A Christmas Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  She heard Timothy’s muttered curse as he walked away to stand before the hearth again. Timothy understood what she could not say to his grandfather. It was not Theodora’s health that would keep Serenity from doing as she had promised the little girl, but the ending of this interlude as Serenity Adams.

  “Let me consider this,” the earl said with a sigh.

  Timothy said in a growl, “Grandfather—”

  “I shall give you my answer at dinner this evening.” He set himself on his feet. “Why don’t you two go and enjoy the greening of the chapel while I give this some thought?”

  Serenity clasped her hands behind her back after coming to her feet. As the earl walked out of the room, she waited for Timothy to speak again. No matter what she said now, it might be the wrong thing.

  “There is no use in fooling ourselves, is there?” Timothy asked as he stepped away from the hearth. “The masquerade is nearly at its end.”

  “Masquerade?” asked Felix from the door.

  Turning, Serenity was amazed to see that his face had nearly as little color as the snow in the garden. He lurched forward and put his hand on the back of the closest chair, as if he feared he would swoon as Melanda had.

  “Is something wrong?” Timothy fired back. “Other than your causing a to-do in this house by letting Melanda think that you had vanished.”

  “She overreacts sometimes.” He waved at his cousin weakly. “I told her I would be here in time to help with the greening of the chapel.” He swallowed so roughly that Serenity heard it. “What is this about the masquerade being over?”

  Timothy picked up his gloves and slapped them against his palm. “Did you take a knock in the skull while you were out riding? You know as well as we do what I spoke of. Serenity is needed here only until Grandfather’s birthday celebration, which is only a few days from now.”

  “Oh, that masquerade.”

  “What other one could there be?” Serenity asked. Felix Wayne was one of the most vexing people she had met … or could recall meeting. As Melanda was the second most exasperating, they were two of a kind.

  “You are right.” He pushed himself to stand straighter. “I am just caught up in the skimble-skamble silliness of the holiday season.”

  Timothy picked up his coat and folded it over his arm. “Have you spoken with Melanda to set her mind at ease?”

  “Her abigail assured me that she was resting comfortably, but would not be joining us for the greening of the chapel. Apparently she needs time to recover from her tears of despair at what she persuaded herself was the end of my existence.”

  He motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”

  “As long as we do not have to tote Aunt Ilse’s tree back to the chapel.”

  Timothy handed his coat and gloves to a maid. “Tree?”

  Serenity looked over the rail at the same time Timothy did. The evergreen tree had vanished from the foyer, but a trail of needles warned that it had been brought up to this floor and into a room across the hall from the double doors to the ballroom.

  Not waiting for the others, Serenity went to the door to see Aunt Ilse draping the tree, which had been set into a pot in front of the trio of windows, with the strands of dried fruit she and the others had strung. Aunt Ilse was humming some song that Serenity did not recognize. Even when Aunt Ilse began to sing, the words must have been in German, because Serenity could not understand any of them. A half dozen children were sitting on the floor, watching with smiles. In a chair right next to the tree, Theodora grinned like a satisfied cat.

  “Are you coming to join us in decorating our Tannenbaum?” asked Aunt Ilse.

  “Tannenbaum?”

  “A Christmas tree!” Theodora crowed, and the other children giggled. “That is what this is, Serenity. A Christmas tree.”

  “But what is a Christmas tree?” Serenity asked.

  Aunt Ilse did not halt in arranging the fruit strands on the branches, letting the strings droop like swags. “It is a tradition among the German states. Instead of bringing a tree in to burn it on the hearth, as is done in England with a Yule log, in my husband’s country we bring a tree inside and decorate it with fruit and candles. Children, do you want to help?”

  Serenity stepped back into the hall as the children ran to assist Aunt Ilse. She wondered if the tree would survive their ministrations.

  “Very odd,” she said, as she joined Timothy and Felix on the stairs.

  “That is an apt description of Aunt Ilse.” Felix’s laugh was sharp. “She has assumed the ways of her adopted homeland as if she were a native.”

  “I would say that is wise of her. A princess should understand and respect her subjects and their traditions, no matter how curious they may be.” Serenity smiled. “I suspect they quite adore her.”

  Timothy chuckled when he paused at the bottom of the stairs and offered his arm. As he drew her fingers into it and put his hand over hers, he said, “You are as insightful as always. Whenever Aunt Ilse visits England, she receives letters from her husband’s countrymen and -women urging her to return home soon and safely. They miss her dearly when she is away.”

  “Or,” Felix said in the same grumbling tone, “they are so driven to ennui by her boring husband that they are eager for her to come back and entertain them with her bizarre ways.”

  “I am sure,” Serenity added quietly as if Felix had not spoken, “they adore her as much as the children here do. As much as you do, Timothy.”

  “Me?”

  She laughed as they walked toward the oldest section of the house. “I have seen you sitting and chatting with her, and you are always smiling as broadly as the children do when she is about. You enjoy her as much as they do.”

  “As I said, you are insightful, sweetheart.”

