Spirit of the Season

by Cate Dean

  He jerked at her touch—and gasped in pain when she started to turn him over.

  “Maggie—stop.”

  She moved to his other side, and saw the reason for his request. The knife was imbedded in his right shoulder. “Oh, Martin. I’m going to get you to your back, okay? Spencer—” she glanced over her shoulder, and saw him still struggling to hold Ken. “If you’re done playing over there, I need you.”

  “Rope.” He grunted when Ken’s elbow found his side. “On the—table.”

  She cradled Martin’s face. “I’ll be right back.” Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest as she ran to the nearest table and grabbed a length of rope from the top of a pile. She thrust it into Spencer’s raised hand and ran back to Martin’s side. “Martin? Open your eyes for me. Please, Martin.”

  She felt her composure crumbling, and fought to keep herself together. Spencer joined her, and leaned forward to check Martin’s pulse. “He’s unconscious, Mags.” He pulled his scarf off and pressed it to Martin’s shoulder, placing her hand there. “I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

  “No need.” Ian stalked into the storage room, at least three PCs behind him. He gave curt orders to cuff Ken and take him away. “I retrieved your message, Maggie. Thank you for taking the time to leave it.”

  He touched her shoulder before he crouched next to Martin, and carefully eased her hand away from his impaled shoulder.

  Now that she knew help was on the way, she was able to focus. As someone who had spent years throwing knives, she had also studied potential injuries resulting from her dangerous hobby. The knife had sunk into the meaty, muscled part of Martin’s shoulder, near his bicep, and away from the cluster of nerves that controlled his arm and finger movement.

  He would need recovery time, and wouldn’t be happy about it, but if there weren’t any complications, he should have a full recovery.

  She leaned against Spencer, needing to feel his strength, and know he was okay. Dragging the two men she loved in this world into danger had to stop.

  It was time to hang up her amateur detective’s hat.

  Thirteen

  Martin recovered in the hospital—in London, at the insistence of his father.

  Maggie closed her shop early on Christmas Eve, determined to spend the holidays with him, since their plans for a Christmas wedding seemed to have been put on hold. Probably indefinitely, if his father found out she was a commoner, and a Yank to boot.

  By the time she escorted her last customer to the door, and locked it after them, she was more than ready for a break. Spencer had taken time off from the museum to help her out, ignoring her protests that he was jeopardizing his new position.

  She turned, and smiled when she found Spencer sprawled in the middle of the floor. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for taking time off?”

  “Just the opposite, Mags.” He let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. “They are more afraid that I’ll leave because of the mess I’m dealing with at the moment. When I asked for some personal time to help you, the director jumped to grant it, as long as I signed a long-term contract, promising I would return after the holidays.”

  “How long?”

  He grinned at her. “Ten years.”

  “Spencer! That’s fantastic.” She dropped down next to him and kissed his cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you, for risking yourself to help me find Martin.”

  “I happen to like the Professor, you know. You’re good for him, Maggie. And he’s good for you.”

  “I like to think so. What about Grace? Did you ever call her?” His flushed cheeks told her that something had happened. “What? Spill, Knight—immediately.”

  “We have been, um, seeing each other—almost every night since you introduced us.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” She punched his shoulder, then studied him. “Do you like her?”

  “More than like. She’s perfect, Mags. Well, not perfect, but—I’m babbling.”

  “Yes, you are.” She smiled at him. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled for you. I really liked her.”

  “She liked you, as well. She—um, she keeps asking if we can plan a double date.”

  “As soon as Martin is back on his feet.”

  “You would want to—”

  “Spend an evening with my best friend, and the woman he more than likes? Absolutely.” She pushed to her feet. “Time for me to finish packing. I want to take the 6:05 up to London...” Her voice faded when Spencer stared past her. “What?”

  She turned—and had to grab the edge of the counter when she saw Martin, standing in front of the window.

  “So.” Spencer stepped to her side. “Are you going to let him in, or keep gaping at him?”

  His words snapped her out of her shock, and she headed for the door.

  Martin met her there, and pulled her into a one-armed embrace the second he stepped inside.

  “I missed you, love,” he whispered.

  Maggie wrapped her arms around his waist, careful to keep from jostling his right arm. The sling forced her to stay on his left side, but she could reach his lips just fine from her position.

  Spencer’s loud throat-clearing broke off their kiss. He joined them, clapping his hand on Martin’s left shoulder.

  “Good to see you upright again, Professor. I heard you and Maggie proposed to each other. I wish I could have seen that.”

  Martin tensed, and she let go of him, bracing herself for bad news. “Maggie. We need to talk about our plans.”

  “I understand. Your father doesn’t want us to—”

  “I could care less what my father does and does not want. I told him I was marrying you, and he had no say in the decision. I was going to tell you that we can wait, until I’ve healed properly. You can plan a real wedding, if you like. Now that my family knows, I will not be as hesitant to invite—”

  “We’re getting married, Martin. Tomorrow, if you’re up for it.” She cradled his cheek, her fingers brushing the frame of his new glasses. “I want to celebrate the holidays as Mrs. Martin.”

