Whiter Pastures: (Sweet and Sassy Historical) (An Icebound Tale)
Page 4
Handy cleared his throat and swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in a strangely vulnerable gesture.
"I, er . . . Miss Barton, whatever has possessed you?" His voice cracked in the middle of the question.
She blinked, and the light coming through the tears on her eyelashes splintered and danced.
"Happiness, Mr. McHanagan. Pure, unadulterated, machine-grade happiness."
"Rightly so. I should like to have such happiness myself."
"Be my guest."
He lowered his head and kissed her back as if he were taking a gulp of some refreshing tonic after a sweaty day's labor, with gusto and intent. The kiss lasted longer this time, deepening and becoming rich. When they drew back a long moment later, they were both breathless.
"May I take this to mean that you return my affection, Miss Barton?" Handy asked. A smile hovered at the edge of his lips.
"You may," she replied most resoundingly.
From the window of the Commandant's office, Florance noticed Electa watching them, unmistakable with her stylishly-crimped blonde bob. She gave Florance a distinct smile before drawing back out of sight.
"You have made me most happy as well, Miss Barton," Handy proclaimed.
"Please, do call me by my Christian name."
"Rightly so, Florance," he agreed, pulling off his gloves and taking her hand in his so that she could feel the glory of his warm, living palm. They shared a smile and continued on their way to see Queen Margaret.
Dear Mr. Partridge,
The widow Humphreys can rest well knowing that our metaphorical ice-garden is most well-tended. The problem we spoke of with the Most Troublesome rodent has been dealt with. You will find a tin of the rodent's favorite snuff here as proof. It is the same brand that the men on base prefer due to its robustness and unusual flavor. Its only flaw, I am told, is its short useful life.
Regards to Miss Tightwad and the other inhabitants that I miss so dearly.
Most sincerely,
Florance Barton
Florance resisted the temptation to add Lady Assassin to her signature. Smiling, she snapped shut the tin of chewing tobacco and included it in the parcel next to the brief but informative letter. She tied it off with several thick strands of twine and addressed it carefully. The vicar would no doubt receive this letter in several months’ time. Knowing his propensity for rare and unusual types of tobacco, it would be consumed without delay.
The transport's horn signaled imminent departure. Oh! This letter mustn't be left behind. Florance snatched it up and leapt to her feet. Dashing out the door, she ran for the pier, slipping only five or six times on the slick patches of ice before handing off the letter to the shipmaster.
She stood watching the ship steaming off merrily into the thickly clouded sky. A very real weight seemed to disappear from her shoulders. Before heading back to the base, where Handy was even now fashioning a new ice sculpture—this one of a rather gigantic penguin—she tossed the empty bottle of strychnine into the blue churning waves.
All Mouth and No Trousers
The Next Icebound Tale
Coming August 2017
A romantic novella in the Icebound series, an ongoing collection of polar delights.
Amidst the scientists and explorers at the British Antarctic base in 1900 there are a few women who serve as maids, cooks, and nurses.
Then there’s Electa Yellowsmith.
The beautiful blonde secretary has no problem attracting male attention, but she’s got her eye set on Commander Gorge Elderbatch. He may yell like a longshoreman and drink like a fish, but Electa likes the cut of his jib, and the idea of being an officer’s wife.
Gorge has enough trouble with ice crevasses, blizzard forecasts, and upcoming polar expeditions without his smart-mouthed secretary defying him at every turn. What could a looker like her want with a grump like him, anyhow? Especially since he’s sworn off women after his disastrous divorce.
Gorge may be as dense as an iceberg, but Electa hasn’t yet met a man she couldn’t charm. Though if that doesn’t work she has plenty of schemes that just might. The result is a comedy of errors and explosions in a frostbitten frontier.
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About the Author
Xina Marie Uhl spends her days laboring in obscurity as a freelance writer for educational projects and dreaming of ways to scrounge up enough cash to: 1. travel the world, and 2. add to her increasing menagerie of dogs, cats, and other creatures. The rest of the time she writes fantasy, romance, historical fiction, and humor. She is the author of fantasy novel Necropolis, a collection of fantasy short stories called The Ruling Elite and Other Stories (with Janet Loftis), A Fairy Tail and Out of the Bag, a collection of humorous fantasy stories, and finally The Cat’s Guide to Human Behavior, a humorous self-help manual for cats struggling to understand their humans.
You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, and WordPress, where she writes about historical research, writing, and whatever strikes her fancy. Join her monthly newsletter at http://eepurl.com/DoEz5 for character artwork, exclusive fiction, and up-to-date news on the release of her fantasy novel, The King’s Champion, and other, soon-to-debut historical romances.
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