Page 49 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

Atticus was ready to shake her until her teeth rattled for going outside without telling him. Understanding made her wince with regret. Gray eyes soft with remorse, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Atticus. I’m so accustomed to doing things for myself, it didn’t occur to me to do so. I’ve learned to be overly cautious in whatever I do because I am alone all the time.” She stepped forward, her hand touching his arm. “I regret having worried you.”

Still feeling the aftereffects of his concern for her well-being, Atticus shoved a shaking hand through his hair. Not wanting her to see how alarmed he’d been, Atticus nodded toward the cottage bread.

“Why are you baking when I’m taking you back to Stapleton Hall in the morning?” At his question, a small amount of color left her face.

“I’d already prepared a holiday meal. I didn’t want the food to go to waste, and since it’s our…” her voice trailed off into silence.

“Our what? Our last night together? Does that bother you?” His questions made her jump. Darting a look in his direction, she turned away to stir something in one of the pots on the stove.

“It’s…I would hate to waste the food I’ve already prepared.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, and he frowned with frustration. Was Octavia experiencing doubts or even regret at refusing his proposal? If she was, it was clear she had no intention of admitting it. The silence stretching out between them vibrated with tension, and he didn’t know what to make of her mood. Knowing it was best not to push her, Atticus cleared his throat.

“Do you need my help?”

“No,” she said quietly, without turning her head. “Everything is almost ready. We should be able to eat in about a half-hour.”

“Then I’ll build fires upstairs so our rooms are warm when we retire for the evening.”

With a small nod, Octavia acknowledged his statement, but didn’t look at him. Atticus walked to the backdoor and collected several logs from the small stack of wood she’d brought into the house. Octavia’s bedroom was icy cold, and it took several minutes after the flames roared to life for the room’s temperature to start rising.

Satisfied her room was well on its way to being comfortable, Atticus turned toward the door, about to head to his room. To his surprise, Octavia stood in the open doorway watching him. He gestured toward the fireplace.

“I’ll bring up three or four more logs, which will keep you warm through the night.”

“Thank you.” Octavia’s voice was soft as she met his gaze. She looked away from him and nibbled at her bottom lip.

“Is something wrong, Octavia?” With slow, measured steps, he closed the distance between them.

“I…no. I just wanted to see if…if you needed…anything,” Octavia stammered before she spun around, ready to take flight. Hope surged inside him, and he reached out to catch her by the arm to stop her from fleeing.

“You’re troubled, what is it you’re worried about?”

“No, I…it’s just that…it’s not important.” Octavia tugged against his grip, but his fingers tightened around her arm.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he muttered with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I am not stubborn,” she exhaled a harsh breath as she met his gaze, then quickly turned her head away.

“No?” He smiled as he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “Then why can’t you just say what you came up here to say?”

“Because…because I’m afraid you’ll say no.”

“Now that surprises me.” Atticus shook his head. “I would never have taken you for a coward.”

“I am not a coward.” Color flushed her cheeks, her eyes flaring with anger as she jerked her head free of his fingers.

“Then just ask me the question, Octavia.” Atticus’s heart was pounding in his chest with the force of an out-of-control steam engine racing along the tracks. She paled, her throat bobbing as she met his gaze.

“I know…I know I said…but I would…” She closed her eyes and paled even further.

“You would like to marry me?” he prompted. Octavia opened her eyes and met his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

“But I …I have two…two conditions.” The tremor in her voice made his heart plummet, and his muscles tightened into knots. What the devil was she planning now?

“Which are?”