By Jill Barnett
Simply in time for the Christmas season--four of romance's best-loved writers give a contribution undying, passionate tales created particularly for this assortment! Bestselling authors Jill Barnett, Mary Jo Putney, Justine Dare, and Susan King set the pages on hearth with love, as those beautiful tales trap the genuine spirit of this precise time of yr!
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Simply in time for the Christmas season--four of romance's best-loved writers give a contribution undying, passionate tales created specifically for this assortment! Bestselling authors Jill Barnett, Mary Jo Putney, Justine Dare, and Susan King set the pages on hearth with love, as those beautiful tales seize the genuine spirit of this unique time of 12 months!
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Extra info for A Stockingful of Joy
Catriona MacDonald was somber and sad, her skin as pale and delicate as the rose quartz stone in her brooch. She was not Anna; no one could be like Anna, ever. But he did not like the thought of Catriona fearful and alone on Christmas, or on New Year's, the day that Anna had died. "You could ride out in a few days," Duncan agreed. "Make certain that the girl is well, and bring her provisions. We can at least see that she is safe through the winter. " Kenneth smoothed his thumb over the cold surface of the brooch.
You can always call out your Dog on me," he muttered, and shifted to his side, his back to the cold wall. The box-bed was narrow, and they were jammed together as if in a snug nest. Kenneth felt the tension in her shoulders as she lay stiffly against him. "Relax," he said, adjusting his position. "I must rest my arm somewhere. " He balanced his forearm gently on her hip. "I might," she said. He smiled at her wry tone. He settled, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair and enjoying the feel of her, close and warm on a cold night.
She waited, ignoring the sting of her chilled fingers and toes as they warmed after hours of riding in the cold. She ignored, too, the rumbling of her empty stomach, roused by the scents of the Frasers' Christmas feast. She stood straight and held her head high, feeling the weight of her black hair as it spilled down her back, and curling her toes inside her worn leather boots. Her knees shook, her heart pounded, but on the outside, she remained quiet and still. Finally the laird leaned forward, his strong, handsome face lined with a frown.
A Stockingful of Joy by Jill Barnett