A Christmas Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “I am glad to see you have decided to be sensible,” Serenity replied, “rather than fashionable.”

  He plucked at the bulky wool. “I despise this coat. It weighs about as much as the curtain wall, and it smells from being in storage.”

  “You will appreciate it before the afternoon is over.”

  “I hope you are more sure of that than I am.”

  “I am,” Serenity said. “That is why I asked Henry to have it ready for you.”

  Theodora giggled as Timothy handed Serenity in to sit on one side of her before walking around the sleigh and getting in on the other side. “Are we all set?” the little girl asked.

  “As soon as you make a promise to me,” he replied with a grin.

  “What promise?”

  “You must not tell the mummers if they do something wrong.” He gave her a mock frown as he slapped the reins on the back of the horse.

  Theodora laughed again when the sleigh slid with a soft whisper through the snow. “How will I know if they do something wrong? I have never seen them before.”

  “Ah, but I know you have convinced Serenity to find you that book with all the pictures showing mumming plays.”

  “I read it.” She smiled up at Serenity. “Almost all by myself.”

  “All by yourself. If that one page had not been ripped and caught on the next page, you would not have needed me to help at all.” Serenity stretched her hand along the back of the seat to put her fingers on Timothy’s sleeve. “Your invention works perfectly.”

  “I should have thought about doing something like that a long time ago,” he said.

  “You should have,” Theodora said in a tone that she had borrowed from her great-grandfather. “But Aunt Ilse said there is no inspiration that works better for a young man than having a beautiful woman by his side.” She paused, then asked, “What was she talking about?”

  “Aunt Ilse meant,” Timothy said quietly, “that any man would do anything to win a smile from you or Serenity.”

  “Anything?”

  He chuckled. “You minx. Almost anything, I should say, before you have me swimming the Channel to bring you something back from Paris.”

  “I do not want something from Paris. I want to see the mumming play.”

  Serenity smiled at the little girl’s certainty, and she smiled even more broadly when they stood together on the green in the midst of the village. The simple houses edging the green were bright with candles that reflected on the strips of paper disguising the mummers. As the men acted out battles, with one falling and being brought back to life by a doctor character, Theodora cheered along with the other children. Even the speeches by the participants, each representing a different historical or legendary character, brought grins from the youngsters. The plays came to an end with a sword dance performed by six men.

  Serenity watched, fascinated, as the men began in a circle. The swords were balanced on the men’s shoulders, each man holding on to the sword of the man in front of him. As the patterns were created and then taken apart to make new ones, the men continuously held the swords in a steel cat’s cradle. Dancing together and apart, they finished all linked together with the swords in a star pattern around the shoulders of one man in the middle. She cheered with the others and wondered how long she had held her breath, fearing that even a single gasp could destroy the perfection.

  As they climbed back into the sleigh to return to Cheyney Park, Theodora prattled with excitement, reliving every moment of the play as if neither Timothy nor Serenity had been present. She giggled so hard that half of her words were incomprehensible.

  “I think she enjoyed herself,” Serenity said, chuckling as she sat beside Timothy, letting Theodora lean her good arm on the side of the sleigh.

  “Proving that you are right once again.” He grinned as he slipped one arm through hers and picked up the reins.

  “I am glad I was.”

  “So am I.”

  She tipped her head to his shoulder as he steered the sleigh out of the village. While he teased Theodora, telling her that he was going to make her a hat covered with strips of paper like the ones the mummers had worn, she closed her eyes and let happiness envelop her. She could imagine few things more wonderful than spending an afternoon with him like this. Her lips tilted in a soft smile. The things she could imagine that would be even more spectacular should not be filling her head, but she could not halt the images of how his eyes closed in the moment before his lips found hers for an eager kiss.

  “Look!” cried Theodora.

  Serenity raised her head, wishing she could have had a few more moments amidst the pure happiness. “At what?”

  “At the window where Aunt Ilse put the tree.”