  He relaxed, smiling for the first time since he arrived. “I would like that.”

  “We’ll need witnesses.” She looked over at Spencer. “Do you think Grace would like to be part of a small, intimate, last-minute elopement?”

  “Eloping? I always thought you wanted the big, formal wed—ouch.” He rubbed his chest, and stared down at Maggie. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then, Grace and I would be honored.”

  Maggie stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “And if you ever mention my childhood fantasies of a big wedding again, I’ll tell Grace about your childhood dream of being a musical star.”

  Spencer paled, and nodded so vigorously she expected him to smack his chin into his chest.

  “Congratulations, mate.” He held out his left hand, and Martin took it.

  Maggie watched them shake hands, smiling at each other. She was the luckiest woman in the world.

  ***

  After Spencer helped Martin climb the stairs to the flat, and Maggie helped settle him in, she came back down to the shop to finish closing out.

  A knock at the front door startled her. Because she had already turned the lights out in the shop, except for the single overhead above the counter, it was easy to see who stood at the front door.

  Ashton.

  She walked over to the door and unlocked it, but only opened it enough to speak with him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to apologize, Maggie, and to thank you for believing in me, even when no one else did.”

  “You confessed because Ken threatened you.”

  Ashton shook his head. “He threatened you, and Martin.” With a sigh, he lowered his head. “Even after I did what he asked, he broke his promise. I should have told you the truth. I should have told you everything.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

/>   He shrugged. “Find a place to live, start over. I had hoped it would be here. Thank you again, Maggie.” He turned around and headed down the sidewalk.

  “Ashton.” She stepped outside, wrapping her sweater around her as the wind snapped at her.

  He stopped, his shoulders hunched. Another storm was predicted for later tonight, but it had been clear for the last few days, giving the stranded tourists time to make arrangements and leave. Time for delivery trucks to make overdue stops.

  “Maggie—”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  He turned, surprise clear in his eyes. “What?”

  “A proposition. A business proposition.” She stepped to him. “You need a place to stay, a chance to start over. I need an employee, and someone to take over the lease when my current tenant deserts my flat at the end of the month.”

  “You—you are offering me a position?”

  “I already know you’re a fast learner, and that you’re good with people. It will take time for the locals to forget what happened—memories are long, especially when people live in each other’s pocket. If you can put up with the stares, and the whispers for a while, I think you’ll find a home here.”

  “If Maggie vouches for you, Ashton, then I will do what I can to help ease your way.” Martin stepped out of the shop, and took her hand.

  “I don’t—I don’t deserve this, after what I brought into your life.”

  Martin shook his head. “You hardly set Ken on the path that led him here. Part of that was my doing,” he muttered. Maggie squeezed his hand, and he continued. “Your assistance would be welcome, especially since I will be out of commission for some time.”

  She made a mental note to thank him for backing her up, and looked at Ashton. “So, what do you say?”

  He hesitated, so long Maggie was afraid he’d walk away. Finally, he answered her. “I humbly accept your offer, and hope I don’t disappoint.”

  “If you do, I’ll just fire you.” She winked at him, relieved that he finally smiled. “Let’s go inside. We were just about to eat.”

  She opened the door all the way, and let Ashton walk in ahead of her. Martin stopped her before she could follow, tugging on her hand.

  “Are you certain, love? He has quite a past to shed.”

  “So did a certain professor. But he worked out all right.”

  Smiling, Martin backed her into the shop and closed the door. “My Maggie, protector of the wayward.”

  He kissed her until she couldn’t think straight. All she could do was hold on, and thank the circumstances that brought this wayward man into her life.

  Fourteen

  Christmas Day dawned cold, but clear.

  Maggie paced her shop, nerves threatening. She managed to keep from twisting her fingers into the skirt of the beautiful ivory dress she wore. It had been a gift from Lilliana, who insisted on buying Maggie’s dress the second she heard about the impromptu wedding.

  Lilli had also become their third witness.

  Martin’s appearance helped calm her. He wore a dark blue grey suit, the color almost matching his eyes. The grey sling stood out against his suit, a reminder that she had almost lost him. She was determined to not let it happen again. At least, not because of a dead body, and her involvement in what might have happened.

  “How do I look...” His voice faded as he scanned Maggie, from the toes of her white leather lace up boots, to the crown of flowers on her hair. “You are a vision, love. Should I be seeing you, before—”

  “The elopement? I don’t think the rule applies to that. And you look perfect.” She wanted to say beautiful, but it didn’t sound masculine. “Are you ready? The minister should be here any—”

  “Maggie, we’re here!” Spencer burst through the front door, Grace right behind him. They both looked so nice, dressed in matching colors. Grace’s blue dress highlighted her English rose skin and blue eyes. Spencer’s blue suit surprised her; she didn’t think he owned one. “Oh—you’re ready. Hey, Professor.” He waved at Martin. “We need to go, Mags.”

  “Wait, what? The minister is meeting us here—”

  “Not anymore.” Lilliana appeared behind Spencer, wearing a deep red dress. “I hope you won’t be angry, Maggie, but I kind of—took over, and made a few arrangements.”

