Christmas Surprise (Regency Holiday Surprise Book 1)

by Kimberly Burke

  Chapter 1

  Cicely smiled, feeling the wind in her face and her cloak flapping behind her. She imagined that gliding down the hill on a sled was the closest thing to flying she would ever experience. When she dared to close her eyes, she imagined blue sky with plump white clouds instead of the snow. Too soon, the sled slowed to a halt at the bottom of the hill, and she stepped off the metal runners. The beige stone walls of Townsend Abbey, her uncle’s home, towered behind them, and its beautiful, stained glass windows glimmered in the late-afternoon light.

  Her younger copper-haired brothers, Alfred and Fredrick, jumped out of the bucket of the sled and started to drag it back up the slope. Her other siblings were sliding down the hill above her. Amelia, younger than her by three years, stood on the runners, pushing off with her foot to gain speed as her little sisters Margaret and Penny sat on the wooden seat. Cicely loved hearing the girls’ squeals of excitement.

  “Come on, Cici,” Fredrick called as he and Alfred struggled with the heavy, cumbersome sled.

  “I am coming.” She lifted her skirts with one hand and trudged up the hill. When she reached the boys, she grabbed the handle to help them drag the sled up the rest of the way. At the top, Cicely stood on the runners as the boys climbed into the seat, and with a push of her foot, they were flying again. All her worries disappeared into the wind.

  And that was how her day went until she fell to the ground at the top of the hill, panting from exhaustion. Snow soaked into her skirts, but she did not care, as they were already damp from sledding. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the last day before Aunt Mary’s guests arrived to spend Christmas week with them.

  Her family had arrived at Townsend Abbey the week before, and it had been so much fun. At the abbey, Cicely did not have to cook, clean, or even watch her brothers and sisters. She was free to enjoy herself by painting landscapes and sketching pictures of the abbey without being interrupted constantly. The trip was always her favorite time of the year.

  Alfred grabbed her hand and tried to pull her up. “Cici, again. I want to go again.”

  “Let me catch my breath, then we can do a final run.”

  Amelia fell to the ground beside her. “Nah, I am done.”

  “No,” multiple voices moaned at the same time.

  “One more,” Penny insisted, tugging on Amelia’s hand.

  “I cannot move. I am done for.” Amelia lolled her head to the side and stuck her tongue out of her mouth like a dead animal.

  “Me too.” Cicely copied Amelia’s pose.

  The children giggled and clustered about them. Their bright-red hair made them look like little flames, exact replicas of their mother and Cicely and Amelia’s stepmother, Emily.

  “Then I suppose it is fortunate that I have come to your rescue,” a male voice said.

  Before she could look up, screeches of “John” accompanied a stampede of little feet.

  Cicely’s face burned. This is not happening. She sat up and stared at the man she had dreamt of for eight long years.

  His black hair was longer than she remembered, and the same unruly locks fell over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. The reed-thin boy of her youth was gone, replaced by a lithe, broad-shouldered man. His face held a slight stubble of dark hair and his smile, lud, that smile still made her knees wobble.

  She stammered, wanting to say something, but nothing came to her.

  He winked at her then turned back to the sled loaded once more with children. In seconds, he was gone, gliding down the hill as the children’s screams faded. A footman followed beside him on the other sled.

  “Is that…” Amelia asked.

  “Yes,” Cicely replied, dropping her face into her palms. She could not believe that she had been splayed out like a dead animal the first time he had seen her after eight years. Her stomach churned violently, and she feared she might be ill.

  John climbed up the hill, pulling the sled as he watched the pretty little nursemaid dying of embarrassment. It was understandable, given how he had found her, but it was not what he had expected when he volunteered to get the children.

  He reached the top of the hill just as the woman uncovered her face, stopping him in his tracks. She was more than pretty—she was beautiful. Her hazel eyes glittered, and her flushed cheeks only made him like her more. A simple bonnet covered her head, hiding her hair, but a few black strands peeked out.

