Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  But Edmund was not listening to her, he did not seem to be listening to reason. “You are the honey, you are the reason I am here. What share of the spoils were you promised, Molly – oh, of course there will be none with me. What a fool you must have felt, discovering I had no wealth.”

  “I knew that in the King’s Head!” Molly said desperately. “Would I be so stupid to lock myself in with you? Kidnapping a knight, why would we do that on Christmas Eve when I could have been anywhere else?”

  But he did not want to hear her words. He did not want to be convinced, she could see that. It was just like talking to her brothers all over again.

  They did not want to hear the truth.

  The door slammed open and there stood Tom and Jack. Tom looked gleeful, but there was a look of concern on Jack’s features.

  “Dear me, Molls, it looks like you are in far more trouble than we thought,” leered Tom. “Pretty boy not believe you? What a shame?”

  “Go to hell, Tom,” Molly spat, pouring all her anger and frustration towards him.

  Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Now, that is not a pleasant thing to say to your brother, though I must admit I have not enjoyed hearing most of what you have been saying. Truly going to leave us, are you? Well, Molls. You are not a person we can trust anymore.”

  Molly snorted. “Fine, do not trust me. Do you think I care about that right now?”

  “I suppose you will say that you care about me right now,” said Edmund quietly.

  Molly turned on the spot to look at Edmund, her face softened. “Yes.”

  “So the decision is simple,” interrupted Tom’s voice.

  Molly turned to look at her brother. “Really?”

  Tom nodded. “Kill you, or leave you here to rot. Either way, Molls, you cannot be allowed to live.”

  Chapter 9

  What was that thumping, almost overwhelming noise? It was all Edmund could hear, and it felt like an age until he realised that it was his own pulse, throbbing in his head so that all he could do was hear the thud, thud, thud.

  The last ten minutes had utterly changed his world. For a few hours, just a morning, he had believed himself the most fortunate gentleman in the world.

  Who else had awoken in the arms of a beautiful woman like Molly Kimble? Witty, strong, determined to be her own person and yet warm to those around her. Two days was all it had taken for him to fall completely in love with her.

  And there she stood, his temptress and betrayer. She had known all along that she would be rescued, taken away by these brothers of hers.

  Edmund felt nausea rise up in his stomach again. What was he – just something to pass the time?

  Her golden hair was falling down her shoulders and it moved as she shook her head.

  “You – you won’t let them take me, will you?”

  Edmund opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words. No, he did not want her to be hurt, but neither could he bring himself to look at Molly again. Not now that he knew almost everything that had passed between them was a lie. Not now that he could not believe a single word she said.

  “What a charmer,” Tom sneered. “Not going to protect her, then? Some gentleman you make.”

  Fire rose in Edmund’s throat and he found his voice. “I do not believe you will really harm her. Molly is your sister, your older sister by the look of it. You may be a brigand, but you are not heartless.”

  The young brother – Jack, was it? – frowned as he looked at the elder. “Tom, we would never – ”

  “You do not know what we would never day,” snarled Tom. “You do not remember what we had to do, Molls and I, to keep you warm and clothed and safe, boy, so do not think of telling me what to do.”

  Edmund heard the bitterness but it washed off him like softly falling rain. All he could think about was the pain inside his own heart.

  His eyes lifted and caught Molly’s gaze on him, and there was a flash of fire between them that he did not understand. How was it possible to feel this close to someone and yet so distant from who you thought they were?

  “Edmund…”

  Her voice was soft but it trailed off as she saw the ferocity in his eyes.

  “Just…just take her,” Edmund found himself saying. So detached was he from his own body, his heart aching so badly he could barely feel anything else, that it was like someone else was speaking using his own voice. “Take her and leave me here. I have no wish to see her again.”

  Molly’s mouth fell open. “You – you would let them hurt me?”

  But her words did not seem to make any sense. How could she be more hurt than he was now, as he stood and stared at the personification of betrayal?

  Yes, he had bedded a fair few women in his time. What gentleman had not?

  But he had always been honest with them. Too honest, in some situations. He had always told them about his family, how he had broken with them and why, and that there was no coin more than that already in his pocket.

  It did not stop them. It did not hold them back because it was honesty that was the genuine moment between them, nothing else.

  He had thought there was so much more with Molly. So much more; like kindred spirits who had found each other in the darkness of the world.

  But he had been wrong. She was just as dark as the rest of it – perhaps the cause for some of it.

  “Just leave me here,” Edmund heard himself say in a dull, resigned voice. “I can find my own way back home.”

  He had not expected them to accept his proposal with gratitude, but Edmund was surprised to see the anger rise in Tom’s face.

  “And you think we will just walk away from the goldmine that you are? You must think me a fool.”

  Edmund snorted and sat down heavily. “No, I think the only fool in this place is me. But you will make yourself into a fool, sir, if you persist in believing me to be a goldmine. Have you no eyes? Can you not see the state I am in?”