  “Since yesterday afternoon? On Christmas Eve?”

  Lilliana smiled. “I’ve had shorter deadlines, and I had plenty of help. If you and Martin will follow us?”

  Martin moved to her side, and took her hand. “We will be happy to, and honored that you made arrangements for us. Aren’t we, Maggie?” He squeezed her hand when she kept staring at Lilli.

  “Yeah—yes, thank you. All of you. I guess we should—go see what they did.”

  Martin led her out of the shop, and halted. She blinked in shock. The entire village stood outside, just out of sight of her windows, each person holding a lit candle. Enid waved at her from the front, then wiped at her eyes.

  Lilliana took charge, waving her hands. “Let’s go, everyone! Just like we rehearsed.”

  Maggie looked up at Martin. “Rehearsed?” she whispered.

  He smiled down at her. “Let’s join them, love, and see just what your friends threw together.”

  They headed up the high street, and Maggie noticed that the Christmas lights wrapped around every tree and lamp post had been lit, adding a festive, magical glow to the street. She wasn’t surprised to see the head of the group turn into the gate at the front of St. Mary’s Church.

  Spencer and Grace flanked them, Grace touching Maggie’s wrist. “I hope we didn’t overstep our bounds, Maggie. When Spencer told me that you were planning to elope, I couldn’t—” She glanced over at Spencer, a blush staining her cheeks. “We couldn’t allow you to sneak away, without some kind of celebration.”

  “I just—I didn’t think anyone here knew me well enough to, well, care. I know my aunt wasn’t all that popular.”

  “But you are, my dear,” Enid said. “You have become a kind and gracious addition to this village, and we wanted to show you how much you mean to us.” She patted Maggie’s cheek and walked up the sidewalk, disappearing inside the church.

  Maggie stared after her, and all the other villagers moving into the open double doors. She felt overwhelmed, and tears stung her eyes.

  “All right, love?” Martin kissed her forehead, and studied her face. “This is your home, Maggie, and they’re letting you know that you are welcome. That we are both welcome. Shall we?”

  She tightened her grip on his hand and nodded.

  They both halted just inside the doorway. More white lights decorated the inside of the church, along with a row of flowers lining each side of the aisle. This time, Maggie couldn’t control her tears.

  Martin handed her his pocket handkerchief, kissed her cheek, and walked down the aisle with Spencer, to wait for her at the front. She felt a presence beside her, and looked up onto Ian’s smiling face.

  “It would be my honor to walk you down the aisle, Maggie.”

  “I—”

  “He had to fight quite a few others for the honor,” Grace said. She held two bouquets, and handed one with red and white roses to Maggie. “Lilliana and I will walk down first, and see you up there.”

  She kissed Maggie’s cheek, winked at Ian, and started walking down the aisle. A lively tune started playing—one Maggie recognized. It was Aunt Irene’s favorite song.

  With a deep, shaky breath, she watched Lilli follow Grace down the aisle, then slipped her hand in the crook of Ian’s arm. He wore his formal uniform, and looked like the hero he would never claim to be.

  They made their way down the aisle, villagers waving to Maggie, or reaching out to touch her arm. Patrick Tucker stood, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

  “Congratulations, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Patrick.” She knew now she wasn’t getting to the front with dry eyes.

  By the time Ian handed her over to Martin
at the front of the church, she had ruined her eye makeup, and needed another handkerchief.

  He cradled her cheek, wiping at a stray tear. “My beautiful Yank. Are you ready to get married?”

  She took a shaky breath, and smiled up at him. “Yes, Professor.”

  He leaned in and whispered. “I asked for the short and sweet version. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Her smile widened, and she met his eyes. “Let’s do this.”

  They turned to the minister, who smiled at them. “I understand you would like a short and simple ceremony. I believe I can accommodate you.” He looked at Martin. “Do you, Pembroke Joseph Andrew Martin, take this woman to be your wife?”

  He twined his fingers with Maggie’s and smiled down at her. “I do.”

  “And do you, Margaret Ann Mulgrew, take this man to be your husband?”

  She raised her eyebrow at her full name. Spencer would be answering for that later.

  Putting it aside, she met Martin’s eyes. “I do.”

  “If you will exchange rings?”

  Martin slipped on a band of sapphires and diamonds that matched her ring. She panicked, because she didn’t have anything aside from the ring he already wore. He kissed her hand.

  “I want no other ring, love.”

  Several feminine sighs floated through the church.

  The minister cleared his throat, then raised his hands. “Since this is the short version, and the shortest ceremony I have ever performed, I only have one thing left to do. I pronounce you husband and wife.” He winked at Martin. “You may kiss your bride, my lord.”

  Martin slipped his arm around her waist, and Maggie stood on tiptoe, removing his glasses.

  “Hello, Mrs. Martin.”

  “Hello back, Mr. Martin.”

  “Happy Christmas,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  She was smiling like a fool when he kissed her.

  ***

  The reception/holiday party lasted most of the day.

  Spencer had opened part of the museum to accommodate everyone, and Lilliana had worked her magic here as well, with white lights and red roses everywhere.