Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Well,” he said thoughtfully. “I have come to Thulston for a reason, my lady. Yesterday, when I was sleeping in the cathedral in Derby, I had a dream. Now, I realize that, in and of itself, does not sound too startling, for all men dream, but this dream was rather specific. I had a dream about a woman whose face I could not see. She had a kerchief over her face and she whispered through it, something that I assumed to be her name. She spoke of things I could not understand, as you know how dreams are, but she mentioned something about a box of memories and she told me her name was Holly. When I awoke, there was a kerchief at my feet with the crest of St. Maur embroidered upon it. I came here tonight because, in truth, I was driven by my dream. When I asked your sisters about the kerchief, they admitted to dropping it in the cathedral but when I asked them their names, I did not receive the name Holly in reply. However, when they told me your name was Holly, well… as I said, I was compelled to seek you out and speak with you. I have dreamt of you, Lady Holly, and I do not know why. All I know is that I had to come.”

  Holly had come to a halt by this time, looking at him in shock. “You dreamt of me?” she repeated.

  “I believe I did.”

  Her eyes were wide at him, as if hardly comprehending what he had told her. “And… and your dream spoke of a box of memories?”

  He nodded, looking at her face, trying to gauge her reaction. “I know that dreams can be confusing,” he said. “I do not know why I dreamt of such things, only that I did. There is an old legend that I seem to recall, a legend that is particularly attached to Christmastide. It goes something like this – if a maiden sleeps upon a sprig of mistletoe taken from a church, she will dream of her future husband. Although I am not a maiden, I was in a church and there was a good deal of mistletoe around me. Clearly, I am not saying that you are my future wife, but I was thinking that mayhap God was sending me a message. Mayhap I was to come to you and help you somehow. Mayhap there is something you are searching for and I have been sent to help you find it.”

  Holly was overwhelmed by his words. She truthfully had no idea what to say to him. His words both astonished and frightened her, but on the other hand, she had felt comfortable with the man the moment that she met him. And now, to hear that he had come because he had dreamt about her… God’s Bones, she had no idea what to think.

  As a logical woman, she didn’t give much credence to folklore. Last night, her sisters had tried to force her to sleep on mistletoe so that she would dream of a husband, but now… now it seemed that the tides had turned. Someone had dreamt of her, instead.

  Could it truly be a sign from God? Did this kind and gentle knight come to her bearing a message somehow? Bewildered, she shook her head.

  “I… I do not know what to say,” she said honestly. “Did you truly dream about me?”

  He shrugged. “I could not see the face of the woman I dreamt of but, as I said, she mentioned a box of memories and her name. Do you have a box of memories, mayhap?”

  She did. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to acknowledge it. After that, she seemed to stagger a bit, overcome with the conversation, and Rennington reached out to take her arm, gently guiding her to a nearby stone bench that was covered with a dusting of snow. Quickly, he brushed it off and helped her to sit. Then he took a seat next to her.

  “Forgive me,” she finally said. “It is simply that what you have told me is quite overwhelming. That you should dream of me… and, aye, I do have a box of memories. It contains things that were given to me by my betrothed.”

  Rennington was torn between being genuinely sympathetic towards her and thrilled that his lies were working on her. “I see,” he said softly. “Then it is a treasured box, indeed.”

  She nodded, blinking rapidly as if to blink away the tears. “He was killed a little over two years ago in The Levant,” she whispered. Now, it was all beginning to come out, things she didn’t want to speak of. But she felt compelled to tell him. “We were to be married this past summer but it was not to be. Instead of a wedding, I received a missive telling me of his death. He died in a place called Arsuf.”

  Rennington was starting to feel more sympathy for her now. He cleared his throat softly, averting his gaze. “A horrible place,” he said. “I am very sorry to hear this.”

  She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with tears. “Do you know of it?”

  “I was there.”

  Her eyes widened and she reached out, grasping his arm. “You were?” she gasped. “Oh, please tell me of it! Please tell me something of it so I know of this place where he lost his life. No one has told me anything at all and that has been the very worst part – not knowing. Will you please tell me something of it?”

  He didn’t want to; God help him, he didn’t want to. He had nothing but horrific memories of the battle but gazing into her eyes, he could see her desperation. His conscience, something he’d tried very hard to forget since yesterday, was tugging on him now, begging for his sympathy. He couldn’t help but feel for her. Gently, he patted the hand that gripped him.

  “Suffice it to say that it was a great and terrible day,” he said quietly. “I could give you details that would not mean anything to you, such as information on the strength of Al-Saladin and the strength of the Christian armies, but in the end, that means nothing. Your betrothed was among thousands of other men, including myself, with the sea against our backs as we fought against the great armies of Allah. It was a horrifically bloody battle with Christian knights breaking ranks and Richard struggling to counter Al-Saladin’s tactics. If it makes it any easier for you, your betrothed died on a warm September day with the sky above a clear and deep blue. It was a beautiful day for such a tragedy because, you see, I lost many men on that day, including my best friend. Therefore, Arsuf has as terrible a meaning for me as it does for you.”

