by Lauren Royal
He winked at Amy, but she only smiled faintly at his humor. She moved to the windows and gazed down into Hidden Court. The plants were mostly dead from the cold and last month’s brief snow, but it would be lovely come spring. And the little library was perfect; she could already imagine herself curled up before the fire with a stack of books by her side.
“Do you like it?” From behind her, Colin’s voice sounded warm and pleased, as though he knew her answer. It flowed over and around her, making her body hum with contentment.
She turned to face him. “It’s the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever given me. Well, maybe except for my ring.”
“We’ll furnish it however you like. Benchley cleaned it for me. I don’t know about the books—they probably haven’t been disturbed in decades.”
She wandered to the bookcases and ran a finger down the dark green leather spine of one volume. Her fingertip came away smudged, leaving the green stripe noticeably brighter than the rest of the cover. But it didn’t matter; cleaning and organizing the books would be a joyful endeavor.
She’d felt rather useless as a countess these past six weeks.
“It’s amazing,” she said, looking back to Colin. Winter sun streamed through the windows and seemed to create a halo around him, swimming with brilliant dust motes from the recently swept room.
His lips curved in a wry smile, and he gave an elegant shrug. “I had nothing else to give you for Christmas.”
Amy’s heart plunged. “Oh, Colin, I have nothing for you. And this—this”—she gestured helplessly—“it’s so much.”
Colin moved to enclose her in his warm, strong arms. His face mere inches away, she lost herself in his emerald gaze. “I need no gift from you, love,” he said, his voice low and slightly rough. “You’re my Christmas present. You’re all I want and more than I deserve. Besides, how could you get me anything? I haven’t left you alone for a heartbeat.”
He grinned, and it had a devastating effect on Amy’s insides. Suddenly, she realized she did have a gift for him. She smiled to herself. An idea flickered in her brain. A clever Christmas prank.
She’d need Kendra’s help…
He kissed her then, and her fledgling plans drifted away, replaced, as always, by the overwhelming feelings Colin engendered with his slightest touch.
His touch now was by no means slight. They made love on the couch—“christening” the room, as Colin put it, though Amy protested this was quite unlike any christening she’d ever attended. Evidently they disturbed years of accumulated dust in the process, because afterward, Colin ran a fingertip down the bridge of her nose, just as she’d done to the book.
Laughing, he called for a bath, and they moved downstairs to wash each other in their enormous tub. Benchley had the horses hitched and had been waiting a good half-hour by the time they emerged and climbed into the carriage to make their way to Cainewood.
The road was hard and dry today, and their carriage barreled toward Cainewood in record time. Besides clothing for a short stay, their trunks had small packages tucked inside—Christmas gifts of jewelry they’d chosen the night before. Amy’s heart galloped with excitement at the thought of everyone’s pleasure in their gifts, especially the surprise she was planning for Colin.
Before she knew it they were in the village, knocking on the door to Clarice Bradford’s whitewashed cottage. Little Mary came to answer, Clarice at her heels. The child looked well fed and pink cheeked, and with a whoop of joy she threw herself into Amy’s arms.
“Oh, my lady—I mean, Amy! I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again!”
Amy knelt to return the embrace, then pulled back. The girl’s big blue eyes sparkled with happiness, and not just at seeing her old friend. She was content here with Clarice—the two had needed each other.
Just as Amy and Colin had been meant to be together.
“I am a lady now, Mary. Can you believe it? I’ve married Lord Cainewood’s brother. Do you remember him?” She rose and put her arm around Colin’s waist.
“’Course I ‘member him.” Mary tilted her head back to look up at him. “You saved me so I could be Mama’s little girl.”
Amy had to jump to the side when the child launched herself at him, leaping high, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “Oh, my lord, thank you!”
“I cannot find the words to tell you how grateful I am.” Clarice bowed her head and bobbed a curtsy. She reached for her daughter, but Colin shifted Mary to his hip, supporting her with one arm while he gave Clarice’s hand a quick squeeze.
“It was my pleasure.” He smiled at Mary and brushed blond ringlets from her face. “I’m delighted to see Mary so happy.”
