Timeless Christmas Romance: Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “I – I’m not barren,” she stuttered. “Not really. I am sure if I were married longer I would have had children.”

  “Of course,” answered Alex, not trying to get away from her like she expected him to do once he found out her story. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t even seem to care. That got her wondering if he had a wife at home.

  “Where do you and your wife live?” asked Charlotte fishing for answers.

  “I’m not married.”

  Her interest piqued. “Is that so? Why not?”

  He flashed her a confused look and shook his head slightly. His eyes dropped down to his leg.

  “Oh,” she said, understanding what he meant. Now, she regretted asking because all she did was put him in an uncomfortable position. She needed to do something to change the conversation quickly. “Where did you learn to wield the sword so well?” she asked, having been awestruck that a commoner could fight with such precision.

  “I learned from my father.”

  “Crandell Masterson,” she said, repeating the name she’d heard him say earlier. “Lady Summer said he was once a guard right here at Framlingham Castle?”

  “Aye, that’s right.”

  “Why did he leave? And where did you live your entire life?”

  She supposed in her eagerness to get to know him better, she asked too many questions. He didn’t seem to like it at all. He squirmed in the saddle and directed his horse forward.

  “Excuse me, Lady Charlotte, but my horse needs to run.” Then with a flick of the reins, his horse took off at a run surprising her that the old thing could even move that fast.

  “That horse isn’t the one who needed to run,” she mumbled to herself, feeling as if no man would ever want her again.

  Chapter 4

  If Alex’s curiosity along with Crandell’s story hadn’t lodged in his brain, Alex would have turned the horse around and ridden back to Devon as fast as he could. But now that he was here and had met Lady Summer and her daughter, he was curious to know more. But the most intriguing thing that kept him here was Lady Charlotte and all the questions she’d been asking about him. No one had held interest in him the way she did. Being a mercenary his entire life, he’d learned to keep his mouth closed. Nobles who wanted to hire killers to join their army weren’t the kind of men who cared what they were getting. All that mattered to them was if they could wield a sword. Crandell had always been sure to rent or borrow horses when they went looking for work. With Alex atop a horse, they never even knew about his bad leg until the job was completed.

  “I’ll take your horse,” said a young stable boy, running up to get the reins. Several more boys darted out of the stables to take the horses from the nobles as well.

  “Thank you,” said Alex, sliding off the horse and taking both the swords before giving the reins to the boy.

  “What about your travel bags?” asked the boy. “Did you want me to bring them to your solar, my lord?” Alex looked at the boy in surprise, never having been called a lord before. For a split second, the thought rushed through his head that his identity had been discovered that he really was Peter Mowbray.

  “He’s not a lord and is not staying in the castle,” said Claire, dismounting and throwing her reins to the boy. “He is only here for a meal.”

  “That’s right,” said Alex, fastening a sword on each side of his belt.

  “Then you’ll be sleeping in the stable?” asked the boy. “It is getting dark, and I suspect you won’t be traveling at night in the snow.”

  Alex looked up at the sky to see that it had clouded over. It looked as if it were about to snow again. His cloak was lined in fur, but he was still so cold he could barely bend his limbs. A chamber in the castle with a fire in the hearth would be so welcome right now. But if a stall of hay was all he could get, he would take that, too. He was extremely tired.

  “Aye, if the lord and lady will have me, I’ll sleep in the stall with my horse.”

  “He’ll sleep with the animals where he belongs,” snorted Dreyfis, having overheard them as he passed by atop his horse.

  “Alexander, I am sure Lord and Lady Mowbray would offer you a space near the fire in the great hall to sleep.” Lady Charlotte hurriedly dismounted and rushed to his side. “And you’ll sit by me for the meal,” said Charlotte, taking his arm and heading for the great hall.

  Alex felt awkward escorting a noblewoman to the hall. He felt even more awkward trying to walk with a limp and two swords attached to his sides. But hell if he’d leave the swords behind now that Dreyfis tried to steal them.

  “I will show you around the castle,” said Charlotte in a friendly manner.

  “It’s really not necessary,” he said, but she insisted. They walked across the courtyard toward the keep. Alex spotted Lady Summer hurrying toward an area by the side of the castle. “What is over there?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m not sure because I’ve never been there,” said Charlotte.

  “That’s the dead garden and the graveyard,” said Claire, coming up from behind them. “My mother goes there every single day to put a flower or plant or sprig of holly on the grave of my dead brother.”

  “Your brother?” Alex stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding in his ears. “What was his name?”

  “Why do you even care?” asked Claire.

  “I was just curious.”

  “His name was Peter,” said Claire. “He was a stillborn and had a bad leg, just like you.”

  Alex didn’t want anyone asking questions about his leg so decided to change the subject. He would find out more on his own later. “Something smells delicious,” he said, hoping to bring the conversation around to the meal.

  “Do you like swan?” asked Charlotte. “I hear that is what Lord Mowbray is serving.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tasted it,” he told her.

  “You’ve never tasted swan?” Claire’s eyes grew wide. “What do you usually eat? Pottage?”

  Pottage is what Alex and his father would eat on a good day after they were paid for a job and celebrating at a tavern. Usually, they were lucky if they had brown bread and steamed cabbage to eat. Mercenaries weren’t usually welcome at the lord’s dinner table.

