Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  He pulled back slightly, startled. Then he sighed and shook his head. “It’s statements like that. The glowing eyes. It alarms your people.”

  She placed a hand on his strong arm, needing to know the truth. “Do they?”

  Bastian met her gaze with resolution. “As I understand it, their eyes reflect light. When I was visiting Greenwood with your father last year, I saw it.” He grinned. “I remembered your description of the attack and almost drew my sword to run the cat through.”

  Alarm surged through her. “You didn’t hurt it, did you?”

  The corners of his light brown eyes crinkled as he smiled. “No.” He leaned closer to her as a cook passed them, carrying an empty basket. “But if I reacted so impulsively, only think of how your people would respond. It will be the Yule in two days. We need to calm them.”

  “How?”

  “I must discover the truth of this incident. You should stop talking about your attack.” He engulfed her hand in a warm embrace. “The people are frightened. They fear another attack.”

  Thora felt guilty. This was her fault for spreading a tale, a legend she was beginning to question. She didn’t want her people to be afraid. Yet she didn’t know how to stop it.

  “I won’t let you be hurt. I gave you my word years ago. It is a vow I take to heart,” Bastian promised.

  Her gaze moved over his face -- from his tender, light brown eyes, like the shade of honey, to his straight nose and full lips. Lips that she suddenly wanted to kiss. Startled at the thought, she pulled away, heat rushing through her body.

  Bastian straightened and scowled.

  How could she have thoughts like that for Bastian? He was her childhood friend! She cast a glance at him. But then again, how could she not have thoughts like that? He was so handsome. She had always thought so, she just never… Well, she never… Her heart fluttered. Words escaped her, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was staring at her with that intense look or if it was because she was mortified by her own thoughts of wanting to kiss him.

  Bastian bowed his head and turned away.

  “What if there is no Yule Cat?” she wondered quickly, partly to keep him with her for a bit longer and partly needing to know. “What if you are right?”

  Bastian turned to her. Surprise lifted his eyebrows for a moment, but then, his face turned serious and stoic. “That the Yule Cat is a fable? A legend? That there is no troll woman? Then something or someone else started the fire in the stables. I will find out who and they will be punished.”

  Thora watched him walk down the hallway. Punished. She would be punished. She wished she could tell him the truth of what happened that night. But she was afraid for Miracle and for herself.

  She wanted Bastian to know he was right. She wanted to tell him the supposed Yule Cat was recovering in her room. But she knew if she did, he might turn Miracle over to her father. Her father would kill the cat. And she could never allow that to happen.

  Chapter 10

  After the evening meal, Bastian removed his cloak and strolled into the Great Hall, his booted feet crunching the rushes on the floor. Lord Rowley sat before the hearth, drinking a tall mug of ale. Bastian walked to him and reported that the castle was safe, and the portcullis was lowered for the night. Double guards were posted, as per Lord Rowley’s orders. The traps had been checked and rechecked, even though Bastian knew they would find nothing. The garrison they had sent out to search for the troll came back empty-handed, as Bastian knew they would. As he spoke in whispered tones to Lord Rowley, he couldn’t help but notice three separate groups of servants around the large room, casting glances their way and speaking in quiet tones.

  Lord Rowley nodded in approval at Bastian’s report. He looked tired. His shoulders slumped, and he stared. “We have chosen and secured the Yule log,” Lord Rowley said, looking into the fire.

  Bastian bent to him to murmur, “With all due respect, m’lord, the people appear uneasy. They are frightened.”

  “This will pass,” Rowley said. “After the Yule, everything will return to normal. It will be as if it never happened.”

  Until next year, he thought. He glanced again at the groups of peasants as they whispered amongst themselves and shot troubled gazes at their lord. How afraid were they, and what actions might result because of their fear?