  Tom’s hesitant eyes took in the ruffled shirt, the unbuttoned waistcoat, the breeches hastily thrown on. “You are dishevelled, as any man would be after – ”

  “Really look,” Edmund said frustration. It was easier this way, to pour out his bitterness into ire at the brothers, when all he wanted to do is cry at the sister and ask what he could possibly have done to deserve such treatment. “I warrant the waistcoat is a good few years old of date. The buttons certainly are, as I traded the originals for meals months ago.”

  The two brothers stood, irresolute and unable to make a decision.

  Jack turned to Molly. “He is lying.”

  “He is not,” she said flatly.

  Edmund leaned back nonchalantly in the full knowledge that it would infuriate Tom all the more. “Utterly disowned by the family, old chap, I do apologise. I am just a knight now, or a baronet or whatever they call them these days. You know, it is awfully bad luck for you though. Just think. If I had not argued with my father all those years ago, you would have abducted a duke, or a marquis at the very least. But as it is…”

  He stretched out his arms wide, more than enough to explain his point.

  Tom’s eyes were darting between him and his sister. “‘Tis all nonsense. Gentlemen do not disown their sons, they keep them – they give them money, they rescue them!”

  “Does it look like I am being rescued?” Edmund tried to keep the anger out of his voice. God’s teeth, the very idea that his father or one of his brothers could ride in and rescue him now would be marvellous, but as always, he would have to fight his own battles. “If you have any intelligence at all, young sir, you will leave me to rot here in peace. What did you think I was doing at the King’s Head? Waiting for my servants to meet me?”

  “He speaks the truth.”

  Molly’s voice was low, heavy with sadness, but Edmund refused to look at her. She was the one who had tricked him, had lied to him – well, if omissions on that scale could be called lying, and if you asked him, it could. There was nothing more he could say to her. His
heart panged each time she spoke and he did not know what he would do if she spoke directly to him.

  Molly’s dark eyes shifted and caught Edmund’s, and he felt paralysed, as though trapped in a vice.

  How could he have trusted her? She had not even been entirely truthful with her name. Everything about her was a lie, and the more he thought about it, the more embarrassed Edmund became about his own brutal honesty.

  He had told her details of those encounters with his father that had never slipped his lips before. Not even his brothers knew the full extent of their father’s depravity, and now this slip of a girl knew it. Would sell the story, no doubt, to the nearest newspaper.

  Shame, white hot and searing, pouring into Edmund’s heart as he tried to break the connection between them but their gaze stayed steady. How could he have been so stupid? Molly had shown him her true colours in that poker match, and he had been so obsessed with the cards, so determined to prove to her that he could beat her, that he had barely noticed he was getting played for a fool.

  And she had been so impressive with cards.

  “Have you not received enough punishment, Sir Edmund?”

  Why had he not listened to her?

  And the answer came loud and clear in his mind as Edmund stared into Molly Kimble’s beautiful eyes: he was flattered.

  Yes, his own ego had utterly let him down and when he had needed to be strong the most, he had allowed himself to feel…to feel cared for. To feel listened to, heard.

  To feel loved.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I speak the truth. I do.”

  Molly could not hold his gaze after those words, her cheeks tinging pink.

  Good, Edmund thought savagely, the fury of his thoughts hurting him far more than it affected her. She should know, she should feel the ignominy of what she had done to him.

  “Well, as you see gentlemen,” Edmund said heavily, attempting to ignore the leaden feeling in his stomach, “I am both totally innocent of any blame, and completely penniless. Not exactly the perfect recipe for a kidnapping, is it?”

  They stood there, hesitating, and finally the anger that had been burning away in his stomach poured out into his heart and Edmund wanted nothing more than to leave that place – leave it and never see it, nor Molly, ever again.

  His possessions in that place were few and Molly started as he rose quickly from his seat. Picking up his coat and greatcoat, he pulled each one on in turn.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Jack spoke, a little fearful but evidently attempting to still act as though he and his brother were in control.

  Edmund worked hard not to roll his eyes. “What does it look like I am doing? I am sick and tired of standing here, like fools, waiting for you two plebeians to make a decision.”

  Although neither brother seemed to know what the word meant, it was clear that they recognised an insult when it was hurled in their faces.

  “Now see here,” said Tom, and he pulled out a knife. It was short, jaggedly serrated, and had certainly done its fair amount of work over time.

  Edmund did not even blink. “If you were going to stab me, young man, you would have done so at the very beginning of this conversation. Forgive me if I am not quaking at your feet, but unlike you, I actually do have somewhere I need be.”

  He stepped towards the door, a direction which took him mere inches from Tom, but the young man did not move.

  As Edmund reached the doorway however, something did make him stop.

  “Edmund.”

  Breathing hard, he turned around to see Molly staring at him. There was a pleading look in her face, as though she had one chance to tell him something vitally important – something that her life genuinely depended on.

  Edmund tried to force down the words of love and contrition that were attempting to be spoken. He would not allow himself to be weak, he had promised himself never to allow himself to be hurt again. Not again.