  He watched tears roll down her cheeks only to be quickly dashed away. She was struggling to come to grips with what she’d been told, admirably absorbing the devastating information. In fact, even as she struggled with it, she seemed to be somewhat at peace. At least now, she knew. Her hand remained on his arm.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said hoarsely. “And I am sorry for the loss of your friend. Please tell me his name so I may remember him in my prayers.”

  He thought it was a kind request. “Sir Adam Summerlin, my lady. I am grateful.”

  Holly stopped weeping and her eyes widened. For a split-second, she didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. It seemed she was frozen with a startled look upon her face. But then, suddenly, her hands flew to her mouth and she began to sob loudly, almost hysterically.

  Puzzled and greatly troubled, Rennington gripped her to keep her from bolting right off the bench.

  “My lady?” he asked, concerned. “What is the matter?”

  Her hands were over her mouth, holding in the great, belly-deep sobs that were trying to burst forth. “Adam,” she finally wept. “He… he….”

  She couldn’t quite finish and Rennington was at a loss as to what had her so distraught. “What about Adam?” he asked.

  She shook her head, close to swooning. “It cannot be! It is not true!”

  “What is not true, my lady?”

  Holly was struggling to answer him. “He was truly your best friend?”

  “Truly,” Rennington answered, eyeing her strangely. “Why?”

  She swallowed, laboring to catch her breath. “He… he was my betrothed!”

  Rennington’s mouth popped open. “Adam Summerlin was your betrothed?”

  “Aye!”

  “Sir Adam Summerlin of Blackstone Castle?”

  She was nodding frantically and in that moment, Rennington was beyond shocked as the realization hit him. He was astonished as he’d never been astonished in his life. The world began to rock unsteadily and his breathing, too, came in uneven gasps. He ended up staggering to his feet, overwhelmed with the sheer emotion of the revelation.

  His best friend.

&nbs
p; Her betrothed.

  Dear God, was it true?

  “We were to marry this past summer,” Holly finally gasped, pulling her hands from her mouth. She stood up because he was standing. “He was my sun and moon and stars. He was my everything.”

  Rennington nodded, unable to believe the sheer coincidence of what had just been revealed. “He was my best friend in the world,” he spoke before thinking, saying things he probably should not have said. “We lived and laughed and fought and killed together. On that terrible day at Arsuf, he died in my arms. I held him and told him of my love for him. He was closer to me than any brother ever could have been and my only comfort in his death was that he did not die alone. I was with him at the end.”

  Holly began to weep again, painful sobs. She collapsed back onto the bench, sobbing her heart out, as Rennington simply stood there and looked at her, dumbstruck. But as he gazed at her, he could hardly believe the turn of events… and he could hardly believe what he had almost done.

  Trap the heiress… Adam’s heiress!

  Rennington had been determined to manipulate the woman into marrying him so he could assume her fortune and finally have a place to call his own. That was all he had wanted; he’d never wanted her personally, simply her money. But the more he’d spoken to her and realized what a kind, beautiful woman she was, the more he was looking upon this endeavor as something that might be more pleasing than he had realized.

  Until now.

  Now, he was positive that God was punishing him by twisting his manipulative plans against him by putting him straight in the path of the woman his best friend had been betrothed to. In all of England, with the thousands of women all over the country, he had to end up right in the lap of the one woman who could deter him from his determination to marry for money. The one woman who blew out the candle of his ambition faster than the blink of an eye. Now, even as he looked at Holly sitting grief-stricken on the bench, all he could think about was leaving. God, he couldn’t stay, not now.

  He couldn’t do that to her.

  He had to leave.

  “My lady,” he said, his voice trembling. “I… I am so very sorry to have told you of Adam’s death. He was a good man, fine and true, and please know that I am deeply sorry for your loss. His death was a great loss to me, as well. Mayhap… mayhap God did send me here, after all.”

  Holly was nodding her head fervently. “He did,” she gasped. “God did send you here, I know it. The dreams you had of me – of the box of memories and of my name – surely they were a sign from God for you to come here and tell me of Adam’s death. You see, when we received word of his death, Adam’s brother wrote to the king to discover what had happened to Adam, but we never received a reply until now. Do you not understand? You are my reply, Sir Rennington. God bless you for coming on this night of nights!”

  Rennington felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t even look at her. He’d never felt more low or despicable in his entire life, having no idea how to reply to her. He’d spent the past several minutes telling her that he believed God had sent him to her when the truth was that he was simply using that excuse to convince her of his sincerity. It wasn’t true in the least. Now, she was using that excuse against him, bringing guilt upon him tenfold.

  What have I done?

  “If I have given you peace, then I am content,” he said. More lies. He just wanted to get the hell out of there; he wasn’t content in the least. “Mayhap… mayhap I should leave you to your thoughts now, my lady. It has been an eventful night.”

  Holly’s hand was still on her face, wiping away the tears, but her weeping had lessened. The moment he tried to step away from her, she held out a hand.

