Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  She laughed. "I agree. Now let us see to finding some holly and pine branches. We shall need a great deal of it to adorn all of Hartstone Hall on Christmas Eve."

  He took her hand in his and led her in the direction Oliver and Bodhi had run. "I wonder if we shall find some mistletoe as well."

  "I best not decorate the house with that. Susanna is bound to cause commotion whenever it is near."

  Rhys chuckled. "I wish I had had her boldness when I was younger. I would have carried a sprig in my pocket, ready to call it into service whenever you came to see me."

  Grace halted, her expression serious, but before he could apologize, she said, "Rhys, I wish I had been bolder then, too. I hope to be so now, and at times I believe I am, yet there are still so many barriers—"

  "Not today," he repeated. He kissed her lightly. "There is nothing impeding us today. We have all of this day to ignore the difficulties."

  Grace's expression turned from worry to genuine happiness. "I shall heed your wise counsel. Not forever, of course."

  He laughed. "I am happy for any moments you share with me."

  Grace squeezed his hand, signaling she understood the vow contained in his words. The excitement shining in her eyes was also a promise to him.

  "Mama, I am hungry. Bodhi is hungry, too."

  Grace tore her gaze from watching Rhys, who had just finished piling the pine boughs in the back of the sleigh, along with numerous branches of holly. She looked at her son, who had done his best to assist Rhys, handing him a single branch at a time. Now the young lad was famished from his efforts.

  "You are fortunate I brought a feast for us," she said. "Now we just need to find a spot so we can sit and eat."

  She twirled around, but there was nothing that seemed suitable, not with snow everywhere and the trees blotting out the sun. They would be close to frozen in no time.

  "I have something in mind," Rhys said, a secretive smile curving his lips.

  Her stomach fluttered once more. It was a marvel that she had been able to resist the allure of him when she was younger and more impulsive. She could barely do so now. It seemed the old Grace and the new Grace had become co-conspirators, ensuring she would always want Rhys in her life, and in her embrace.

  "Mama?"

  Oliver stood inside the sleigh, reins in hand, while Bodhi sat next to him. Rhys waited to help her into the conveyance.

  "My apologies. My mind was wandering, trying to remember: did I truly bring anything for us to eat?"

  Oliver gasped until he realized she was teasing. His face relaxed into a smile. "If you did forget, you can make something with magic. You said it is everywhere."

  "So true," Rhys agreed. He held his hand out to Grace to assist her into the sleigh. When their gloved hands touched, Grace swore she felt a spark of something flow between them.

  How could she deny the possibility of magic on this delightful day?

  Grace could not halt her squeal of excitement as soon as Rhys stopped the sleigh. "This is an absolutely perfect spot, Rhys. I cannot believe I did not remember it."

  Oliver frowned at the sight of the frozen pond. "We did not bring skates, Mama."

  Rhys extended his hand to Oliver, who quickly took it, and they headed toward an open area to the right side of the pond. There were several logs gathered in a semi-circle, surrounding what had clearly been utilized in the past as a fire pit.

  "This is where your mama and I looked for frogs. In the springtime, of course. They are not here now."

  Oliver grinned, clearly enjoying being brought someplace he had heard about before. "We can come back when the frogs are here. Mr. Wilton, you know where they like to hide, don't you?"

  Grace held her breath for a moment, but there was no need, since Rhys answered happily, "I do indeed know where they like to hide." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I know where the best jumpers are, too, but do not let your mother know about that."

  Oliver beamed.

  "Before you two conspire any further, I believe it is time to eat."

  "Conspiring does work up an appetite," Rhys teased.

  "It does," Oliver agreed loudly, though he had no idea what conspiring was. It was clear he was happy to be part of something, and it warmed Grace's heart that he had found it with Rhys.

  If she weren't already half in love with the man…

  She started. She had tried so hard not to admit her feelings for Rhys. They had complicated her life before, and were bound to complicate it even further now. She brushed the thoughts away. Time to concentrate on their winter picnic.

  Grace had Oliver clear the snow from the logs that would serve as their chairs while Rhys set about building a fire.

  "Your skills from long ago have not failed you," she teased.

  "I have not done this in a while," he said, "so I was not entirely sure my skills were intact. Fortunately I shall be able to keep us from freezing."

  Grace helped Oliver finish his task, and then they stacked the blankets atop the logs. She set the hamper on the ground that had been cleared of snow and began to extract a bevy of things she had stowed earlier: meat pies, cheeses, bread. Bodhi raced over, ready to plop his head inside the basket, but Oliver grabbed him just in time.

  "That is not for dogs," Oliver said. "I have something just for you."

  Grace's heart nearly melted when she saw her young son take something out of his pocket, obviously tucked there beforehand, and fed it to Bodhi. How had the pup not discovered it before now?

  Rhys grinned, and then gave her a wink. She did not know it was possible to feel so much happiness. It was another form of magic, and it surrounded them all completely. She could only hope it was an inexhaustible supply, for she knew she would desire it the rest of her born days.

  Rhys watched as Grace slowly extracted one last item from the hamper. Oliver's eyes were wide as he waited to see what she would produce. She carefully unwrapped it and set it on the makeshift table before them.

