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

by Collette Cameron

  “It was huge. It had sharp claws,” Tommy said, holding up his curved hands. “And blade-like teeth! And the eyes were so --”

  “Why are you lying, Tommy?” Thora demanded, cutting him off.

  Surprised, Bastian looked at her. She wore a stern gaze; her lips thinned in disapproval and anger.

  Tommy stood, stunned. His mouth dropped open.

  “Tell the captain what really happened. Tell him the truth about the cat.”

  Tommy’s mouth stayed open, and he sputtered out his next words. “I’m sorry, m’lady. I had thought you of all people would believe the Yule Cat had attacked us, as the cat attacked you too.”

  “The cat that attacked me wasn’t huge. It wasn’t a monster. If it had truly tried to eat me, I would not be here. I was a child. But you are not. Tell the truth.” Her jaw clenched tightly.

  Bastian stared, stunned. Thora was defending the Yule Cat. She was saying it hadn’t tried to eat her. She was changing what she believed, what she had told everyone. Just earlier this week, she had said the cat had tried to eat her. She had said it was a monster. What had changed?

  Tommy’s mouth slowly closed. He looked down thoughtfully with a scowl of concentration. “Maybe I stretched the truth about how big the cat was. But I tell you, that troll woman and her cat burned down our stables.”

  “Troll woman?” Bastian echoed. “When did the troll woman come?”

  “She pushed Rob into the fire,” Tommy said, the excitement for his story returning. “Rob’s arm caught on fire.”

  “You just said the Yule Cat jumped on Rob and knocked him into the fire. Which is it? The troll or the cat?”

  Tommy stuttered. “I… It could have been the troll woman. I’m not certain.”

  “But you saw them set fire to the stables?” Bastian asked.

  Tommy’s shoulders slouched. “Not exactly. I was helping Rob with his arm. But they both ran toward the stables. It had to be them. Who else could it have been?”

  “The stable hound was in the stables. Wouldn’t he have attacked the troll woman?”

  Tommy nodded in agreement. “He was barking and howling. I remember that.”

  Bastian looked at Thora. She was staring at Tommy intently as if fire would blaze from her eyes and light the squire up.

  He turned back to Tommy. “And what about the scratch marks on Rob’s chest? What about the attack that happened tonight?”

  “The Yule Cat is here! We were trying to protect the castle, that’s all.”

  Bastian waited. The silence settled around the three of them.

  Tommy frowned and looked down, refusing to meet their gazes. “Rob was hurt.”

  “We went out to the candlemaker’s shop, Tommy,” Bastian said. “There are no tracks in the snow, human or animal.”

  Tommy’s scowl deepened. “Maybe the snow covered them up.”

  “It’s not snowing.”

  “Maybe the cat made the tracks go away so you wouldn’t believe me.” Tommy had an answer for everything.

  “Isn’t it more likely that you made the story up?”

  “Why would we do that? You saw the marks on Rob’s chest! How did those get there?”

  Bastian’s eyebrows rose.

  “It doesn’t make sense. I’m telling you, we were attacked by the Yule Cat.”

  “A knight is supposed to tell the truth always,” Thora said softly. So softly that Bastian almost didn’t hear her. “You want to be a good knight, don’t you, Tommy?”

  Tommy shuffled his feet and kicked at the ground. “Of course,” Tommy said, but there was no conviction behind his tone. He knew he’d been caught.

  “Why would someone lie about the Yule Cat?” Thora wondered. “Why tell tales like this?”

  Tommy looked at her. “You did.”

  Thora stared at him, taken aback. Her face drained of color beneath the light from the torch.

  “All’s good. That’s enough for now, Tommy,” Bastian said, his concerned gaze on Thora. “Go on. Check on Rob.” Tommy rushed toward the doorway. “But say no more of this story to anyone.”

  Tommy bobbed his head and left the room.

  After the door closed, Bastian turned to Thora.

  She wore the most crestfallen expression he had ever seen, and he immediately moved forward to take her hands into his.