  Bastian spotted Thora as she entered the Great Hall holding a small girl’s hand. The entire room seemed to pause to gaze at her. Perhaps it was in Bastian’s mind, but he also believed the entire room released a silent sigh before the groups dispersed, some moving toward the kitchens, some toward the double doors. Bastian knew the answer. Thora had to set an example for her people. It might be unlikely because she was the most vocal in her belief of the Yule Cat, but it was the only answer. She had to realize the truth and declare the Yule Cat was a legend. He had to convince her somehow it was only a legend.

  Thora locked eyes with Bastian across the room. It was as though a bolt of lightning struck him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Her red waves glistened as she moved. Her green velvet dress clung to her shapely curves. She bent to the little girl and whispered something in her ear.

  The girl jumped up and down, nodding her head, and raced through the Great Hall toward the kitchens.

  Thora grinned, watching her, and then turned to Bastian. She crossed the expanse.

  He couldn’t help noticing the sway of her curvy hips. His eyes moved slowly, appreciatively up, lingering momentarily on her breasts and then her full lips. Delicious desire swirled inside of him.

  “Sir Bastian,” she greeted him.

  Even her voice was melodic and sweet. “Lady Thora,” he returned.

  She moved around him and bent to kiss her father’s cheek. “Father, you are up late.”

  He shrugged. “One day, you shall run this castle. You and your husband. These will be your people when I am gone.”

  Thora glanced at Bastian before returning her stare to her father. “You are lord. And you will be for a long time to come.” She waved a hand at his servant. The man rushed over to her. “My father will retire now. See him to his room, please.”

  The man bowed his gray head. “As you wish, m’lady.” He waited while Rowley got to his feet.

  Bastian bowed as Lord Rowley moved by him.

  She watched her father leave the Great Hall and turned to Bastian. They stared at each other for a moment; the air sizzling between them.

  While Bastian didn’t know what to say to her, he didn’t want to look away. When had she become so mesmerizing?

  “Bastian,” she said softly, dropping her gaze. “There is something I want to tell you.”

  He nodded, words escaping him. It was ridiculous! He had grown up with Thora. He had known her all his life. Perchance that was the problem. She was unlike the other women he had been with. He would…

  Only kiss those delectable lips until she wanted more.

  “Bastian?”

  Her word snapped him from his sensual musings. “Yes. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  She nodded and hesitated. “The Yule Cat…”

  “Yes. I wanted to speak to you about that, also.” He glanced around the room and was pleased to see that he and Thora were far enough away from others, so they could have a private conversation. Still, he wanted to be certain their discussion was not overheard. He took her hand and guided her closer to the hearth. Warmth washed over him, and the fire crackled behind him. He didn’t release her hand, and her fingers closed around his.

  She looked up at him, and the light made her blue eyes twinkle.

  Beautiful. He shook his head. “What do you remember from the night you were attacked?”

  She straightened and withdrew her hand from his.

  He quickly captured it again. “I’m not judging. I am trying to reconcile some things that happened to the squires before the fire.”

  She looked down, and a lock of her red hair fell forward. “I’ve been thinking a lot about tha
t night eight years ago. I remember seeing the glowing eyes in the tree. I’ll never forget them.”

  Rob had not mentioned glowing eyes. Bastian also doubted that a cat of the size Rob described could fit in a tree. He waited patiently for her to continue.

  She looked up at him. “But, you said that all cats have glowing eyes.”

  “Aye. I believe their eyes reflect the light.”

  She chewed her lip gently and lifted fingers to the three scratches permanently etched into her smooth skin. “When I was young, I saw glowing eyes in the tree. I remember them. They were terrifying. And yet… I’m not certain --”

  “Help! The Yule Cat attacked Rob!” The cry echoed throughout the Great Hall.

  Servants began rushing toward the large double doors where Tommy had just entered, his arm around Rob, who was leaning heavily on him and holding his shoulder.

  Bastian and Thora raced across to the room to them. Bastian grabbed Rob’s other side and helped him to a bench.

