Caroline Lee's Christmas Collection: Six sweet historical western romances

by Caroline Lee

  ”In excelsis Deo!”

  The voice was coming closer, but he didn’t want her to stop. He snatched his hat off his head and threw his face back to accept the sunbeam’s benediction.

  “Shepherds why this jubilee?”

  He couldn’t help himself. He was no singer either, but the joy crept up into his throat. “Why your joyous strains prolong? Say what may these tidings be?”

  The mysterious voice halted, and Hunter, his eyes closed, finished the verse, ”Which inspire your Heavenly songs? Gloooor-ooooor-orrrrr-ia!”

  He had to pause to take a breath, so he tilted his head down and opened his eyes…and finished in a stunned whisper, “In excelsis Deo!”

  She was beautiful.

  Her head was wrapped in a red turban of some sort, sitting a bit askew after her tromp through the woods, and her wide eyes stared at him in shock. Her winter coat was well-worn, a dull sort of gray, but the bright red of her headscarf reminded him of the bows on the tree.

  The decorated Christmas tree, right beside him. The one he’d look at again, as soon as he could drag his eyes away from this even more lovely sight.

  Yes, she was beautiful alright, but she was also terrified, judging from the frantic look in her eyes and the way her gloved hands tightened around the handles of the pails she carried.

  That, more than anything, shook him out of his trance. He jammed his hat on his head and cleared his throat.

  “I apologize for intruding, miss. I was…”—he shook his head, looking for the right word, then grinned wryly—“overcome, I suppose. The day is lovely, the woods are beautiful, and the mood seemed right for some songs of praise.”

  Her eyes had narrowed during his speech, which had been intended to set her at ease. But maybe she was determined to gain the upper hand, because he watched a muscle jump in her jaw before she answered.

  “It’s overcast.”

  Her tone was accusatory, which caused his smile to grow, for some reason.

  “Yes it is. But this is a day the Lord made, and I am determined to enjoy it.”

  Slowly, her shoulders seemed to relax. “I…I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me.” Her attention was now firmly focused on the tree.

  “And I didn’t intend to hear anyone, miss. But I can’t deny I’m glad you did. I was struck by the simple elegance of this tree, and then your singing started. I’m not ashamed to admit I thought angels themselves were singing.”

  She snorted, perhaps not believing his compliment, but crossed the small clearing anyhow. He wanted to think it was because she wanted to be nearer to him, but suspected she just needed to reach the path.

  But she stopped in front of the tree, cocking her head back to peer up at the topmost bow. “Did you move my bow?” The accusation shot out, and he got the impression she didn’t trust easily.

  “I did, and I apologize if I did wrong.” He cleared his throat, beginning to feel a little foolish at continuously having to explain himself. “I saw it wasn’t quite on the top branch, and thought I could help.”

  She was glaring at the bow, as if it had somehow offended her, but to his surprise, she finally blinked and sighed. Her shoulders drooped even further, and he wondered just what exactly was in those pails she still gripped so tightly.

  She turned her head just slightly, catching his gaze. And holding it.

  “Thank you for helping, mister. I wasn’t tall enough to get it right.”

  And with that little peace offering, his heart soared. His smile bloomed and he touched the brim of his hat. “I’m thrilled to be of service, Miss…?”

  Slowly, she shifted so her shoulder wasn’t between them anymore. She wasn’t quite facing him, but she seemed more open than she had been a moment before. “I’m Snow.”

  Snow.

  Hunter couldn’t help it; he glanced around at the snow on the branches around them, and knew his look was a bit mischievous when he glanced back at her. “What an appropriate name,” he said with a wink, not even minding she’d left off her last name. He could do the same. “I’m Hunter.”

  He watched her lips form his name, as if trying it out. Hunter. She didn’t say it aloud though, and he suddenly ached to hear his name on her lips.

  He had to keep her here with him, even for only a moment longer. “And are you collecting snow, Miss Snow?” he asked, nodding to her pails.

