by Liz Johnson
Tyler crawled head-first into the room, then reached to close the window. He blew out a puff of air and rubbed his arms. “I thought I was going to freeze out there.” He brushed some snow from his coat and sweater, and she couldn’t help but notice how that shade of green brought out the verdant emerald around his eyes.
Stop noticing the mistletoe color of the man’s eyes!
Though anticipation floated within her, she wondered if seeing him again might make things more difficult. Especially if he suspected the truth—that her feelings for him hadn’t wavered at all.
He stood about three feet away. She recognized the distance because she’d practiced it before, as this was the proper distance at which to engage with acquaintances and members of the press one-on-one. He fidgeted with his hands, and she imagined he was probably unsure whether she wanted to see him at all.
But, again, he’d still come.
“Beatrix, I’m so sorry.” he shook his head. “Words cannot communicate how sorry. I had nothing to do with that article being posted online—surely you realize it was stolen?”
Stolen? Her mind began to spin. Who would do a thing like that?
Tyler continued. “Regardless, I know how little privacy your lifestyle offers, and I should have gone to greater lengths to secure your safety.” He groaned. “Now the world knows about your tattoo, and all the rest of it, and regardless of how the article was shared it really is my fault.”
“I’m glad the world knows about my tattoo.” She blurted out the words before she thought better of it.
Tyler’s eyes widened.
“Truly.” Beatrix fiddled with the bottom button of the ridiculous pajamas. “I have decided it’s time I make my own decisions and live by them proudly. Perhaps then, those watching me will follow suit. And if they don’t, that’s really no matter to me. I refuse to live my life in fear any longer.” She smiled at him. “I am a princess, after all.”
He braved a step closer and returned her grin.
“Thank you for your apology, Tyler. I fear I owe you one myself. I was terribly rash in my accusation toward you, and it was only because…”
He watched her, waiting for more. Attraction magnetized the air between them, and she wondered if he would take another step toward her. He did not, so she took the initiative this time.
She shook her head gently. The words because I love you and feared the worst required more boldness than she could summon. She must have exceeded her allotted bravado after she told him to leave the mayor’s home last night.
“You really think the article was stolen?” She tried to make sense of what he implied. Tinsel was paparazzi-free, was it not?
“The man had my keys, Beatrix.”
Charles.
Both of her hands flew to cover her mouth. That’s how the media was getting all these less-than-flattering photos they then used free license to caption. It all made so much sense now.
Beatrix could scarcely breathe. To think the man had fooled her for so long… and if she hadn’t dismissed him last night, would he have ever told her? No wonder Harry had tried so hard last night to have a conversation, when she’d insisted that could wait until after she rested. Harry must have discovered the truth himself. Had he tried to confront Charles when the mayor caught the two of them?
“Oh, Tyler.” Beatrix whispered, her hands still covering her mouth. “I am so sorry. I never should have assumed what I did.”
He reached out to tuck a stray tuft of her hair behind her ears. His touch sent embers flickering down her neck, then arms. “You were betrayed and reacted accordingly. Don’t apologize, Princess.” He touched the tip of his finger to her nose in a gesture so unexpected, she grinned beneath her hands. “Besides, watching you kick that man to the curb last night was almost worth what you said to me.”
She lowered her hands and swatted his arm.
“Hey, I said almost.” But the fire in his eyes suggested he didn’t mean almost at all. “So look, I never got to finish talking with you last night.”
She watched him as he spoke and tried to memorize the lines of his jaw, the curl of his slightly-ruffled hair, the gentle glow in his eyes. She never wanted to forget any of these things. She never wanted them to so much as fade, even slightly.
“I know that Ferryridge is in another continent and all, but I’ve been thinking about it—all night, actually.” He swept his hand through his hair and inched closer. “I can sell the inn to Hazel. Move to Ferryridge and earn my way by your mother. I don’t know what I’d do for a living, but I could find something acceptable to her.”
“Tyler,” she reached out to gently rest her hand on his arm. “You could become an aerospace engineer or a brain surgeon, and it wouldn’t be acceptable to her. I’m afraid she lives on ideals, which is why she attracts people who pretend to live up to them. People such as Charles.” She hesitated. “Unless Harry says something on your behalf. My mother is very fond of Harry.”
His lower lip puckered out slightly as if he hadn’t thought of this. “I see. Well—” His frown turned into a sly half-grin. “I suppose a man could still try.”
Beatrix shook her head ever-so-slightly. “Tyler, I’m afraid Ferryridge is too far.”
He inched down until his gaze directly met her own, searching for answers in her eyes. What would he find there? Would he be surprised?
“Too far, I mean, from Boston.” Beatrix lifted her chin so high she may as well have been stargazing.
“Boston?” He rubbed his jaw with his hand.
“Yes, Boston.”
He seemed suspended by her every breath, and though she knew she ought not torture him further, she couldn’t help herself. “Where I will be moving after Christmas to become an ambassador on behalf of Ferryridge. I’ve decided to start a food-based charity that sells and develops recipes. The proceeds will help underprivileged children of your country and my own, and the recipes will help low-income families on a budget.”
Tyler blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say moving?”
Beatrix grinned. “I did. I’ve already spoken with my mother and let her know my plans. There’s no real reason for me to remain at the palace in Ferryridge when I could be doing a lot of good for my country here in America.” Her gaze fell to his lips. “And then there’s the matter of a certain American, who lives in the most eccentric little Christmas-themed town in Vermont.”
