Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology

by Melange Books, LLC

  “A good thing to have,” Alaric said gratefully, hugging her close.

  “Only if you don’t have any of your own,” Cass said. She touched his face. “But I do now. I have faith in you, Alaric.”

  Alaric kissed her, then hugged her again.

  “I can’t believe you took on a demon for me,” she whispered.

  I can’t either. “I had to.”

  There was a sharp chirp at his feet.

  “This is Leo,” Alaric said to an amazed Cass, holding the creature up so she could pet it. “He’s part plant, part animal.”

  Cass stared at him. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  Alaric touched her nose with his, looking into her eyes. “No. You’re the amazing one, Cass. And I’m in love with you.”

  Then he kissed her again.

  * * * *

  Six months later

  Leo and his new sister Pansy watched as Cass and Alaric raked the first of the leaves outside their home.

  Cass paused, smoothing a lock of hair back out of her eyes. “You were right, you know. I do love it here.”

  “I’m glad you moved in,” Alaric said playfully. “House and all, that is.”

  Behind them on the rise, their two joined houses stood where once Alaric’s home had been alone. Alaric owned more land, so it made sense. And Terian had been happy to lend a little magical assistance, in return for that spell for purple fire. Just what he was going to use it for, Alaric hadn’t asked. But Terian seemed to be a very stand-up guy, for a demon. Alaric had no reservations giving him the formula.

  Creating Pansy had been rather harder, actually. But Cass loved her familiar very much. And with their combined strength, the magical foursome was looking into other spells now with some success, including Alaric’s wish for wings.

  “I’m glad we didn’t fight more,” Cass said, turning to him. She slipped into his arms. “I kept waiting for that...for you to push me to love winter like you do.”

  “I thought it wouldn’t work,” Alaric said lovingly. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree on seasons. And keep any houseplants in the house this winter.”

  Cass frowned. “I said I would.”

  “Good,” Alaric said, slipping a hand into his back pocket. “Because you have something else you need to think about planning very soon.” He produced a small velvet box and opened it. Inside lay not a diamond ring of gold, but a living ring of tiny red flowers and leaves.

  Cass let out a delighted laugh, her eyes threatening to spill over with sudden tears. “Are those poppies?”

  Alaric nodded. “Made with the Everlasting Bloom charm. It will bloom forever. Just like our love.”

  Cass slipped it on her finger, then kissed Alaric. He sighed with happiness—and more than a little relief, that it had gone so well—until he felt something cold and wet on his shoulders.

  He broke the kiss, staring with shock at the fresh snowflakes rapidly melting on his jacket, then looking at Cass. “Did we suddenly get inside a snow globe?”

  She smiled up at him. “It seemed appropriate, with us celebrating.”

  “Terian isn’t going to be happy,” Alaric said, secretly thrilled.

  “I think he’ll give us a pass if we invite him to the wedding,” Cass said with a wink. Her expression grew serious. “Love isn’t just about you loving me. It’s about me loving you. I want to make you happy the way you make me happy, even if that means into our lives a little snow must fall.” She kissed him again, wrapping her arms around him. Alaric returned the kiss, as more flakes of snow came swirling down like a shower of diamonds glittering in the sunlight.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Tara Fox Hall’s writing credits include nonfiction, horror, suspense, action-adventure, erotica, and contemporary and historical paranormal romance. She is the author of the paranormal action-adventure Lash series and the vampire romantic suspense Promise Me series. Tara divides her free time unequally between writing novels and short stories, chainsawing firewood, caring for stray animals, sewing cat and dog beds for donation to animal shelters, and target practice.