  “This is all my fault,” she said softly.

  “No. You were a child when you were attacked.”

  She shook her head. “But what if I was wrong? What if all these years I believed something that wasn’t true? What if I believed in something that never happened?”

  “Thora…”

  Thora swiftly pitched into his arms, clutching him tightly, desperately.

  She was shaking, and he stroked her back to calm her.

  “What if I was wrong?” she asked again. She pulled back to look at him. Her face was flushed, and her eyes darted from him to the door and then to the floor. “You always believed it was just a cat, didn’t you? You tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

  He brushed a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “Sometimes, we believe in something so strongly that we can no longer see the truth.”

  Her chest heaved. “What if it was nothing more than a cat? A cat that was afraid? Just as afraid as I was?” Her large eyes filled with tears.

  “You were a child,” Bastian repeated. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “Yes, but now I am a grown woman. And everyone wants to kill it. They want to burn it or run it through. And it could have been just a scared creature? It’s all my fault.”

  His gaze swept her face. She was so distraught and panicked that all he could think of doing was comforting and holding her. He realized her body was still pressed against his. Her soft, pliant, curvy body.

  She suddenly leaned forward, pushing her lips to his. Startled, he pulled back and gazed into her desperate eyes.

  She had kissed him!

  Kissed him with those full, delicious lips. He couldn’t resist. He grasped her head and drew her lips to his, slanting his mouth across hers. He held her close, his body hard and unyielding. Passion pounded through his veins as the kiss deepened.

  She parted her lips for him. He thrust his tongue forward into the depths of her mouth, tasting her hot moistness.

  He groaned softly, wanting to touch her everywhere, wanting to make her his own. What was he thinking? Here? In the middle of the judgement room? She deserved better. He pulled back suddenly, grasping her hands, and tugged them between them like a barrier. “Thora.”

  Her breathing was quick and anxious. She tilted her head up, moving closer to his lips.

  But he held her firmly at a distance. “Not like this. I want you so badly, Thora. But not here. Not like this.”

  She blinked at him and settled back. Her lips were red from being well kissed.

  He squeezed her hands. “Thora. Do you understand? If we continue, it will be difficult to stop. And this is hardly the place.”

  Her gaze swept his face, and she nodded.

  He gently shook her hands. “Do you understand? I want you. I want --”

  She nodded firmly. “I understand,” she whispered.

  He took a deep breath and stepped away from her.

  The cold air swirled between them, and she shivered as he released her hands.

  His stare moved over her face, lingering on her full lips and her large eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Another nod. She backed to the door. “I’d best…” She took another step.

  It had never been this hard to separate from her. He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say to alleviate her unease.

  “I’ll see you later,” she finally said and left the room.

  Chapter 12

  Shaken and confused, Thora hurried from the judgement room. Her lips still tingled from his heated kiss.

  She took stock of her whirling emotions in the empty corridor. Passion seared through her veins; embarrassment heated he
r cheeks. She inhaled deeply to calm herself. She had kissed Bastian. She had just kissed the most handsome man she knew. What had she been thinking? And he had returned her affection! She grinned. Bastian had kissed her back… and, it had been wonderful. She touched her lips, still moist from his kisses.

  A knight exited the storeroom, and she straightened, nodding a greeting to him.

  He bowed.

  She almost giggled out loud, and when he disappeared into the Great Hall, she whirled in a delighted circle before heading off toward the kitchens. When she entered, she had somehow managed to cap her emotions.

  Cook stood near the hearth, stirring something in a black pot. “Good eve, m’lady.”

  “Good eve,” Thora sang in greeting. She had always liked Cook. She would sneak her sweets and tarts when Thora was young.

  Cook smiled. She had a pudgy, warm face, and kind brown eyes. Her gray hair was pulled back into a braid. “I saved ya some venison for that dog.”

  Thora took the meat from her greasy hand. “Thank you.” She hesitated. Maybe her little cat would like something other than venison. “I… I am hungry. Do you have any fish?”

