A Christmas Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Theodora chuckled as Serenity held a piece of fruit for her to slip the needle through. “That is good, because we are nearly out of fruit.”

  “Mrs. Gray told me that this last canister was the final one she could spare unless the household wanted to be without fruit for the rest of the winter.” Serenity edged the crab apple closer to Theodora’s needle. “Watch out for my fingers!”

  “I am trying.” Theodora giggled.

  Timothy glanced at his grandfather as the earl laughed along with the little girl. Serenity might have come into this household as a stranger, but she was showing those who lived here how to be a family. Since Serenity had brought Theodora to join in family events, there had been a return of his grandfather’s gentleness that Timothy recalled from his own childhood.

  When his grandfather stood, Timothy came to his feet as well. He followed the earl to the other side of the room and nodded when his grandfather held up a bottle of wine. Taking the glass the earl handed him, he was not surprised when his grandfather said, “You must want to say something very important to me, or you would not have wandered so far from Serenity’s side.”

  “Shall I simply say that I am pleased at how well Serenity has fit into this family?”

  “Bah!” Lord Brookindale sniffed his disagreement. “You had no worries about that, for you told me from the onset that she seemed perfect to be your bride.”

  “Don’t confuse optimism with practicality.”

  “That I would never do, my boy.” He sat in a chair near the table where the rest of the bottle of wine waited. Looking back at where Serenity was laughing with Theodora, he added, “Tell me what is truly on your mind.”

  Timothy wished he could obey that order. Yes, the whole of this was going far better than he had had any reason to expect, but he still wished to be honest with his grandfather about the tale he had spun. Swallowing his sigh before it could betray him, he replied, “I am pleased that Serenity has opened our eyes to Theodora.”

  “Yes, she has.” Lord Brookindale’s smile dimmed. “She dares to love that child, no matter the consequences.”

  “That seems to be her way.”

  “It is a very special way. I know she suspects that the child has been isolated apurpose, and she is not so wrong.” He took a drink of his wine, and Timothy noticed that his hands shook. “From the day Theodora was born, we feared she would not survive for long. I have lost so many of those I have loved that I did not want to love and lose another.”

  “So you gave her that pretty room to die in to ease your guilt and kept yourself distant?”

  He nodded. “This is nothing I am proud of, mind you, but it allowed me to forgive her mother for abandoning her and to forgive myself for doing much the same, even though I made sure she had excellent nurses.”

  “To own the truth, I thought you were doing the best thing for her.”

  “Then Serenity arrived, and she tipped everything over and inside out.” His smile returned as he raised his glass toward Timothy. “Your marriage to her will never been serene, but it should be very interesting and most pleasurable. She is clearly a woman of strong passions, a woman who matches your stubborn nature.”

  Timothy could not keep his gaze from going to Serenity. On her knees by Theodora’s chair, she smiled warmly as she concentrated on holding the cranberry where the little girl could push the needle into it. Then Serenity helped thrust the needle through and held Theodora’s hand while they guided the piece of fruit along the string. He guessed Serenity’s fingers must be pocked with marks from the tip of the needle, but she had not complained as she made Theodora a part of whatever Aunt Ilse had planned.

  Strong passions? That, he believed, was an understatement. Serenity’s eyes mirrored her every emotion, each one powerful and a challenge to any man who dared to come close enough to sample them. And sample them was what he wished to do. How she had trembled when he kissed her hand! He longed to hold her in his arms as his lips found hers while she quivered against him.

  “A groom-to-be should be besotted with his lady love,” Grandfather said with a low rumble of a laugh. “That is why I wanted you to find love instead of dragging you into some silly arranged marriage that would have made you miserable.”

  “You arranged my parents’ marriage, and they were quite happy.”

  His full brows rose. “Not at first. Your mother thought your father was an insufferable fool, and he considered her to have no thoughts about anything but spending his money.” With another laugh, he added, “But they got past that quickly.”

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  “I am sure you are! You and Serenity will not have to go through those months of pretending to care about each other during the day and avoiding each other at night.” Lord Brookindale glanced again at Serenity. “I would say you might be suffering from quite the opposite.”

  Timothy folded his hands around his glass. “I have not cuckolded the parson with her, if that is what you are hinting at, Grandfather.”

  “I am speaking of your thoughts, my boy, not your actions.”

  “One’s thoughts are seldom easy to control.”

  “You are beginning to learn a hint of life’s wisdom, my boy. If—”

  “Oh, my!” Serenity’s cry froze Timothy with his glass partway to his lips.

  He did not hesitate as she gasped again. Shoving his glass into his grandfather’s hand, he leaped across the room in a pair of steps. “What is wrong?”

  Serenity continued to stare at Theodora, but whispered, “She moved it.”

  “It?”

  Grasping Theodora’s hand, Serenity blinked back tears of joy. Had she been mistaken? No, she was sure of what she had seen.

  “You moved your arm!” she whispered.

  Theodora stared at her right arm. “I did. It moved.”

  “Impossible!” The earl came to his feet and walked over to them, disbelief mixing with hope on his face. “We were told she would never be able to move it.”

