Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  Maggie smiled at him, gently patting Emma’s hand. “She’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry.” She glanced at her children flinging snowballs at a downed Garrett. “Would ye mind helping him out? He looks to be in need of aid.”

  Turning to look over his shoulder, Vaughn laughed and then hurried off to lend a hand.

  “He’s right,” Maggie said after returning her gaze to Emma. “Ye look pale.”

  Gritting her teeth, Emma felt tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, and it took all her willpower to keep them from rolling down her chilled cheeks. “I’m fine,” she whispered as though she could will those words to be true.

  “Aye, I can see that,” Maggie replied, disbelief clear in her voice. “Come, let’s get to work.” Then she looped her arm through Emma’s and together with the children followed after Ian as he guided the horse and cart out through the front gate and toward the woods.

  Emma’s heart and mind felt numb as she trudged onward through the snow, the children’s voices echoing around her as they laughed and cheered, enjoying the winter wonderland around them. Vaughn stayed by her side, his calm voice soothing even though Emma could not concentrate on the words he spoke.

  On they walked until they left the path and cut deeper into the woods where the trees were still untouched. Ian called them to a halt and ordered them to spread out. Since they would not cut down another tree and then use its branches for decorating the hall, the plan was to cut individual branches off trees here and there.

  “Talk to him,” Maggie whispered into Emma’s ear before she nodded to the west where Finn was disappearing between the trees. “Now.” Maggie’s steely blue eyes did not allow for an argument before she turned to Vaughn, who still hovered nearby, and drew his attention away, setting him to work.

  An insistent shove sent Emma on her way, and she reluctantly stumbled through the snow, her feet as cold as ice. The last time she had sought Finn out on an equally cold day, all had ended in a disaster. That day, she had angered him. And yet, here she was, going after a man who clearly could not care less about her. Why on earth did Maggie insist she subject herself to this torture? Was it not clear that Finn had set his sights elsewhere?

  Again, the day of her father’s burial surfaced in her mind, and instantly, her traitorous heart had hope.

  Cursing under her breath, Emma stumbled onward, trying her best to convince herself that Finn’s kindness that day had indeed been nothing else but that, kindness.

  Her eyes fell on branch after branch as she followed in Finn’s wake. A distant part of her mind urged her to pick them up, reminding her of why they had come out here in the first place. Still, Emma could not bring herself to heed those thoughts as she was too busy trying to hold utter panic at bay. What on earth was she doing following him? What was there to say? What should she−?

  “Oh!”

  It was nothing more than a breathy sound that escaped her lips as her eyes fell on Finn. He stood beside a large fir tree, in the process of cutting off one of the lower-hanging branches. His hands were steady, and the rhythmic sounds of the saw ought to have alerted her to his presence even before she had stumbled upon him. Her mind, however, had been too distracted.

  Finn, too, seemed to have been elsewhere with his thoughts for the moment her breathy “oh” filled the air, he flinched as though a shot had been fired near his head. His right hand slipped, and the saw’s teeth scraped over the back of his other hand, drawing blood.

  A curse flew from his lips as he spun around, holding his injured hand to his chest. Then his eyes met hers, and he all but stumbled backwards until his back collided with the tree. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and yet, his gaze remained hard.

  More than anything, Emma wanted to turn around and run, but the sight of a drop of his blood running down his hand and dripping into the snow held her in place. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her suddenly warm feet carrying her closer. “I didna mean to startle ye.”

  Finn’s teeth gritted together as he stared at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

  Still, Emma stepped closer, wondering where the sudden courage had come from to approach him in such a direct fashion. Perhaps it was not courage, she thought as her gaze once more dropped to his injured hand. Perhaps it was simply that his pain was hers, and she could not bear it.

  “Let me help ye.” Drawing a handkerchief from her pocket, Emma approached him, her eyes on his to gauge if her doing so would displease him. Although his eyes remained hard, he did not object nor draw away.

  When she came to stand in front of him, Emma had to lift her chin to look up into his eyes. It had been seven years since they had last stood this close together, and his warm breath as it fell onto her skin sent tantalising shivers down her back.

  A sudden desire rushed through Emma’s body, and for a moment, she feared she would lose all control and kiss him again.

