Excerpt from A CHRISTMAS BALL ...

If you go to my website http://www.emilybryan.com/A%20Christmas%20Ball.htm , you can read the first chapter of My Lady Below Stairs, which is my novella in A CHRISTMAS BALL. Since it’s available there, I thought I’d share a different excerpt here. Jane Tate is masquerading as her well-born half-sister at the ball. Ian, the well-muscled head groom who loves her doesn’t think much of the idea and ‘borrowed’ a suit of clothing from Lord Hartwell’s own wardrobe to crash the party.

EXCERPT

“I’m supposed to be accepting a proposal of marriage this night as Lady Sybil,” Jane said. “How would it look if I were found kissing someone else?”

“Like you’d been caught under the mistletoe.” Ian pointed upward to the clump of greenery Jane had missed. “A perfectly innocent situation. None can fault Lady Sybil for a bit of Christmas spirit.”

“But—”

“Besides,” Ian said as he tugged her closer. “What if my Lady Jane were offered a proposal this night for herself?”

She gasped a quick breath. Did he mean it? The soft gleam in his eyes said he did.

“I guess,” she said slowly, “it would depend on who was doing the offering.”

“Let me show you.”

His lips brushed hers, a teasing kiss. Then he covered her mouth with his. Jane’s lips parted and he accepted her welcome, sweeping in with his tongue.

Jane arched against him. His warmth penetrated the silk as if she were naked. Heat settled low in her belly and the strange dull ache she always felt when Ian kissed her began afresh. It was an odd sensation, a wanting, hollow feeling.

She was certain Ian could make it better, if she let him.

But she didn’t dare.

She pushed against his chest until he released her mouth, but Jane didn’t pull out of his arms. She laid her head against his chest and felt his heart pounding beneath her cheek.

“Why must everything be so hard?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, lass,” he said, stroking her spine. “But there are some things that come easily if we let them.”

Her body throbbed an ‘Amen.’

A group of gentlemen suddenly spilled out one of the doors from the ballroom, talking in low murmurs.

“Oh, no!” Jane spotted Lord Hartwell at the center of the moving circle. “If the marquess recognizes that suit of clothes you’re wearing, you’re done as a Christmas goose.”

Jane grabbed Ian’s shoulders and turned with him to face the tall windows. He slipped an arm around her waist and she leaned into him. Maybe if they stood still, Lord Hartwell and his entourage would overlook them. Jane held her breath until the last click of their heels on the hardwood faded in the distance.

“That’s it, Ian,” she hissed. “You must get out of those clothes right now.”

“I thought ye’d never ask,” he said with a chuckle. “Only if ye help me.”

“His lordship might come back at any moment.”

“Then we’d best hurry.”

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