  She could say only “Oh!” as she gazed up at the house on the top of the hill. At a trio of windows, she could see the lights of the candles that had been tied to the branches of the evergreen tree. Through the uneven glass, the light flowed out to mingle with the snow.

  “It’s beautiful,” Timothy said. “Now I can understand why she was so excited about this.”

  “Can I see it up close when we get back?” Theodora asked.

  “Of course.” Serenity smiled. “After all, you helped make the fruit strands that—”

  The horse shrieked as it rose to two feet. Beside her Timothy cursed, fighting to keep the horse from bolting. Metal screamed even more loudly than the horse. The sleigh shivered.

  The horse whinnied again as leather snapped and flew about like a madman’s whip. Serenity pulled Theodora closer to her as the sleigh bucked like the horse. She heard Timothy shout something. She did not have time to understand his words as the sleigh tipped wildly to the left. Wanting to grip the seat, she could not. She must not let go of Theodora.

  The sleigh slid backward on the hill as the horse broke away. The runner struck a bush. As the sleigh tipped again, it bounced.

  Serenity shrieked, but refused to release Theodora. She struck the snow and the rock-hard earth beneath it. In her arms, Theodora moaned, then began to cry. If the child had broken something …

  “Theodora! Are you all right?”

  The little girl brushed snow out of her eyes. “Is the horse hurt?”

  Serenity sat up and lifted Theodora to sit. “The horse should be fine and halfway back to the stables by now. How are you?”

  “I bumped my head.”

  “I see.” She tipped back the child’s hat to discover a ruddy spot the size of her thumb. “Anywhere else?”

  “I lost my glove.”

  Serenity patted the snow to find the missing glove. Picking it up, she knocked snow from it and placed it back on Theodora’s hand. “Sit right here. I want to see where Timothy is.”

  “No wolves will eat me, will they?”

  “If I see any, I shall tell them that you taste horrible. All right?”

  Theodora grinned. “All right.”

  Serenity’s smile vanished as she pushed herself to her feet and stared at the upended sleigh farther down the hill. Where was Timothy? She had thought he would come running to make sure she and Theodora were not badly hurt.

  Pressing her hand over her mouth to keep her gasp of horror from escaping, for it was sure to upset Theodora, she rushed down the hill to where a dark form was stretched out on the snow. Only half a form, she realized, because the rest of it was beneath the sleigh, which was tilted at a peculiar angle.

  She dropped to her knees in the snow. Brushing Timothy’s hair back from his eyes, she whispered his name. Theodora shouted to her from up the hill, but she did not answer as she stared at his face, which was smoothed out as if he were asleep. Sweet heavens, he was not dead, was he?

  She slipped her fingers beneath his high collar to seek his pulse. With a yelp and an oath, he opened his eyes and pushed her hand away.

  “I am just trying to see if you are alive,” Serenity said.

  “Try doing that without pushing snow down my collar next time, if you would.” He gr
imaced. “Dash it! I cannot move my legs.”

  “You have a sleigh on top of them.”

  “The sleigh?” Timothy looked past Serenity’s worried face to see the lurking bulk of the sleigh behind her. He tried to slip his legs from beneath it, but they were securely pinned.

  “Do not move,” she cautioned. “If you have had the misfortune to break a bone—”

  “Which I have not. There’s no pain.”

  “Sweet heavens! If you cannot feel anything—”

  He caught her hands in his. “Serenity, I am fine. I am simply stuck.”

  “Stuck?” She gasped.

  “It seems that way. The runner must have broken off and twisted around my legs. I can wiggle my toes, and I can feel the sleigh above my boots. I simply cannot extract my legs from beneath the sleigh.” He grinned wryly. “It is a most ignoble sensation to be stuck like this.”

  “Mayhap I can help.”

  “Don’t be want-witted. That sleigh is heavy, and the blades were sharpened before we left Cheyney Park. You could hurt yourself.” He glanced around. “Where is Theodora?”

