Christmas at Candlebark Farm Read Online Free PDF Page A

by the boutique tea shop she walked past every day on her way to work at the hospital. The teas had gorgeous names like Enliven, Autumn Harvest and Tranquillity.
    â€˜Where’s your…?’ He paused, his eyes zeroing in on the way her hands fumbled with the sash of her terry towel ling robe.
    â€˜Where’s my what?’ She gave up trying to tie a bow andsettled for a granny knot. It occurred to her that Luke might be as pleased as she that they’d both covered up a bit more. The thought made her stumble.
    Stop it! It was somewhere between three and four in the morning. Nobody had rational thoughts at this time of the day. She flipped her hair out from the collar of her robe and raked her hands through it…and remembered the way he’d held it back from her face. She’d felt too sick to be embarrassed then. Strangely, she didn’t feel embarrassed now either.
    Luke continued to stare at her, his eyes dark and intense, and filled with a primitive hunger. It raised all the hair on her arms. Not in a panicked I’m-alone-in-a-strange-place-with-a-man-I-hardly-know kind of way either. Which would be rational. But then she’d already determined this wasn’t a rational time of day.
    And it was quickly in danger of becoming less so, because as she stared back at him warmth stole through all her limbs, while languor threatened to rob her of her strength…and of the last shreds of her sanity.
    One of them had to be rational. Think of the Munchkin!
    â€˜You want to know something amazing?’ She didn’t wait for his answer. ‘All my baby’s fingers can be separately identified now, and soon its eyes will be fully formed.’
    He jerked, and muttered something she pretended not to hear.
    Talking about her baby didn’t douse her in cold, rational logic, but at least it had Luke swinging away. She wanted to shake herself, shake the warmth from her limbs, but she didn’t trust that her stomach would tolerate that kind of punishment just yet.
    She frowned and remembered to ask again, ‘Where’s my what?’
    â€˜Liquorice tea.’
    She collapsed at the kitchen table and massaged her temples. Of all the things he might have asked her… ‘Why wouldI have liquorice tea?’ She’d never heard of the stuff before. And, quite frankly, it didn’t sound all that inviting.
    â€˜It’s a morning sickness cure.’
    She lifted her head. ‘Really?’
    â€˜So’s eating liquorice.’
    She watched, half in disbelief, as he sliced a lemon, dropped the slice into a mug, and then poured boiling water over it. He set the mug in front of her. ‘Sip that. It should help settle your stomach.’
    He made himself some tea and sat opposite. Keira pulled the pad and pen resting on the table towards her and wrote down ‘liquorice, liquorice tea, lemon’—before taking an experimental sip from her mug. ‘I’m ten weeks pregnant, but the morning sickness has only hit me in the last few days. I haven’t had a chance to research cures yet.’
    He shrugged. ‘Ginger can be good. Ginger biscuits, dry ginger ale—that sort of thing.’
    He blew on his tea before taking a sip, and it was only then, through the mirage of steam, that she realised his eyes weren’t black, as she’d originally thought, but a deep, rich brown.
    When he kinked a questioning eyebrow, she dragged her gaze away and added ‘ginger’ to her list. ‘I’ll pop into town tomorrow.’
    â€˜Has it been happening mostly at night?’
    â€˜It’s been happening all over the place.’ Why hadn’t anyone warned her about this?
    â€˜Having something in your stomach is supposed to help. When you go to bed take a banana or some biscuits with you. When you wake up through the night just have a bite or two. It’ll help.’
    â€˜How on earth do you know all this?’ She took another sip