He found his mother and Oliver in the library.
The boy ran over and immediately jumped into John’s arms. “Is Sissy very sick?”
“Not very sick.” John gave him a squeeze.
“Sick like Papa?” Oliver did not cry, but John could see that tears were brimming just below the surface.
John looked over at his mother.
“All the yelling woke him. The nanny didn’t know what to do, so I told her to leave him here. She’s gone to get something for him to eat.” The countess twisted a handkerchief in her hands.
“It’s all right, Mother.” He sat down on the settee and settled Oliver in his lap. “Your sister is hurt, not sick as your father was, Oliver. Do you understand?”
The child nodded. His eyes were wide pools of blue looking up at John.
“Good. You are very brave. We will just wait for the doctor to come and talk to us.”
Oliver touched John’s cheek. “Don’t worry, my lord. Sissy promised to never leave me. She never breaks a promise.”
John took the little hand in his and kissed it. “There you have it, then, she will be fine in no time.”
John wished he felt as sure as he sounded.
The butler cleared his throat from the doorway.
“What is it, Dorsey?” John asked.
“My lord, may I have a word with you?” The butler looked pointedly at Oliver and then back up at John.
John ducked his head. “Oliver, will you keep the countess company while she waits. I must go and speak with Dorsey.”
Oliver dipped his chin, hopped down and rushed over to sit on the footstool in front of Margaret.
John rose, walked to the door and preceded Dorsey into the foyer. Once the door was closed, John turned back to the butler. “What is it?”
“I regret to inform you, my lord, that Trent was injured during the tussle in the garden. Besides having been blinded in one eye, which we presume her ladyship did, he hit his head rather soundly on the fountain and has not woken as yet.”
A part of John knew that he had to do something, but mostly he didn’t give a damn about Drake Trent. If he died, then good riddance; if Trent lived, John considered killing him.
“Where is he now?”
Dorsey looked a bit sheepish. “We have returned him across the street, my lord. No one could stomach the idea of putting him in one of the guest rooms after what he did to her ladyship. I hope I haven’t overstepped my boundaries, sir.”
The butler probably had, but John couldn’t fault him. “You were quite right to keep him out of my home, Dorsey. When the doctor finishes with her ladyship, I will send him across the street.”
The butler puffed up a bit. “Very good, my lord.”
Footfalls on the stairs drew John’s attention. The doctor descended, wiping his brow with a very white cloth.
“How is she?” John demanded.
“She will live, my lord. Your wife is very strong. She will likely be unable to speak for a few days, and I recommend you keep her quiet for at least a week. Her throat was badly bruised and needs to heal. Give her paper and quill if she needs to communicate, but don’t let her talk. The rest of her injuries are minor and your staff did a fine job warming her.”
John let out the breath he’d been holding. He thought he heard Dorsey do the same, but didn’t spare a glance for the butler. “Thank you, doctor.”
The doctor looked John up and down and particularly at his hands. “If I may ask, my lord, how did her ladyship’s injuries occur?”
He ignored the implication. Of course the physician thought he had done the deed. What else would he think? John could hear Dorsey bristle behind him. “You will find the cause of my wife’s injuries across the street. I would appreciate it if you would see to Drake Trent, and if you wouldn’t mind, report back to us as to his state before you find your bed for the night.”
“Of course, my lord.”
A footman appeared with the doctor’s hat and coat.
John didn’t wait to see him out. He returned to the library. Both his mother’s and Oliver’s heads turned as he entered. “She will be fine.”
“Oh John, thank God.”
Oliver ran across and jumped into John’s arms, hugging him around the neck.
“You will have to be quiet around your sister for a few days, Oliver. Do you think you can do that?” John’s voice was just slightly stern.
“I can, my lord. I will be very quiet. May I see Sissy now?”
“I think we will let her sleep for now. You may see her first thing in the morning.”
His eyes grew to big, blue saucers. “Before breaking my fast?”
“If you wish, Oliver.” John laughed.
Margaret crossed the room. “Come, Oliver. Let us go and find Nanny. We need to get you to bed so you are rested when you see Emma.”
John put the boy on his feet. Oliver took Margaret’s hand and she touched John’s cheek. She and Oliver left in the direction of the kitchen.
John took the stairs two at a time to get to Emma.
Her Aunt Fiona sat in a chair that had been pulled to the bedside, while her maid, Jane, fussed with the covers and pillows.
They both turned as he entered the room.
Fiona’s eyes were red and dark rings marred the skin below them. She did not rise from her chair. “You spoke to Doctor Bowman?”
“Yes. He told me that Emma will be fine.”
She nodded. “I don’t mind telling you that I was afraid for her life. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so scared before.”