  Biting her lip, she forced her eyes down to his injured hand. “It’s not deep,” she mumbled as she gently wrapped her handkerchief around his hand, tying a small knot to keep it in place. “I think ye’ll live,” she whispered as her eyes found his once more, a hint of humour in her voice that surprised her as much as him.

  For a split second, his lips seemed to quiver as though wishing to curl up into a smile, and Emma’s heart almost leapt out of her chest.

  “What are ye doing here?” Finn suddenly asked, his sharp voice cutting through the soft bond Emma had felt in her heart. “Should ye not be by Vaughn’s side?”

  As though slapped, Emma took a step back. “Vaughn? No, I…” She glanced at the branches in the snow. “I came to help ye collect these.”

  Stepping away from her, Finn picked up the two branches by his feet. “There’s no need. I can manage.”

  Coldness reclaimed Emma’s body, and her foolish heart sank. “I heard ye plan to go to England with Garrett.” Wherever had that come from?

  Finn blinked, his gaze returning to hers as his brows drew down. “Where did ye hear that?”

  “Is it not true?” Emma pressed, cursing her tongue for it would only get her in trouble. And yet, she had to know if what Maggie had said would indeed come to pass.

  Crossing his arms, Finn cocked an eyebrow, clearly unwilling to answer her unless she answered him first.

  “Maggie told me,” Emma finally said, feeling her heart calm with the familiar back and forth of conversation. “I believe she heard it from Ian. Why? Was it to be a secret?”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Finn shrugged. “Nah, I’m merely surprised ye know as I only mentioned it the other day.” He sighed, and for a reason Emma could not understand, his face suddenly darkened. “News travels fast, ‘twould seem.”

  Emma nodded, knowing very well that secrets rarely lasted long in their clan. “Why do ye wish to go to England?” Her hands shook, and so she curled them around one another under her cloak.

  Finn scoffed, “What is it to ye?”

  Gritting her teeth, Emma glared at him, annoyed with the way he always seemed to antagonise her. “Why do ye get angry? I merely asked a question. Is that so bad?”

  The muscles in Finn’s jaw seemed to pulse as he stared back at her. Then all of a sudden, his features softened, and the air rushed from his lungs as though he had been holding it. “Listen, I−”

  “Emma?”

  At the sound of Vaughn’s voice nearby, Emma could have groaned. Even if only for a moment, she wanted nothing more but to speak to Finn and have him speak to her, not as though they were enemies but with kindness. She would give anything to have him once more look at her the way he had the day of her father’s burial. The softness and compassion in his eyes had been breath-taking, and Emma had longed for it for years.

  Now, that hope seemed to be dashed as his green gaze hardened, his arms returning to cross over his chest as though to keep her away at all cost. “’Tis none of yer concern why I do anything, ye hear,” he growled, his voice as hard as ever before he stalked off, leav
ing nothing but prints in the snow.

  Chapter 4

  All is Fair in Love and War

  Storming away, Finn knew that he was acting like a headstrong bairn, unwilling to discuss what bothered him. And yet, if he had stayed a moment longer, he would have acted like a boorish man, yanking her into his arms, claiming her as his and kissing her the way he had wanted to for seven long years.

  Ever since that cold winter’s morning when she had surprised him, stunned him witless…and stolen not only a kiss, but his heart as well.

  Emma, however, had not wanted him that morning. All she had wanted was to win a game, a dare. She had not wanted him then, and she did not now. Not once since that day had she done anything that would have suggested her feelings on the matter had changed.

  Cursing under his breath, Finn curled his good hand around the handkerchief she had put on his scraped knuckles. The pain was minimal, and the cuts would have needed no bandaging. Still, he could not deny that the concern he had seen in her eyes had once again rendered him speechless. It had touched him, and he had wanted to believe that she cared, that his pain had touched her as well.

  Her eyes had been so kind and tender as she had looked up at him, her warm hand brushing over his skin as she had seen to his wound. His body had responded instantly, and his heart had hammered in his chest wildly, urging him to finally address her. Would it truly be worse to have her reject him? To know with certainty that she did not care? Or was the sliver of hope he clung to something he needed in order to survive?