  “Whatever you decide to do with your life, Molly Kimble,” he said coldly, “perhaps there are better gifts to give a gentleman on Christmas Day than lies.”

  Without waiting to hear her response, if she could find words to counteract his malice, Edmund turned around and stormed down the empty street, not knowing nor caring where he was going.

  Chapter 10

  Molly opened her eyes but she saw absolutely nothing.

  How could she when the world had ended? There was nothing left for her now. All that she had hoped for, all that she had thought may happen to bring her happiness, had gone.

  “Whatever you decide to do with your life, Molly Kimble, perhaps there are better gifts to give a gentleman on Christmas Day than lies.”

  Molly shut her eyes again. It was easier if she just pretended she was asleep again; anything to ignore the physical pain that was battering her heart, bruising it.

  She was lying on the makeshift bed that she and Edmund had made just one night before. Sleepy wintery sunlight was seeping through the windows, so it was morning. How had she managed to sleep with such agony in her soul?

  Molly brought a hand to her face and brushed away some of the salt that had dried on her face from her incessant crying the night before. Exhaustion then, it seemed, had been the only way she had fallen asleep.

  Everything was quiet.

  Tom and Jack had gone, their petty threats absolutely destroyed by Edmund’s savagery. The moment he had disappeared, her brothers had seemed lost, unsure what they were even doing there.

  “Just be grateful that he did not want to take you with him,” Jack had said, his good heart attempting to bring her a little joy. “He seems like a terrible man, no gentleman at all.”

  And he had stared at her with absolute horror as she had yelled at him, “You have no idea what you speak of – you do not know him at all!”

  Tears had broken through her resolve at that moment and both her brothers had stared at her with abject horror.

  This was Molly. Molly did not cry.

  They had left not too long after that, abandoning her once again in the house that now represented so much of what she hated about herself, about them, about their family.

  Their mother would have cried, too, to see what had become of her babies.

  The Bletchley brothers had not locked the door. She was not trapped there, no longer kidnapped, but no longer with her knight and that was what hurt the most. It was like Tom had stabbed her with that ridiculous knife he always kept on his person.

  Tom had not stabbed her. It was Edmund who had caused her the most pain.

  “God damnit, Molly, you have proved him right. You are just like the rest of them, like your brothers. Everything you are saying is a lie.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek and Molly did not attempt to brush it away. How could she argue with such words? She had barely been able to then, and she certainly could not know.

  It was impossible to know why she had chosen such a strange path, but every step down the path of the lie made it almost impossible to step back to safety, to honesty, to truth.

  Because of the way he had looked at her. Edmund had looked at her as though she was the most beautiful woman in London, and she had felt it.

  “That was an orgasm. You came for me, Molly, and there is no higher compliment for a gentleman.”

  Molly lay back down on the makeshift bed. This was the place; this was where Edmund had kissed her, had loved her. This was where he had shown her what it was to be loved, what making love between a man and a woman should be.

  She had never experienced such a connection; beyond the pleasure, and there was quite a lot of it, there had been something else. Something between them. Something that felt special, different from anything else she had ever experienced.

  It was love. She knew that know, knew it as soon as her secret had been revealed.

  “Those were my brothers. I had met with them to attempt to persuade them to leave their crimes behind them – as I have!”

  Another te
ar escaped her eyes, falling into her hair as Molly stared up at the ceiling. It was not fair, and yet she had brought all of this misery onto herself. This place where she had been her happiest for years, where she had experienced the best Christmas of her life; it was where she had become whole again.

  And now she was broken. Now that Edmund had gone, and forever for she knew he would never want to see her again, he had taken a part of her heart with him. She would never be whole again, and what was perhaps most surprising was that she did not want to be whole again.

  Something about Edmund had completed her, and now that she had lost him, she did not want to still feel whole. It would not make sense. It would make the loss of him somehow more real than he had been.

  There was a loud knock on the door. Molly’s eyes snapped open. She had dreamt it; she had surely drifted into painful sleep as she thought about Edmund and how much she cared for him.

  But no – another knock on the door resounded loudly around the room and Molly, startled and a little dazed from hunger, scrambled to her feet.

  “Ed-Edmund?” She whispered, her voice cracking. “Is that you?”

  The door handle twisted and as it opened, it was immediately clear that the person knocking on the door was not Edmund. This person was smaller, more rounded, and laughed like a foghorn as she entered.

  “God almighty, I do not think I have ever been mistaken for an Edmund before!” She chuckled. “Edwina, perhaps, but – Molls? Is that you?”

  The woman stepped into the growing wintery morning light, and Molly recognised Sal, sister of her late husband. A woman of true courage, and one who had been at her side when – at the time – she thought she was experiencing the very worst a woman could.

  “Sal,” Molly’s voice croaked.

  Sal stepped forward and took Molly’s hands in hers with a kind smile on her face. “Oh, Mollsy. What trouble have you got yourself into now?”

  And those softly spoken words, said without judgement, were all that was needed to tip Molly over the edge.