  Other works by Tara Fox Hall

  Return To Me

  Surrender to Me

  The Origin of Fear in Spellbound 2011 Anthology

  Night Music in Midnight Thirsts II Anthology

  Partners in Midnight Thirsts II Anthology

  Kink in Wicked Christmas Wishes Anthology

  The Oath in Wicked Christmas Wishes Anthology

  Bedtime Shadows Anthology

  Make Me Behave Anthology

  Latham’s Landing, An Anthology

  The Promise Me Series

  Promise Me, Book 1

  Broken Promise, Book 2

  Taken in the Night, Book 3

  Taken for his Own, Book 4

  Promise Me Anthology, Book 4.5

  Immortal Confessions, Book 5

  Her Secret, Book 6

  Point of No Return, Book 7

  Lost Paradise, Book 8

  Dark Solace, Book 9

  Eye of the Storm, Book 10

  Coming Soon

  Tempest of Vengeance-Promise Me, Book 11

  The Thawing of Holly’s Heart

  by Marilyn Gardiner

  Thanks to my critic group: Angela, Sue A., Debbie, Dave, Elaine, and Sue H. Their input, as always, has been invaluable.

  To my mother, Arline Dorothy Luehrs Williams, who encouraged me from the beginning and read every word I wrote with enthusiasm.

  When Holly Phillips came through the doors of the elementary school and into the December afternoon, an early dusk was already laying purple shadows on the snow beneath the trees. A gusty wind blew a fine drift of icy flakes to swirl around her ankles as she went down the steps.

  She paused a moment to inhale the frigid air and then pulled the collar of her coat higher around her ears. On either side, kids leaped down the steps with whoops and hollers, pushing, shoving each other, and juggling books.

  Youthful energy! In only three hours, they all had to be back for the parent-teacher Christmas program. Inwardly, Holly groaned. Her feet hurt, and her head ached. Worse, she still hadn’t bought a Christmas tree. Briefly, she closed her eyes. She really should stop at the corner lot on the way home and pray a tree was left that she could afford. Lisa, her own third-grader, was so excited about having her very own Christmas tree that a promise had been made to buy and decorate it right after Thanksgiving. That time was now. They were still eating leftover turkey. However, three hours...

  She curled her toes inside her boots and almost groaned. If she ever again weakened and agreed to head up another Christmas pageant, she hoped someone would tie her to a chair until the urge passed. But, Holly shrugged, she liked kids. She’d probably do it all again next year if they asked. As a teacher, she had two mother volunteer helpers, but the pageant was her responsibility.

  Her mouth settled into a thin line. Her feet were planted in hometown soil finally, and she was through with hiring a local U-Haul every eighteen months and scouring someone else’s dirt out of yet another rented house in yet another state. From now on it was roots all the way, and Billy Gene could wander where he pleased—and with whom. She intended to put together a lifetime of Christmas pageants and friends for Lisa.

  However, this afternoon’s dress rehearsal hadn’t been promising. Richard was still rebelling against wearing his costume and stalked around looking thunderous. The construction paper trees wouldn’t stay taped to the walls, and practically no one knew their lines. The final curse on the project was a vicious flu bug that went through the class mid-week. She could only guess who would be onstage when the curtains parted.

  A bath. That’s what she needed. No giggling, shoving kids. No improvised props falling off walls. And no arguments about costumes.

  Holly looked up at the heavy underbelly of hanging clouds and knew it was going to snow before morning. Please God, not a blizzard on the night of the pageant. I have too muc
h to do. If she didn’t hit traffic, they might even have time to stop for a Christmas tree on the way home. And if Paula hadn’t beaten her to the bathroom, she’d just about have time for a nice, long soak in the tub before coming back.

  “Oh, Ri-i-chard.”

  Holly turned at the sound of a familiar young voice. A very familiar voice. Her daughter’s flirty, come-hither voice. Ah! No! She’d counted on having a few more years before having to cope with romance.

  Lisa stood on the top step, her blue eyes full of unadorned worship. Wearing jeans and stained Nikes, Richard staggered from one foot to the other, with his chin tilted at the sky, balancing a cardboard foil-covered crown on his nose. While Holly watched, the crown lurched sideways, bounced in slow motion down the steps and rolled between Holly’s feet.

  Slowly she raised her eyes. Richard’s mouth was open in astonishment. Clearly, he hadn’t intended to have Lisa’s mother as part of his audience. “The crown, Richard, does not leave the classroom. Take it back. Now. And Lisa,” Holly pointed with one hand, “the car.”

