Page 32 of Beau

When he obliged her by turning his head, he felt a start of surprise.

“My God," he whispered. “Is that snow?”

“Of course it is! Oh Beau! It just made this night even more special.”

And it was. She insisted on making hot chocolate and when she returned with the steaming cups, he had revived the fire by adding some more logs. Taking her hand, he led them to the window where they stared out at the thick snowflakes coming down.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he sipped hot chocolate and watched the snow coming down in rapid succession. Contentment such as he never experienced before stole over him and he could feel his heart expanding with love for the woman next to him.

He never dreamed he would be part of a scene like this. He was home, with his wife, a woman he loved to death, and it felt wonderful. There was no place he would rather be.

“Tired?” he asked huskily, when she yawned.

“A little.” Using her free hand, she rubbed her stomach lightly.

“Queasy?” he asked anxiously.

“No. I think they appreciate that it’s the season to be merry and accommodating, so they are behaving. I was upset when you told me that I would not be doing the extended family dinner at first, but now I am grateful you did.”

“Aren’t I always, right?”

“Arrogance is not an attractive trait," she told him loftily.

“What about if you are always one hundred percent right?” He grinned when she lifted her head and cast him a dirty look.

“It’s coming down even harder.” She snuggled against him and continued to sip her beverage. “I would like to announce that this is officially the best Christmas I ever had.”

“Ditto," he murmured, hugging her tight.

*****

“Absolutely not. I mean it Georgiana.”

Her eyes only danced mischievously, and he knew that he was going to cave. He had never been able to deny her anything and this morning was no exception. They had gone to sleep with the snow still drifting down rapidly, covering everything in sight and woke up this morning to see the spectacular sight of glaring whiteness everywhere.

The powdery snow was clinging to everything, giving the entire place as far as the eyes could see, an eerie, yet iridescence that was so achingly beautiful, it demanded attention. Hence Georgie’s insistence that they geared up and go outside to make a snowman.

“It’s going to be fun.”

“It can be fun right here in our cozy living room," he pointed out. “The fire is blazing, and we don’t have to stir ourselves to put clothes on.” He sent her a lecherous grin. “As a matter of fact. I prefer it that way.”

“You stay inside and warm your buns. I am going upstairs to get dressed and search for a carrot and some raisins for the eyes.”

“Georgiana!” He might as well save his breath, because his very disobedient and irreverent wife was already out of the room.

Gnashing his teeth in frustration, he considered letting her go off by herself. It would serve her right if she developed frostbiteor caught a cold, he fumed. But he knew he was going to follow her out. Shaking his head and muttering deprecations for his weakness where she was concerned, he trooped upstairs to get dressed.

“Meet you outside. Don’t dally.” She laughed as he shot her a murderous look.

By the time he had donned his winter gear and pulled on a watch cap over his head, his wife was already outside.

“You could have waited on me," he muttered, inhaling the sharp icy weather. “I still think we should go back inside," he broke off when a ball of snow hit him squarely in the chest.

“I thought we were supposed to be making a snowman.”

She was heaping snowballs in front of her. “I thought we could warm up with a snow fight.” Another ball hit him in the stomach.

“Stop that.”