Hellebore’s Holiday
Page 5
“Doesn’t he want the rest of you?”
“Funny, Max. I guess I made an impression on him.” Hellebore didn’t add that it had been while she slept on him.
“Nice socks by the way.”
“Thanks. Cartoon animals are a family tradition.”
“I noticed. It’s a good look for you.”
Hellebore wrinkled her nose and kept her gaze on the study door.
It remained closed for an hour, and when it finally opened, the eggnog was gone, the pixies were all over the counter, giggling and poking each other. A few were making eggnog angels but it was a wasted effort.
When the door opened, John came out first, and he winked at her as he returned to the gathering of new and ancient magic in his living room.
Fetu walked out, looking nervous, sweaty and weak-kneed. He walked straight toward where Hellebore stood with a deathly silent Max, and he went down on one knee. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box.
“Hellebore Ophelia Anders, will you marry me?”
He opened the box, and Max gasped at the size of the stone.
Hellebore was busy looking at Fetu’s face, and it went from uncertain to positive under her gaze.
She felt a strange lump in her chest and quickly fished out the drunk pixie that had fallen asleep in her cleavage. Max took the pixie from her, and Hellebore turned back to Fetu.
“Fetu Larsen, do you have your family’s permission to marry me?”
He grinned. “Yes, yes, I do.”
“Then, yes, I will marry you.”
He slipped the diamond onto her ring finger, and he kissed her knuckles. He got to his feet and kissed her, laughing with relief.
She kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his neck. She held on while his body went hot, cold and back to hot again.
Hellebore laughed. “This is going to make booking events far more difficult. Where are we going to live?”
“Your father has offered space on his land, but both of my parents have had linked homes waiting for me for the last three hundred years. They thought that I would be smarter than I am and that I would have learned my lesson earlier. They were hopeful.”
“I hope you are not always that slow on the uptake. I may only be around for a few decades and I would hate to waste that time.” She stroked his hair away from his face.
“Whatever time you have, I want it to be with me.” He kissed her fingers. “Will you share all that you are and all that you will become with me?”
She smiled. “I will share everything I am and everything I will be with you provided that you will do the same for my lifetime.”
“All that I am is yours.”
Max sniffled and used one of the pixies to mop up her tears. “That is so beautiful.”
The Abomination pitched the pixie behind her, the little voice making an arc as she dropped into the living room.
The kitchen was suddenly filled with all of her friends and family, a bunch of plastered pixies and a lot of love. It wasn’t the worst beginning to an engagement that Hellebore had imagined.
Ensconced in his arms, she looked up at Fetu. “I should go on vacation far more often.”
He grinned, “My dearest, if you ever bring back another man from prison, I will definitely freeze him in place and then boil him alive.”
“Ah, dear Fetu, know that if you ever keep another woman warm through the night, I will enthrall both of you and drop you into a pig sty. I have access.” She smiled sweetly and kissed him again.
“I stand warned.”
They basked in the support of her family, the joy of the holiday and the hope for the future.
With the fastest elf engagement on record, they agreed to tie the knot on New Year’s Eve. Abby picked up her phone and began to call in favours, Laura contacted the Matriarch, and Fetu and Xander had a conference call with his parents.
Hellebore felt the pull again, and she headed up to her roof walk, singing the sun down.
Fetu came up during her solo, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close while she called out to the night and urged it to wrap around them.
As darkness came, she let the last notes fade away.
“That was amazing.” Fetu kissed her neck.
“Thank you. Sometimes, I am called to sing. Usually, it is around the holidays.”
“And here, there is no one to come running.”
She leaned against him and enjoyed his warmth. He wrapped her in it, and the stars came out to smile down at them.
“We are being rude to your guests.”
“They are used to it.” She chuckled. “Just a few minutes more.”
“Santa found the enchanter who twisted your charm. He is currently enjoying the hospitality of the prison. Irgano has someone to keep him company while his arms heal.”
She frowned. “He broke his arms?”
“It was a strange accident. He slipped on some ice.” Fetu hugged her. “It is a pity that they now have to train a new doctor.”
* * * *
The gathering below smiled at the laughter of the siren. There were plans to make, arrangements to put in place and a venue to find, but for now, basking in the cascading lilt of pure joy that reached into their hearts was just the way to spend the night.
When the drunk pixies started puking, the mood changed…but that is another story.
Author’s Note
Hellebore’s Holiday shows that just because your holiday isn’t going according to plan doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have possibilities. You just have to be open and adapt.
In the next book, Courting the Phoenix, we get to work through Terric’s angst about finding the woman that he has been waiting for. He has been looking and she has been hiding, and finally, the wait is over. On New Year’s Eve, at the wedding of Hellebore and Fetu, they have agreed to meet and see what happens next.
I can’t wait to find out.
Thanks for reading,
Viola Grace
www.violagrace.com
viola@violagrace.com
About the Author
Viola Grace was born in Manitoba, Canada where she still resides today. She really likes it there. She has no pets and can barely keep sea monkeys alive for a reasonable amount of time. Her line of day job tends to be analytical which leaves her mind hopping to weave stories. No co-worker is safe from her character analysis. In keeping with busy hands are happy hands, her hobbies have included cross-stitch, needlepoint, quilting, costuming, cake decorating, baking, cooking, metal work, beading, sculpting, painting, doll making, henna tattoos, chain mail, and a few others that have been forgotten. It is quite often that these hobbies make their way into her tales.
Viola’s fetishes include boots and corsetry, and her greatest weakness is her uncontrollable blush. Her writing actively pursues the Happily Ever After that so rarely occurs in nature. It is an admirable thing and something that we should all strive for. To find one that we truly like, as well as love.