  Penny ran up to the lovely nursemaid and grabbed her hand. “Your turn.”

  “No, Penny.” Her voice was as sweet as her face, and were it not for the cold, John feared his body would have reacted to her.

  “Yes.” Penny stood facing the nursemaid, hands on hips. The other three quickly joined in, pulling both the young women to get them up for a ride.

  “One run,” she said, “but only if you will all stop yelling.”

  Four mouths snapped shut, and the hill was silent.

  John chuckled and held out his hands to help the maids up.

  “I know I am going to regret this,” the pretty maid mumbled under her breath. She climbed onto the wooden seat and tucked her skirts around her.

  The younger nursemaid did the same on the sled that the footman held.

  “Race!” Penny shouted. The other children quickly picked up the chant.

  John glanced at the footman. “Five pounds if you beat me?”

  The man’s eyes widened at the exorbitant sum. “And if’n I lose?”

  “You were going to let me win, anyways, so nothing will change.”

  The man grinned, no doubt knowing it was the truth. At least John could be certain of the man’s full efforts.

  Penny shouted, “Ready!”

  John and the footman both nodded.

  “Go!” Penny yelled in her high-pitched voice.

  John pushed off and stepped up on the runners to ride down the hill, easily in the lead. He heard the children yelling behind him, and one small female voice surfaced above the rest. “Go, Cici!” Penny screamed.

  “Cici?” John looked down at the woman in the sled, and their eyes met. It cannot be. His momentary distraction was all it took. The left sled rail hit a rock under the snow and stopped. Both he and Cici flew forward, and he landed half on top of her.

  He leaned up enough to see her face. “Are you injured?”

  Long moments passed before she opened her brown eyes. He stared down into the gold flecks that had always fascinated him. He could feel her body beneath him, and to his horror, his reacted. Little Cici was not so little anymore.

  “Can you get off me?” She shoved him with an arm.

  He fell back away from her, struggling to reconcile the pretty, boyish woman he imagined she had become with the statuesque temptress lying in the snow beside him. Her wool cloak was pinned beneath her, and her damp pale-pink dress clung to her, revealing every curve of a voluptuous body from which he could not tear his gaze.

  The other young woman dropped to her knees beside Cici. “Are you well?” They looked so similar that John knew she had to be Amelia. In a few years, she would likely be as beautiful as Cici.

  “I am fine.” Cici struggled to stand, but the sodden layers of skirt hampered her efforts.

  John stood and offered his hand.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, but took his hand.

  Is she not happy to see me?

  On her feet, she wavered under the weight of her skirts, and he caught her before she could tip forward. He wrapped an arm around her tiny waist to support her. She was nearly as tall as he was.

  “Can you make it up the hill?” John asked.

  “I think so.”
She took a shaky step forward but made little progress.

  “Let me help,” he offered, and she leaned into him more. Her soft curves made him want to hold her even closer. The voluminous cloak hanging around her meant no one would know, so he did.

  She gave him another inscrutable expression, which drove him insane. They had been so close once that they could read each other’s every gesture or thought. But he no longer knew her at all, a situation he intended to rectify.

  “I cannot believe you are here.” She murmured the words so softly that he was not sure if she had even said them or if he had imagined them.

  “I am,” he replied, not knowing what else to say. It had been… He counted in his head and nearly gasped aloud. Eight years. It has been eight years! How did I allow that to happen?

  The curve of her hip beneath his palm made it sweat. The climb was slow and torturous for him. Her honeysuckle scent, which he had found comforting in his childhood, was having a decidedly different effect on him as an adult. It made him feel like a lustful lad instead of the jaded man he was.

  When they reached the rise, she was able to stand on her own and stepped away.

