She quickly unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, but in her haste to feel his delicious skin against hers, her pants got caught on her thick UGG boots. She tried to kick them free and kicked Daniel in the knee. He grunted, looked at her and smiled. “Anxious darling? Or blood thirsty after your fight?”
“Duh-uh. Both,” she sang. “Are you going to help me out here?” She lifted her boot with the jeans twisted on top of it.
“My pleasure.” He kissed the inside of her knees and calves as he peeled her boots and jeans free. Then, he stepped out of his boots and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He paused, as his eyes slid over her, his pupils dilated and his breathing heavy. “Now, that’s the best nutcracker I’ve ever seen.” His voice was deep and filled with sensual promise as he stared at her tiny, red panties with a nutcracker embroidered on the front. “I’ll never look at another one without thinking of this.”
His hands were back on her, on her silky panties, on the hem of her blouse. He slipped it over her head. His mouth was on her breasts, anxious, hungry. He suckled one nipple. then the other, as her legs parted in invitation.
He slipped on the condom he retrieved from his wallet and she wrapped her legs around his hips and grabbed his bottom. He reached around her and lifted her buttocks as he slipped inside of her, the cords in his neck straining as he began to move inside of her. “Daniel,” she whispered in his ear.
They moved faster, harder, sounds of pleasure building until she dug her fingers into his hips and held on. He pushed inside of her one more time and she cried out her pleasure as he did.
Spent, they lay on the carpeted floor, nestled in each other’s arms. Daniel kissed her on the cheek. “Darlin’ Aurora. I love you.”
She turned in the circle of his arms to face him. “Tell me again. I want to see it in your eyes when you say it.”
He eased up on his elbow and looked down at her. “Feel it in in the rhythm of my heart too.” He placed her hand on his chest. It was beating hard but steady. “Aurora, I love you, with a forever kind of love.”
Hot tears started to stream over her cheeks. “Daniel, I’ve always loved you. I always will.”
“You can’t fix what you don’t know needs fixing,” he murmured. “We’re fixed. And we are fixed real good.” He kissed her on top of her head. “Now let’s get dressed, deal with the local officials, go Christmas caroling, and then find a comfy bed.”
She didn’t move as a thought popped into her very happy brain. “Oh Daniel, I just figured it out.”
“Figured what out? That you want to spend the rest of your life with me? I’ve already figured that one out, darlin’.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose.
“That’s old news,” she teased. “I know why Big wanted me to keep walking Franklin, even though you offered to do it. He knew it would throw us together. There was no way that you could watch me struggling with that animal and not come to help me. I think he had a secret wish that we’d end up together.”
“Are you saying that the muscle-bulging giant who wears a kilt and tool belt is really a sentimental ole matchmaker?”
She laughed. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I’m thinking he needs to be best man at our wedding.” He kissed her tenderly and her heart melted like the spring snow. “And let’s have Franklin as our ring-bearer.”
The End
Meet the Author – Tina DeSalvo
Tina DeSalvo is a fresh, humorous voice in romance. She brings her love of the beautiful Rocky Mountains (where she visits so often that she considers it her second home) to her new Cloud Hill series (this novella is the first story of the series). She has also taken her knowledge and passion for the culture, traditions and people of Cajun Country (where she lives) and New Orleans (where she grew up) to her Second Chance Novel series-Elli, Jewell, Hunt for Christmas, Out-lanta and Abby.
A journalist who spent her long career in television and radio news, as well as one of the first female sports broadcasters in Louisiana, Tina acquired a lot of inspiration for her stories from the people she met along the way in their most triumphant and challenging times. A Breast Cancer Survivor since 2008, Tina donates her proceeds from Elli to help individuals with their unmet needs as they fight the disease. She loves to write, but she especially loves spending time with readers…sharing laughs, tears and hugs.
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One Mystical Moment
Laura Landon
Major Frank Collyard is determined to suffer in silence when he agrees to help his mentor, the Earl of Beckett, solve a problem over the Christmas holidays. After all, how can he join in when his heart still reels from the tragic loss of his wife and little children just eight Christmases prior? Yet somehow, in one mystical moment, Beckett’s niece draws him out of his dark place. And in her eyes he begins to see a future he could never have imagined. [The mysterious Uncle Drosselmeyer from the Christmas classic The Nutcracker inspired this novella.]
Prologue
Major Frank Collyard stared out the carriage window as they made their way through England’s winter wonderland. It was the Christmas Season and he was on his way to Cherrywood Manor.
He swiped his hand across his face. Bloody hell but he hated this time of year. He usually devoted the week before and after Christmas falling into a drunken stupor. It helped him forget.
“I believe we’re almost there,” the Earl of Beckett said from the seat opposite him. “I’ll be more than glad when we reach the end of these merciless icy roads.”
“The roads do appear to have become worse,” Frank said in a half-hearted voice that didn’t show an over-abundance of interest.
