Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  “Quiet, you,” Maxwell grumbled, giving Josephine a hand up, then crossing the room to greet them properly. “Now that the honeymoon has ended, you and Violet will soon learn just how difficult it is for a husband and wife to find more than a few moments to themselves. Then we’ll see if you find five minutes something to scoff at. How was the continent?”

  “Oh, you and Josephine were right,” Violet exclaimed with a dreamy sigh. “We had the most wonderful time! Paris was my favorite. I could have remained there for the rest of my days.”

  Josephine smiled, remembering her own wedding trip with Maxwell following their hasty elopement. The earl and Thaddeus had seen them safely to Cornwall, where they’d spent a few weeks settling into their new home—filling it with a small staff, choosing new furnishings and decor, and generally falling into a cozy, happy life as man and wife. After sending word to her father’s solicitor with news of her marriage so he could go about requiring her dowry, they’d set off for their honeymoon in Europe, where they spent three blissful months. They had indulged in sumptuous dinners in Paris cafés, enjoyed the opera houses and museums of Italy, toured the ruins of Ancient Rome, and walked the sunny beeches on the coast of Greece.

  Her husband became a different man during those months, smiling and laughing more often, the harsh lines of his face gradually easing into an expression of serenity. He still fell into bouts of melancholy from time to time, and suffered nightmares many nights, but Josephine could see he made an effort to fight against the episodes and strive to make the best of each day.

  His family had no choice but to grudgingly accept their marriage, though only Thaddeus and Violet made an attempt to maintain steady communication by letter. They had also visited once following their lavish wedding at St. George’s in London before leaving for their honeymoon. Maxwell and Josephine had attended the ceremony, and were received by the family and other guests with wary curiosity. The countess had not spoken to Josephine outside of offering the obligatory greetings, though the earl seemed to go out of his way to at least be cordial. It did not seem to bother Maxwell, so Josephine did not allow it to upset her, either. Especially since seeing Adelaide’s sour expression at the sight of her with her new husband had given her such a smug sense of satisfaction. The woman seemed ready to combust at the knowledge that Josephine was happy, flaunting the fact with a wide smile while wearing one of the new gowns from the lavish wardrobe her husband had surprised her with before their trip.

  They were happy together, and the censure of others could do nothing to ruin that.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” Thaddeus said, taking Josephine’s shoulders and kissing both her cheeks. “You’re glowing, Jo.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, placing a hand over her midsection. “Maxwell and I are elated.”

  “It’s going to be a girl,” Maxwell remarked, draping an arm across her shoulders. “Josephine says I cannot possibly know that, but I have a feeling. And besides, I am never wrong.”

  “You are wrong on occasion,” Josephine chided, nudging his ribs with her elbow.

  Leaning down to kiss her temple, he smiled. “Well, I was right in choosing you, wasn’t I? I think that overshadows those few times I’ve been wrong.”

  “My God, you’d think the two of you were married only yesterday the way you carry on so,” Thaddeus said.

  Violet slapped his shoulder with her gloves. “I insist you continue to carry on so with me for the next several years, my lord.”

  Thaddeus cast a look at his wife that clearly showed his devotion. “For the rest of my life, dearest. You may count upon it.”

  They were interrupted by Mrs. Potts, who returned to inform them that dinner was served.

  “Oh good, I’m absolutely famished,” Violet declared as she took Thaddeus’ arm to be led from the room. “Jo, I want to hear all about the properties you and Maxwell are considering for your book shop over dinner.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, leaning into Maxwell as they followed the other couple from the room.

  Her husband drew her up short in the doorway, turning to face her as Violet and Thaddeus continued to the dining room.

  “Not so fast, wife,” he teased, pointing upward. “They might not have noticed that there is mistletoe hanging over this door, but I am far more perceptive than my brother. I must insist upon a kiss before I allow you to take another step.”