  She’d seemed to have forgotten she was holding them and flushed slightly as she held them aloft. “No, water. We have a stream near the house, but my—my stepmother believes Lake Enchantment has magical powers, if you can believe it.”

  He could. “I’ve heard of springs having healing properties, due to their chemical makeup. That’s why I’m here, in fact.”

  Her light brown gaze flicked across his chest and shoulders, and when it found his once more, one dark brow was lifted in speculation. “You need healing?”

  She wasn’t shy, was she? His grin flashed again. “We all need healing in some way or other, Miss Snow. But after a lifetime of living near the coal mines in western Pennsylvania, I know I need clean air and pure water.”

  “Hmm.” She was still eyeing him, as if she didn’t believe him. But then she shrugged. “Well, you’re in the right place. I’ll even share my favorite spot with you, if you don’t tell anyone.”

  Sharing a secret with such a beguiling angel? How could he ignore the chance. “I’d be honored, Miss Snow.”

  She nodded once, then turned, and Hunter realized she meant to leave. He leapt forward. “Wait! Let me help you with those!”

  But she jerked back, away from his touch, out of his reach. A bit of the water sloshed over the edge of the pail, and she winced as it hit the ground. “No! No, I’ll…I’ll be fine.”

  “They look heavy.”

  It was the second time within an hour he watched a woman carry a load when he was perfectly capable of helping. But the way she scoffed, the way she lifted her chin, made him think she might be offended.

  “They are heavy, Mr. Hunter, but that doesn’t mean I can’t carry them. My stepmother has me doing all sorts of heavy jobs for her, and I welcome the chance to come pick up her ‘magical water’ for her, because it gives me the chance to come out here and enjoy the peace of the woods.”

  At first, his heart leapt and his smile bloomed as he realized she loved the woods as much as he did. But then he really heard her words, and guilt crept in.

  “Then”—he touched the brim of his hat and stepped back—“I’m truly sorry for ruining your peace.”

  “You didn’t ruin—” She shook her head, then sighed. “Go back that way”—she jerked her chin to where she’d emerged from the woods—“and you’ll come to the lake. It’s a nice little cove with a good stump for sitting and contemplating.”

  Hunter glanced up at the trees again, hearing distant birdsong. His tone was solemn when he turned back to her. “Thank you, Miss Snow. Contemplation sounds like exactly what I need. I really am sorry for intruding on your time.”

  She looked as though she wanted to say something, but ultimately, she didn’t. She simply nodded, then turned to tromp out of the little clearing.

  And when she was gone, Hunter sighed deeply and turned toward the lake, the majesty somehow gone from the day.

  Chapter 3

  “It shouldn’t be a problem to get those threads in, Snow.” Behind the counter, Ian Crowne glanced at her with a comforting smile as he checked his ledger. “We’re usually up on your orders, but I’m guessing the holidays slowed things down.”

  She nodded politely. “By the new year?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged as he reached for one of the overhead ropes and pulled himself upright. “Or the week after, at the very latest. You have enough until then?”

  She was fairly certain she did. Her next commission wasn’t due for two months, and she had enough material and thread for those gowns. Having extra would be nice, but she could start without it.

  “Yes, thank you.” She patted the packag
e on the counter in front of her. “And thank you for taking care of this. I can run it over to the station.”

  For years now, she supported herself by making christening gowns for America’s wealthiest families. At first, Rose did the sewing in between her writing, and Snow would do the tatting and embroidery. Once Rose began to focus more on her writing, Snow began to make more of the gowns herself, and now she’d become an expert at the tiny stitching required.

  And of course, her tatting was the most beautiful part of all.

  She’d always kept her skills a bit of a secret, although she wasn’t sure why. Most people in town didn’t even know she sewed, since Rose had been the one who always did the shopping. Now that Rose and Zosia were both gone, and Snow was out among the townspeople more often, she supposed people were figuring it out.

  Ian just smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles, and shook his head. “Not a problem. Ella is running that way later, anyhow.”

  Snow peeked behind him, half expecting to see his lovely wife. “Is she feeling alright?”