  Serenity’s smile at the endearment faltered when she saw Felix glower at his cousin. Was Felix being the most sensible of all of them to remember that this was truly a masquerade that would end with the ringing in of Christmas?

  Her uneasiness grew when they came around a corner in the hall and discovered greens piled by the ancient door of what was clearly a chapel that had been built at least four hundred years before. The pews, which offered seating for no more than a score, were wooden and showed the stains of each passing year. A simple altar carved of the same stone as the walls was set at the front.

  When Felix pushed past her to scoop up an armload, she realized Timothy was hesitating, too. Did Timothy share her disquiet at entering this chapel when they were lathered with lies?

  He glanced at her and quickly away, but not before she saw the flush rising along his face. Had she seen embarrassment or anger that, by being here, she was ruining a tradition he loved? She put her hand on his arm again, and he squeezed her fingers before bending to collect some of the greens.

  “Shall we?” His voice was strained.

  “It seems that we should, as we are right here.”

  “It will be all right, Serenity,” he said in a near whisper.

  “I wish I could believe that. I am not sure of anything any longer.”

  “I am.” He halted her from bending to gather up some greens. Ignoring the servants, who were carrying more armloads into the passage, he stroked her cheek. “I am sure that having you here is better than never having had the chance to know you.”

  “But you don’t know me. I don’t.”

  “Mayhap not.” He brushed her cheek with a swift kiss. “But I cannot believe that the true part of you could be changed even by an accident.”

  Serenity did not know what to say, and she had no chance, even if she could have found the right words. The laughter and excitement of the decorating lured her into the chapel. Soon she put her dreary thoughts aside as she let the joy in the chapel seep into her. She laughed along with the others as they tried to clean sap from their fingers and ended up only making them dirtier. Hearing Timothy chuckle at some jest among the men who were hanging the greenery from the rafters overhead, she bent to h
elp the women who were securing garlands of greenery to the pews and around the altar.

  Because they did not have to climb up and down the ladders, the women’s work was done more quickly. Serenity took a deep breath of the evergreens as she gathered up some of the pieces that had fallen from the strands now circling the chapel. She tossed the broken branches into a pile by the door, where they could be swept outside.

  She started to turn to pick up more, then paused. The sounds of laughter and teasing seemed to vanish as she knelt to pull out two straight branches. She stared at them, wanting to believe that this fragment of memory was real and not just wishful thinking. Holding the branches, she rose and groped for the closest pew. She sat and continued to stare at them.

  “What is so fascinating?” asked Timothy as he walked over to her.

  Slowly she raised her eyes to meet the good humor in his. She watched them narrow as she whispered, “This could work for Theodora.”

  “Two sticks?” His laugh sounded forced. “Serenity, she cannot hold but one.”

  “No, look!” She broke the branches over her knee. Tossing aside the longer pieces, she held up two sticks. Each was about ten inches long. She balanced both of them in one hand, so she could wiggle them and bring the tips together. “If she used them like this …”

  Timothy squatted beside her and reached for her hand. When she started to give him the sticks, he shook his head. “No, hold them as you were holding them. I want to watch you move them.”

  “Do you think this really could work for her?”

  “I don’t know yet. Let me see how you open and close the tips of the sticks.”

  Serenity slowly raised and lowered the top stick. “The bottom one stays pretty much stationary.”

  “Amazing! How did you come up with this idea?”

  “I did not.” She laughed and bent to pick up a piece of ivy up from the floor with the two sticks. “The Chinese invented these centuries ago. They use chopsticks for eating instead of a fork.”

  Timothy gripped her elbows as he rose far enough to sit beside her. “How do you know that? That is not something an abigail would know, is it?”

  “No,” she said slowly, “it is not.” Gazing down at the sticks in her hand, she whispered, “My father told me about using chopsticks. I know he did. I can remember him teaching me to use them. We laughed a lot because I was so clumsy with them.” She touched the other end of the sticks. “He lashed the upper end together for me, so I could use them like a crab’s claws, pinching them together.”

  “Which would work perfectly for Theodora.”

  “Do you think you could make something like this?”

  He chuckled. “You tell me that your father did it for you. I cannot resist the challenge of re-creating something that has already been created.”

  “And improving on it, because you will have to hook the sticks to the straps to go around her arm.”

  “That part is already designed, although I want to make the straps easy enough to use that she can put the device on and take it off by herself.” He shook his head with a wry grin. “So simple. I was trying to make it far too complicated.”

  “I wish I had thought of this earlier.”

  His expression became somber. “You are remembering more and more. Have you recalled anything that will help us discover who you really are?”

  “My father taught me about Eastern art and utensils. How many men can there be with that knowledge?”

  “Any captain who has sailed to buy tea in China or any soldier who has been to the East or any gentleman who might be intrigued with the study of the East, as my father was.”

  She sighed. “Your point is well-taken. I guess it does not help.”

  “But it does.” He tapped her cheek with his fingertip. “There are many men who have no interest in the East. All we must do is look for one who does and who can tell us the truth of your past.”