“Nor I,” he admitted.
“That will be all, Jane,” Fiona said. “Go and get some sleep. Your lady will need you rested when she wakes in the morning.”
The maid looked as if she were going to protest, but thought better of it and made a quick curtsy before leaving the room.
“Did Drake survive?” Fiona asked.
Emma had described her aunt as a very sweet, rather eccentric old woman who cared for her cats more than people. When he had first met her, just before the wedding, he was inclined to think Emma had captured Fiona to a T. The past few hours had shown that her aging aunt was more than she seemed.
“It does not look good for him.”
Fiona huffed. “Well that serves him right, terrorizing my girl and that sweet boy. I tried to gain custody of the boy, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.” John went and sat on the edge of the bed across from Fiona.
She nodded. “The courts wouldn’t give me custody of Oliver, because I’m not a blood relation, you see. I’m the sister of Emma’s mother. I wanted them both to come to me in Plymouth, but Drake wouldn’t hear of letting that boy out of his sight and Emma would never leave Oliver behind. Rightfully so. Drake would have done the boy harm. I guess he proved that tonight.”
“Indeed,” John said. “I hope you will stay with us a while, madam. I should hope at least until Emma is fully recovered.”
Fiona frowned deeply. “I will have to send a note to my housekeeper, and the cats will be very put out.” She looked over at Emma’s bruised, swollen face. “But I cannot leave her like this.”
He nodded. “You had better take your own advice then and go and get some rest so that you are able to help Emma in the morning. I will stay with her tonight.”
She stood, but then hesitated. “You will ring if you need anything?”
“I will call you if there is a need.”
Fiona left the room and closed the door behind her.
John pulled off his shoes and climbed into the bed. He pulled her gently against him and lightly kissed her battered cheek. “I’m so sorry, my love. I should have been more careful. This is my fault. Why did I assume all would be well once we were married?
Emma moaned and rolled toward his voice, opening the one eye that was not swollen.
“Don’t try to move, darling. You are safe.” Joy burst in his chest at the sight of her coming awake.
“What
happened?” It came out as more of a croak.
“You are not to speak for at all for a few days. I will tell you when you are better,” he said.
She tried to shake her head and winced. “Now.”
He was sure that it was meant to be a demand, but she had only managed a whisper.
John smiled. He couldn’t help it. His happiness that, after nearly losing her, she would be fine, shone on his face. He imagined he wore an idiotic grin. “I still had the Bow Street runner watching your uncle. Unfortunately, the man lost him for a time. He finally tracked him down in the garden with you with only seconds to spare. He called out an alarm, waking the household. After that, Trent went wild, and in the mayhem that followed, he was badly injured.”
“Alive?”
“Stop talking. I will give you paper and quill in the morning, but you mustn’t speak.” He continued, “As for Drake, it does not look good.”
She closed her eyes.
“Go to sleep, Emma. We’ll know more in the morning.”
She barely nodded.
John wrapped her bruised body in his arms. With the pillows high beneath his head, he could see her face as she relaxed and sleep took her. It was not the fitful sleep that haunted her nights with regularity. This sleep was peaceful and comfortable.
He did not close his eyes. Nearly losing Emma had been the most terrifying moment of his life. His stomach clenched hours later at the memory of her lying unconscious on the garden path.
He pulled her tighter, and she snuggled her bottom against him. He kissed her neck where it was bruised and raw. “We shall be safe and happy now, my love.”
“I love you,” Emma whispered. The words, soft as they were, split the air.
His chest expanded and he could not draw breath. She loved him. Was it possible? Even after the horrible events of the night, hearing her say those words, his body and mind were numb.
John Scarborough, the Earl of Compton, thought he might have died and gone to heaven. A week before, he could not stand to wake up in the morning and now his life was so full that he could not wait for the night to pass so that he could get on with living.
He didn’t think he would sleep after the events of the day, but he felt as if he’d just closed his eyes when the door burst open and Oliver came barreling in. The much-frazzled maid who had become his nanny ran in after the boy. John was supremely grateful at that moment that he had not gotten undressed the night before and was still in trousers and blouse. He was also on top of the covers while Emma was beneath them. He thought that would make it easier for him to get her anything she might need during the night.
However, they had both slept through to morning.
“Sissy?” Oliver stopped as soon as he saw his sister’s swollen, discolored face and neck.
John got up, rounded the bed and lifted Oliver into his arms. “It’s all right, Oliver. She’s a bit banged up, but she’ll do.”
Emma struggled to sit up and the nanny rushed over to prop pillows behind her head and back.
Oliver looked terrified, as if he might cry. Emma also looked near tears. The nanny helped her drink some water and John noted her wince as it went down.