  “Please,” she begged. “Do not leave, not now. There is so much I wish to ask you about Adam. I have not seen him in so long that to have you here, as a living testament to his life, is more than I can comprehend. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. Surely the dreams God gave you of me were meant for you to come and find me. Now that you have, I hardly know where to begin. Please tell me, Ren… did he ever speak of me?”

  Rennington felt he was living a nightmare of his own doing. God was not only punishing him for his greed, He was kicking him in the teeth, as well. This sweet, lovely woman who had never done him any harm was now begging him for comfort when it came to the death of his best friend. Did he ever speak of me? Rennington had to dig deep for memories that might seem as if Adam had, but they were memories that were deeply painful to him. God was punishing him, indeed.

  “Not by name,” he said. “You must understand that there was little opportunity to speak of the comfort of home. Adam and I met one another when we converged in Vezelay to take cogs across the sea to Cyprus. We spoke of where we had come from and of our experiences as knights and men, but little by way of our families. Adam did mention he had an angel waiting for him at home, but I never knew your name – he only called you Angel.”

  Holly sighed, her tears fading as Rennington spoke of her lost love. She took great comfort in his words. “He called me that,” she said, now a smile of joy spreading across her face. “If I ever had any doubt that God sent you to me, now I am convinced. Only Adam called me Angel.”

  Rennington still had that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake it. “It suits you,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else he could say so he started to ramble a bit. “We knew each other a short time, in fact, before he was taken from us. I had only known him about a year.”

  Holly nodded, thinking back to the timeline of Adam’s departure. “I met him six years ago,” she said. “He left me barely a year after that and I was informed he had died in September of eleven hundred and ninety-one. It is difficult to believe it has been five years since I last saw him.”

  Rennington eyed her; he really did want to get away from her, trying to think of another excuse to leave her. He didn’t want to speak of Adam. He wanted to get away from the woman he’d almost trapped. The longer he stayed, the worse he felt.

  “It has been a long time since I last saw him as well,” he said. “But he remains vivid in my memories. I shall never forget him.”

  Holly’s thoughts lingered on the blonde knight she’d been so in love with. “Nor shall I,” she said.

  Her tears were nearly gone now, the shock of the common link between them wearing off. In fact, she was feeling a bond with Rennington that she had never felt with anyone. She knew she couldn’t let the man leave. God had, indeed, sent him to her, to give her comfort in the wake of Adam’s death but perhaps there was more to it than that. Rennington had dreamt of her, after all… perhaps he was meant as a replacement of sorts, someone she could share common memories with, someone she had felt comfortable with from the start. She didn’t want to remarry, at least not right away, but when she looked at Rennington, she realized that, with him, she would consider it.

  God had sent him to her. She could not refuse the fact.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “This night, and your appearance, is nothing short of miraculous. Mayhap… mayhap you would consider going into the house with me now. There is a good deal of food and drink inside, and it is much warmer. Mayhap you will tell me more of Adam. I would like to hear of your adventures in The Levant, if you will indulge me.”

  Rennington knew he couldn’t go inside with her. He was disoriented and wracked with remorse. Therefore, he knew he had to tell her one more lie simply because there was no other way. He had to get away from her.

  He had to run away.

  “I should like that,” he said. “You must go inside right away but I must check on my horse first. He was showing signs of lameness earlier and I must see to him quickly before I join you.”

  Holly stood up from the stone bench. “I can go with you to the stables,” she said, turning in the direction of the barnyard. “It is not far.”’

  He didn’t want that. Reaching out, he put his hands on her shoulders, turning her for the house. “Nay,” he sa
id flatly. “It is far too cold. Go inside now and I shall follow shortly. Please, my lady. I insist.”

  Holly didn’t argue with him. In fact, it was rather nice for a man to take charge of her and be concerned for her health. She liked that. Flattered by his actions and completely unaware that he was trying to get rid of her, she agreed.

  “As you say,” she said. “I shall wait for you in the hall. Hurry, now; I need your help in fighting off the predatory males.”

  “And I need yours in fighting off the predatory females.”

  She grinned and he impulsively took her hand, kissing it gently. It would be all he ever had of her and he wanted to remember it. He watched her smile as it turned modest, almost coy, before gathering her skirts and rushing back towards the kitchen door, being careful not to slip on the frozen ground. He stood there until she disappeared from view. Then, and only then, did he make a run for the front of the house. He hoped to beat her inside and collect his saddlebags before she saw him.

  He was in and out of the manse without Holly being the wiser.

  Or, so he thought.

  PART FIVE: BUT A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM?

  She thought she caught a glimpse of him dashing out of the main entry to the house, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Holly had just emerged from the kitchens when she caught sight of Rennington. At least, she thought it was Rennington, but that didn’t make much sense considering she had just left the man in the garden, but she could have sworn she had just seen the man run out of the house.

  Greatly puzzled, she moved to the front entry only to see a man in dark clothing disappearing out of the front gatehouse. He was moving very swiftly and it had been difficult to see through the darkness, but there were torches at the gatehouse and she swore that, in the dim light, the man fleeing Thulston was Rennington.

  There was only one way to find out.