  Serenity pointed up the hill. “She is there. We were thrown clear before the sleigh crashed and broke.”

  “For the second time, you have been thrown clear.” He caught her hands again as her eyes dimmed. “Forgive me, Serenity, for reminding you of that accident when you must be so unsettled from this one.”

  “How could I not think of that one? But at least we are all alive and hurt no worse than a few bruises.”

  “And stuck.”

  Finally he was rewarded with a smile from her. Although his head ached as if both the sled and the horse had run over him, he slipped his arms around her and drew her down to meet his lips. Her hands clenched on his shoulders, and he tasted desperation on her lips. Not desperation, but fear. For him and for Theodora, he knew. As his gloved hands edged along her back, bringing her closer, he cared only for the caress of her slender body against him.

  Pulling back, she whispered, “Timothy, we should not be doing this. Theodora is here.”

  “And she can see that there is nothing we can do save kiss when almost half of me is under this sleigh.”

  Her smile was clearly reluctant, but it rose to her eyes when he squeezed her hand before kissing it lightly. “I should get some help, Timothy,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you should.” He chuckled. “It is getting as cold as the devil’s heart lying here in the snow.” He ran his fingertip along her cheek. “It could be warmer if you were lying here beside me.”

  “Where I would be as safe as a babe in its mother’s arms.”

  He lowered his voice to a husky whisper, “Don’t be so certain of that, sweetheart.”

  Color soared up her cheeks as her mouth grew round. Stumbling to her feet, she stuttered, “L-let me g-g-get Theodora.” She took a deep breath, giving him a most intriguing view from the ground. “I shall send help as soon as I can get to Cheyney Park.”

  Timothy rested his chin on his folded arms and watched her skirts swaying as she hurried back to where Theodora was sitting. When she gathered the little girl up, he expected her to rush on. Instead, she turned and came back down the hill.

  “Cheyney Park is at the top of the hill,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. It was getting dashed cold beneath this sleigh. The wind was rising again, and he did not want to get out from under the sleigh just in time to discover his toes were frozen. He knew, as well, that if the sleigh shifted, it could fall down on him and shatter his legs. Even though he had been careful to say nothing of that to Serenity, he guessed she knew that, too.

  “Theodora insists on staying here with you,” Serenity replied.

  He shook his head. “Theodora, it is too cold. Let Serenity take you home.”

  “No!” the little girl said with rare fervor. “Timothy, you sit with me when I cannot move. I want to sit with you when you cannot move.”

  Timothy looked from the child’s determined scowl to Serenity’s face, which softened from shock to gentle amazement. Like him, she must not have guessed that Theodora’s heart was greater than her small body. He started to speak, but his voice cracked. He began again. “Theodora, it will not do you a bit of good to sit in the snow and get cold.”

  “I read a book where a man froze to death in the snow. He just got sleepy and never woke up.” Her jaw jutted with a resolve that reminded him of his grandfather. “I will sit with you and talk to you so you will not go to sleep and freeze to death.”

  “I cannot talk her out of it,” Serenity said softly. She set Theodora on top of him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. If this was her idea of a way to help him, he did not want to ask whom she would seek to come here to move this sleigh, for he feared she would bring the tiniest maid in the kitchen.

  When she drew off her coat, he started to chide her; then he realized what she was planning. She set the coat on the snow and put Theodora on it. Pulling it up around the child, she buttoned the topmost button to hold it in place around her shoulders.

  “Hurry!” Timothy urged, his concern now for Serenity, who was already shivering as the icy wind tugged at the fine material of her gown.

  “I will.” She turned, then smiled at them. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Theodora laughed, and Timothy put his chin back down on his arms. He let a grimace thread his forehead as Theodora watched Serenity run up the hill toward Cheyney Park, but had a smile in place as soon as the little girl looked back at him. He had not been completely honest with Serenity. There was a pain climbing his left leg that gave him sympathy for a beast caught in a trap.