  With a giggle, she went into the circle of his arms for the umpteenth time today. Her husband had ensured mistletoe lingered over every doorway in the house, as well as in a few other surprising places. He cornered her every chance he got, stealing kisses and taking great satisfaction in pressing the issue.

  Coming up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I never tire of mistletoe kisses,” she murmured, before pressing her lips to his.

  About Elise Marion

  Elise Marion is a lover books and has a special place in her heart for sweet and sensual romance. When the Texas native isn’t caring for her family or writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, singing loudly, or cooking up something new in the kitchen.

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  Holly and the Beast

  by Annabel Joseph

  Chapter 1

  Such a Sacrifice

  A cold English winter, in the reign of the Border Kings

  Lady Holly and her friends huddled well out of the way as Lord Mortimer’s courtiers scurried through the Great Hall, calling out orders to their attendants and soldiers. The servants milled about, trying to look busy as they eavesdropped on the scandal of the day.

  “They won’t find her,” said Lady June, her prim pout drawn into a frown. “She’s gone with Sir Richard, and the two of them won’t dare come home.”

  “Not with her father in such a temper,” agreed Lady Tessa.

  Holly pulled her cloak tightly around her, torn between amusement and concern. In the midst of the chaos, she cast a glance at Lord Mortimer, her father’s liege lord and the most prominent landowner in Northumberland. Repeated raids from the Scots had weathered his features and grayed his hair, but he still exuded power, and, currently, hot rage.

  “I wouldn’t have dared try it.” Lady Emma tsked, fingering her smooth, dark plait. “It was foolish and reckless of her to run off like that.”

  “She was desperate,” said June. “She was to marry Laird Cochrane tomorrow. That horrid Scotsman.”

  She dropped her voice, for any mention of the Scots struck fear in the hearts of all the young ladies of Mortimer’s court. Their uncivilized clans rode down from their keeps on the opposite side of the border without warning, raided and stole, burned crops and kidnapped servants, and did whatever they could do to keep the English from settling into the border counties. Lord Mortimer’s daughter Lorna was supposed to marry the area’s most powerful laird in hopes of establishing peace.

  “Laird Cochrane will be well put out when he arrives and she’s not here,” Holly thought aloud. She hadn’t known Mortimer’s daughter well, for she’d been prone to putting on airs and avoiding her cousins. None of them had had the slightest idea that Lorna planned an escape.

  “It’s romantic, isn’t it?” asked Tessa, lowering her voice. “She ran off with her guard. All that time, they were secretly in love.”

  “More likely she enticed him with money,” June scoffed. “Sir Richard is a man with no honor. No court will have him now, so where will they go?”

  “The Scots will take them in, for none of them have any honor,” Emma said.

  “Lack of honor seems to be an increasing problem these days.” Holly tried not to glance to her left, to another of Mortimer’s courtiers. Strong, handsome Lord Allen had written her sweet poems and promised to ask for her hand in marriage...until he fell in love
with Lady Serena, a high-ranking widow of a neighboring household. Only yesterday, her uncle had blessed the couple’s union, much to Holly’s disgust.

  At least she’d never been publicly connected to Allen. She understood now that he’d been secretive for a reason—he’d never meant to honor his courtly promises. She’d learned a hard lesson and cried too many tears over a man who didn’t deserve them.

  She had no intention of ever trusting her heart to a man again.

  “It was foolish of Lorna to run away,” said Holly. “Whether wed to the laird or Sir Richard, she won’t be happy. Women rarely are, in marriage.”

  Tessa nudged her. “Don’t sulk so, Holly. Just because your heart was broken, that doesn’t mean all men are bad. Someone will want to marry you.”

  Tessa meant to be kind but her soothing tone was humiliating. Holly tossed her head. “Honestly, I don’t care if I’m married or not, or who I marry for that matter. All of it is nonsense, based on dynasties and political maneuvers, and men needing a female to bear their brats.”

