The Amish Christmas Sleigh Read Online Free PDF

lay, alternately shivering and sweating, on his bed, too exhausted to get another blanket from the wooden chest across the room. Instead, he wondered vaguely if it would be inappropriate to holler and ask Kate for a cup of tea—it certainly wasn’t something he’d expect from a hauskeeper, but then the thought of actually raising his voice made him realize he was narrisch, and he drifted instead into a fitful sleep....
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    It was high summer; night—replete with lightning bugs, a chorus of grasshoppers, and the baritone of a mature bullfrog echoing from the creek. The placid moonlit dark was broken only by the soft sounds of pleasure that came from the back of his throat as he kissed the Englisch girl he’d just met at a baseball game. He was nineteen and it was his rumspringa ; he’d stuffed his Amisch clothes in the back of his buggy and changed into jeans and a T-shirt for the game. Now he sat with the brown-haired girl near the age-old pond and worked his hands through her hair.
    â€œTake off your shirt,” she whispered and he complied eagerly.
    Then she was returning his kisses with hot vigor and he groaned aloud.
    â€œTouch me,” he managed to get out. “Please touch me. . . .”
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    When Kate got back to the cabin, she slipped off her soaking boots and longed to strip off her wet stockings but refrained. Instead, she hung up her bonnet and cloak and lifted the lantern to navigate in the direction of where she thought the kitchen might be. Truth be told, it was hard to tell because the cabin was such a wreck—clothes, half-finished toys, and drawings on large sheets of paper cluttered the place. When she got to the kitchen, it was even worse, with dirty dishes overflowing the pump sink, old food in kettles on the woodstove, and again, more drawings littering the table.
    He must be so involved and focused on his work that he has no time for such things as cleaning and cooking . . . the poor man probably hasn’t had a square meal in weeks. She let her thoughts drift for a few moments until she located the teakettle, then set the lantern down and got to work lighting the woodstove. It took a while to get the water boiling, and in the meantime, she rolled up her sleeves and managed to stack the dirty plates as well as gather together the silverware that was buried in the sink.
    When the teakettle whistled softly, she turned with a clean mug and got out the fragrant herbs from her apron pocket. He seemed to have no tea strainer about, so she used a piece of muslin she found in a drawer, stretching it over the mouth of the mug and straining the hot water through the healing herbs. Once done, she lifted the lantern again along with the hot mug, and began to make her cautious way in the direction Sebastian had gone earlier.
    She reached what she surmised to be the bedroom door, and realized she had no way to knock with her hands full. She gave the wood an experimental bump with her hip and, much to her surprise, it gave under the pressure, easing open without a sound.
    â€œSebastian?” she whispered, stepping deeper into the room. She almost tripped over a pair of boots and the hot tea sloshed over her hand. “Ouch!” she said, unable to contain herself.
    Then she realized he’d stirred on the bed as she heard the intimate rustle of sheets moving. She swallowed hard, reminding herself that she was there to help him, and lifted the lamp higher.
    Sebastian lay facedown on a massive carved oaken bed with his head pillowed on his arms. The sheets were tangled loosely around his hips, and his back was bare, well-defined musculature tapering to lean ribs and waist and then . . . She almost fled the room.... What would Fran say if she knew I was in a room with a half-naked man? And what a beautiful man at that . . . He’s so . . .
    â€œPlease,” Sebastian muttered suddenly from the bed.
    Kate froze in midstep. Please . Please what?
    She watched him