  “Look for yourself.” Serenity motioned to Theodora. “Can you do it again?”

  The little girl wrinkled her face with concentration. Serenity stood and clenched her hands at her side. When Timothy took one in his, she did not look at him. His fingers were as rigid as hers as they waited to see if Theodora could shift her arm once more.

  Theodora’s elbow contracted so slightly that Serenity wondered if she would have noticed if she had not been watching.

  “I did it!” cried the little girl.

  “You did!” Serenity hugged her. “She did it!”

  She stepped back as the earl, unabashedly weeping, put his arms around Theodora. The little girl giggled and looked back at her right elbow. She strained to move it again.

  Serenity cheered, then gasped as Timothy whirled her into his arms, embracing her as she had Theodora. When she started to ease out of his arms so she could congratulate the little girl, his arms tightened. She was tugged up against his chest. She looked up at him, startled. Before she could halt it, her hand brushed his face, and he grinned as broadly as Theodora.

  “Shall we celebrate with Theodora now?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes, certainly.”

  His voice dropped to a raw whisper. “And later alone?”

  “Yes, certainly,” she answered again, but with a quiver of anticipation that she could not submerge. It lingered, growing stronger each time Timothy’s gaze met hers, while the earl ordered tea and cakes brought to toast Theodora’s accomplishment.

  “I must finish that device to assist her,” Timothy said as Serenity walked with him toward the front of the house after both Theodora and the earl had retired for a nap.

  “She will need it even more if she can continue to move her elbow. It is only a beginning, I realize, but if she continues to use it, she may find it easier and easier.”

  He slipped his arm around her waist while they walked past rooms draped in twilight as the early winter night claimed the moor. “As I find touchi
ng you?”

  “It is hardly the same thing.”

  “Then mayhap I should have said not touching you.”

  She paused, baffled. She had been so sure that he shared her delight with the stolen caresses. “That is easier?”

  “Au contraire. It is easier not to resist touching you.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, for she could no longer resist being close to him. There were not many days left until the earl’s birthday celebration. Then … She did not know what she would do then, but the chance to savor him against her would be lost.

  Timothy smiled as he stopped in front of a set of double doors that were intricately carved. She had passed them before and wondered what was on the other side.

  As if he were privy to her thoughts again, he said, “I have noted how you glance at these doors each time you walk by them. Let me ease your curiosity, and tell you that here is where the ball will be held.”

  When he threw open the doors, she knew he had done it for the best effect. Windows that reached to the ceiling, which must be twice as high as the one here in the hall, were not softened by drapes. The half-moons at the top of each one welcomed in the thin winter moonlight to let it inch along the stone floor. In the very center of the floor, a fire pit suggested that this section of the house was almost as ancient as the moors themselves.

  Serenity started to walk in, but stopped when Timothy took her hand. He picked up a lamp from a nearby table and smiled as he said, “The corners are dark. I am sure you want to explore each one.”

  “You know me well.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Not as well as I would like.”

  Slapping his arm lightly, she said, “You are a rogue, Timothy Crawford.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Being a rogue?”

  He laughed. “Just the way you say ‘rogue’ in such a teasing, admiring tone.”

  “I do admire the way you have chosen the life you want, rather than the one the Polite World would think should be yours.” She started to add more, but simply stared as he held up the lamp to reveal gilt cherubs decorating the ceiling.

  The golden paint outlined the intricate diamond pattern along the frescoes and walls. Each window glowed with the color running along the edges of the glass, as if sunlight had been captured within it. Flowers burst from vines of gold.

  “This is like being in King Midas’s garden,” Serenity whispered.

  He chuckled. “Just what I used to imagine when I could sneak in here as a child while it was being rebuilt.”

  “Was there a fire?”

  “Yes. Only the stones of the fire pit in the center and the floor itself survived.” He laughed again. “I was so pleased that Grandfather did not rebuild it to be a dreary medieval behemoth, as it had been.”

  She turned slowly to see as much as the lamplight allowed. “It’s magical.” She smiled. “This whole afternoon has been magical.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “’Twas Theodora who—”

  “’Twas you. You gave her the chance to try. None of us thought she could achieve anything but dying young.”

  “Timothy!”

  “It is the truth, even though it is shameful to own to it. You have shown all of us—including Theodora—that we were wrong.”

  Serenity paused by one of the arched windows, and Timothy did, too. She started to speak, faltered, then blurted, “Will you promise me something?”

  “Whatever you wish.”

  Whatever she wished? Did he truly want to hear how she wished this charade would go on forever, that she would be his beloved fiancée and mayhap one day his wife? Or would he really like to hear her say that she understood his obsession with building and inventing and solving problems that had betrayed him into making up the story of this betrothal?

  She dampened her lips and watched his gaze follow the motion. Mayhap he would not be averse to the truth of what she wished, but she knew, as she lowered her eyes, that she could not speak it.

  Instead she asked, “Will you promise me that you will take Theodora out to the pond this summer to see the ducklings?”

  “Ducklings?” He shook himself as if he had been lost in a dream.

