Page 103 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Chapter 21

Stacia wasn’t hungry in the least. But eating was better than thinking about what had just happened. Not that she wasn’t thinking about being kissed by him.

About kissing him.

But at least shoving food into her mouth gave her an excuse not to speak. Much.

“Are you sure you don’t want more of this cheese?” he asked, gesturing to the quarter wheel that took up a sizeable portion of one of the baskets.

Stacia shook her head, her cheeks doubtless bulging like a squirrel’s as she masticated.

He wrapped up the cheese and put it back into the hamper, digging around for a moment before coming out with another wax-cloth wrapped bundle. “Let’s see what we have here,” he murmured, unwrapping the package.

Stacia swallowed, contemplated stuffing the last of her bread into her mouth, but then froze when he lifted up the bundle so she could see it.

“Oh, dear,” he said, pulling a face.

Stacia brightened. “Fruitcake!”

“You say that as if it is a good thing.”

“I adore fruitcake.”

He muttered something beneath his breath as he set down the cake.

“What was that, my lord?”

“Oh, nothing, Miss Martin,” he said, holding a knife over the cake. “Here?”

“A little more, please.”

He made a gagging noise but did as she bade him.

Stacia watched greedily and said, “More for me.”

He grunted and handed her the plate.

“Thank you.” She admired the luscious cake for a few seconds before using her fork to cleave off a piece. It was dense and studded with more nuts and candied fruit than she had ever seen, the cake glistening moistly. Stacia briefly closed her eyes as she allowed the morsel to rest on her tongue before chewing. The tang of citrus and spices she associated with Christmastime exploded in her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed, opening her eyes.

Lord Shelton was staring at her, his lips slightly parted, his eyes a darker shade of blue than they’d been a moment earlier. In fact, they looked similar to the shade they’d been when he’d had her laid out on the settee, pressing that against her belly.

Suddenly, it was almost impossible to swallow. She lifted the glass of lemonade, choked down a mouthful, and then looked up and held the plate toward him. “Are you sure?”

“I would much rather watch you eat it, Miss Martin.”

Stacia could just imagine how red-faced she was. The last thing she wanted to do was compound her hideousness with bulging cheeks. “I cannot eat with you staring at me.”

“Why not?”

“Just…because.”

“Oh, because. One of your favorite reasons I have noticed.” He leaned back in the big wingchair, steepled his fingers beneath his chin, and his eyes narrowed. “How about we play another game while you eat?”

“But it’s still my—”

“I know, I know,” he rudely interrupted. “It is still your turn to choose as you’ve thrashed me mercilessly all afternoon long. But right now, you are busy indulging. So, let me have a chance, hmm?”