  “It’s not nonsense,” said June, prim as ever. “It’s not well of you to say so. It’s a woman’s duty to marry and submit to her husband. As for Lorna, she was bound by laws of church and state to wed Laird Cochrane for the good of our people, and English-Scots relations. By eloping with Sir Richard, she’s shunned her duty. I hope I never see her again.”

  You won’t, Holly thought, watching the courtiers try to mollify Lord Mortimer. Lorna had made a choice that would change her life forever, a choice that would prevent her from ever coming home to the hills and moors of Northumberland. As for the rest of them...

  “What will Laird Cochrane do when he arrives tomorrow?” Emma asked, her worry obvious. “He and his wild vassals might overrun the castle in their fury, even put it to the flame.”

  “Over Lorna?” Tessa took Emma’s hand. “I don’t think so. They’ll merely choose some other English maiden to secure the pact.”

  As Tessa said it, Holly came to understand their peril. They, too, were of marriageable age, and nieces to Lord Mortimer. If Lorna wouldn’t have the Cochrane laird, the duty might fall to one of them. She cast a glance at June. She really ought to be the one chosen, since she was the oldest and most self-possessed. “Self-possessed” was a nice way of saying she was shrewish and outspoken. Why, if she married Laird Cochrane, he’d be so henpecked he wouldn’t have time to raid across the border.

  But Emma was the most beautiful of their group, with her long chestnut braid and dark, wide eyes. Emma’s mother had had Spanish blood and it showed in her exotic looks.

  As for Holly, she was plain and pale, with blue eyes and horridly curly blonde hair, and cheeks that were too prone to blushing. Perhaps that was why Lord Allen had lost interest in her as soon as Lady Serena looked his way...

  Holly glanced up, torn from her memories as her cousins stirred and stood. “Lord Mortimer comes,” June hissed, pulling her arm.

  It was as if Tessa’s carelessly spoken words had summoned him. A bevy of courtiers flanked him as he made his way across the Great Hall toward his nieces. The friends shifted, each trying to hide behind the other. Somehow Holly ended up at the front. She lifted the skirts of her undergown and tunic, bowing her head respectfully.

  “My lord,” she murmured, her polite greeting echoed by the cowards behind her.

  “My beautiful nieces,” he said, affecting a fatherly concern that was rarely expressed. “I suppose you have heard the news about Lorna’s flight.”

  “I’m so sorry,” they all said, their soft words tumbling over each other’s. Holly felt hemmed in by cousins and courtiers, which added to her nervousness. Her uncle was larger than life. Even their fathers—Lord Mortimer’s brothers—were intimidated by him.

  “There’s nothing to be done now,” he said in a grave tone. “I’ve received word that a Berwick cleric has blessed their marriage, but it grieves me greatly that she married against my will.”

  “It was not well done of her,” June piped up. She could always be depended upon to criticize others. “She ought to have come to you for permission first.”

  “Ah, but she knew she wouldn’t receive it, for she was already betrothed to Laird Cochrane. Now he and his court travel through these chilly Yuletide rains to visit us. He’s expecting to make a fine marriage on his arrival.”

  He paused here, considering each of them. Holly wished she might sink into the floor or disappear like some faery apparition.

  “It’s so important to make this alliance,” he continued. He looked to his courtiers for agreement, and they nodded. So easy for these men to set up the political alliance, but it was a woman who was expected to sacrifice herself to the wild Scottish laird. It will not be me, she thought, biting her lip. I’ve just weathered one heartbreak and I’ll not bear another.

  “I do believe,” Lord Mortimer continued, “that in this season of generosity and goodwill, Laird Cochrane would be happy to take one of you to wife instead.”

  His gaze fell on Emma—beautiful, graceful Emma—but she burst into tears before he could name her. “Oh, dearest uncle, it cannot be me,” she said. “My mother has so recently gone to her eternal rest, and I can’t leave Papa all alone.”

