The Winter Wish is a work of fiction
All of the characters, organizations, and
events portrayed in this novel are either products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © by Jillian Eaton 2012
http://www.jillianeatonbooks.blogspot.com
All Rights Reserved.
Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole
or in part in any form is strictly forbidden.
Other Titles by Jillian Eaton
A Brooding Beauty
A Ravishing Redhead
A Lascivious Lady
For lovers old and new.
CHAPTER ONE
“Sarah, you are doing it again.”
Glancing sideways at her best friend, Sarah made a face and sighed. “I know,” she admitted, twisting her hands anxiously on her lap. “But I simply cannot help it. He is so very handsome, Lily. Do you not think he is handsome?” With another little sigh, this one dreamier than the last, Sarah returned to staring unabashedly at Lord Devlin Heathcliff as he waltzed across the ballroom floor.
Strikingly tall with a well muscled physique to match, the Viscount of Winswood had been blessed with glossy brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and two matching dimples. His jaw line was strong, his nose straight. From the top of his head to the tips of his boots he was sheer perfection in every way, shape, and form. It was a fact he knew very well and used to his full advantage at every opportunity, especially where women were concerned.
As Sarah watched, her face all but green with envy, the slender brunette in his arms threw back her head and tittered. The Viscount drew her close to whisper something in her ear and she laughed again, this time loudly enough to cause a few heads to swivel. Fearing she could be caught gaping Sarah turned in the uncomfortable wooden chair she had been sitting on since the ball began some hours before and exchanged a rueful smile with Lily.
“I think Lady Roland has big ears and an absolutely vile temper,” her friend said loyally, referring to the brunette upon whose neck Devlin’s lips were currently resting. “Not to worry, Sarah. She will be nothing more than yet another passing fancy. You know how he is with them, like a child with a shiny new toy. At the last ball it was Lady Awning, remember? And before that Lady Newmore caught his eye for all of five minutes.” Leaning forward, Lily took Sarah’s hand and squeezed it tight. “You will have your chance, not to worry. Although—” her dark eyebrows lifted knowingly “—your chance would come a lot more quickly if you ever actually got up the nerve to speak to him.”
Every fiber of Sarah’s body rebelled at the idea of talking to the man who she had been in love with since her sixteenth birthday when she first saw him from across a crowded room. That had been seven years ago when she was a young debutante with stars in her eyes and hope in her heart. Now those stars were long ago extinguished, and the hope… Her shoulders slumped. The hope was all but gone as well.
“You know I could never do that,” she said in a whisper, less the other unfortunate wallflowers who hovered around them overhear. Fretting with a long blond curl that had come undone from her coiffure, she peeked sideways at Devlin one more time before looking away with a little gasp. Had he been staring at her? Surely not. The very idea was inconceivable. Impossible, even. And yet…
Holding her breath, she dared one more glance. For an instant her heart slammed against her ribcage as she saw he truly was facing her, but his gaze… Oh, drats. His gaze was focused on Lily.
“He is looking at you,” she said glumly.
“Who is?”
“Lord Heathcliff.”
Her friend snorted in unladylike disbelief. “He is not. He is merely – oh, well I never. Sarah,” she hissed, her violet eyes widening with ill disguised excitement, “he is walking over here, right now! What do you want me to do?”
It was of no surprise to any of the wallflowers, least of all Sarah, that it was Lily, amidst all of the women that spent every ball sequestered away in a corner of the room, who would manage to attract attention of the masculine variety. After all, she was not truly a wallflower. No, she was much too pretty to be one of them with her long flowing black hair, heart shaped face, and eyes the color of amethysts. She sat with them out of loyalty, and because she and Sarah had been the best of friends since childhood.
“Dance with him,” Sarah said, giving Lily a little push. “Quickly, before he changes his mind and goes somewhere else.”