  “What if he is dead?” She could barely voice the fear that had taunted her since the first memories began to assert themselves. “If I am the sole caretaker of my sister and brother, then both of our parents must be dead.”

  “You cannot be certain you have understood that single letter correctly. If you handled your father’s accounts, it would be your duty to send the money for your siblings’ schooling.”

  “An abigail would not be involved in such things, would she?”

  “I am not assuming anything about your past any longer.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let us get the rest of this greenery strung around the chapel. I am anxious to get back to work on making Theodora’s page-turner.”

  She looked around as she stood. “It seems as if the work is completed.”

  “So there is no need for this length of greenery.” His eyes took on that mischievous twinkle that she adored. “Or is there?”

  He looped the run of greens around her. His eyes glittered more brightly than the candles as he stepped nearer. She needed only to edge back, and the greens would shatter, releasing her. She would be free. Free of the verdant bonds, but not free from the longing to stand like this … and closer.

  His hands rose, and the backs of his fingers brushed her cheek. She closed her eyes, delighting in the pleasure that she could not believe she once had feared she would have to feign. When had the game become reality? When had the lie evolved into the truth?

  The others’ voices faded once more until she was certain she could hear Timothy’s heartbeat along with her own. When his hand glided along her skin to cup her chin, he tipped her face toward his. In the second before his lips covered hers, he murmured, “You set my soul on fire with your sweet touch. I want you to quench it with your kisses.”

  Her answer was silenced by the demand of his lips. As she put her arms around his shoulders, she wondered if she could continue to resist the desires neither of them would be able to control much longer. It was a question she did not think of. At that moment, as he thrilled her with his mouth’s fevered caress, she forgot everything but this pleasure she had yearned to sample.

  When his tongue delved past her lips and into the hidden delights, she clutched his shoulders, unable to move, unable to think as she struggled against the engulfing tide of rapture. Nothing had warned her of the power of this sorcery that stripped her of all thought.

  He released her, and she sagged against him, her breath as uneven as the rapid beat of her heart. When he again put a single fingertip under her chin to tilt her mouth beneath his, she answered his yearning with her own.

  Mayhap she was a fool, but she would be one for as long as she could, because, although her heart had changed and now yearned to belong to him, one thing had not changed.

  She was not Serenity Adams. When Christmas dawned, this fairy tale of falling in love with the man of her dreams would come to an end.

  Fourteen

  “Are you ready to leave?”

  Timothy looked up from the accounts book that he should have checked two days ago. Odd how when Serenity was about he was not the least interested in the family’s enterprises. He had not been able to put the factories and their output from his mind even when he had been sitting with Charlene. It was quite the opposite with Serenity. She did not even need to be in the room for his thoughts to be focused on her beguiling smile or the way her eyes burned with silver fire when she could not govern her emotions.

  And when he had drawn her into his arms, those eyes had flashed until he was seared right through to his soul.

  “Timothy, are you too busy to join us?”

  He let his gaze be caught by those incredible eyes once more as he savored the sight of Serenity standing in the doorway. Her bright red spencer was buttoned to her chin beneath her sedate black cloak. Pale fur edged its hood, brushing her cheeks as he wished his fingers were.

  “Us?” he asked.

  “Theodora and I are going into the village to watch the mumming play that is to be held on the green this afternoon.”

  “Grandfath
er gave his permission?”

  She laughed. “His blessing, to own the truth.”

  “Blessing?”

  “He said it would be a blessed relief not to have Theodora teasing him about it endlessly.” She smiled. “It seems that she has learned a lot already from other children about how to be a child and get her way.”

  “It seems that she has learned a lot about how to beguile a gentleman into giving her what she wants.” Standing, he closed the book. “Your teaching, I assume?”

  “Have you found a way to get your new factory back to the schedule you had planned?” she asked, noting the gold letters set into the leather binding: Cheyney Enterprises.

  He shook his head and took her hand as he led her toward the door. “Not yet.”

  “If you must work—”

  “I must escort you and Theodora to watch the mumming play, or I swear she will tease me until I do so. If she could change Grandfather’s mind on this, I stand in awe of her powers of persuasion.” As he closed the door behind them, he brought her to face him. “Although I suspect she had help from another whose powers of persuasion would be enough to turn any man’s head, no matter his age.”

  “I am glad your grandfather heeded me.”

  “As I am.”

  When he kissed her lightly before taking her hand again as they walked along the hall, she smiled. She had no idea where this afternoon might lead, but she could not wait to find out.

  Serenity took Theodora from her nurse. Nestling her in the blankets on the sleigh’s seat, she drew another around her.

  “Are you comfortable?” Serenity asked.

  “Yes.” Theodora beamed in anticipation.

  “Are you warm?”

  “Not as warm as Timothy, I collect.”

  Serenity glanced at Timothy, who was walking toward them, his heavy coat slapping his boots. When he chuckled, she knew he had heard Theodora’s words.

  “My heaviest coat,” he said with a grin.