  The handsome shopkeeper used the rope to lever himself out from around the end of the counter, as he reached for the crutch he used to compensate for his missing leg. “She’s doing worse than she was with the first one.” He was beaming though, which made it seem as if he was thrilled with his wife’s pregnancy pains. “And with Erik being the little monster he is, we’re both worried what that’ll mean for— Erik!”

  The last part was yelled at the toddler, who had ducked out from behind his father’s leg and was lunging for one of the ubiquitous dogs who always seemed to be hanging around Crowne’s Mercantile.

  The dog let out a loud woof as the little boy landed on him, then shot out from under the surprise attack. Erik pushed himself to his feet with a squealed, “Puppy!” and shot forward again.

  It was clear Ian, with his crutch, wouldn’t get there in time, so Snow, laughing, scooped up the boy.

  And immediately stilled.

  He smelled of…of apples and cream and sugar and light and joy and everything good in the world. Even though he squirmed in her arms, she couldn’t resist the urge to tighten her hold on him, to imagine for one glorious moment she could have this.

  She wanted this. She wanted a child of her own, to love and spoil and sing to, without anyone caring how poorly she sang.

  With a blink, she thought of Mr. Hunter, and how he hadn’t minded her singing. No, he’d sang joyfully with her, instead of hushing her. The entire encounter, two days ago now, had been oddly exciting. Stepping out of the woods and seeing him had been something magical, especially after the way he’d sang with her, and seeing him…?

  He’d been so tall and strong, it was hard to believe he might be asthmatic, as he’d implied. But he’d said he’d lived near coal mines, and she’d wanted to ask about that. She’d wanted to ask about everything, but had held herself back.

  It had been odd enough to stand there with him, to come so close to touching him, to want to touch him. He was a stranger, and could’ve been a criminal, for all she knew. But no, there was something special about him.

  And then he’d taken his hat off, and she’d seen his blond hair.

  That’s when she knew she should run. Mr. Hunter, whoever he was, wasn’t for her.

  But for just a moment, cuddling little Erik Crowne, breathing in his sticky sweet scent, she wanted him to be. She wanted him.

  Dear Heavens.

  Shaking herself, she forced a little smile and handed the toddler off to his waiting father, who propped himself against the counter and supported the boy on his opposite hip. They were both chuckling.

  “Puppy, Dada!”

  “Big puppy, Erik. You need to be gentle with the puppies, remember?”

  “Puppy?”

  It was so sweet, Snow had to turn away. But before she reached the door, it opened and an older man stepped through.

  “Snow,” he greeted her, in a deep voice. “Rushing off already?”

  “Yes, sir.” She greeted him with a little curtsy, not ashamed to admit his smile made her flush slightly.

  Mr. Andrew Prince had come to Everland the year before looking for his son. Anyone who knew Micah Zapato could see the resemblance, but with that horrible scar across Micah’s face, it wasn’t much of a surprise he didn’t charm the ladies quite as much as his father did. Andrew’s dark hair was now more salt-and-pepper, and with his neatly trimmed beard and fancy suit, he looked every inch the millionaire he was.

  And the precious little girl he carried did nothing to hurt his image.

  “And where are you off to?” Even as he spoke, Andrew shook his head at the bundled little girl in his arms who was tugging on his facial hair. “No, Antonia. What did Grand-Papa say about his mustache?”

  “Papa!”

  “Yes, butterfly.” He gently pulled his mustache from her fingers. “That hurts.”

  “Papa!” When she patted his cheek gently, the older man grinned.

  And Snow’s heart ached again. What she wouldn’t give to have a man look at her daughter this way, to care so gently. Not Andrew Prince, of course; although he was handsome and strong, he had to be at least fifty, and much too old for her.

  Since rediscovering his son, he’d accepted Micah’s unusual little family of orphans as his own, and now spent almost as much time in Everland as he did in New York, overseeing his company there. No one had expected such a hardened businessman to fall in love with life in a small town like Everland, but he’d become the children’s “Papa” in every way.

