Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I was at the gala,” Jim said. “Beryl had headed home when the wards were breeched.” He looked at Beryl. “It was wild.”

  Beryl shrugged. “Well, we didn’t know how to use the magick. Neither did Winona.” She turned to the mystified Annie and Reyn. “We’ve been piecing it together. The reason you two have to stick together for that first week is to build the power in the wards, like Winona said. The people give you a little bit of power when they pledge to protect the town. You, in turn, will give that power to the wards. You’re like batteries, I guess. You get it and store it, then put it in the wards. I don’t know what we’d have done if we knew, for real, that the wards would have stopped that guy.” She shrugged. “Guess we might have brought the Outer Ward into physical being.”

  Winona interjected at this point. “We don’t know if it would have visibly manifested. If it had, that might have caused a panic.” She patted Annie’s arm. “No matter, we’ll make sure you and Reyn spend virtually every waking moment together this Yule week, and get as much power into the protections as possible.”

  Annie nearly panicked on the spot. She wanted to spend time with Reyn, wanted to get to know him better, but every moment?

  “Winona, I can’t do that,” Reyn protested. “And neither can Annie. She’s got her shop, and I’ve got the fire department.”

  “We know that,” Winona snapped. Then sighed. “Sorry, it’s just that we all sort of took this Outer Ward business as a metaphor rather than a reality. Having it smack us in the face as real was unnerving.” Winona patted herself, then Reyn, then Annie.

  “How do we help?” Annie said, giving in. She didn’t know how she’d manage it, with everything going on in her shop and with the winter market, but she’d decided last night that she was all-in. If that meant being part of the magick, she was in. If it meant spending more time with a hunky fireman, that wasn’t a total hardship, now was it?

  In a way, it would be fascinating, since she had very little magick other than her overall nurturing, calming kitchen witchery. That insured domestic order, and wonderful food, usually, but not much else.

  Winona shot her a grateful look. “The actual transfer of power and protection is on Christmas Eve. One of the reasons we have the ball early is so you can get your schedule arranged for this whole thing. There will be the market and the parade, then the cauldron lighting, and the progressive dinner. Annie, Reyn, Jim and Beryl, you’ll come here after that and we’ll invest Annie and Reyn with the keys to the Outer Ward.” Beryl and Jim pulled long chains from under their shirts. On the chain was an actual key. “From there,” she said to Annie and Reyn, “you and your court have until New Year’s to make contact with as many townspeople as you can. You have to touch them––a handshake will do––and ask them if they support Haven Harbor and will lend their aid in protecting her.”

  Annie felt shock course through her. At the winter market, usually, someone had asked her if she’d protect the town if needed. She’d thought it was a Chamber of Commerce kind of thing. She’d always said yes.

  Winona smiled at her. “You remember being asked.”

  “I do!” she said, laughing. “You mentioned that last night, but I never realized…”

  “Exactly,” Winona said. “Most of us didn’t know the magick inherent in that promise.” She turned to Reyn. “You were probably asked at some point too, but your agreement is built into your contract as fire chief.” She smiled. “That contract is so bound up in magick, I’m not sure you could willingly do anything to hurt the town.”

  “Well damn,” Reyn joked. “Here I was hoping to get away with something.” He’d known about the magick on the contract, but not the wards.

  “Now you know you can’t,” Winona said. She handed them each a piece of paper. “That’s your schedule. It starts as soon as you’re chosen, obviously. Your court’s being told the same thing. They’ll be asking for people’s support as well.” She gestured toward the sword of the king, which Reyn had brought with him. “On Yule, the courts, kings and queens will joins hands. The kings cross swords to strike the spark for the Yule log. At that point, all the pledges every member of the court has gotten flow to Annie and Reyn. You and your court,” she said to Annie and Reyn, “keep up the work of asking for protection until New Year’s Eve. That’s when the whole coven will help set the Outer Ward till midsummer.”

  Annie was daunted and it must have shown on her face.

