Page 18 of The Christmas Tart
“I don’t really need more time,” Nicole said shyly, looking at him from under her dark lashes. “You make my heart sing with happiness. I think it must be love, for I can’t imagine anything better or more right.”
“Neither can I.” With a burst of exuberance, Philip scooped her up in his arms and whirled her around, not caring if she thought him a Bedlamite. Setting his laughing lady back on her feet, he said, “Shall we seal our agreement with a kiss?”
Not waiting for a reply, he drew her into an embrace. Nicole received him eagerly, her pliant body molding to him with the sweet enthusiasm of a playful kitten. And she was a quick learner; her kissing had improved since the night before.
That being the case, it was a distinct shock for Philip to realize that Nicole was weeping. Lifting his head, he said wryly, “My dearest Christmas tart, why are you crying this time?”
She smiled and ducked her head against his chest. “Because I’m so happy. I’m sorry, Philip, I’m just a watering pot.” She looked up with sudden anxiety. “Perhaps you should reconsider.”
“I suppose I’ll become accustomed to tears, as long as they are mostly of the happy variety,” he said philosophically as he pulled her back into his arms. “Besides, if I cried off, I’d never again see you sitting on the bed with a red ribbon tied around your neck.” He grinned. “The best Christmas present I ever had!”
“With you,mon coeur, every day will be Christmas.” Nicole laughed mischievously. “I shall have to think up something very special for Guy Fawkes Day!”
This time when they kissed, she didn’t shed a single tear.
