The Amish Christmas Sleigh by Kelly Long

her. “ Jah! ” he roared, and this time she did laugh, relishing the taste of the fresh snowflakes that filled her mouth, and loving that he didn’t hesitate to accept her invitation.

C HAPTER 8
    S ebastian entered her small cabin with gratitude for the snug warmth of the banked fire and woodstove. He watched Kate take off her wet boots, then did the same himself, except he noticed the skirt of her dress was soaked.
    Her gaze followed his to her skirt. “I need to change,” she said. “I’ll only be a minute; then I’ll start on supper.”
    He nodded and watched her head for her bedroom. He tried to ignore the shadowy images of her that he recalled from his bed the day he’d kissed her. He also tried to do the polite thing and avert his gaze, but he failed. In truth, he could barely drag his eyes from the swing of her hips when she went to the small bedroom, closing the door with a soft click .
    He went and built up the fire, glad of something to do with his hands. When she’d invited him to dinner tonight, he’d jumped at the chance. The idea of going home alone, especially after what he’d witnessed in the hospital, didn’t appeal to him. Seeing the sick children had taken a toll on him. He was glad he’d been able to bring them a little cheer, and he made a promise to himself to pray for them. Yet the trip had also given him a sense of helplessness. There was so much the children needed that he couldn’t give them, and their pain tugged at his heart.
    Having Kate with him had been more helpful than he would have guessed. He’d sensed she would be wonderful with the children, and she was. What he hadn’t expected was how right she felt by his side. How her quiet, calm presence during each visit had given him the support he needed to keep his emotions steady as he interacted with the children. They had felt like a . . . team. One that he wasn’t ready to split up just yet.
    The fire had started to blaze by the time Kate reentered the room, clad in a bright cherry-red dress and fresh white apron. He couldn’t help but notice she’d changed her stockings, too. Just as he couldn’t help noticing—appreciating—the full curve of her calves as she passed by him.
    â€œThat didn’t take long,” he said, pulling his gaze from her legs and reminding himself to keep his observations in check.
    â€œI’m a fast dresser. Doesn’t take any time to pull one dress off and put on another.”
    His eyes widened at her offhand comment. So much for keeping his thoughts pure. “ Gut, ” he muttered, trying to shove away the tempting images her innocent words conjured up in his mind. It wasn’t working out too well.
    â€œHave a seat,” she invited. “I’ll whip us up some supper. How do ham steaks and fried potatoes sound?”
    â€œGreat.” He pulled out a nearby kitchen chair to sit on, catching her smiling at him over her shoulder before he lowered his frame on the seat. She seemed happy . . . happier than he’d ever seen her. He had to admit he was pretty happy himself. Kate was the first woman who made him feel content simply being in her presence. Watching her do the homey task of cooking supper soothed his mind and soul.
    She stretched, arching the small of her back, to lift a container from a high shelf. As she strained to reach it, he jumped up from the chair and came up behind her. “I’ll get it,” he said, his chest nearly pressing against her back. He leaned forward—a little more than he should—and caught the scent of her. As his fingers touched the metal tin she had been trying to retrieve, he glanced down at her smooth neck and swallowed. He didn’t want to move away . . . and the memory of how she had responded to his kiss slammed into him. He cleared his throat as he took a step back and handed her the tin. Then he hurried back to the table and sat