  "A Twelfth Night cake?" Rhys asked.

  "It is a practice cake. I wanted to ensure the one I create for the actual holiday is perfect. So it meant I had to make one ahead of time."

  It was sheer perfection. The smooth white icing was topped with intricate decorations made of sugar. He could only imagine the time that had gone into making it.

  "We are the lucky ones, aren't we, Oliver?"

  "Yes!"

  Bodhi whimpered, laying his head on his paws. Rhys pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it towards Bodhi, who snapped it up without hesitation. Oliver went into peals of laughter.

  "I planned ahead, too," Rhys said, chuckling.

  Grace joined in their merriment, the picture of happiness, and Rhys knew it was a magical moment he would remember for the rest of his life. He was more determined than ever to have more of these moments.

  Grace carefully sliced the cake and placed it on the small plates she had brought, handing one to Rhys, and another to Oliver.

  "If you find the bean inside," Oliver explained, "it means you are the king of Twelfth Night. A real king. You can tell everyone what they have to do."

  "I remember that," Rhys answered. He put his fork into the cake and immediately felt it hit something solid. "Oliver, would you mind retrieving a napkin from the hamper for me? I will hold your plate."

  Oliver jumped up and Rhys grabbed his plate just in time. While the boy ran to the hamper sitting next to his mother, Rhys switched the plates.

  "Thank you, my good sir," he said when Oliver returned with the linen. "I dare not let crumbs fall or Bodhi will attack me, mercilessly."

  Oliver nodded sagely. "He cannot help himself when it comes to treats."

  Once Oliver was settled again, Rhys handed him the plate that had been Rhys'. The boy tucked into the cake and then his eyes widened. "I found it! I have the bean. That means I am the king now."

  "Oh dear," Grace muttered, doing her best to hide a smile. "We are in for it now."

  Rhys
tsked. "Surely it cannot be so bad."

  "I had no idea how devilish the lad could be." Rhys was gratified to see Oliver asleep at last, wrapped in a blanket in Grace's arms, as they traveled homeward. "And imaginative. I do not know that I would ever come up with so many fiendish tasks as he assigned to me."

  "I was particularly fond of the one-legged jumping while spinning in a circle. You did quite well with that one," Grace said with a chuckle. "It was very thoughtful of you, giving him the chance to be the Twelfth Night king."

  "It was my pleasure. I know what it is like to want something but feel overlooked."

  Grace gasped, her countenance stricken. "You believe that is what I did with you?"

  "No, not at all," he hastened to reassure her. "I meant my own family. Not you, Grace. You have always treated me as though I was someone important."

  "You are. Though I have not always demonstrated it, particularly when I left—"

  "You made the right choice then, Grace. I am convinced of it."

  Her expression demonstrated she was not completely persuaded by his words, but he did not press her any further. They rode in silence for a while, the sleigh gliding across the snow, a companionable quiet between them.

  Rhys wondered what thoughts were spinning through Grace's mind. Was she contemplating, as he was, how they had been given another chance to plan a future together? Years ago it had seemed improbable, but after today--

  "Rhys, I must ask you something."

  "Of course." Since her voice was a bit more tentative than usual, he steeled himself for a request he did not want to hear, even knowing he would respect her wishes, whatever she might ask of him. "What do you wish to know?"

  "If you had been the king of Twelfth Night, what would you have decreed?"

  Rhys gulped, not sure he could answer since his heart was firmly lodged in his throat. He tossed a hungry gaze in her direction, and fortunately it said everything he was afraid to voice just then.

  Grace's eyes widened for a moment and then her lips curved into a smile he found impossibly seductive. "Yes, I thought so." She leaned forward and placed a kiss against his cheek. "Would tonight be too soon?"

  Surely Grace had cast a spell, and she was whispering something mundane about the weather while his poor addled brain had transformed it into a beguiling offer. Whatever magic she possessed, he did not want it to end. He would happily be held captive by her for all time.

  "Tonight cannot arrive soon enough," he answered.

  Grace tucked her arm in his, moving herself even closer, and rested her head against him. Rhys wished he had mastered the art of driving one-handed. If he had, he could put his arm around her, cradling her while she held Oliver, adding one more to the delightful memories they had created that day.

  He shot a glance at the sky, glad the sun was descending towards the horizon. He was impatient to commence this night, one he wanted to ensure Grace would always remember.

  If the Fates were smiling upon him, this would be the first of many such blissful nights.

  Chapter 7

  Later that evening

  * * *

  Grace clasped her hands, and then unclasped them. She stood in the middle of the cottage's main room, completely nervous now that she and Rhys were alone, even though she had been consumed by the notion the entire afternoon. When they had returned to the house, Susanna had taken the sleeping Oliver, tossing Grace a saucy wink as she wished her a most pleasant evening.

  Grace was not accustomed to being in this situation. She began to seek out a task to accomplish, but there were none.

  "I shall get the fire going," Rhys said. He seemed as nervous as she was just then. It helped to ease her own concerns.

  "You have been charged with this assignment twice today," she teased. "You may not wish to accompany me on excursions if you must labor this much."

