by Noelle Adams
“I’m a little afraid to go inside,” she admitted after a minute. “I feel like everyone in there knows what’s happening out here.”
Cyrus chuckled softly. “I’m afraid they probably do. Your brother isn’t likely to be happy that you’ve attached yourself to an old man.”
“Don’t call yourself that.” She stroked his chest. “You’re not that old.”
He gave her a very warm smile, a particular smolder in his eyes that quickened her pulse.
“Mitchell will get over it,” she continued, snuggling up beside him again. “And I wouldn’t want you to be even a year younger. Every year you’ve lived has made you you.”
She could feel him smiling although she was gazing out at the lake again.
They sat in silence for a long time, wrapped up in each other. Brie stared at how the moonlight and starlight glazed the water with pure, white light. Occasionally, in the grass or on the bare tree branches hanging over them, she could see a glint and sparkle of frost.
Finally she murmured, “It’s a silver kind of night.”
He brushed a kiss into her hair. “Yes. It is. It’s beautiful.”
“And who’s to say that’s less precious than gold?”
***
Early the next morning, Cyrus woke up without circulation in his arm.
He felt warm and cramped and relaxed and quite pleased with his position, despite his prickling arm. Brie was snuggled up beside him, still sound asleep.
Very carefully he eased his arm out from under her and tried to shake it gently to restore the blood flow. He didn’t want to wake her. They hadn’t gone to sleep until late. When they’d finally come inside, the party was breaking up, and people were drifting off to their rooms. Cyrus had spoken briefly to Harrison and gone to his room alone. He didn’t want to part ways with Brie, but there were too many people mingling in the hallways to do anything else—including members of his family and hers.
He’d always been intensely private, and it was no one else’s business how he behaved with the woman he loved.
An hour or so later, after the house had become quiet, there had been a light tap on the door. He hadn’t been asleep and, when he opened the door, Brie had slipped into his room.
They’d made love in slow, silent tenderness before they’d gone to sleep together.
Despite his attempts not to wake her, Brie started to stir now beside him. She made a few little mouth noises and then opened her eyes.
She smiled at him groggily when she saw he was watching her.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said.
“Don’t be.” She burrowed beside him as he wrapped his still prickly arm around her. “I’m glad to wake up today.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“You too.” She was smiling, beaming, glowing—even though her eyes were still sleepy.
He kissed the crown of her head, his chest brimming with deep emotion he’d never believed he was capable of before. “You look happy.”
“I am. So, so happy.” She tilted her head to check his expression. “Aren’t you?”
“You have no idea how much. Although my arm went to sleep from you lying on it all night.”
She giggled and, to his surprise, crawled over his body, snuggling up against his other side. “Then we’ll have to change positions to give that arm a rest.”
He laughed softly and pulled her into a hug with both arms, both the prickly and the nonprickly one.
After a minute, when both of them had relaxed under the covers, he said, “Maybe we should talk about a few things.”
“About what?”
“About what we’re going to do after today. We have a few things to sort through if we’re going to make this relationship work.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I live in England most of the time and you live in Savannah.”
“Oh. Right. I guess that is kind of an issue.”
He pulled back enough to look at her face. “I’m sure we can work it out. A lot of my business is centered in England, but much of the time I can work remotely. I don’t mind spending a lot of time in Savannah, as much time as I possibly can.”
“That’s really generous of you. And I could go over to England when I’m between jobs. Although…” She trailed off as if she were suddenly afraid to finish the sentence.
“Although what?” he prompted.
“Although I don’t have a job right now, which means I’m pretty flexible in terms of location. I supposed there might be churches in England, around you, that need restoration work.” She gave him a quick, self-conscious look. “If that’s not rushing you or anything.”
He gasped audibly, his whole body freezing as he realized what she was saying.
Seeing his reaction and evidently misreading it, she hurried on, “It was just an idea. I know we’ve only been together for a couple of weeks, and my moving there is probably too huge a step. I was just thinking, since I don’t have a job here, maybe I could find one there. But I didn’t mean to pressure you or make things too serious too quickly. It’s probably better for me to just stay in Savannah until—”
“Brie,” he interrupted, forgetting his manners in his earnestness. “I would love for you to move close to me. I just didn’t dare to hope for it.”
She let out a gusty sigh, her face starting to glow again. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought I’d pushed things too far. I know I should be more careful, but I’ve never been good at that. I just get so excited.”
He chuckled and reached over to stroke her cheek. “Dear heart, you don’t have to be careful with me. I’ve never been a casual person—about anything—and my feelings for you are as serious as feelings can be.”
Her breath hitched, and her cheeks reddened a little more. “Oh. Good.”
“You do know I’m falling in love with you, don’t you?” he murmured.
She made a soft noise in her throat, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. “I’m glad I’m not alone in it.”
He kissed her slowly, deeply, but they didn’t take it any further. When they pulled apart, Brie was smiling again. “So, back to the original topic, if I can find a job over there, I’d be very happy to move. I love Savannah, but it’s not like I have to live there the rest of my life. I’d just want any job I have to be a real one and not something engineered by you to get me over there.”
