A Capital Christmas
Waiting those last few moments before delivering an apology always felt like an eternity, and Fiona sat in the parlor for at least two centuries before she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Another decade and a half passed before Mr. Fox's form filled the narrow doorway.
Gracious, she'd forgotten how green his eyes were. Even from a distance of a few feet, she could see them shimmering in the dim lamplight. His jaw was dusted with evening whiskers and his shoulders drooped as though with fatigue. He snapped straight when their eyes met.