  “You are not sleepy, are you?” Theodora asked.

  “No, just cold.”

  “Cold is good when you do not want to freeze to death.”

  He chuckled in spite of the thickening ache in his leg. “I suspect you are right.”

  “I am.” Theodora raised her chin. “I read it in a book.”

  “And you like to read?”

  “More than anything.” She shook her head. “No, I like being with you and Serenity more.”

  “We like being with you.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I am not just a burden to you?”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “I heard …”

  Timothy started to frown, but halted when tears filled her eyes. Quietly he asked, “Theodora, who did you hear say something that would make you think that?”

  “Uncle Felix and Uncle Arnold were talking, and I heard them say that Serenity is trying to prove that she is a saint by treating me as she does. That she is trying to impress Grandfather, and she is wasting her time because it shall not do her a bit of good.”

  “You heard all that and never mentioned it to anyone?”

  She nodded.

  Wondering what else the child had chanced to hear because the family had dismissed her to her lonely corner until Serenity brought out the sparkle in the little girl, Timothy said, “Your Uncle Felix and Uncle Arnold are wrong. Serenity likes to spend time with you because she likes you. I do, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” He clenched his teeth as another sliver of agony rose along his leg. “If Serenity has impressed Grandfather, it is because he sees that she cares for you.”

  “And for you.”

  “Yes,” he said again, but more slowly. Not wanting to continue this conversation when he might let the pain betray him into saying something he should not, he added, “Tell me a story.”

  “What story?”

  “How about one that you have read lately that you really enjoyed?”

  “Telling stories is for bedtime, and you cannot go to sleep.”

  “Then tell me an exciting story that will keep me wide-awake.”

  Theodora nodded and launched into some tale that was so convoluted that Timothy lost track of it within seconds. He did not care. He simply listened to the rise and fall of her voice. The pain in his leg came in wa
ves as well. When he heard a creak, he glanced up, but the wind was not strong enough to topple the sleigh to crush him.

  Giving Theodora another smile so she would not be upset, he urged her to continue her story. He tried to ignore how her teeth chattered as she spoke. Glancing past her, he saw no one. As snow began to swirl around them on the rising wind, he hoped Serenity would be quick. He did not want to think of what would happen if she was delayed even a minute too long.

  Fifteen

  Serenity pulled the thick cloak more tightly around her as she ran along the road. How much farther could it be? She blinked as pellets of snow struck her, but she refused to bend her head. She did not want to miss her first sight of Timothy and Theodora.

  She gasped with relief when she saw them huddled by the overturned sleigh. Rushing to it, she knelt by him as she had before. Cradling his head in her arms, she looked at Theodora and said, “They are coming.”

  “Who?”

  “The men who will take you home where it is warm,” she said, trying to keep her fear out of her voice. Why had not Timothy said anything to her? His skin was icy, and she did not want to think help was arriving too late.

  Shouts raced down the hill before a crowd of men from Cheyney Park rushed up to the sleigh. Timothy groaned and opened his eyes as they peeked under the sleigh. She wanted to cheer that he was still conscious, but said nothing as the men peered all around the sleigh as they tried to figure out the best way to lift it away from him without doing further damage.

  “Miss Adams,” said the man she knew was the head groom, although she could not recall his name, “you and Miss Theodora must move away. We do not want to chance the sleigh falling onto you.”

  “All right.” She scooped Theodora up into her arms. The little girl shivered and nestled against her. Drawing the cloak around her, she smiled her thanks when one of the lads tucked her coat up around Theodora.

  “If you will go with Ned,” said the head groom, pointing at the lad beside her, “he will see you back to the house while we get this off Lord Cheyney.”

  “I am not leaving. If—”

  “Go!” ordered Timothy in a strained voice. “Theodora needs to get inside and out of the wind right away. We shall be right behind you.”