  Holly closed her eyes. A bath. ASAP. No flu bug. No drooping props. And as much as she liked him, no Richard. She followed her daughter to the parking lot, every footfall squeaking in the new snow. She sat for a moment behind the wheel of the car, pulling herself together for the drive home.

  Half an hour later, the bubbles were high under her chin, and she lay with her eyes closed and her head on a tub cushion when she heard a key in the front door.

  “Hi,” Paula yelled. “How did rehearsal go? Is it still on for tonight?”

  “Yes, it’s still on for tonight,” Holly yelled back. She sank deeper into the water. There had been no time, after all, for a Christmas tree, and Lisa was upset. “Is Lisa all right out there?”

  “The DVD of Frozen has her hypnotized. Has Richard agreed to wear his costume?”

  “He wore the robe at rehearsal.”

  “Ah! Be grateful for minor mercies.”

  Holly could hear a bag of groceries being dumped on the kitchen counter, and then Paula’s voice came through the door again. “Richard’s father is coming tonight to see his son, The Star.” She said it as a title.

  The bath developed a sudden chill, and Holly reached for the faucet with her toes. The sound of gushing water filled the tiny room.

  “Don’t evade the issue,” Paula shouted. “He’s all grown up.”

  “No!”

  “You’ve been here since August and won’t look at anybody. This guy is not Attila the Hun. He was Tim’s best friend in high school. And you liked him, too.”

  Holly warned, “Don’t start on me. I have a headache.”

  Sure, Holly used to know Will Preston. He and her brother Tim had been football buddies the two years they’d lived here. She’d trailed around after them like a homeless puppy when they let her. And one memorable Christmas Eve, on a dare, Will had kissed her under the mistletoe. That was before Dad had yanked them all up—again—and moved them to Nevada. Six months later Tim graduated and enlisted—all in one day. After that, she’d been alone, changing school after school, town after town, wherever her dad’s itchy feet took him. The two years her family had lived here were the longest she’d ever stayed in any one place, and now that she’d come back she didn’t intend to leave. Nor was she interested in men out of the past. Men caused problems you could very well do without.

  “If I wasn’t married to your brother, maybe I’d let you get away with this, but Tim wouldn’t, and neither will I.” Paula had apparently set up siege outside the bathroom door. “You could at least be friendly. Will’s a nice guy. He still farms with his dad, very successfully I might add. You like Richard, and the kid’s a carbon copy of his dad.”

  Holly laughed hard enough that her breath plowed a furrow through the bubbles. “Carbon copy? Young Richard asked Lisa to go steady this afternoon.”

  “Wow!” Paula was clearly startled. “He’s what—eight? Third grade?”

  Grimly Holly threw in the zinger. “He also tried to kiss her at recess.” There’d almost been hell to pay in the principal’s office, and Richard had been properly chastised. It hadn’t seemed to make a big impression.

  He wasn’t a bad boy. Everyone loved Richard. He was polite and easy-going. Smart. Always smiling. He’d never been a discipline problem. But making out in the hall at school, in front of a hundred kids and teachers... Not good.

  On a half laugh Paula said, “Maybe I ought to go back to school. I think I missed something.”

  Holly’s only answer was to turn the water off before the tub overflowed. The silence built, filling the room.

  It had been almost three years since her divorce. Three very shaky and very scary years. She didn’t want to begin another relationship. She was sharing a house with Paula until Tim got home from the Middle East. She had her daughter and was back in the only town she’d ever called home. She loved her teaching job and could think of no good reason to complicate things just when she could step back and breathe deeply without fearing the world would tilt on its axis.

  “Holly? Don’t go to sleep in there.”

  “Does he know you’re peddling him on street corners?”

  “I’m not peddling him! He’s just a nice guy, and I think the two of you would fit together. Besides, I think he might be lonely.”

  Holly fired a towel at the door. “Will you shut up? It’s your night to cook, so go stir something on the stove.”