In a flurry of yellow skirts Lily rose to her feet, but she paused to look back at Sarah, a troubled frown pulling her lips downwards. “Are you certain? I would never want to—”
“Go,” Sarah said firmly. “If I cannot dance with him, the next best thing is having you do it for me.”
Lily’s entire face lit up. “I will return as soon as it is over to tell you all about it,” she vowed.
“I want to hear every single detail, so do not forget anything. Now go!” As Sarah watched Lily flounce away, she could not help but smile, and her happiness was truly genuine. She wished only good things for her friend, and what could be better than spending even a moment in Devlin’s arms?
He approached Lily with a panther like grace, his long legged gait more a prowl than a saunter, and Sarah nearly tipped out of her chair as she strained forward in vain to hear what words were being exchanged as he murmured something to Lily and she smiled in reply.
Then they were dancing, and when Devlin curved his arm around the slim hollow of Lily’s back Sarah felt as though he were holding her. And when Lily laughed at something amusing he whispered in her ear Sarah felt as though she were laughing too. It was as wonderful as it was gut wrenchingly horrible, for in that moment Sarah was forced to acknowledge that this was the closest she would ever come to being wrapped in the arms of the man she so desperately – and foolishly – loved.
When the waltz ended Devlin bowed and Lily curtsied. They parted ways, and Sarah waited in white knuckled anticipation to hear everything. Unable to sit still, she met Lily halfway across the ballroom floor, sucking in her belly to squeeze between dancers and ducking low under a silver tray heavy with refreshments.
“Not here,” she said when she finally reached Lily and her friend’s mouth opened. “Come with me.” Hand in hand the two women darted out a side door and, laughing like children, ran down the long, candlelit hallway until they reached an empty room.
Like the rest of the Harcourt Estate upon which the ball was being held, the study they had stumbled upon was immaculately decorated with gilded framed paintings, matching love seats in deep burgundy, and an impressive mahogany desk that boasted neatly piled stacks of parchment and a half dozen leather bound books.
Flames smoldered in the floor to ceiling fireplace and Sarah jolted the embers awake with a poker while Lily launched into a lively retelling of every second that had transpired between her and the Viscount.
“…and then,” she said, rather breathless from the excitement of it all, “he touched my hand. Well, all of my fingers, except for the thumb. And he said…”
“Yes?” Sarah gave the fire an extra hard poke. “What did he say?”
“He said ‘You are a lovely dancer’. Can you believe it?”
“You are a lovely dancer,” Sarah pointed out reasonably.
“But to hear it from him, it truly meant—oh dear, I am sorry.” Her lower lip jutting out, Lily crossed the room in three quick strides and looped her arm around Sarah’s shoulders, which were undeniably slumped. “It should have been you,” she murmured softly. “It should have been you, and here I have been blathering on about it like a shrew. Forgive me, dearest.”
Sarah shrugged. “I wanted to kno
w.”
Turning to face the fire, both women held out their hands to warm them as they fell into reflective silence. Outside the windows the wind howled, a reminder that beyond the toasty confines of the study Winter was unleashing her wrath. It was the second week of December, and the Season had just begun.
For Sarah it would be her seventh, for Lily her fifth. A decade of failed Seasons between them, and this one was not looking any more promising than the last. It did not help that Sarah possessed all the temerity of a field mouse and Lily, while much more confidant around men, refused to accept the attentions of anyone less Sarah be courted as well. Since that had yet to happen, they were both very much ‘on the shelf’ which was not a place any woman under the age of sixty desired to be.
“I wish…” Sarah began, but she stopped herself short, unable to give voice to the secret desire that burned within her.
“You wish what?” Lily prompted.
Sarah nibbled on her bottom lip before she said, “I wish Devlin would simply notice me. I wish he would look up and see me, as he sees those other women. As he saw you. As I see him.” Sighing, she shook her head. “I know it is folly, but there it is.”
Drawing back her shoulders so that she stood at her full height of five feet, three inches Lily pinned her hands to her hips and drew her eyebrows together over the bridge of her nose. “I think that is a fine wish, Sarah Emily Dawson, and you should not think otherwise, do you hear me?”