  “Fish?” Cook frowned. She put her hands on her hips. “I would have thought ya’d ask for sweets. Since when do ya like fish?”

  Thora held up her hands. “I just have a taste for it.”

  Cook turned away and hobbled over to the table. “I do have some leftover from the evening meal.” She cut a piece from the cooked fish and put it on a piece of bread, all the while mumbling about the strangeness of Thora requesting fish.

  Thora took the meal, hugged Cook, and thanked her. She quickly made her way back to her room. She would save some of the meat for Beaumont, but she wanted to make sure Miracle was fed and cared for.

  She opened the door to her chambers, scanning the room. There was no sign of Miracle. One thing was certain: the little cat was remarkably good at hiding. She knew it hid beneath her bed, where she had piled the blankets. She eased the door closed behind her and walked to the wall across from the bed. She sat down on the floor facing the bed, her back to the wall. Beneath the bed was dark, and she could barely make out the shape of the blankets there. She noticed the small bowl of water she had left was half empty.

  She took out the meat and placed the venison on the floor. She broke the fish into tiny pieces. When she looked up, she saw the two glowing eyes peering at her from beneath the bed. For a moment, her breathing hitched, and she froze as she remembered the eyes from her childhood. She forced herself to relax and turned back to breaking up the fish. When she looked back, Miracle had poked her head from beneath the bed. She lifted her head, smelling the fish. Her sleek black coat shone in the firelight.

  Thora grinned. “You like fish better than venison?” She held out a piece.

  Miracle froze, her eyes two round orbs.

  “It’s all right,” Thora whispered. She put the fish down and sat back.

  Miracle looked toward the door, and then at Thora, before inching out to eat the fish in one gulp. Then she looked at Thora as if knowing she had more.

  When Thora moved to set another piece of fish down, Miracle dashed beneath the bed. Thora laid out a line of fish that stretched from the bed to her knees. She kept a small piece in the palm of her hand. She wanted Miracle to learn that she didn’t have to fear her.

  The cat quickly ate the ones closest to the bed. Then she inched nearer to the others, eating one piece of fish after another until she was at Thora’s feet. She stopped and turned her head to sniff Thora’s boots.

  Her ear had been badly burned, and a patch of fur on her neck was gone, revealing pink skin. It looked to be healing nicely, which Thora was grateful for. The fur on Miracle’s tail was also burned away. She wanted to scoop the poor little cat up and care for it, but she knew any quick movements would cause the cat to run. She couldn’t blame it.

  Miracle ate the next piece of fish. And the next, cautiously. Its large eyes were on Thora as she ate.

  Slowly, Thora unfurled her fingers where the last piece of fish was. Her hand lay on the floor. Would Miracle take it?

  It stared at her, frozen.

  Thora turned her head, not meeting the cat’s eyes.

  There was a long moment before she felt movement by her hand. She shifted her eyes in time to see Miracle inching toward her.

  Suddenly, the door flew open.

  The cat shot beneath the bed.

  Bella ran into the room. “Lady Thora?” she called. When she spotted her, she skipped over to her and sat down beside her. “What are you doing?”

  “How many times have I asked you to knock?” Thora inquired, tossing the piece of fish beneath the bed. She pushed aside her disappointment. She had been so close to interaction with Miracle. She stood up and dusted her skirt off.

  “Sorry,” Bella said. She looked at her and then at the bed. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

  “I was just relaxing,” Thora explained. She was glad Miracle had disappeared. She didn’t want Bella to see her. She was afraid Bella would be frightened of the cat, perhaps even accuse it of being the Yule Cat. “How is the hare?”

  Bella lifted her chin in pride. “I’m taking care of him, and he is eating all the carrots I give him.”

  Thora wiped her hands on her dress before patting Bella’s dark hair. Bella’s ringlets bounced. “Well done, Bella,” Thora said.

  Bella’s chin dropped, and she scowled. “Tommy told me the Yule Cat was going to come and eat me.”