  "It is not a labor to provide you with comfort, Grace. Or pleasure. I can assure you it is a joy for me to do so."

  He returned to his task. Grace took the opportunity to remove her hat, and her cloak, albeit with trembling hands. Were they rushing into something they should not even contemplate? Would this be a mistake for both of them?

  She must have said the words aloud, or more likely, Rhys had seen her pacing and understood the reason for the nervous response.

  He stood in front of her, and held her face in both hands, brushing her skin with his thumbs. "Grace, I understand if you want to change your mind. I am content to sit by the fire and talk to you for hours on end. I do not wish to be on your list of regrets."

  "There is not a list," she said with a laugh. "And if there were, you would only be there because of my cowardice."

  He scoffed. "You are braver than anyone I have ever encountered. Just look at all you have borne. It has not bested you. I do not believe there is anything in life that will."

  His words reassured her like nothing else could. "Now I must live up to your lofty belief in me. I cannot bear to disappoint you."

  He grinned, right before he kissed her very tenderly. "There is no possibility of that."

  Grace returned the kiss, softly at first and then more passionately. She had been afraid to let her feelings for Rhys rise to the surface but now there was no reason to quell them. She halted the kiss, to remind him this was likely their only night together, but once again he knew her thoughts. He shook his head quickly and then teased her lips open.

  There was no hope of resisting him. It was as exciting being in his embrace as she had imagined. She knew he would care for her, see to her every need, just as he had done all his life. Why had she ever doubted him?

  Grace plucked at his cravat. He held her in his arms while she untied the linen. "I can see you do not mean to provide me any assistance," she teased.

  "None at all. I am content to watch as you disrobe me."

  "As long as you return the favor, when I am done here."

  "Of course. Though do not feel as though you must rush. I plan to take my time, when it is my turn."

  She shivered at the erotic promise in his words. Still, she managed to prolong her delightful task, unbuttoning his waistcoat with deliberate slowness, punctuating it with leisurely kisses until they were both dizzy with need.

  His waistcoat soon dropped to the floor, joining the cravat already there. She tugged at his shirt until it was free from his breeches so her hands could skim over his chest. He inhaled sharply at the contact and then leaned in for an open-mouth kiss that completely stole her breath. At the same time he reached for the back of his shirt and quickly broke off the kiss so he could pull the shirt over his head.

  In the next instant he placed her hands back on his chest. "You have no impediments to anything you wish to do now."

  Grace swallowed. He would always know what she was thinking and feeling. Even more remarkable, he seemed to present the solution when she insisted on dwelling on the problem.

  "How do I deserve you?" she asked. "I want you so desperately, yet I struggle to believe I have earned the right."

  He gazed at her with something akin to awe. "You have taken the words from my very soul, Grace. I have told myself many times over the years I can never prove myself worthy of you. Yet it does not stop this need, this desire. I shall always feel it for you."

  She gave him another heartfelt kiss. "Then, as undeserving as we believe ourselves to be, let us both enjoy this guilty pleasure."

  "When should we feel guilty?" He grinned. "Before the pleasure, or after?"

  "Why not during? It may heighten the pleasure, after all."

  He pulled her into his arms. "I adore you, Grace." He whispered it, as if he was not certain he should say it aloud.

  It made her braver, and she boldly stepped back, her arms to her sides. "Where shall you start?"

  He pretended to ponder the question, walking around her, eyeing every portion of her ensemble. She shivered under his very appreciative gaze.

  "I must return before the sun rises," she remin
ded him.

  "I warned you I meant to take my time. You know I am a man of my word."

  Indeed he was. She was nearly giddy when he finally stopped his intimate perusal and began to loosen the tie of her bodice. The back of his hand brushed against her exposed skin and it sent a thrill through her entire being. His lips curved up at her response. She saw his head lower, but not to kiss her lips. No, he gently placed his mouth against her throat, lavishing it with heated kisses.

  She grabbed the back of his head, afraid he might retreat before she had experienced enough, but he was indeed a man of his word. He took his time kissing the curve of her breast, as if he had been blessed with an eternity for just that task. He slowly removed the bodice, and the chemise, and she felt a moment of coolness against her skin.

  Until his lips covered her nipple.

  She cried out his name, holding him so close she feared for a moment she might smother him. He continued to drive her to the brink of madness, tempting her to shred her clothing so he might devote his attention to other, equally aroused, parts of her body.

  She counseled herself to remain patient. They had both waited too long to rush through this moment. For all she knew, this would be the only one they were given. She banished that unwelcome thought. It made more sense to help remove more of his clothing while he did the same with hers.

  She reached for the buttons of his breeches but was distracted by the hard length displayed by the tight-fitting material. She had intended a quick brush of her hand, to demonstrate her appreciation, but Rhys expelled her name in a soft hiss. His head was thrown back, his expression nearly beatific.

  She smoothed her hand over him once more, and then again. She reached for the buttons, needing to liberate him, but his hand gripped hers.

  "Grace, if there has ever been a time when I hope you will heed my warnings, it would be now."

  "I have always heeded your warnings," she said with a laugh. "I just have not always followed the advice contained in them."