  “What happened?” Thora demanded.

  Bastian’s gaze swept Rob. His tunic was torn across the chest, and blood stained his clothing.

  “I was walking through the inner court,” Rob gasped, clutching his chest. “I heard a noise near the candlemaker’s and went to investigate.” He peeled his hand from his chest and winced at the blood on his palm. “The Yule Cat… it was eating something. I tried to run, but it pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. It swiped at me and opened its mouth.” He shook his head. “I thought it was going to eat me.”

  Bastian cast a glance at Thora. Her forehead was lined with worry. He looked back at Rob.

  One of the servant women lifted his tunic to reveal two small lines of blood. The woman dabbed at them with a cloth and Rob winced.

  Bastian stared, dumbfounded. He knew the Yule Cat was not real and yet… Here was Rob, clearly injured. “How did you get away?” Bastian asked.

  “Tommy came.” The boys looked at each other before Rob continued, “He must have startled it and it just… disappeared.”

  At Rob’s description, a gasp came from a servant woman with chubby cheeks watching from the other side of the table. She made the sign of the cross.

  Bastian glanced at Tommy. “You saw it?”

  Tommy nodded. “I did. It was over Rob, and I think it was going to eat him. It looked at me and then disappeared.”

  Bastian grit his teeth. Disappeared. Creatures didn’t just disappear. He would speak to Tommy later and discover the truth. He didn’t want Tommy to elaborate now in front of all these people. He straightened and allowed the servant woman with brown hair to minister to Rob.

  “It was a brave thing you did,” she whispered to Rob.

  Rob nodded and managed to puff out his chest.

  Bastian could have sworn he saw a grin slide over Rob’s lips. Suspicious, he looked at Tommy. “You said this happened by the candlemaker’s shop?”

  Glancing at Rob, Tommy then looked back with a nod. “But as I said, it is gone now.”

  Bastian headed for the door.

  One of the knights who had been lounging in the Great Hall pulled his sword. “I’ll go with you! Let’s find this cat and gut it!”

  Bastian held up his hand. “Stay here. I’ll alert the guard.” He didn’t want everyone tramping all over the ground and ruining any chance of finding evidence, or the lack of it. “It’s safer for everyone to stay inside.” He gripped the handle of his sheathed sword and left the Great Hall.

  Thora hurried after Bastian, staying against the stone wall, watching him. He crossed the hallway and departed the castle through the iron-bound double doors. When she followed him through the wooden doors, a gust of cold wind and snow swirled around her. She shivered and wished she had her cloak but continued out.

  Suddenly, a hand grabbed her, and she jumped.

  Bastian wore a scowl. “What are you doing? I told everyone to wait inside.”

  “I’m not letting you go alone.”

  He grinned, truly amused by her concern.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  He bowed his head and peered up at her through long lashes. “Never.”

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “You said you want to find the truth. So do I. And something about all of this seems wrong to me. Why does the cat always attack those two squires?”

  “Hmm,” Bastian murmured. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Do you think the Yule Cat has targeted them because they are not finishing their chores?”

  Bastian shook his head. “Even if that were true, I don’t think Sir William would allow Rob to be lazy. But my instincts are telling me there is more to this. The stable fire is a mystery. A cat could not start a fire.” A cold breeze pushed his dark hair forward.

  Guilt swirled inside of her. She knew exactly what had happened. She took a deep breath. She had to tell him. “Bastian…”

  “They did have a fire to keep warm, but Rob was burned. He wouldn’t do that to himself.”

  She desperately wanted to tell him the truth. She knew the longer she waited to confess, the harder it was going to be. “He was pushed.”

  “He said the troll woman pushed him,” Bastian agreed.

  “But it didn’t happen like that.”

  “I don’t believe so.” He grasped her hand and led her across the inner ward. “Come.”

  The burned beams of the stable were gone, leaving an empty spot where it had once stood. A fresh layer of snow covered the vague outline of where the stables and stalls had been.