  Lonely, indeed. Holly knew young Richard’s mother died when he was very young—an accident of some kind. But if Will was lonely, it was obviously by choice. Lonely! Next Paula would trot out the violins. One thing you had to give her credit for, Paula didn’t give up easily. Maybe she should have given Paula the task of getting Richard into his king’s costume. There was a true test of determination.

  * * * *

  Two hours later Holly admitted defeat on all fronts.

  The room was full of oversized parents squeezed into their children’s desks, and someone had flung the windows wide to relieve the overheated room. A nervous chatter skittered and died as Holly drew the curtain. The opening scene went okay until Richard threw the velvet knickers, the robe and his father’s knee-length stockings into a corner and marched onstage in blue jeans and once-white, stained Nikes. He did consent to wear the tunic and crown.

  After that, things went downhill. The princess was overcome with stage fright and giggled, so the four ladies-in-waiting began to giggle, too. The boys laughed at the girls and galloped through their own parts in deadening monotones. They might have been speaking through a mouthful of oatmeal. Holly wanted nothing more than to dash out, center stage and shake the tittering princess until her teeth rattled.

  Then there was the clumsy page who stumbled onto the stage at every entrance, forcing Holly to hiss, “Get ready. Here she comes!” so that the knight standing at attention near the wings could brace himself and not be bowled over. Between the page and the princess, Holly felt the evening disintegrating in hopeless tatters.

  Then, blessedly, it was time for intermission. Lisa stood in front of the curtain, looking angelic in a long dress and pink ballet slippers. Richard was to accompany her on an autoharp as she sang. Rehearsal had gone well. Richard had learned the chords, and Lisa had a sweet, clear voice and had memorized all the words. Holly relaxed. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs. Maybe it was going to be all right. However, she hadn’t taken young love into consideration.

  Lisa gazed soulfully into Richard’s eyes and sang from the heart—off key. Richard gazed back and played all the wrong chords. Relentlessly, they plodded through the entire song. On the chorus, all twelve kids in the cast sang along. Twelve kids and every one of them tone deaf. The effect was hysterical. Holly was hysterical.

  From behind the curtain, she stood and risked one despairing glance at the audience. A tall, black-haired man stood against the back wall, a wide grin splitting his face. Will Preston. She would have known him astrid
e a camel in the Sahara Desert. Oh, he’d filled out some and seemed to be taller than she remembered, but she hadn’t forgotten the planes of that face. Why did he have to look so good? In some irrational way it made her angry to find him so handsome and dependable, and...at home. Exactly what she’d looked for all her adult life.

  Behind her the stage crew argued in hoarse whispers as they taped up the falling trees, two ladies-in-waiting quarreled over whether Lisa had said yes or no to Richard, and the court jester practiced his cartwheel, coming within a hair of colliding with a footman carrying a tray of plastic tumblers for the next scene.

  Suddenly, the curtain opened for the last act, and Holly ran for her place. “Who moved my prompting script?”

  Wide, innocent eyes looked back.

  “Where is it? I left it right here.” Her flat hand slapped the shelf.

  On stage Richard’s voice faltered and ground to a stop. He glanced furtively over his shoulder toward Holly, and the crown slipped over one eye. With a disgusted motion, he shoved it back in place and shrugged.

  “Fake it,” she whispered. “Ad lib.”

  Dropping all pretense, he turned to faced her. “What’s next?” he asked aloud. “I forgot.”

  Holly shrugged her shoulders helplessly. What could possibly be next? She began to laugh. It was better than crying.

  On stage, Richard’s face lit up with memory. “Ho, page,” he roared.

  The little pixie-haired page rushed forward, tripped over Holly’s foot and sprawled headlong across the stage.

  Holly tried to stop laughing. She held her breath. Lisa came off stage frowning and indignant. “You’re ruining the whole thing.”

  With difficulty, she managed to straighten her face in time to pull the sheets together for the final curtain. Breathless and more than a little weak in the knees, she turned to face the room of beaming parents.