  They both had—a dream of letting the lies become the truth—but nothing had changed. His grandfather was an earl, and hers was a forgotten memory.

  “She has seen them only through the window,” Serenity said with a weak smile. “I know she would love to sit on the grass on a sunny afternoon and watch them.”

  “I promise, Serenity, if you will make me a promise.” He set the lamp on a bench by the wall.

  “Whatever you wish.”

  Her hope that his eyes would twinkle mischievously vanished when his face remained somber. “Promise me that you will be here to join us by the pond.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “Serenity, you helped make the impossible happen this afternoon.” He put his hands on her shoulders and let his fingers trickle along her arms like a healing rain. “How simple in comparison it would be to give us a look-in.”

  “Your life is your own, Timothy. You may come and go as you please. You may work or play as you please. I have no idea what my life is. Who knows? I may be scheduled to sail to India this spring.” She tried to smile, but failed.

  “You could stay here.”

  “Here?”

  He nodded. “Why not? You are no closer to remembering where you belong than you were when you awoke at the inn. You have nowhere to go and every reason to stay.”

  “Save two.”

  “Your brother and sister?”

  She sighed. “I must think of them.”

  “Will you think of me after you leave?”

  “How can you ask that?”

  “How can you leave?”

  Serenity turned away to continue to the very edge of the circle of light. “Timothy, I thought you would understand better than anyone that my brother and sister are an obligation I cannot put aside. I should not want to put it aside.”

  His footfalls were quiet as he came to stand behind her. His hands swept down her arms, wrapping them around her with his arms over hers. When she rested her head back against him, she closed her eyes, thrilled to be surrounded by his tender strength.

  “I do understand,” he whispered.

  She shivered as his breath stirred her hair and caressed her ear. It sent fire pulsing to the very tips of her toes.

  “I just want you to stay here,” he continued, “until you know more about what you have lost. I don’t want you to feel obligated to leave with Twelfth Night.”

  “But if I stay …”

  “The lie continues.” He sighed and released her. As she turned, he caught her face between his broad hands. “But this also continues, sweetheart.”

  His lips brushed her with a gentleness that threatened to undo her completely. Putting her hands over his as he lifted his mouth away, she steered it back to hers. That one brief, captivating touch had not been enough.

  With a hushed laugh, he pulled her up against him. The gentleness vanished as he captured her lips, kissing her with a deep, urgent need. His ragged sigh of pleasure stirred the fires deep in her soul in the moment before his lips etched sparks of pleasure across her cheeks. This was what she wanted, what she wanted him to promise her a lifetime of, what—

  Serenity pulled out of Timothy’s arms as she heard footsteps. Had she gone queer in the attic to surrender to her craving this way? Sweet heavens! No matter what Timothy offered, she had no future here. She had no future anywhere until she found her past.

  “Over here!” Timothy called, startling her. Was he so eager to put this mistake behind him? When he looked at her with his eyes still glazed with pleasure, she knew what he truly was eager for.

  As she was.

  Serenity managed a strained smile as Felix and Melanda entered. When Felix shut the door behind them, she frowned. What was he about now?

  With Melanda
’s hand on his arm, Felix led her across the long ballroom toward the lamplight. Their smiles looked much more sincere than her own, especially when they shared furtive glances.

  “Are you giving Serenity the tuppence tour of the house?” Felix asked.

  “The what?” Serenity returned.

  Timothy smiled. “He means a quick tour.” Looking at the others, he said, “I thought ’twas time she saw where we shall celebrate Grandfather’s birthday on Christmas Eve.” He laughed. “It is about time she saw it, because, as my betrothed, she shall be the hostess to our guests.”

  Excitement pulsed in Serenity at the thought of welcoming guests to this magnificent ballroom when it was decorated with greenery and candles and music. Around her would be glittering ladies and their elegant escorts … and Timothy. A thrill surged through her like a storm wave throwing itself up onto the shore. She would be at his side where she could relish his smiles and how his hand brushed hers. But that was no longer enough. She wanted to be swept again into his arms as he trailed kisses across her face.

  Melanda laughed, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. “This will be wondrously grand. I wish the duchess could see this. She has bragged that her house has the biggest ballroom in all of England. It could easily fit within this room with space to spare.”

  “Cheyney Park is one of the hidden secrets of northern England.” Felix smiled as if he had designed the house himself.

  “If I were the chatelaine of this house, I would have assemblies here as often as possible.” She turned to Serenity. “Don’t you agree?”

  Serenity smiled back. Clearly Felix had told Melanda about this charade, proving Timothy right that his cousin could not keep a secret. She wondered how Felix had halted himself from revealing the truth to the earl … and why.

  “I like the quiet in here, too,” Serenity said as she ran her fingers along the raised wood that made a diamond pattern crisscrossing the wall.

  “I guess that is why you are called Serenity,” Melanda said, her voice again sharp, as it usually was when she addressed anyone but Felix. “Too much quiet starts sounding far too loud.”

  Timothy chuckled under his breath as Melanda and Felix walked away to look at the fire pit. “They are two of a kind.”