Page 10 of Her Christmas White Knight

He had looked so magnificent when he’d stood up to Will, he’d loosened the shackles that bound her heart. If only Myall had courted her after that night on the beach—she would have been his by now. Had he thought her too far above him to even try? Well, their comparative situations had been entirely reversed. She had no more chance of capturing his interest than she had of becoming Queen of England.

He reached out a finger and nudged her chin up. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips, recalling their firm touch, and the masculine promise of his body. She scarcely dared to breathe.

“I come to parley, Mistress Wentworth. Shall we go within?”

“Very well.” After the way he’d dealt with the vile Will Langley, she couldn’t deny him.

“Can Hal come, too?” Her voice sounded husky and provocative. She cleared her throat.

Myall grinned. “Of course, for my offer concerns him, also.”

The offer was not of an amorous nature, then. A pity.

“The terms I want to present are my sister Helena’s idea—she always did have more wit than I. But first, I’m to invite you and Hal to dine with us this night. The fare will be simple, but good. She’s an excellent cook.”

“But—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Let me finish. Helena wishes you to try on one of her gowns. Nay—you needn’t bridle at the suggestion. She means it to be but a loan. She thought—I mean, we thought—that you might like to dress up and join us for dinner on Christmas Day.”

“Christmas dinner!” Hal was jiggling with excitement. “You want us to come and eat with you tonight, and for Christmas dinner as well? Say we may, Mistress. I beg you, say we may.”

Julia tried to remember the last time she’d had a full stomach, or been in the company of friends. Certainly not since she’d come to London. No one in this area trusted their friends any more than they did their enemies.

Could she trust Myall Farrar? She’d made up her mind to have naught to do with men ever again, no matter how attractive. Yet—if his sister and Hal were going to be there, too, that would be acceptable, would it not?

“I can see your defenses crumbling.” Myall winked at her, and a disarming dimple appeared at one side of his mouth.

“Hal and I would be delighted to come, both tonight, and for Christmas dinner.” She felt more like her old self, a gentlewoman of rank, politely accepting an invitation from her neighbor. She should laugh at herself—she really should.

“There’s a condition attached to the Christmas dinner invitation.” Myall’s dark eyes were solemn, but a faint smile played about his lips.

“What condition?”

He grinned. “That you provide the goose.”

She gulped. It was a good compromise, and a clever one. She looked at the goose. The bird gazed back at her.

She hesitated. “There’s only one problem, Myall.”

“And what might that be, sweeting?”

She folded her arms. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—I don’t want the goose to be killed.”