  Ready to put his heart on the line, Finn had let down his defences, knowing that he could not live with uncertainty for the rest of his life…when Vaughn’s voice had shattered all his hopes.

  Anger had curled around his heart in an instant, and his defences had come back up. More than once he had seen Vaughn smile at Emma, and every now and then, she had even smiled back at him.

  Upon seeing it, Finn had almost doubled over in pain, and it had been in that moment that he had realised he had indeed lost his heart to her.

  Absolutely and irrevocably.

  “I need to leave,” Finn grumbled as he stomped through the snow with no regard for where he was headed. Not once had she smiled at him. “I need to go.”

  “Finn? Is that ye?”

  Stopping in his tracks, Finn turned toward Ian’s voice before his friend stepped out from behind a thicket, his gaze narrowing as he took in the scowl on Finn’s face. “What’s wrong?” His gaze darted to Finn’s wrapped hand. “Are ye hurt? I would’ve thought ye knew how to handle a saw.”

  Finn scoffed, remembering that he had left it lying in the snow. “’Tis nothing.”

  “’Tis not nothing.” Rolling his eyes, Ian heaved a deep sigh. “‘Tis Emma, is it not?”

  Finn opened his mouth to object, but Ian waved him off. “D’ye know that Vaughn intends to ask for her hand?”

  Shock barrelled into Finn like a charging boar. Although he had suspected−anyone would have−having it confirmed was a thousand times more agonising. “He d−?” He swallowed the lump in his throat as his injured hand suddenly ached painfully. “Why would I care?” The words fell from his lips to lie dead at his feet.

  Ian heaved another deep sigh; annoyance and a hint of anger clear on his face. “It doesna matter why ye care, Finn. All that matters is that ye do. Ye care about her whether ye like it or not.” A growl rose from Ian’s throat, and his jaw clenched. “Ye make me so angry.”

  “Why?” Finn asked, rather surprised by his friend’s emotional involvement in this matter. “What is it to ye?”

  “Ye’re not being fair!” Ian snapped, his eyes narrowed as he approached. “What ye both are doing is not fair! Ye’re being selfish and…and fools on top of it.”

  Never had Finn seen his friend lose his temper quite like this. Although Ian was known to have strong opinions and tended to argue with vehemence, the way he spoke to Finn now was different. It was as though the outcome of this personally affected him.

  “What do ye mean?” Finn asked, wondering about the bitterness that had grown in his friend over the last few years. “She and I are nothing to each other. We−”

  Ian laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh. “Truly?” He shook his head, utter disbelief in his eyes. “Everybody knows how ye two feel about one another. Why is it that ye canna see it?” He took a step forward, his gaze burning with challenge. “Tell me, would ye truly not care if Emma married Vaughn? Would ye dance at their wedding as ye danced at mine?”

  Ian’s question felt like a renewed blow to his mid-section, and Finn merely stood and stared at his friend while another part of him could not help but return to what Ian had said before. Everybody knows how ye two feel about one another. Why is it that ye canna see it?

  Was there truth in Ian’s words? Or was he merely angry and−? But why would he say something like that without truly believing it to be true? What reason could he have? After all, Ian was one of his oldest friends. They had always gone through thick and thin together. Finn had no reason to doubt his word.

  “Nah,” Ian said, shaking his head rather absentmindedly, as his fingers tensed around the axe in his hand. “She shouldna marry him. She shouldna!”

  Strangely relieved to have another agree, Finn nodded. “Aye, they dunno suit. He’s too−”

  “They shouldna marry,” Ian hissed, advancing on Finn with a blazing fire in his eyes, “because she doesna love him! That’s why! If she marries him, she’ll doom Vaughn to a loveless marriage, tied to someone whose heart he canna win. Does that seem fair to ye?”

  Stunned, Finn looked at his friend, and for the first time, Ian’s anger and bitterness seemed to make sense. “Does Maggie−?”

  “It doesna matter!” Ian snapped, his chest rising and falling with each agitated breath. His hand was still clenched around the axe he held, and his jaw was tense to the point of breaking. Still, it seemed he was fighting to regain control and calm the emotions that had all of a sudden run wild. “Ye still have a chance,” he finally said, his body strung tight, but his voice quiet, almost breathless. “Ye still have a chance to be happy. Dunno waste it, and dunno doom others because ye’re afraid.”