  “It’s harder in midsummer, believe me,” Jim said. “People are on vacation.”

  “It’s also a pain if you’re not much one to talk to other humans,” Beryl said with a wry smile. “I’ve talked to more people in the last six months than I have in the last six years combined.”

  Winona patted her arm and turned to Annie. “Don’t worry. The winter market helps. And the parade. The coven progressive dinner on Christmas Eve is great too. So, anyway. The actual wards are keyed to locks here in this room,” Winona said, kneeling. Jim bent to help her lift a marquetry panel out of the center of the floor. Below the panel lay a huge, flat stone with two keyholes in its center. Below the metal fittings of the keyholes, Annie saw the gleam of water.

  “On Christmas, you’ll come here with Jim and Beryl and put the keys in the locks, transfer the power and the keys.”

  “Once that and New Year’s are done, you’re mostly off the hook,” Jim said. “You’ve got a couple of functions during the year, but other than that, it’s not like the intensity of Yule for you and the week of Midsummer for the next king and queen. And since we,” he indicated himself and Beryl, “will be helping out, you’re not in this alone.”

  “Okay,” Reyn said, as he helped Winona and Jim replace the marquetry panel.

  “Questions?” Winona asked as they rejoined the others. Annie was feeling dazed by the whirlwind nature of it all and couldn’t think of a single thing to ask. By the time she and her now-empty baked goods trays were back in Reyn’s truck, she was exhausted.

  “You know, I’m an extrovert,” she said when he pulled out of the lot. “But we’re supposed to talk to everyone in the county? That’s what, thirteen thousand people?”

  “Give or take,” he said. “It’s a lot. Even among the eight of us, you, me and the court, that’s still about two-hundred-thirty people a day, if we want to get everyone.”

  “Winona said the churches help. The pastors each get agreement from their congregants and they then give it to us.” Annie had been so glad to hear that.

  Reyn nodded. “That makes sense. They aren’t witches, but they want everyone’s safety so they agree. Okay, that knocks it down to about a hundred people per day then. I see why Winona said all the events help.”

  “The good news is,” Annie said, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes, “Haven Harbor and Haven County were founded by people who wanted to get along. The tradition here is welcome and inclusion.” She sighed, thinking how nice it was that she didn’t have to drive herself. Just that was enough to renew her optimism. “Seriously, I’ve always felt welcome, and I’m an outsider.”

  “Not really. Your grandparents are here, and your great-grandparents on your mom’s side, right?”

  Surprised, she looked at him. “Yes, but I didn’t grow up here.”

  “You’re family as far as the coven is concerned, and you spent nearly three years here in high school.” he said with a firm nod. “How long have you had your shop?”

  “Four years.”

  “So, that’s lucky seven, right? You’re as good as a native.”

  “Maybe,” she said, thinking about it.

  “The town knows its own,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “You’re right too, though. From pirates to gypsies to sailors and merchants from all over the world, because we’re a port city, we’ve welcomed people from all walks of life. What’s a little weirdness among friends, right?”

  They were at the stoplight, which was red. He lifted her hand from the seat and brought it to his m
outh, kissing it.

  “What was that for?” she said, feeling warm all over.

  He grinned. “For luck, my queen.” He pulled through the intersection. “Hey, there’s a space right out front of your shop. Great.” He pulled in and pointed at the empty platters. “Do you want to take those into the shop or upstairs? I can pull around back if you’d rather.”

  Flustered at the thought of him in her apartment, she blurted out, “In the shop is fine.”

  “May I come in with you?”

  “Oh, of course,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. He came around to her door and opened it, offering a hand to help her down. That zing of attraction was back, and she felt it in every pore of her body. To cover up the response, she tried for humor. “I could get used to this,” she quipped.

  “I hope you will,” he answered, watching her as she fished out the keys to the shop. She wasn’t sure what he meant. She wanted to quiz him about it. She wanted to know if he’d felt that rush of attraction.