  He restrained himself from pulling her back to him. Instead, he stammered, “Cousin Emily sent me to find you.” Though no one had asked him for an explanation, he continued, “She asked that we enter through the kitchen to preserve Lady Townsend’s rugs.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured and glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

  In London, that look would have sent him running, but with Cici it had the opposite effect. He followed her as she moved away. She had a slight limp but otherwise appeared unharmed. He was pleased that she was not injured, but part of him was disappointed that he could not keep her closer.

  Chapter 2

  “Come.” Cici motioned to the children.

  “That was unbelievable!” Fredrick yelled, waving his hands in the air.

  John hurried to keep up with them. “It was a spectacle, to be sure.”

  She glanced over at him, and he wanted her to say something, anything. It was unlike Cici to be so reserved, and he wondered whether she had really changed so much.

  Penny took Cici’s hand and looked up at her. “Are you well?” Her small voice quivered a bit.

  John’s heart broke as he heard Penny’s concern. “Of course she is.” He picked Penny up and tossed her into the air.

  She giggled and settled in his arms.

  He whispered loud enough for Cici to hear, “Have you never been told of Cici the incredible?”

  Cici smiled and glanced at him again, her gaze lingering longer than it had before.

  Penny’s eyes grew wide. “No.”

  “There was once a beautiful Gypsy girl who traveled the world in a purple covered wagon with flames painted along the sides.”

  “It was blue,” Cici corrected.

  He chuckled. She did remember. “The Gypsy girl had long black hair and brown eyes with specks of gold in them. Some believed that she was blessed by the goddess Fortuna upon her birth.”

  Cici harrumphed, but Penny was enthralled with the tale. The others moved closer to listen.

  “She was so pretty that all of the Gypsy boys wanted to marry her, but the Gypsy girl did not want to wed. She wanted to perform for the crowds, as her father and brothers did in every town they passed. She tried to stand on horses’ backs as they galloped, but she kept falling off.”

  “She did not,” Cici interjected with a frown. “She was able to do it on the first try. Do not listen to him.” She continued, “The Gypsy girl could even do a handstand while the horses galloped, one hand on each horse, thus earning her the name of Cici the Incredible.”

  Cici lifted her chin proudly, and John saw a glimmer of the proud girl he had once known. The smile on her face and the light in her eyes was a joy that he missed. He had missed her. The ennui that had driven him there from London had grown distant.

  She continued, “Her family profited from her fame, and there was always food on the table and someone else to wash the clothes, so Cici did not have to. Then one day, the Gypsies came to London to perform at the request of the Queen. Cici the Incredible did all her tricks without a flaw and even did a handstand on the head of a single horse as it galloped in a circle. The crowds roared with applause.” Her volume increased to match the tempo of the story.

  “The Queen’s adviser saw her and fell madly in love,” John interjected.

  Penny clapped her hands.

  “Yes, Lord Popinjay,” Cici said.

  John laughed, remembering the nickname she had bestowed upon him the day they had met. Their gazes connected and being her with her felt so right.

  “But he was not the only one to fall in love with Cici the Incredible that day,” Cici continued. “There were many others, and Lord Popinjay had to prove himself to the Gypsy girl.” She tweaked Penny’s nose, and the little girl squealed in John’s arms.

  “So what happened?” Penny asked as they reached the kitchen door.

  “That is a story for another time,” Cici replied.

  “Ah,” Penny cried as John placed her on her feet. The others groaned as well.

  He opened the door and smiled. “I see your wit has not changed, Cici.”

  The children entered the kitchen in a line while John and Cici waited.

  She frowned at him. “Why is my wit always to be commented upon?”

  He laughed. “Because it is a delightful and admirable trait in a woman.”

  “I thought women were supposed to be meek and mild, only skilled at choosing gowns and fluttering their eyelashes.” She blinked her eyes dramatically.

  “It is true that is what some men like, but not all men are so shallow and looking for pretty, senseless things.” He paused and looked at her with as serious a face as he could muster. “A significant fortune can make a man overlook many flaws.”