“I know Cherrywood Estate is quite out of the way. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to accompany me, Major,” Beckett said, bracing his arms on the sides of the carriage when it hit another deep rut. “Lady Dunstan is my sister and I must admit she’s always been special to me. When she wrote that she thought her husband was in danger, I knew I had to do something to help.”
“Did she say why?” At last here was something in which Frank could take interest.
“Not with any certainty,” Lord Beckett said. “But my guess is that it has something to do with a controversial bill that will come up when the House resumes after the holidays.”
Frank raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What bill is that?”
“It’s a measure that will restrict the long hours miners are forced to work below ground. As you well know, coal is a staple of our society, but it’s bloody difficult to regulate the miners’ working conditions and pay.” Beckett made a derisive huff. “The most influential mine owners are members of the House of Lords and they keep too tight a tight fist on their profits to spare a ha’penny for creature comforts to the working class.”
Frank looked out onto the snow-covered meadows. “Why me?” he asked his father’s long-time friend. “Why did you ask me to see to this? I know little about mining. And you well know that I don’t travel over Christmas, Beckett.”
“Then maybe it’s time you altered your self-imposed imprisonment and joined the rest of the world for the holidays.”
“Did my father put you up to this?”
“Heavens no,” he said on a laugh. “He learned a long time ago not to interfere in your self-flagellation. He knows as well as I do that nothing anyone says will convince you that you were not to blame for what happened.”
“Then who is, my lord?”
“Perhaps, no one. Perhaps—”
“Yes, I’ve heard it all before. We aren’t to question the tragedies in life, just accept them and know they happened for reasons only God knows.”
There was a bitterness in Frank’s voice and in his words tha
t he couldn’t hide. That he didn’t want to hide. The anger he felt was still too raw.
“Perhaps, Major,” Beckett said softly, “you can force yourself to pretend to enjoy the holiday festivities, and not ruin Christmas for my family.”
Frank didn’t answer Lord Beckett, but kept his eyes focused on the blinding brightness that surrounded them. Every inch of him wished he would have refused Lord Beckett’s request for help. But how could he? If not for the Earl of Beckett, Frank wouldn’t be here today. He wouldn’t have been able to survive.
Not after the tragic fire that killed his wife and children.
Chapter One
Tillie put the last of the greenery around the edges of the mantel, then arranged the nativity pieces where they belonged. She checked a second time to be certain she had the wise men coming from the east—as was correct—instead of the west, as she had mistakenly placed them one year. She could still hear her brother’s howling laughter when he pointed out her error.
All was perfect. Tillie hurried to the window to check if Uncle Beckett had arrived. When she saw the yard was empty, she went to the kitchen to inform Cook that the family would gather at five of the clock. They would want tea and pastries served then. Hopefully, the Earl of Beckett and his guest would arrive by then.
Next, she rushed to the large drawing room—the one they all called the green salon. A twelve-foot Christmas tree majestically reached toward the high ceilings in the cheery room. It was the largest tree Tillie could remember having, and it had barely fit through the double doors that led into the room from the terrace. It stood in all its glory in the Cherrywood drawing room as if it had grown in that particular spot. Tillie could picture how magnificent it would be when it was decorated. But that wouldn’t happen until Christmas Eve, tomorrow night, as was tradition in Lord Dunstan’s household.
Everyone would take turns placing ornaments on the tree, then they would string colorful ribbons and lace around the branches. When the tree was draped with miles of vibrant colors, the candles would be set into their holders secured on alternating branches throughout the tree. Warm cider would be served. Then Tillie’s sister, Alice, Lady Halstead, would accompany them on the clavichord while they sang Christmas carols.
But the most breathtaking moment wouldn’t happen until they’d sung Silent Night, lighted the tree candles, and opened gifts that had magically appeared, carried to the tree by gift-laden servants when everyone’s back was turned.
When the gifts were opened, they would relax with their warm cider while Tillie’s grandfather, the Earl of Dennison read the Christmas account from the family Bible.
Tillie felt a tingle of excitement. She began looking forward to Christmas each year the moment the weather cooled, but unfortunately, the holiday season always came and went far too quickly.
This year held a special air of anticipation for Tillie. Her uncle, the Earl of Beckett, had informed them that he was bringing a guest. A man of his acquaintance who would spend the next several weeks at Cherrywood Manor.
The gentleman was a major in Her Majesty’s army, and had fought in the war in the Crimea. Surely there would be exciting tales of heroic rescues and hard-won battles to be shared with her father and grandfather.
For several weeks she’d had the feeling that something troubled her father. That he was concerned about something of which he was unwilling to speak. Maybe having her uncle here—someone with whom he could reminisce—would shift Father’s mind from what was troubling him.
Tillie turned when the door opened and her brother entered.
“I knew I’d find you here,” George said, coming to stand beside her. “I doubt there’s anyone in England who looks forward to Christmas as eagerly as you do.”
“Except perhaps for you?” Tillie teased her brother. “I swear you had to hire a small wagon to bring all the presents you purchased in London.”