  Annie wanted Reyn Shapleigh. The question was, did he want her too?

  A YULE TO REMEMBER

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Walking into The Classic Cauldron, Reyn felt the buzz of magick, and of his fire sense. It wasn’t an uh-oh! kind of ping, like he felt if there was a problem, but a recognition that fire was part of her business.

  She had a cooking demonstration area in the center of the shop with gas-fired cooking stations and copper pans hanging over the workspace. There were comfortable stools on the outer edge of the counter inviting shoppers to sit and watch a demo. Right now, that was the only place where lights shone. Anyone glancing into the darkened shop, he decided, would know this place was about cooking, comfort, and food.

  “This is my busy season,” she said, moving briskly toward the back room. He followed her, enjoying the sense of warmth and welcome pervading the still-shadowy space. It smelled great. Coffee, cinnamon and cloves were the spices he could identify, but there was a subtle, warm, toasty undertone too, which spoke of comfort and reassurance.

  No wonder people loved coming in here.

  Lights glowed throughout the shop as she flipped them on. He turned to survey the space. Off to one side was a book nook, with big chairs and side tables where a patron might sit down and peruse a cookbook with a cup of coffee. A section along that wall held big black coffee and tea urns with little slate labels detailing the brew of the day. A variety of coffees lined the shelves and provided a backdrop. Coffee and tea-making supplies filled surrounding tables, displays and racks.

  Across the room, there was a section devoted to cast iron cauldrons, cookware, three-legged-pots and items for the care of cast iron. On top of a table, elegantly beribboned for Yule, stood a huge stuffed reindeer with saddlebags loaded with presents. Great visual, he thought, grinning. In a corner, an enormous, brightly lit Christmas tree held all kinds of cooking-related ornaments. There were globe ornaments with Kiss the Cook, or You Cook, I’ll Drink Wine written in glittery script. Others featured miniature measuring cups, whisks and other utensils with holly, berries and ribbon, and miniature cups, bowls and mugs with the name of her shop on them.

  “Make yourself at home,” she said, going into the demo area. “Chelsea, Jesse and Micah will be here shortly, but I want to get the coffee started.”

  “Is Sunday a busy day?”

  “Oh, yes. Especially here at the holidays. No matter your faith, this is the time of year people cook. Big meals, lots of family home at the holidays. People bake more too. If someone spent Saturday baking and ran out of one of the specialty flours or flavorings we carry, or cookie decorating supplies, they’ll be here early to get what they need to finish.”

  “What’s that area over there?” he asked, pointing beyond the Christmas tree toward the rack upon rack holding cookie cutters.

  “Holiday central,” she said. “Everything you’ve ever needed or wanted to bake, cut, decorate and finish a cookie with, it’s there. We’re doing a gingerbread demo at four today if you’d like to come.”

  “I’d love to but I can’t. I’ve got to be at the station,” he said, and regretted it when her face fell.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.” She went behind the counter, pushing buttons and firing up a coffee grinder. When it stopped, she added, “You’re more than welcome to stop by afterwards. I’ll save you some gingerbread.”

  “Now that sounds good.” He moved to sit on one of the stools. “How do you manage all this?” he asked, gesturing to the store as a whole.

  “Oh, it’s fun.” She lit up, and looked so happy. “Helping people find things, trying new recipes, getting people together to enjoy food. It’s like Thanksgiving all year long. You know, no agendas, no squabbling about doctrine or politics or anything. Just good food and conversation.”

  He smiled at that thought. She shifted one of the big carafes to the side and filled another. It was restful to watch her. She seemed to take calm delight, even in the simple task.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “I have to go. C’mere.” He crooked his finger and she dried her hands on her apron and moved toward him. He didn’t know what it was about her, but the more he was with her, the more she intrigued him.

  “What?”

  He leaned over the counter and kissed her. She kissed him back. It took real willpower to stop. He realized he wanted to pull her into the back room and do wonderful wicked things with her, really soon.

