Page 23 of A Daring Mistletoe Kiss
But what the hell was the rest? The back of a horse? In the ruins of a castle? On the beach? She had even titled the list:Thrillingmoments to seize with Nicholas. But what kind of moments were these? They didn’t sound like thrilling moments at all. They sounded more like newfound ways to torture a husband. His arse already hurt just thinking about them.
He needed to burn this list.
Burn it to ashes.
Or else what he saw for himself was painful future ahead of him. That little wife of his was going to be the death of him.
He couldjustmake a new list.
Or jot some of his own thoughts down to ensure his safety. Save his behind, so to speak. Otherwise, he must deploy a few of his own strategies to distract her from these acts of disasters waiting to happen. Show her that the setting did not matter, no matter how ‘thrilling’ it seemed. The only thing that mattered was the two of them. Together.
His gaze stopped at one particular entry.
“What are you doing?”
Nicholas blinked, his gaze darting to his wife, who appeared in the doorway, before flicking to his boots where they rested on his desk, before dropping again to the open journal in his hand. He snapped the book shut and straightened into an impeccable sitting position. “Studying.”
“Is that my journal?”
“Your journal?” He dusted off the cover of the book. “It seems to be the accounts of the confounding inner workings of the female mind.”
She gave him a deadpan look. “It’s my journal.”
“Oh . . .” His voice trailed off. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She strode over to the desk. “I never thought you would bethatsort of man,” she murmured, leaning in close once she stopped at his side. “The sort of husband who reads his wife’s journal. Are you going to rummage through my belongings next?”
“Will I find whips?”
Her eyes widened, before she let out the low melody of a chuckle, tapping a finger on the leather binding. “Thank you for the marvellous idea.”
Nicholas groaned. He didn’t think a whip would be good for his arse either.
Her head titled to the side. “Read something interesting?”
Too much.
His wife had written about their “encounters” in detail. Not explicit detail but enough to fire up his blood and have it all rush down to his . . .
Nicholas cleared his throat.
“Well, the scenes are quite fascinating. Downright scandalous.”
“Oh?” She settled herself on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “Then let’s fill the pages with our scandals.”
Dangerous. “You’re not planning to hand this down to our children are you.”
She laughed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Do not think I cannot see through your little schemes.”
She pressed her lips against his Adam’s apple. “What schemes?”
Nicholas swallowed. Damn temptress.
“Your lips are scheming right now.”
“You’re right. I do have a scheme. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Why?”
“I had the servants draw a bath.”
Nicholas did not hesitate. He rose with his wife in his arms, striding from the room. Noon or not, scandalous or not, he could, and would, happily fall for his wife’s little schemes over and over. For his entire lifetime, he planned on doing exactly that.