  Thora glanced toward the bottom of the bed and was relieved to see Miracle was not there. She knelt before Bella, placing her hands on the child’s shoulders. “Why would the Yule Cat eat you?”

  Bella puffed out her lower lips. “Because I haven’t finished my chores.”

  Thora’s compassionate gaze swept her face. “It won’t come for you, Bella. You’re a good girl.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not. You were good, and it still came for you.” Bella threw her arms around Thora’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

  Thora hated herself at that moment. She hated that Bella was afraid because of what she had told her, because of the stories she had told the girl. The stories she had related to everyone. “We have strong knights who defend the castle. They won’t let the Yule Cat in.”

  “It got in when the guards were on duty and started the fire,” Bella said in a thick voice.

  Thora squeezed Bella tightly. “A cat can’t start fires. The Yule Cat didn’t start the fire.”

  “No!” Bella exclaimed. “It was Gryla! It was the troll woman.”

  “No,” Thora whispered, holding her. “It wasn’t. It was just a horrible accident. I promise, Bella. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  Bella pulled back; her hands still linked around Thora’s nape as she eyed her doubtfully.

  “I would never let some troll harm you,” Thora promised.

  Bella hugged her again. “I love you, Thora.”

  Thora smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Bella.” The weight of her guilt pulled her shoulders down and tightened her throat.

  Chapter 13

  Bastian slept restlessly and awoke thinking of Thora. Her soft lips, her honeyed taste. Last eve, he had followed her out of the judgement room with the intent of finding and making sure Rob was okay, but he’d overheard her in the kitchens asking for venison and fish. He knew the venison was for Beaumont, but Thora didn’t like fish. Strange. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t important. Except that everything about Thora was important. He found a grin on his lips just from thinking of her. He mentally shook his head. There was too much to do today to dwell on Thora. But even as he thought this, she returned to his mind. She lingered like a pleasant breeze, a tasty aroma.

  The attacks. Concentrate on the attacks, he told himself. He knew Tommy and Rob were making up the Yule Cat attacks. Who had pushed Rob into the bonfire? Was someone else there?

  He dressed and move
d out of the barracks, noticing Nicolas was already gone. Bastian wanted to talk to Rob again and discover why the boys were lying, what they were covering up. Had Rob and Tommy started the fire and made up the story of the Yule Cat as a distraction? As Bastian exited his room and strolled through the corridor, he nodded a greeting to some passing knights. He opened the door to the outer ward, and a gust of cold wind swirled in.

  Suddenly, a scream rang through the outer ward.

  Instinctively, Bastian’s head snapped toward the cry. Where had it come from? He looked up at the walkways to see the guards on duty hurrying toward the center of the ward. Another scream echoed through the outer ward. Bastian dashed toward it, shouting an order to Sir William on the walkway to stay put and keep watch.

  A large group of people had crowded near the castle wall between the blacksmith’s shop and the leather maker’s. Bastian pushed his way through the crowd as a tailor with a leather apron raised a fist and shouted, “Kill it!”

  “The Yule Cat!” someone behind him shouted.

  “Kill it!”

  A farmer was standing at the front of the group with a pitchfork pointed down aggressively in his hand. Two other men standing beside him had wooden sticks clutched in their hands.

  Bastian shoved through the crowd as they dashed forward.

  The men raised and lowered their arms, stabbing, and clubbing. A horrible animal cry rang out. The men continued the attack, their faces twisted in grimaces of hate. Finally, they ceased the assault, peering at the carnage.

  “We did it,” the farmer said happily, breathing deeply. “We killed it.”

  Bastian moved up to them, staring down at the corpse. His lips thinned.

  “It’s not a cat,” one of the men said, gasping for breath.

  “It’s a raccoon,” Bastian affirmed, staring at the dead animal. He whirled on the group, angry.

  Fear greeted his fury. The crowd was full of round, surprised eyes as they realized the raccoon wasn’t the monster.

  “It’s still out there,” a woman with dark hair whispered.

  “It’s a legend,” Bastian snapped. His eyes moved over the peasants surrounding him. “It’s not real.”