“Perhaps,” Sarah allowed softly. “But it will never come true.”
“You never know,” Lily said, smiling mysteriously. “’Tis the season for miracles… And I think we are both due for a little magic.”
CHAPTER TWO
The next afternoon Lily called on Sarah for tea, and after sating their hunger with crumpets drizzled in honey the two women dressed in their warmest cloaks, complete with fur lined hoods and cozy matching muffs, to brave the winter chill.
It had snowed overnight and everything, from the dormers on the rooftops to the lamp posts that guarded every street corner were blanketed in a soft, pristine white. Carriages pulled by prancing horses flew past, while children armed with snowballs waged war and a group of carolers made their way from house to house, singing merrily of silver bells and Old Saint Nicholas.
“I love this time of year,” Lily sighed as she neatly sidestepped a pile of discarded soot. “It is so filled with hope and promise. Why, it feels as though anything is possible!”
Sarah, who tended to be much more practical minded than her friend, tried not to scowl. Her toes were freezing and she was fairly certain her nose was about to fall right off her face despite the three separate scarves she had wrapped around her neck.
For her, Christmastime invoked a very different response than it did for Lily. When everyone else was coming together, she never felt more alone. Seeing men and women arm in arm, their faces flushed from the cold and their eyes sparkling with love, she was reminded of what she did not have: namely, Devlin Heathcliff. And even though it was silly and ridiculous and she knew nothing would ever come of it, she could not help but wonder what he was doing this very minute.
No doubt he was wrapped in the arms of his lover. They would be in front of a fireplace, Sarah decided. Quite naked, of course, with only each other’s bodies and a shared glass of wine to warm them. It was a decadent scene for someone with her limited experience to imagine, but imagine it she did: once, twice, three times a day at the very least.
What would it feel like to have Devlin’s lips press against her throat? To have his hands sweep down her body, lingering on the curve of her collarbone before slowly going lower to cup her breasts and then lower still, to—
“Sarah, you are blushing,” Lily observed with great interest. “Why are you blushing?”
“I… I feel quite flushed,” Sarah lied. Oh dear. How dreadfully embarrassing.
“You do? Splendid!” Sliding her hands out of her fur muff and tucking it under one arm, Lily reached up to secure her hood more tightly around her dark curls. “I was afraid you were getting cold – you know how sensitive you can be – but if you are feeling warm, we can continue on to the park. I even brought a few crumpets along to feed the geese.” Reaching into the pocket of her cloak she procured three pastries and held one out to Sarah, who took it with smile that felt more like a grimace, but if Lily noticed she made no sign.
Like the rest of London the park was covered in white although there were fewer people here than on the streets. Small songbirds, their brightly colored fluff standing out in sharp contrast against the plain backdrop, hopped from tree to tree, twittering a merry song as they flitted about. Spying a bright red cardinal amidst the skeletal branches Sarah pointed it out to Lily, who smiled and nodded and threw a piece of crumpet.
They had nearly reached the lake when, without warning, a narrow sleigh pulled by a wild eyed horse went flying past, so close that snow spewed out from beneath the blades, showering Sarah and Lily in a thick gray slush.
“Why I never!” Lily cried, staring down at her ruined cloak in dismay.
Of equal sentiment, Sarah threw back her hood and gasped as she felt the slow, slippery trickle of wet snow slide down her spine. The nerve of some people! Why, if she ever met the driver of the sleigh she could give him a piece of her—
“Look, he is turning around. Sarah, hold this.” Holding out her hand warmer, Lily gathered up her skirts and began to walk determinedly towards the horse and sleigh which had come to a halt less than ten yards away.
Her eyes wide and her heart pounding, Sarah scurried after her friend, all thoughts of speaking her mind completely erased now that the opportunity had actually presented itself. She stopped short beside Lily, anxiously twisting the muff back and forth in her hands as they waited for the driver to dismount.