  She scowled. “I see the pompous Lord Popinjay is still alive and well.”

  John laughed so hard his sides hurt. The day he earned that name had saved his life. He had been a lonely and bitter boy, rejected by his father. When he found a dirty little hoyden fishing in his stream, he demanded to know what she was doing there. She had ignored him and continued to fish. He did not know what to do. No one had ever ignored him before, and especially not a lowly girl with crooked plaits in her hair. When she finally spoke, it was to call him Lord Popinjay, and they became friends. For weeks afterward, she never bothered to ask his name, nor did he ask hers. It was refreshing to be himself and not Lord St. Ives or the son of Duke Ainsley. Lord St. Ives would not be allowed to climb trees, run around barefoot, jump in puddles, or any of the other things Cici encouraged him to do.

  “I had nearly forgotten Lord Popinjay,” he said wistfully.

  “One cannot forget who they are, Lord St. Ives, no matter how hard they might try.”

  It was a truth John was all too familiar with.

  “There are many things that a man cannot forget, Cici.”

  John’s voice was as low as a whisper, and it raised pleasant shivers over her skin that made her nervous. She did not know what to think of the man, nearly a stranger despite their shared past. Part of her felt his presence so intently that she longed for every moment of his attention, but she could not ignore the part of her that had been hurt and betrayed by his disappearance and continued absence. He had forgotten about her as if she did not matter, and now, he wanted to act as if he had not abandoned her. “You seem to be quite good at forgetting, my lord.”

  She rushed through the door before he could answer. Inside was bedlam—the boys, bare chested, were shouting and running from two kitchen girls barely older than themselves. Penny and Margaret stood shivering, still fully dressed, before the fire. Amelia was nowhere to be found, a talent of hers when there was work to be done.

  “Cease this at once.” Cicely did not yell, but her voice was an unyielding command that froze the boys. “Sit.” She pointed to a wooden
bench near the fire, and both boys scurried over to sit.

  “Bless you, miss,” Mags, the cook, mumbled. “Mrs. Ward asked for the children to stay here until the fires are lit in the nursery, but they are…”

  “I am well aware,” Cicely replied, saving the cook from needing to explain further. “Off with your clothes,” she told the children.

  They began to undress, but poor Penny could not peel her damp dress off by herself. Cicely knelt beside her, stripped her down to her shift, then wrapped her in a blanket and sat her on the bench before the fire. When she looked back at John, he was helping Alfred undress but looking at her oddly. A thrill went through her, but she pushed it away. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I do not know.”

  What does that mean? She turned away from him and helped Margaret with her stockings. Cicely jerked on Margaret’s dress, taking her frustration out on the sodden fabric. She could still feel his stare on her back, and the awareness of it crept over her. As much as she tried to ignore it, she could not. His attention pleased and excited her. She remembered the feeling of his body on hers when they had fallen. Having the length of him pressed to her had taken her breath away more than the fall, and when she had opened her eyes, lud, she wanted so badly for him to kiss her. Instead, she had pushed him away.

  She finished, wrapped Margaret in a blanket, and settled her on the bench beside Penny and Fredrick, the only one who had needed no help, which had not surprised her in the least. It was harder to keep clothes on him than off. Alfred quickly joined the others.

  Cici tried to stand, but it was difficult with her water-laden skirts.

  John took a breath as if to speak. “May I?”

  Before she could reply, he grabbed under her arm to help her, and her body brushed against his. Any shiver of cold she might have felt was gone, replaced by a raging fire. Her cheeks burned. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He feigned a prim tone they had often imitated in their youth.

  It was so unexpected that she laughed.

  “That is so much lovelier than your frown.” He smiled.

  His compliment made her look away. She was not used to any man’s attention, let alone John’s, but when he did not say anything, she looked back at him. He was staring at her intently, and her breath caught. He was so handsome, much more than she had expected. Only his pale-blue eyes remained unchanged.