Tyler leaned forward until the tips of their noses touched. “You would forgive that journalist for telling the world your secrets?”
“I would forgive him a million times over.” Beatrix breathed in his cinnamon smell. “Without him, I would have no interesting secrets to tell.”
A bird wearing a Christmas scarf popped out from the cuckoo clock on the wall, but its official announcement of a new day dawning caught Beatrix’s attention for mere moments before she turned back to Tyler.
He kissed her just as he’d kissed her in the gingerbread house. Only this time, with the promise of more to come.
And he tasted just like her scones.
Epilogue
Christmas Day in Ferryridge, One Year Later
Beatrix stretched her neck far back to marvel at the height of the royal Christmas tree. Her mother and sisters had outdone themselves this year. After enjoying a full spread at Christmas breakfast, the four of them as well as Harry had retired into the grand hall to gather around the tree and begin the gift exchange.
It had always been her favorite part of the Christmas festivities because, unlike the luxurious items she received the rest of the year, these gifts were handmade.
Her mother was still marveling over the pearl Harry had caught her and strung onto a necklace. In fact, her mother was marveling over Harry quite often these days, and Beatrix couldn’t be more delighted by that development.
Harry reached under the tree for two gifts Beatrix didn’t recognize from the night before. Perhaps they were hidden beneath the other packages? He carried them over toward her. “For
you, Princess.”
Beatrix took them from his hands and smiled. Her heart warmed with a strange mixture of gladness over her holiday visit to the palace and sentiment over the man she’d left back in America. Indeed, sharing Christmas with Tyler had been Beatrix’s true wish, but they were simply needed in two different places. Maybe next year.
She traced the snowman pattern on the wrapping paper and looked up toward Harry. “Are these from you?” Not exactly her mother or sister’s preferred taste in gift wrapping, but Beatrix adored the whimsical print.
“Open them and see.”
Beatrix slid her finger under the corner of the paper and tugged until the tape loosened. Underneath the wrapping was a trophy that read First Place, Tinsel Gingerbread Contest.
She laughed, holding the trophy to her chest. Only Tyler would understand how much the victory meant to her. “Harry, thank you for coordinating this with him.”
A contended sigh escaped from her red-lined lips. What a considerate gesture. She would have to thank Tyler properly when she returned to Boston.
“Let’s see what’s inside the other package,” Harry said.
Her mother and sisters shimmied toward the edge of their chairs. Was the second gift also from Tyler?
Beatrix made haste unwrapping the paper. What would this gift be?
She uncovered a small box, itself wrapped in a dainty blue ribbon, and her heart leapt and spun like a figure skater. She pulled the ends of the ribbon to release the package. Her breath caught.
A diamond ring sat suspended in the center of the box, and it glistened like fresh snow over Tinsel. Chills ran all over her body, and when she looked up from the diamond, he had come out of hiding. What sort of coordinated effort was this?
Tyler was kneeling before her. He wore a wide grin and a button-down in her favorite shade of green. She glanced toward her mother, who nodded her approval. Tyler must have already gotten her blessing, or he wouldn’t be here. How had he managed such a feat?
“Beatrix Camellia Dawkins, Princess of Ferryridge and maker of delicious scones—” He reached to take her hands in his own as his grin widened. “I have loved you from afar, I have loved you from a memory, and now if you’ll have me, I promise to love you with my future. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Tears she didn’t feel coming streamed down Beatrix’s face as she nodded her head. “Yes, absolutely.”
Tyler lifted her to her feet and gently slid the ring on her finger. Beatrix wiggled her left hand back and forth to watch the diamond sparkle beneath the natural light of the grand hall. The ring felt so weightless, she would never take it off her finger.
Tyler spun her so that her feet left the ground, and she laughed blissfully in his arms until he leaned down to brush her lips with a kiss. For a moment, she forgot anyone else sat in the room, but they quickly erupted in cheers.
Beatrix glanced over toward Harry. She suspected he had no small part in this. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him. In response, he simply winked.
Then she leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in Tyler’s ear. “Does this mean I’ll be an official Tinsel resident?”
Tyler kissed the tip of her nose. “Only if you don’t mind dressing like the town founder’s wife for the Christmas parade.”
“Perhaps I might dress like a fairy tale princess instead. You know, for the children watching.” Beatrix looped her arms around his waist and breathed in the feeling of bliss.
“You do make a lovely princess.” Tyler brushed his thumb along her cheek. “But we both know you don’t need a costume for that feat.”
And it was then she realized all her dreams about the American journalist were meant to be her happily-ever-after, for her most ardent wish had come true in a little Christmas town across the ocean.
THE END
About the Author
Ashley Clark writes women’s fiction and romance with southern grace. She's dreamed of being a writer ever since the thumbprint-cookie-days of library story hour. Ashley has an M.A. in English and enjoys teaching literature courses as an adjunct. She's an active member of American Christian Fiction Writers and a regular contributor to the Guideposts collection All God’s Creatures as well as the blog The Writer’s Alley. When she's not writing, Ashley's usually busy rescuing stray animals and finding charming new towns. You can find her on social media and stay in the loop with her newsletter at https://ashleyclarkbooks.com/.
Look for Ashley’s debut novel, which releases in fall of 2020 from Bethany House.