“No more delighted than I am to have her.” Clarice reached again, and this time Colin handed Mary over. “Thank you, my lord.” She cradled her daughter tight, tears brightening her gray eyes.
“I brought you something, Mary.” Amy held out a tiny package wrapped in bright cloth and tied with a pink ribbon. “For Christmas.”
“For me?” Mary’s mouth dropped open in a little O. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Clarice set her down, and she fumbled with the ribbon until Colin took it and untied it for her. The cloth fell open in his hand, and Mary gasped.
“Is it really for me?” Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the sterling silver locket and brought it to her lips. “Oh, my lady, thank you!”
Amy had strung it on a narrow black ribbon. Clarice eased Mary’s hand from her mouth and turned her to tie it around her neck. “A heart.” She smiled at Amy. “Mary loves hearts. And it’s engraved so prettily. It’s lovely, my lady.”
“I made it a long time ago.” Amy took the pink ribbon from Colin and tied it in Mary’s curls. “When I was yet a girl in London.”
“I have something to give you, too.” Mary dashed into the cottage.
Clarice spread her hands in question, but Mary was back in a moment, holding forth a scrap of paper. “For you,” she said, handing it to Amy.
Tears pricked the back of Amy’s lids as she gazed at the picture Mary had drawn. The cottage. A smiling sun. And two stick figures with a crooked heart between them. “Surely your mama would like to keep this.”
“You keep it,” Clarice said simply.
Amy bent to gave Mary a heartfelt hug. “I’ll treasure it always.”
Thank you, Clarice mouthed with a smile. “Will you come in and share some Christmas cake?”
“I could use some sustenance,” Colin declared, and they all laughed.
SIXTY-SIX
BACK IN THEIR carriage on the way to the castle, Amy leaned across to take Colin’s hands. “Wasn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes, it was delicious. I was famished.”
“You and your stomach.” Giggling, she tried to pull her hands back, but he held them tight. “I meant Mary, and how happy she is.”
“Oh,” he said with an innocent grin. He squeezed her fingers and arched one dark brow. “I’m hoping we’ll have a little girl just like Mary someday.”
She looked pointedly as his dark head, then freed one of her hands to lift a hank of her own ebony hair. “I think not, no matter how hard we tried.”
Colin laughed. “I didn’t mean blond; I meant sweet. Surely we can make a sweet daughter? We’ll have to work on it more often.”
“Haven’t we been?” Amy mused with a secretive smile.
As they pulled through the gatehouse and onto Cainewood’s private road, he grumbled under his breath, “So much for working on it.”
“Pardon me?”
He reached to take Amy’s hand and pull her onto his lap. “Our days of solitude are over—not to mention our nights.”
Amy laughed. “It’s not so bad as all that! Surely we’ll have time alone together. And the family…”
Amy was very much looking forward to spending time with her new family.
“The family. The loud, boisterous,
meddlesome, teasing…” He swept the hair off the nape of her neck and bent his head to kiss her there with each word. “Argumentative, childish, outspoken, pigheaded—”
Amy turned on his lap. She touched her mouth to his, just barely, so he could feel her lips move. “Affectionate, generous, enthusiastic.” She kissed him lightly. “Playful, thoughtful, alive.” Another kiss, more forceful. “Intelligent, lovable—”
Colin pulled back in mock surprise. “Good heavens, are we as wonderful as all that?”
“Well, they are. I’m not so sure about you.” The carriage wheels clattered over the drawbridge, and Amy leaned back to part the curtains as they passed through the barbican and into the quadrangle. “Oh, Colin, look.”
All around the quadrangle, garlands of ivy graced the ancient walls. A large red bow hung over each door and window, the swagged ends wound with holly and laurel.
“It’s beautiful!”
“Wait till you see inside,” Colin promised drolly. “Kendra quite outdoes herself this time of year.” But he was smiling, clearly caught up in the Christmas spirit despite himself.
Indoors, the monotone, cream-hued stone hall was asplash with red and green. Winter foliage and red ribbon twisted around the gray handrail, marching up the stairs and across the balcony at the top. Hundreds of beeswax candles sat at intervals, waiting to be lit when darkness fell. Cloth of gold swagged lavishly between the columns, held in place with enormous red bows.