“That’s because our sister keeps increasing our family. It’s not enough to have a babe every other year, but now she’s resorted to presenting her husband with them two at a time.”
“And you have made it your goal to spoil the twins unmercifully,” Tillie said with a laugh.
“You have to admit that they are entertaining.”
Tillie walked to one of the clusters of sofas and chairs flanking the tree and beckoned George to join her on the sofa.
“What do you think of this mystery man Uncle is bringing with him?” George asked.
Tillie tried to imagine the man. “If he’s an acquaintance of Uncle’s, I suspect he’s about the same age. Definitely not young if he’s a major.”
“I overheard Mother tell Grandmother that Uncle was bringing him because he had no place to go for Christmas. He’s a widower and has no family left.”
“No children?”
“Evidently not.”
“Then I’m glad Uncle’s bringing him. Being around all of us at Christmas should lift his spirits.”
George leaned back in the sofa and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Have you noticed anything different with Father lately?”
“Yes,” Tillie answered on a sigh. “I thought perhaps it was just me.”
“No. Something’s definitely amiss.” George turned his gaze to Tillie. “Do you think I should say something to him? It’s not as if I’m a lad fresh out of the schoolroom. I’m six and twenty. Perhaps if I ask, he’ll confide in me and I can do something to help.”
“Oh yes,” Tillie answered. “I think that’s a good idea. But don’t say anything to him until after Christmas. If it’s something serious, I doubt he’ll tell you what it is for fear he’ll ruin your Christmas.”
Her brother nodded that he agreed with her, then he rose to his feet. “I think I shall go to the kitchen to make sure Cook has prepared enough pastries for tea. We wouldn’t want to run short with guests.”
Tillie couldn’t stop the laughter from escaping. “When have we ever run short of pastries for tea? Especially during the holidays. You can’t fool me, George. You only want to see how many you can steal when you think Cook’s not looking.”
Her brother gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles and headed for the door.
Tillie was alone in the room, breathing in the scent of holly and pine. The small crimped tins she’d fixed on the tree to guard the candle flames already danced as they reflected the candles placed about the room. The scene was set, and its perfection made her smile as she focused on the tree and imagined what it would look like when it was fully decorated. Her smile widened. She was certain this would be the best Christmas ever.
The carriage slowed and Frank looked out the window. They’d arrived at Lord Dennison’s family estate. With every mile they traveled, Frank wished he’d refused the Earl of Beckett’s request, but the idea that someone was threatening a member of the House because of an upcoming vote was too much of a temptation. Now all he could hope was that Lord Dennison’s family didn’t celebrate the holiday overly much. Although he doubted he’d be so fortunate. Hell, even the name of the estate sounded cheerful.
Cherrywood Estate.
Before they even arrived, Frank knew the following weeks were going to seem impossibly long.
When the carriage stopped, a liveried footman opened the door and lowered the step. Frank followed Lord Beckett to the ground and took in his surroundings. His heart sank. A large wreath decorated with huge pinecones and holly berries hung from the door. Tied at the top of the wreath was a red velvet bow that draped halfway down the door. A rock fell to the pit of Frank’s stomach.
“Merry Christmas, Uncle,” a man who looked to be three or four years younger than Frank joyfully greeted them. “You’re just in time for tea.” He turned to Frank. “And you must be our guest.”
Lord Beckett stepped aside. “George, allow me to present Major Franklin Collyard. He has agreed to spend the holidays with us. Major, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Mr. George Rowley.”
“It’s a pleasure,” George said
with a smile that Frank found counter to the feelings he fought.
“Likewise,” Frank answered.
“Come out of the cold,” George Rowley said stepping inside the house. “The family is gathered in the green salon.”
Frank stepped inside the foyer that closed in around him. The railings on the double winding staircase were adorned with pine greenery. Massive red velvet bows hung at equal intervals up each staircase as well as across the second floor balcony. Their tales drifted lazily, buffeted by drafts caused by opening doors and bustling folk.
Someone must have thought the massive fireplace at the apex of the foyer was the perfect place to crowd more pine boughs and red bows and candles and holly berries. They squeezed against each other until Frank doubted it was possible to crush one more red berry in among the others.
Greenery draped each doorway along with sprigs of mistletoe and ivy.
It all taunted him in merciless, inexplicable ways.
Frank thought he might be ill. He wasn’t sure he could stay here one night let alone weeks on end. But what choice did he have? He’d promised Lord Beckett he’d protect his brother-in-law, and he couldn’t go back on his word. He owed Beckett more than he could ever repay. This was the least he could do for him.
Frank realized Beckett and his nephew had gone ahead. He followed them across the foyer and down a hallway. Frank was aware of their destination before he reached the open doorway. Laughter and the buzz of joyous conversation rose to a pitch loud enough that Frank’s stomach roiled. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee. Somehow he forced his legs to carry him forward.
“Uncle!” a chorus of excited voices chimed in unison. “You’re here!”
The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales Page 49