Cyrus couldn’t help but laugh since he’d been starting to search his mind for favors he could call in to get Brie exactly the kind of position she would most want. “All right. We’ll start looking for you a real job as soon as the holidays are over.”
They lay together for a few more minutes until Cyrus heard a few sounds from elsewhere in the house. He glanced at the clock. Breakfast wasn’t until eight, so they still had over an hour.
“I guess I should go back to my own room,” Brie said, following his gaze, “before people start to get up. I’m not too keen on everyone knowing I spent the night in here.”
Cyrus couldn’t help but be relieved by this sentiment. “We’ll have plenty of privacy soon enough.”
She beamed at him, giving a quick kiss before she got out of bed. She was still wearing her nightgown although it was rather wrinkled from their activities in bed last night. Her body was slim and graceful and beautiful, and Cyrus couldn’t help but enjoy it as she smoothed down her messy hair and the fabric of her gown. Her tousled appearance, the glow to her skin, and the languid satisfaction in her mood all testified to the fact that she’d had a very good night, and he couldn’t smother the ripple of pleased pride at the knowledge that he was the one who had given it to her.
She pulled on the robe and slippers she’d worn to come into his room and went to the door.
She blew him a silent kiss before she peeked out, checking the hallway to make sure it was empty.
Then she slipped out of the room.
***
Brie was leaving her room less than an hour later, having
showered and dressed, when she saw Cyrus closing his bedroom door behind him. He was dressed too, and he looked his normal, expensive, sophisticated, and well-tailored self.
He gave her a very intimate smile when he saw her that made her blush. “Merry Christmas,” he said in his normal tone, as if they’d just seen each other for the first time that morning.
There were a couple of people walking down the stairs in front of them. It looked like Deanna and her grandmother, old Mrs. Beaufort.
“Merry Christmas to you too,” she said, ducking her head and hiding a smile.
She started down the stairs, Cyrus behind her, but she came to a stop when she realized Mrs. Beaufort was waiting on the landing. Brie hadn’t seen the older woman the evening before because she’d gone to bed very early, just after the party had started.
“Good morning, young lady,” the tiny old woman said in an imperious tone, giving her a nod but not a smile.
“Good morning,” she replied.
Then Brie realized the woman wasn’t actually waiting for her. She was waiting for Cyrus. Because as soon as Cyrus had reached the landing, Grandmama squared her shoulders and tilted her head to glare up at him. “Young man, you are a disgrace.”
Cyrus gave a little twitch of surprise, his eyes widening.
“Grandmama!” Deanna whispered, her expression vaguely appalled.
Mrs. Beaufort ignored her granddaughter and kept glaring at Cyrus. “Cavorting about with a woman half your age. You should be ashamed of yourself, sir.”
Cyrus had recovered from his surprise, and now he gave the old woman a cool look. He spoke in his most formal, arrogant tone as he replied, “And you, madam, should exert a herculean effort and mind your own business.”
Grandmama Beaufort was speechless. It was the first time Brie had ever seen her so.
Deanna’s eyes were as round as saucers, and she had to raise a hand to hide the smile that was spreading slowly across her face. She and Brie exchanged looks of amazed hilarity.
Then Cyrus glanced back at Brie as if nothing at all had happened. “Shall we go down to breakfast, love?”
Brie hurried to take the hand Cyrus had extended, and they walked down the stairs together.
As they descended, Brie heard Mrs. Beaufort say to Deanna on the landing. “Well, I never! I thought he still needed a good push in the right direction, but I see now they’ve already sorted themselves out.”
***
Cyrus Damon felt like a new man that day.
He had breakfast with the others, and then they all went into the parlor to open presents in front of a roaring fire, which admittedly got a bit warm since the day wasn’t nearly as cold as the night before. The children—little Melissa and Rose and James’s children—screamed with laughter and pleasure at all their new treasures, and eventually the larger group broke up into smaller groups to amuse themselves until dinnertime.
Cyrus took some time to call the rest of his family—Lucy, Benjamin and Mandy, Andrew and Laurel, his other nephew Jonathan and his wife, Sarah, and their two sons. They were all happy to hear from him, and he knew their affection was genuine.
And Brie was beside him the whole time, leaning against him or holding his hand or meeting his eyes with special, little looks that only the two of them recognized.
They found Gordon, who was keeping out of sight, despite their continued requests that he join them. They exchanged presents with him, and before he left them, Gordon clapped a light hand on Cyrus’s shoulder.
It meant something. It meant a lot.
In the early afternoon, he and Brie went outside to sit on the swing next to the lake so they could have some time alone. They talked about how they would spend the rest of the holiday season. They talked about the kinds of jobs she could be looking for in England. They talked about the brand new year coming, a second chance, a gift he never would have expected.
The sun was bright, and the sky was clear, so the afternoon was a golden one, despite the light chill in the air.