Amy paused on the threshold, aghast at the splendor, and Colin seized the opportunity to kiss her, reaching overhead to pull a berry off the mistletoe afterward.
“Ah, our bride and groom,” Kendra called, coming down the stairs. “Thank heavens you’ve arrived. Our mistletoe’s been sadly neglected this season.”
“We can remedy that situation.” Colin gave Amy another light kiss and removed another berry.
Moments later, the brothers appeared. They both had resounding kisses for Amy, and the mistletoe was relieved of two more berries. Then Kendra claimed a kiss from Colin, albeit a mite more sisterly, and another berry was plucked.
“That’s more like it.” Kendra grinned, looking up. “At this rate, it’ll be bare before evening!”
SIXTY-SEVEN
“HEY, DOWN here!”
Amy looked down from the wall walk to see Kendra waving frantically and Jason and Ford toting a large saw between them. Colin laughed at the question in her eyes. “Come, love, we’re going to cut the Yule Log,” he said as he beckoned her to follow him down.
Spirits high, the five of them trudged outside the castle walls and into the bordering forest. Much good-natured arguing followed, as each claimed to have discovered the largest tree trunk. Teasing laughter pealed through the fragrant woods until Jason, as usual the peacemaker, swept off his cloak and shivered stoically while they used it as a crude measuring device.
Amy’s tree was the winner. Her cheeks bright with the flush of victory, she watched the Chase brothers struggle manfully to cut it down. At last it fell, with a resounding crash and a great cheer from all. They cut a long chunk from the thickest part, which Amy eyed incredulously, considering they’d brought no cart or horse.
“How will we get it back to Cainewood?” she asked Jason.
“We’ll manage.” Beneath their cloaks, Jason and Ford both had lengths of rope coiled about their waists, which they unwound and tied around the colossal log, creating six long looped handles to pull it by. “Can you and Kendra handle the saw?”
“Of course, but must the log be so big?”
“Tradition says it will be a good year if we can keep it smoldering through Twelfth Night.” Ford made a small grunt as he tugged a knot tight. “The bigger, the better.”
“But that couldn’t possibly fit in the fireplace.”
Colin’s laughter rang through the trees. “Don’t be such a worrywart, love. We’ve done this a time or two.”
“Hmmph.” Tilting her nose in the air, she moved to help Kendra with the heavy saw. “You’re the one who has to carry it, not me.”
Kendra hurried Amy ahead while the boys struggled behind. “Everything is all set,” she whispered. “When it’s time, a maid will come to your room and escort you to a chamber downstairs, where several footmen will be on hand to help.”
“I cannot wait,” Amy said with a conspiratorial smile. “Thank you so much.”
“I cannot wait, either!”
Despite the frosty air, the boys were covered with a thin sheen of sweat by the time they managed to haul the log to the front door. They needed the help of three additional men to lift it over the threshold and carry it into the great hall.
“Careful, the floor!” Kendra warned. “It’s just been polished.”
In fact, the servants were not quite finished: at the far end they were still spreading the milk that would dry to a high sheen. Amy gawked at the buzz of activity. From the planked floor to the intricate oak hammerbeam ceiling, the immense great hall swarmed with people. Paintings were dusted, tapestries cleaned and rehung on the stone walls. Servants chattered excitedly as they brought in heavy, ancient trestle tables and set them with row after row of trenchers and cutlery.
“What’s happening?” Amy asked, one eye on the men struggling to get the log into the enormous fireplace.
Kendra crossed her arms and tapped a foot disapprovingly. “Didn’t Colin tell you about Christmas at Cainewood?”
Amy shook her head. “Is there to be an entertainment tonight?”
“Tomorrow. All the castle retainers, tenants, and villagers will come for Christmas dinner, complete with gifts for everyone.” Kendra waved a hand expansively. “Isn’t it glorious? I love Christmas!”
Amy laughed. “I love Christmas, too. I was too young to remember it before the Commonwealth.”