  Holly could have wept too. The sacrifice would be tantamount to losing everything. Home, family, friends, safety, even civil English customs, to go live in the Lowlands with a dreaded laird and his savage people. She hadn’t thought much about it while it was Lorna’s cross to bear, but now—

  “Uncle, it ought to be Holly.” That was June’s strident voice forming the traitorous words. “Just now, we were talking about the situation, and Holly said that it didn’t matter whom she married. She said that she didn’t care.”

  “Yes, she did,” Emma agreed quickly. “She hoped to marry Lord Allen, but now that she can’t, she’s free to marry the laird.”

  Holly turned to them, teeth clenched, pale cheeks flushing hot as fire. “Of course it matters who I marry.” She forced the words out in a panic. “I only meant that—”

  “You said you didn’t care,” June insisted.

  “She said exactly that.” Tessa nodded. “She felt Lorna was foolish to run away, since to wed one man is the same as wedding another. Isn’t that what you said, Holly?”

  “Not quite. I didn’t say that.”

  Perhaps the courtiers found this conversation amusing. Holly thought she saw one man’s lips twitching as if he subdued a laugh, but it wasn’t a funny situation. Her uncle studied her, perhaps weighing her against the others. She was not lovely like Emma, or charming like Tessa, or charismatic like June.

  “I... I’m sure I wouldn’t be suitable,” she stammered. “June is older than me. Perhaps she would do better.”

  She felt June’s foot come down hard atop hers, her bullying concealed beneath their skirts. It was all Holly could do not to kick her back. “I’m only a year older than you,” June said. “And unlike you, cousin, I do have a care who I marry and why. You have no such concern, as you so recently expressed.”

  “I don’t know why I said that. Of course it matters.” Holly felt like she was drowning, being pulled down into a dark lake by the weight of her careless words. “Please, my lord, I have no wish to marry Laird Cochrane. I know we wouldn’t suit.”

  “But you’re such a delicate English rose,” her uncle said, as if seeing her in a new light. “Precisely the sort of lady the Scots admire, since all their women are dark, wild, ugly creatures. Your faithless Lord Allen is engaged to another, leaving you free to marry who you wish. Perhaps this will all work out for the best.” He drew her closer, his touch and nearness making the hair rise on the back of her neck. “How fortunate you are, dear niece, to be able to make this sacrifice for all of us.”

  “I— Please, uncle, I would rather not.”

  He ignored her, continuing on as if everything were decided. “This is the perfect opportunity to show your family and, indeed, all our border towns how much you estee
m their safety. We’ll pray every day for your health and the success of your marriage.”

  “Perhaps the laird won’t have me.” A drowning woman would cling to anything, any hope. “He was supposed to wed Lorna.”

  “Cochrane never met my daughter during the negotiations. There was no established relationship, so I doubt he’ll care. It’s a gesture, you see. This marriage is an alliance between families, a promise of goodwill, and you’re as much my family as Lorna, nearly. Out of all the cousins, you look the most like her.”

  “But I will...” Holly swallowed hard. “I will have Scottish children, won’t I? And they’ll be Mortimers, sullying our name.”

  “They’ll be Cochranes, really.” Her uncle’s expression was kind, but his eyes were hard with intention. “Will it be so terrible to have Scottish children? I’m sure you’ll find a way to love them, even if they’re wild and dark.”

  Everyone Holly knew, everyone who surrounded her hated the Scottish and all they stood for. Lorna had left everything and run away to escape life among the Scottish. Holly would have no such opportunity. With the laird arriving tomorrow, her uncle and his guards would make sure of that.

  “You’ll be able to visit us,” said June. “Won’t she, uncle? Perhaps next Christmas if the weather’s not too wet. Or in the summer! Won’t that be fun, Holly, to come visit us in the summer when the gardens are in bloom?”

  “She may visit us whenever she likes.” He brushed back a lock of Holly’s hair. “Yes, so like my own daughter, with your blonde hair and blue eyes. I daresay you’ll even fit the bridal gown she was meant to wear. Dearest niece, you’ve made a troubled father a bit happier. Even though I’ve lost my daughter to that rascal Richard, this important wedding can go on.”