  “Wow,” she said, hand to her chest when they broke apart. “What was that for?”

  “Consider it a down payment on gingerbread. Or a precursor to dinner. Are we still on for tonight? Where would you like to go?”

  “Oh, okay. Um…” She looked sexy and flustered. He wanted to kiss her again. “Oh, um, O’Malleys? Old Haven Harbor Inn?” She named two of the local hangouts.

  “What about Judges Chambers? It’s got great music tonight.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely.”

  “Good, I’ll make a reservation,” he said.

  “How about a coffee to go?” she asked, her hands gripped together.

  “That would be great.” She fixed it to his taste, and then handed him a Classic Cauldron travel cup. “Keep the cup,” she said, smiling. “My donation to the fire department.”

  “Deal,” he said, knowing he’d never leave it at the station. He’d take it home. She came around to let him out the door. In the street, he saw a truck pulling up to unload tables and tents onto the town Common. The winter market would start in two days, kicking off with the Yule Parade and other stuff Winona put on their schedules. He’d arranged most of the week off for the interview. Being made winter king, he realized, meant he would need the time. How the hell was he going to keep the interview quiet though?

  At the door, he touched her shoulder. She looked up, and he couldn’t resist, he kissed her again. “You have great lips, Annie Boylston. They’re kissable, no mistletoe needed.”

  She stared at him, like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had.

  “Thank you?” she said. She made it seem like he was doing her a favor when really, he was the one enjoying.

  “See you in a few hours.”

  The day was gloriously cold and blue-skied, so Reyn left his truck parked in front of Annie’s store and walked to the fire hall. He waved at various people as he saw them, even the tourists. Some looked startled, but waved back.

  He crossed the street and saw Stan, who hailed him.

  “Hey buddy. Sorry to abandon you when Reba came by.”

  “Yeah, you owe me for that,” Reyn complained. They walked on a bit. “Did I see you dancing with Calliope?”

  “Yeah, she needs a CPA,” Stan said. “That’s worth a dance. So, where you headed?” Before Reyn answered, Stan continued. “Wait, big surprise, you’re headed to the firehouse. You need a life, pal.” Stan slapped him on the back.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Starting with a Classic Cauldron coffee mug?”

&n
bsp; “Maybe,” Reyn agreed. They were passing along the strip of offices on Rowan Street. He was in front of the offices of Maritime New England when he felt it. The pinch of awareness, the ping that told him something fire-related was brewing. He stopped. “Hey, where’s Paul Rand this weekend?”

  “The Maritime New England guy? Probably home, why?”

  “You have his number?”

  Stan rolled his eyes. “Feeling the fire?”

  Reyn nodded. Stan, as a CPA, was one of the best-connected people in town. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his contacts, then rattled off the number. “What will you tell him?”

  “That I thought I saw something in his building. He’ll come down, I’ll go in and find whatever’s wrong, and no harm, no foul.”

  That was pretty much how it went. Reyn, Stan and Paul Rand stood in the office’s small kitchen when Reyn spotted the device.

  “Better call Jake,” he told the silent fisherman.

  “Why?” Rand was a man of few words.

  Reyn pointed. “Behind the toaster. There’s a device attached to the plug.” To Reyn, there was a smell of fire and destruction to it, and it drew him. Those with fire magick were as often arsonists as they were firemen. “Let’s step outside.”

  Police Chief Jake Strongbow arrived, as did Reyn’s team from the fire station.

  They all looked at him. “Well,” Jake said, “you’re the one with all the training. Over trained, actually, and the closest we have to a bomb specialist.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Always giving me grief because I like to learn cool, new stuff. It’s not a bomb.”

  “That’s good news.” Paul Rand sounded a little faint.

  “What is it then?” This from one of his firemen.

  “I think it’s a device meant to start a fire. No more, no less.”

  The men trooped in to have a look. “Weird thing, boss.”