  Seeing him plant a kiss on little Antonia’s cheek and hearing her giggle in return made Snow’s heart clench, and her thoughts jumped back to Hunter.

  Assuming Andrew had forgotten about her, she nodded to Ian and tried to slip out the door. But the way was blocked by another one of the dogs Ian and Ella seemed to collect, and the noise she made dislodging it drew Andrew’s attention once more.

  “Can I help you?”

  “No, thank you.” She shot him a tight smile as she was nudging the animal out of the way.

  But Andrew stepped over and touched her sleeve, just enough to get her attention, but Snow still jerked back. He might not be a blond man, but he was a handsome one, and she had to stay away from him. Or else Lucinda would get her hooks into him somehow.

  “Miss Snow,” Andrew Prince said quietly, “I hope you know I can help you. With anything.” His dark eyes met hers. “What do you want, Snow?”

  What do you want, Snow?

  She took a deep breath. She wanted peace. Security. She wanted freedom from her evil stepmother. She wanted a family and a baby of her own to sew gowns for. She wanted a future, not this limbo she’d been living in for so long.

  But Andrew Prince, despite his money, couldn’t help her with any of that. So she forced a cheerful grin, patted the toddler’s back, and said flippantly, “A safe and happy Christmas, Mr. Prince.”

  From his clouded expression, he knew her words didn’t match what her heart longed for, but he also took the hint she wouldn’t speak of it further. So he nodded and said somberly, “Then I shall wish you a very happy Christmas, Miss Snow, and I look forward to seeing you at the Christmas celebrations tomorrow.”

  She nodded her goodbye and slipped out the door, thankful the dog had moved. Out on the boardwalk, she kept her expression serene, but tilted her face skyward to hide the flush in her cheeks and to cool her emotions.

  She’d spent a lifetime keeping her emotions under control. These wants, desires of hers, were nothing new, but she never spoke of them. Not even Rose or Zosia knew how badly she wanted a family, and how bitter she was that Lucinda made it impossible.

  Sure, Snow was of age; she could leave Everland and marry elsewhere. But Lucinda believed in magic, and believed that one of Reginald White’s daughters needed to marry a man with pale hair, to pass on his heritage. Rose had Lucinda’s red hair—hence her nickname of Rose Red—and her husband Bear had dark hair. But Lucinda had al
ways said she’d only approve of a blond man for Reginald’s remaining daughter.

  And Snow would never allow that woman to chose her husband for her.

  So no matter how handsome she found Hunter, she wouldn’t consider him again. She would put him far from her mind.

  She would ignore the way he’d made her heart pound when she’d heard his voice join with hers. She’d forget the reverent way his eyes had skimmed her features, as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She’d swallow down the breathless jolt of joy she’d gotten when he’d smiled at her, and she’d do her best to ignore the way that smile still made her feel all warm and molten at her very core.

  Yes, she’d forget all about Hunter, because that’s what was best, and he wasn’t for her.

  “Miss Snow!”

  Her eyes flashed open, disbelieving, and she whirled to make sure her ears weren’t lying.

  “Hunter!” she gasped.

  And when his handsome face broke into a smile, she was worried she’d lose her battle...or possibly already had and just hadn’t admitted it to herself yet.

  “Should I be flattered at such a breathless greeting, Miss Snow?”

  “I was…I was thinking about you.” She shook her head, flustered. “And I didn’t expect…”

  When she trailed off, he stepped closer. Close enough to touch now. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his warm chocolate-brown eyes.

  “I’m definitely choosing to be flattered that you were thinking of me,” he said quietly, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, and he wanted to take advantage of it.

  And God help her, but she couldn’t make herself step back.

  “I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “You shouldn’t— I mean, I shouldn’t be.”

  “Flattered?”

  “Thinking of you.”

  His grin flashed, and he waggled his eyebrows under his hat. “Ah, but you were. And that meant either your subconscious dragged me up, or God was giving you a flash of insight, or we have a godmother at work here.”

  A godmother? Snow reared back, frowning at him. “Why would you say that?”