“As was I. That wretched Cromwell…” Kendra wiped her tongue and spit. “That I should even say such an evil name. Eleven years with no Christmas—look, Amy, it fits!” She clapped her hands.
The log snugged in the fireplace with room to spare. The brothers were remarkably well behaved, throwing nothing more than a few gloating glances in Amy’s direction.
“You told me so!” she said for them with a giggle, and their answering laughter echoed in the cavernous hall.
“Food.” Colin wiped his palms on his breeches. “After all that work, a man needs food.”
“Christmas Eve supper awaits,” Kendra announced.
In contrast to the great hall, the private family dining room seemed small and intimate, the air suffused with savory scents that made Amy’s mouth water. Colin loaded her plate with clove-studded turkey, Yorkshire Christmas pie, artichoke bottoms and potatoes in pastry, spinach tart, and one of the new French rolls. Kendra started with a slice of almond cheesecake, a wedge of pumpkin pie, and an apple taffety tart.
“Kendra, Kendra.” Jason heaved a good-natured sigh. “Pumpkin pie when there’s Yorkshire pie on the table?” He spooned up a bite, the hearty crust filled with a mixture of turkey, goose, partridge, pigeon, hare, and woodcock, all swimming in butter. “When will you grow up?”
“Buttered ale?” Kendra said sweetly, ignoring him as she poured a dipperful from the huge, ivy-garlanded wassail bowl that dominated the table. She floated a square of brown toast on top and handed the cup to Amy.
“Thank you.” Amy sniffed deep of the hot ale, mulled with beaten eggs, sugar, spices and the pulp of roasted apples. When she took a sip, it warmed her to her very bones. “It’s so lovely here,” she said, thinking of Christmases past in the single room her family had used for cooking, eating, and socializing. “A different world. Look at the firelight dancing on the beveled windows.”
“It doesn’t hold a candle to the sparkle in your eyes.” Everyone groaned as Colin took a big gulp of buttered ale. “Or the blush on your cheeks,” he added with a laugh.
Ford lobbed a bit of toast at him.
When everyone had crammed in the last possible bite, they all walked to th
e great hall with many competing moans of regretted gluttony. There they lit the Yule Log and sang the traditional Christmas carols, with Kendra accompanying on the harpsichord, which had been moved into the hall for the occasion.
The five of them were dwarfed by the enormous chamber, but warm and merry, clustered at one end with the fire burning cheerfully. When they ran out of songs, they opened their gifts.
Jason’s serious face split into a smile when he saw his pearl cravat pin, and he put it on immediately. Kendra slipped the emerald ring on her finger and declared it her favorite piece of jewelry. Ford disappeared upstairs after opening his gift, returning with his new jeweled hatband adorning a fashionable wide-brimmed hat, which he wore the rest of the evening.
Amy couldn’t have been more pleased.
Kendra’s gift to Amy was a large selection of shoes, stockings, ribbons, and nightgowns in an assortment of colors—the latter made of a sumptuous, filmy material that whispered over Amy’s skin.
Jason had wrapped up the history books Amy had left piled on the mosaic table in his library, and she clutched them to her chest in delight.
Looking pleased with himself, Ford presented her with a selection of hard-milled scented soaps, floral bath oils, and French perfumes that had Colin wondering aloud at why such a gift would come from his little brother—until Amy playfully punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, in laughter, not pain, and Amy couldn’t remember when she’d had as much fun.
After everyone’s gifts had been opened—a long proceeding, as each individual present was passed around and properly admired—Jason called for the plum porridge.
Amy groaned. “I cannot eat another bite.”
“Oh, but you must have a serving.” Kendra scooped a healthy dollop and plopped it in Amy’s bowl. “Hidden within it are tokens that foretell of the year to come.”
Colin’s bowl held the first prize, a silver penny, predicting a fortune in the offing. “I’ve fortune enough for a lifetime already,” he declared in a chivalrous tone, his gaze fastened on Amy.
This earned him another chorus of groans and several balled-up wrappings aimed at his head—from everyone but Amy, who found herself entranced by the heat of Colin’s expression. The room suddenly felt overwarm.