding a suitable place in time, she really ought to cover the subject with the baron.
It was a simple request, after all. Nor could she imagine why he might deny it. And it was conversation! Desperately needed, because the continued silence was beginning to heat her cheeks.
She began, “I’ve noticed you haven’t brought in a tree yet for Christmas. When do you usually decorate one?”
“I don’t,” he replied simply as he sat back with his wineglass in hand and gave her his full attention.
She should have realized that. She simply couldn’t imagine him doing anything so festive. He no doubt left the task to his servants, then merely enjoyed their efforts.
So she rephrased her question. “But when do you usually have one decorated?”
“I don’t,” he replied yet again.
She was so surprised she couldn’t hide it. “Are you saying you don’t have a tree put up—ever?”
He raised a brow at her. “Why are you having trouble with that fact?”
“Because—I’ve never not had a Christmas tree myself. I thought everyone … But how did you celebrate Christmas as a child?”
“I didn’t.”
She thought of her own many Christmas experiences as a child, the fun in decorating a tree, the excitement aspresents gathered under it … That he had never experienced any of that, she simply couldn’t comprehend.
“You
are
English, aren’t you?”
He laughed. She saw nothing funny in the subject. Thomas was looking forward to decorating a tree with his own lovingly crafted ornaments. He
would
have a tree to do so if she had to go out and cut one down herself.
“Quite English,” he answered after his laughter wound down to a smile. “I merely never had anyone to share the holiday with.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were orphaned that young.”
“I wasn’t,” he said with a shrug. “My parents died after I had reached twenty.”
Larissa stared at him. She also gave up. His family must have simply been—strange.
If he had a wife, the lady would insist on a tree. With that thought occurring, she asked him, “Why have you not married yet?”
It was the wine. She never would have asked such a personal question if she hadn’t gulped down her first glass of wine and was already working on the second, nor asked it so bluntly. She wished the footman with the wine bottle would go away. No, actually, she wished he were standing closer rather than so far across the room, he wasn’t even within hearing distance.
The baron didn’t take offense, though; he even answered her. “I have yet to find a compelling reason to marry.”
She should have apologized for the personal question, instead pointed out, “But you have a title to pass on.”
“My father’s title. I despised him, so why would I want to preserve his title?”
“That’s rather harsh,” she replied. “Surely you didn’t really.”
“You’re quite right. The hate didn’t last more than a few years. Indifference prevailed thereafter.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? I’ve never known anyone to not love
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