He did so slowly, swinging one leg out the open door of the sleigh and then the other before easing down to the ground. Securing the reins, he removed his hat, unwound the green scarf from his neck, and pivoted to face them, an apologetic smile already laying claim to his sensual lips. “Ladies, I do apologize,” he said smoothly, lifting one dark eyebrow. “Forgive me?”
Sarah felt her knees wobble. Thankfully Lily was right beside her and without missing a beat the brunette reached out to steady her friend. “Remain calm,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “And for heavens sakes whatever you do, do not faint. Lord Heathcliff,” she said loudly. “What an unexpected… surprise.”
Devlin took a step closer to them, his smile growing distantly polite as his piercing blue eyes gave a cursory sweep of Sarah before focusing solely on Lily. “Have I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance? Surely not,” he continued, answering his own question before Lily could get a word in edgewise, “for how could I forget such a beautiful face as yours?”
It did not escape either woman that Devlin spoke directly to Lily, ignoring Sarah as if she had simply ceased to exist, which was just fine with Sarah as she feared she was currently incapable of speaking a word, but Lily was not about to overlook the Viscount’s poor manners so easily.
Lifting her chin, the violet eyed beauty said scathingly, “You danced with me this evening past, Lord Heathcliff. Had I realized you possessed such a forgetful memory, I would have no doubt chosen a different partner.”
Visibly caught off guard, Devlin blinked once, twice, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, well then. Yes, yes now I remember. Lady… Dresher, if I am not mistaken?”
“Kincaid,” Sarah squeaked out unexpectedly. “Her name is Lady Kincaid.”
Immediately she felt two sets of eyes upon her, and her cheeks burned a bright red in response. Oh no. She had done it. She had actually spoken to Devlin. No, not simply spoken to him… Corrected him! Oh, this was all wrong. All terribly, terribly wrong. “I mean,” she gasped, staring blindly at a spot in the snow a good foot to the right of where Devlin was standing, “her n-name could e-easily be mistaken for Lady Dresher as they do sound quite s-sim
ilar.”
“They do not sound at all alike,” the Viscount said dryly, taking both women by surprise, “and it was impossibly rude of me not to remember. Please, Lady Kincaid. Accept my sincerest apology.”
Beside her, Sarah felt Lily relax. “Oh, very well. I suppose it must be difficult placing names with the faces of all the women you have danced with. Although,” she said, holding up one finger, “I shall accept your apology on only one condition.”
“Which is?” Devlin asked.
“You take my dearest friend for a ride in your sleigh.”
Sarah felt her knees buckle. Of all the outlandish, inappropriate, ridiculous—
“Certainly,” Devlin agreed. “If,” he continued, flashing a dimple as he smiled while Sarah tried desperately not to swoon, “you accompany us as well.”
“I am frightened of horses,” Lily said, blinking innocently. “But Sarah just adores them, do you not Sarah?”
It was a lie. It was Lily who loved horses, not Sarah. Sarah was terrified of them ever since she had taken a particularly nasty spill from a stubborn mare some years before. She opened her mouth to say exactly that and received a quick jab in the side courtesy of Lily’s elbow. “I… I love horses,” she said weakly. “They… They are m-marvelous creatures.”
Devlin look at her a little oddly, but Lily beamed. “There, you see? They are, after all, her favorite animal and she is quite the accomplished equestrian. Why, I have never seen a better rider.”
A glimmer of interest surfaced in Devlin’s eyes. For the first time he looked at Sarah directly and the full force of that piercing gaze was enough to have her swaying on her feet. “Do you hunt?” he asked.
“Do I w-what?”
“Hunt,” he repeated. “On horseback. Do you hunt?”
“Oh, she goes hunting all the time,” Lily interceded, giving Sarah’s arm a tight squeeze through her cloak. “It is her favorite thing to do. Right, dearest?”
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