Cyrus was washed with wave after wave of feeling, of joy—so much so it would have normally terrified him as he waited for the universe to balance the scales. But today he didn’t try to fight it. He welcomed it, knew it for one of the blessings of a universe whose edges didn’t always have to be sharp.
There could be golden days like this one in the world. Places with soft, forested hills, sparkling lakes, houses full of warmth and history and generations of human lives. Spaces of quiet, of peace. Family ties that gave shape to one’s world. Loyalty and devotion when one didn’t deserve it. Love that gilded the world like the sunshine.
The universe could be golden, hope glowing with the light of the sun.
It was golden today. Right now. It wasn’t perfection, but it spoke of something like grace.
It made him believe in it.
Some of the days after this one might be hard. Naturally, those days would come. But Cyrus now had hope that the bad could be outweighed, transformed, covered by the good.
Epilogue
One year later
As Brie woke up, even before she managed to get her eyes opened, she had the strongest impression that something really good was happening today.
She enjoyed the sensation for a minute, feeling cozy and relaxed and like there was no pressing reason to move quite yet. She was in the big bed in the huge master suite in Damon Manor, Cyrus’s vast, gorgeous estate about an hour outside of London. The sheets on this bed were the best sheets she’d ever slept on. She’d never known sheets could feel so nice against her skin. Even after sleeping on them for so many months, they still felt luxurious to her.
She finally woke up enough to roll over and open her eyes, smiling as she saw Cyrus sprawled out beside her, wearing the pajamas she’d given him last night.
He was still sound asleep, and he tended to run hot, so he’d pushed the covers down to his waist sometime during the night. The pajamas were red flannel and were covered by the repeated image of a puppy in a Santa hat, his tongue lolling out and his eyes way too big for his head.
She’d thought they were cute and funny, so she’d given them to Cyrus as a Christmas Eve / anniversary gift.
She couldn’t believe he’d actually put them on and then kept them on all night.
They’d been together exactly a year now. That was one of the reasons she was so happy.
The other reason was that it was Christmas, and she was excited about the day.
They weren’t going to have a big celebration this year. Only Harrison, Marietta, and Melissa were here. Cyrus had tried to get his other nephews to visit, but they’d all had other plans. Brie wished that Mitchell and Deanna had been able to come over for the holiday, but there had been some sort of issue involving Grandmama that had kept them in Savannah.
But still… Brie was sure they’d have a good day today, even with a small group.
As she lay on her side, watching Cyrus sleep, she felt a clench of feeling in her chest. He usually woke up before she did, so she didn’t get to see him sleeping like this very often. He needed to shave, and his hair was ruffled, and he looked adorably incongruous in those ridiculous pajamas. One of his hands was clenched in the duvet.
She loved him so much.
It had been April before she’d been able to find a good job here in England, so the first few months of this year had been long and frustrating, as they’d been living on different continents. Cyrus would have been happy to support her until she found a job, but she’d felt a little strange about that. She’d wanted to pay her own way—at least while they were dating. He would never have treated her anything like a mistress, but the idea of it had still made her uncomfortable. So they’d lived with an ocean between them, flying back and forth as often as they could.
Then one of Cyrus’s contacts had told them about restoration work beginning on a small cathedral in a village about forty minutes away. The work was supposed to last for at least two years, and there were more stained glass win
dows in the building than Brie could have dreamed of. She didn’t actually like her boss very much, but that was a minor aggravation.
She was still renting a tiny cottage in a village nearby although now she spent most nights over here.
Cyrus would always be old-fashioned. She knew he’d be uncomfortable about her actually moving in with him while they weren’t married, so she never suggested giving up her own place.
She’d been keeping still on purpose so she wouldn’t wake him up, but he started to stir anyway. She watched as he blinked and stretched slightly and then turned his head to look in her direction.
He smiled—that very tender smile that almost no one ever saw but her.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmured, after swallowing over the silliest lump of emotion in her throat.
“Merry Christmas,” he said in return, sounding typically composed and articulate, even after being awake for less than a minute. “Although I think I’m more prepared for it than you are since I’m wearing my Christmas pajamas.”
She giggled helplessly and was about to scoot over to kiss him when she rethought the wisdom of such a course of action. Instead, she said, “I’ll be right back,” and rolled out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.
She used the bathroom, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. Then she checked herself out in the mirror. She had on one of the soft cotton nightgowns she usually wore, this one blue with pretty ruffles on the straps. It was wrinkled though, and her hair was a mess.
She tried smoothing both of them down, but it didn’t help. She still looked rumpled and not particularly sexy.
Nothing to do about it though. Cyrus wouldn’t like dramatic, sexy lingerie even if she’d ever wanted to wear it. It wasn’t her, and it wasn’t him.
This morning, he’d have to make do with her looking like this.
They hadn’t had sex in two weeks.
He’d had a really busy month with work, and he’d been unusually stressed for the past few weeks. It was all she could do to get him to relax at night so he could sleep. He had no extra energy or focus for sex.