  Thora clutched Bastian’s hand and hurried after him, their tracks the only thing marring the coating of snow. He paused when they approached the candlemaker’s shop, his gaze sweeping the ground. “Rob said the cat was eating something when he saw it. I see no sign of any remnants of a meal. No feathers. No skin. Nothing.”

  Thora scanned the ground beside the candlemaker’s wooden shop. “There are no footprints.”

  Bastian looked down at the ground and inched closer to the candlemaker’s shop. “Not human nor cat.” He looked back at her. “They are lying.”

  Chapter 11

  By the time they returned to the Great Hall, a large group of knights and peasants had gathered around Tommy. “It was huge,” he was saying to the crowd. His eyes were wide as he gestured over his head. “And black. And its claws were at least this long.” He held up his hand for length.

  A gasp rippled through the crowd like a breeze.

  Bastian grit his teeth as he watched Tommy’s excitement. There was no fear emanating from him. Only the story and satisfaction from the attention. Rob was nowhere to be seen. They must have taken him away for a physician to tend.

  Bastian moved forward, pushing his way through the crowd, parting them like a curtain. “Tommy, I’d like a word with you.”

  The enjoyment drained from the boy’s face, and he nodded.

  Bastian escorted Tommy to Thora’s side, where Tommy cast a glance at her. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and looked at Bastian.

  Bastian’s gaze swept the gathered crowd, who had not dispersed but waited as if expecting more information. “Let’s go to the judgement room,” Bastian suggested.

  “Tommy did naught wrong,” one of the knights proclaimed. “He defended the castle.”

  Bastian didn’t like the knight’s tone. “I am looking into the incident.”

  “Why?” one of the peasants demanded. “You should be looking for the Yule Cat.”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

  Thora moved around Bastian to stand before him and face her people. “We are handling the situation. I have the utmost faith in Sir Bastian. We will have a safe Yule celebration.”

  Doubtful grumblings issued from some in the crowd while others nodded their head. They began to separate and move on.

  Bastian was proud of Thora for taking her stance and even more proud of her faith in him.

  “Am I in trouble?” Tommy a
sked.

  “Why would you say that?” Bastian wondered, looking at him.

  “The judgement room is reserved for judgement.”

  “It’s close and private.” Bastian led the way. Thora followed them through the hallway to the room beside the Great Hall. Bastian opened the door and let them enter before following and closing the door. The large room was lit by two torches, barely casting any light over the spacious stone floored expanse.

  Bastian looked at Tommy, where he stopped beneath a torch. His blond hair was wild and stuck up in a spot near the crown of his head. His gaze shifted uncertainly from Thora to Bastian.

  “This is the second time you’ve encountered the Yule Cat,” Bastian said. “Tell me about the first time.”

  A joyful light passed through Tommy’s brown eyes. “You mean when it burned down the stables?”

  Bastian nodded. “What were you and Rob doing before that?”

  “Before the cat attacked?” Tommy scratched his head. “Oh. Warming ourselves by the fire that we started.”

  “What were you talking about?” Bastian asked.

  Tommy scowled and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “How cold it was. Because it was really cold that night. Oh! And Bridgit. You know her. The miller’s daughter.” His smile spread until he noticed Thora watching. He looked down. “She’s very beautiful.”

  This part was the same as Rob’s version. Bastian didn’t doubt it was the truth. “Then what happened?”

  Tommy shrugged. “That horrible cat attacked us! It jumped on Rob and knocked him into the fire, trying to eat him! Rob’s arm caught on fire.”

  Hmmm. Interesting. Rob had said the troll woman pushed him into the fire. “Which direction did the cat come from?”

  “It came out of the darkness like a shadow,” Tommy said, his eyes wide.

  Tingles danced across the nape of Bastian’s neck as his eyes narrowed. That was the exact phrasing Rob used. It was a lie, a practiced lie.