John sat on the bed with the boy. “Oliver, can you stay here with Emma for a little while and keep an eye on her? I have to attend to some business and I need your help. You mustn’t make her speak, but you can tell her all about your late night in the library if you wish.”
The unshed tears were all but gone and Oliver nodded. “I will help, my lord.”
“Good man.” He put the child down on the bed next to Emma and kissed her forehead.
“I woke up last night, Sissy, and there was a lot of noise. I was very brave—”
John smiled as he watched his family in the early morning light.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“Happy anniversary, my love.” Accompanying the warm voice of her husband was a silly giggle and a heartfelt and probably hungry gurgle.
Emma felt her smile pushing at her lips before she could get her eyes open. When she finally forced her lids apart, three happy faces swooped in for kisses. Oliver slobbered on her left cheek, John kissed her forehead and two-month-old Daniella did her best with a good slop of drool on her right cheek.
Emma laughed. “Good morning.”
John handed her a handkerchief. “Good morning, Countess.”
“Sissy, you’re missing Christmas,” Oliver scolded. He was on his feet and standing next to the bed with his little arms crossed over his chest.
“Am I?”
“There is a big meal and you are missing it. Granny and Aunt Fiona are very hungry and have been waiting a long time too.”
She looked at John.
He smiled. “It is a bit late, and your brother did try to wait patiently. However, it is Christmas and cook has gone to some trouble.”
“I see.” She covered a giggle and took Daniella from John. The baby cooed happily. It was obvious she was well rested. “Oliver, I promise to feed your little niece here and then dress for Christmas breakfast. Why don’t you go and see if Cook will sneak you a bit of sausage?”
Oliver’s eyes lit up and a broad grin spread across his face. “Shall I get one for Daniella too?”
“Perhaps next year,” Emma said.
He dashed out of the room.
“Cook will not thank you for that.” John sat down and watched her as she fed the baby.
“Probably not.” She giggled.
“Jane said she’ll come in thirty minutes. Will that be enough time for you, my dear?”
Emma looked down at the gurgling infant who suckled happily. “I think so.”
She’d expected John to leave the room. Perhaps he too would sneak some sausage from the kitchen while he waited for her to come below stairs. When he remained, she looked up to find him staring at her with the most serene smile.
“What is it, John?”
He moved to the head of the bed so that he could lean against the pillows and pull her against his chest. She settled in and Daniella never stopped her breakfast. “I was just thinking that I cannot believe an entire year has passed since you married me and made me the happiest man in England.”
“I know. So much has happened,” she agreed. “I cannot help wishing that things had been different with Uncle Drake. He could have been family, come for Christmas and been an uncle to Daniella if he had not been so selfish.”
After a long silence, John finally spoke. “I know he was your family, Emma. I also know that I should have charity and forgive him. However, he tried to kill you and I’m glad he is dead.”
She sighed and looked back at John’s face. Anger creased his brow. She tried to touch his cheek, but Daniella complained vigorously.
They both laughed.
John softened his voice as he rested his chin on Emma’s shoulder and brushed Daniella’s soft red hair with his fingers. “I’m very happy that it all worked out as it did. You are the most important thing in my life. You, Oliver and Daniella are everything to me.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I love you, John.”
“I love you too, Emma.”
He turned his head, probably meaning to give her a peck on her cheek, but she turned into the kiss and their lips met. The same fire that had drawn her to him a year before coursed through her and created the same hum throughout her body. His lips caressed hers and their tongues swirled together.
The very loud protest of Daniella Scarborough ended the kiss prematurely.
John’s chest shook behind her and she laughed too.
“I believe we have been properly scolded,” he said.
She sighed and leaned back into his strong, warm body. Everything she’d ever wished for, but never dreamed she could have, had been handed to her in one year. It was impossible, and yet, it was true. Contentment washed over the Countess of Compton. “I love Christmas.”
About A.S. Fenichel
A.S. Fenichel adores writi
ng stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story. Originally from New York, she grew up in New Jersey. She now lives in the southwest with her real-life hero, her wonderful husband. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys cooking, travel, history and puttering in her garden.
A.S. welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by A.S. Fenichel
Mayan Destiny 1: Mayan Afterglow
Mayan Destiny 2: Mayan Craving
Mayan Destiny 3: Mayan Inferno
Print books by A.S. Fenichel
Mayan Destiny 1 & 2: Mayan Saviors
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Christmas Bliss
ISBN 9781419943096
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Christmas Bliss Copyright © 2012 A.S. Fenichel
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover design by Dar Albert
Photos: Conrado/Shutterstock.com and WimL/Fotolia.com
Electronic book publication November 2012
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