  Finn swallowed, overcome with the sorrow he saw in Ian’s eyes. “Thank ye, my friend, for speaking so plainly. I canna say anyone ever has.”

  Ian nodded. “Then do us both a favour and heed my advice. Dunno thank me and then carry on as though ye havena heard a word I said.”

  “Did ye truly mean what ye said?” Finn asked, remembering the way Emma sometimes smiled at Vaughn, the way he gazed at her like a love-struck fool. Finn could not for the life of him remember her ever smiling at him. Did that not mean that her heart belonged to Vaughn? “How can I be certain she cares?”

  Ian’s lips pressed into a thin line as he once more rolled his eyes at Finn. Then he took a step closer, his blue eyes dark and thunderous as they held Finn’s. “Go and ask her!” he snapped, his voice cutting through the still winter air like a whip. Then he spun on his heel and walked away, his angry footsteps dulled by the soft snow covering the ground.

  Chapter 5

  Silent Sorrow

  “Sorry,” Maggie mumbled as she hastened toward Emma, her arms filled with cut branches. “I turned my head once, and he slipped through my fingers.” As she lowered her treasures into the cart, her gaze travelled to Vaughn, who had come walking back with Emma a few minutes ago and was now attempting to chop another branch off a fir tree.

  “’Tis all right,” Emma mumbled, unable to hide her anger and disappointment. “Finn was a horrid person. No matter what I do, he always snaps at me as though my presence alone offends him.” She shook her head, willing anger to supersede disappointment. “If he canna even be civil, then there’s no point in talking to him.” She scoffed, her hands coming up to rest on her sides as righteous indignation spread through her heart, pushing aside the pain that tended to linger. “I canna stand him one bit, and I feel awfully sorry for the p
oor English lass he’ll choose for his bride.”

  Finished with her tirade, Emma turned to Maggie and found her friend all but glaring at her, her bright blue eyes dark and filled with utter annoyance. “Ye’re a fool,” Maggie hissed, grabbing Emma’s arm and pulling her aside. Glancing around them, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Why do ye so stubbornly ignore how ye feel? Why can ye not see that Finn cares for ye? Are ye truly blind? Or do ye enjoy having two men vie for yer hand?”

  Shocked, Emma blinked. “What do ye mean?” Never had she seen Maggie quite this agitated, this angry, this…hurt. “Two men? ‘Tis only Vaughn who−”

  Gritting her teeth, sweet, cheerful Maggie seemed to be fighting for control. “D’ye truly think ‘tis a coincidence that the moment Vaughn started smiling at ye, Finn couldna seem to stand the man any longer? He’s jealous,” she hissed, her blue eyes holding Emma’s as though wanting to make certain that her friend understood.

  Emma swallowed, ignoring the little dance her heart was currently performing in her chest. “Jealous? Nah, ye canna mean that. He hates me. He only ever glares at me. He has ever since that morning when−”

  “Oh, I wish I had known ye back then,” Maggie interrupted, hands gesturing wildly as she began to pace. “I wish I’d come to Seann Dachaigh Tower a year earlier. I wish I’d been here for I would’ve pushed ye to seek him out again the next day and steal another kiss.”

  “What?”

  Maggie stopped, her eyes hard, before she walked over to Emma with sure steps until their noses almost touched. “I’ll never believe he’s been angry with ye for all these years because ye kissed him. That’s nonsense. Even if he hadn’t liked it, he wouldna have acted like that. He would’ve laughed it off and gone on his merry way.” Maggie’s breath came in rapid gasps, and for a moment, she closed her eyes and then inhaled a deep breath. “Perhaps I should’ve spoken to ye sooner, pushed ye to see what is right in front of yer eyes.” Looking at Emma, Maggie sighed, her eyes now brimming with tears. “I didna because I didna think ‘twas my place to meddle in other people’s affairs.” Her lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, Emma thought she saw a memory cross over Maggie’s face. “Others often think they know what’s right, but they dunno. They push and they prod until they get what they want, and then…ye choose the wrong path and all is lost.”