Daffin followed and shifted his brandy glass to his other hand. He lowered himself to the sofa, took a swig for mental fortitude, and placed the glass on the table in front of them. Then he drew in a deep breath, grasped the gift with both hands, and moved it onto his lap.
He took his time, carefully untying the bow, pulling the edges so it would unravel. For some reason, he wanted to savor the moment. A strange emotion roiled in his chest.
He slowly lifted the top of the box and looked inside. It was full of shredded newspaper. A vision of the last time he’d opened a present flashed through his mind. He savagely quashed the memory and forced himself to paw through the papers until his hand touched something hard. He grasped it and pulled out a… dagger. A beautiful silver dagger with what looked like real sapphires on the handle.
His breath caught in his throat. His chest was tight. He swallowed again. “Where… where did you get this?”
“In town. At a little shop in the village. After you told me about your first one, I saw this one and I couldn’t help myself. I hope you like it.”
“Like it?” He stared at the little knife, unseeing. “Yes. I like it. Very much.” It was the kindest and most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him. She’d listened… and remembered.
“I’m glad. I thought perhaps you might think it too forward of me.” She glanced at him shyly, her cheeks flushed. “But I decided we’ve already been completely inappropriate with each other. Why stop now?”
A lump lodged in his throat. He tried to smile but couldn’t. Instead he searched her sparkling gaze. “This was kind of you, Regina. I appreciate it.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “What would you like for Christmas from me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and watching her. He was half hoping she’d repeat her demand for a kiss.
“So you usually don’t do anything for Christmas?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his question.
Daffin turned the dagger in his lap. “Oh, Fielding invites me to his house, but I never accept.”
“You’d rather be alone?”
He expelled a breath. “The day brings up a lot of bad memories for me.”
“I understand.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m usually quiet and withdrawn on the anniversary of my parents’ deaths.”
He didn’t need to say anything. They both knew. It was a day burned in your memory forever, whether you wanted it there or not.
After several moments of silence, Regina shook her head. “I’ve found replacing a bad memory with a good one is much more satisfying than hiding in the shadows from the bad one forever.”
Daffin studied her face. Despite her pain, she was bright and hopeful. She hadn’t lived a perfectly happy life as he’d first suspected, and they had more in common than he’d thought… no parents, no siblings, lonely childhoods spentwishing things were different from how they were. But no amount of commonalities could bridge the gap between their stations in life. He was a paid investigator and she was the niece of a duke. He was something she never could accept. They might be friends, but they could be nothing more.
“Thank you for this.” He placed the dagger back inside the box and lifted it. What was the proper protocol when a duke’s niece gifted you with a fine dagger? What did one say to a woman who has seen past your defenses and into your heart?
A sly smile appeared on her tempting lips. “I’m ready to tell you what I’d like for my gift now.”
“What?” But Daffin already knew what she wanted from him. A gift heshouldn’tgive, but one he couldn’t help but desire.
“I want more than a kiss from you this time. I want you to tell me how you truly feel about me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Daffin moved closer to her and she breathed in his spicy cologne. He smelled like the wood in the fireplace, like balsam. She breathed him in, his heat and nearness. That alone was nearly enough to make her toes curl. She hadn’t been nervous before, but now her belly was jittery.
He bridged the space between them, he took her hands in his and stroked her palms, rubbing the centers with his thumbs in tiny circles. Gooseflesh spread quickly up her spine. He leaned forward and breathed deeply near her ear. “You smell like apples. Do you know that?”
She blinked. “Apples?”
“Yes. Delicious, red apples.”
“Please don’t tell me you think of me like an apple.”
“No, I think much more highly of you than a common fruit.”
“I’m glad to hear that, I suppose, but I’m waiting, how do you feel about me?”
His lips hovered at her ear, his voice a husky whisper. “What if I told you I’ve thought about kissing you again all day?”