  “Lady Claire, I think I see Lady Regina trying to get your attention,” said Charlotte, coming to Alex’s rescue.

  “Ugh,” said the blond girl. “I think I’ll go to the cemetery with my mother.”

  “I would like to go as well,” said Alex.

  “You would?” Both of the women said together.

  “I . . . feel it is the least I can do. Pay respects, I mean. After all, Lady Mowbray was so kind to invite me to the Christmas festivities when she doesn’t even know me.”

  “Then follow me,” said Claire, leading the way. Charlotte and Alex walked together as Claire led them. Claire moved fast, and it hurt Alex’s leg, but he tried to keep up. It wasn’t comfortable with two swords banging against his sides every time he took a step.

  Charlotte noticed that Alex was having trouble walking quickly in the snow. She didn’t want to embarrass him by telling Claire to slow down, so she did the only thing she could. She pretended to have a stone in her shoe.

  “Oh,” she said, stopping and bending over.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Alex.

  “I seem to have a stone in my shoe and need to stop and take it out. You go on ahead without me.”

  “Nay, I’ll wait with you, my lady,” he said, just like she knew he would. Alex took her arm and guided her toward a stone bench. Claire went on without them. They got to the bench and were about to sit down when Alex stopped her. “Wait,” he said, reaching down and brushing the snow from the seat with his hand. Then he removed his cloak and laid it over the bench and nodded. “It should be fine now. Your gown won’t get wet.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte liked the way Alex treated her. Never had Roger, her late husband thought to brush off a bench for her. And the last thing Roger would have e
ver done is to put his own cloak down, exposing himself to the cold. Charlotte sat down and started to take off her shoe, but Alex’s hand shot out, resting atop it. She felt his icy cold fingers, realizing he gave up his warmth for her.

  “You don’t need to remove your shoe because I know what you are doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He moved his swords to the side and sat down beside her. “There is snow on the ground and no possible way to get a stone in your shoe, Lady Charlotte. I appreciate what you did, but I wish you wouldn’t have done it.”

  She waited for a second and decided there was no reason to deny it. If she did, he would think she was a liar. “I only said that because sometimes Claire can be very insensitive.”

  “She’s young,” he said, causing her to feel old. Her eyes went down to her lap, and she folded her hands. “And foolish,” he added. “But I am sure she is a wonderful young lady with a very big heart.”

  “You seem to see the best in everyone,” she told him. “Even when Lord Dreyfis treated you poorly, you still held your composure and stayed calm. You are a gentleman.”

  “Sometimes, my lady, looks and acts can be deceiving.”

  “So, you’re not gentle?” she asked, looking up into his dark brown eyes. They held a certain sadness that she didn’t understand.

  “Enough about me,” he told her. “I would like to know more about you, Lady Charlotte. Where do you come from?”

  “I’m from Yorkshire. Where are you from, Alexander?”

  He hesitated, his eyes flashing over to the small garden and graveyard next to the orchard. Lady Summer walked with her arm around her daughter as they made their way to the keep. Charlotte saw Summer wipe a tear from her eye.

  “Everyone calls me Alex,” he told her. “You can do so, too. I have traveled a lot in my lifetime. My father’s job kept us moving.”

  “Oh, yes. He was a guard, wasn’t he?”

  Alex’s head turned to look at her, no expression at all on his face. “I think I’d like to go to the great hall now if you don’t mind. The wind is picking up and making my leg cramp.”

  “Of course.” She stood up and collected his cloak, laying it over his shoulders. “You must be cold since you aren’t wearing your cloak.”

  He looked down, tying his cloak around him. “I am disabled, not a child,” he told her. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I am capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need to depend on anyone.”

  She didn’t know what was bothering him but didn’t think it was the fact she laid his cloak over his shoulders. She noticed the way he looked over to the graveyard. He didn’t show his emotions much, but she got the feeling something disturbed him. Perhaps, it was only the fact his father had passed away days ago. Charlotte wanted to know more about it but didn’t think it was the right time to ask. So, as they walked to the great hall, she made small talk instead.

  “I helped Lady Regina make a mulled, spiced wine,” she told him. “It’ll warm anyone’s bones on such a cold day. I added a little extra cinnamon because I am so fond of the spice.” She looked up to notice him looking over his shoulder at the graveyard.

  “That sounds nice,” he said, seeming as if he were in deep thought about something else. “I could use something to warm my bones.”

  Chapter 5

  Upon entering the great hall, Alex felt as if he were in a dream world. Being Christmas Eve, the room was packed with people all making merry on this holiday. Alex entered with a heavy heart, never feeling as lonely as he did tonight. He missed his father dearly. And although Lord and Lady Mowbray accepted him into their home with open arms, he still didn’t feel as if he belonged here.

  “Alex,” said Lady Summer, waving her hand in the air to call him over. He approached the dais with Charlotte at his side. “Join us on the dais for the feast. I have an extra chair set up for you.” She pointed to the end of the long table atop the raised platform where the nobles ate. Everyone else ate below the salt.

  The dais table was decorated ornately for Christmas. A tall salt cellar shaped like a castle was placed in the middle of the table where the lord and lady sat. Salt was expensive and used sparingly during cooking. Only the nobles were allowed to sprinkle extra on their food. He had never known that pleasure. Silver platters lined the table instead of the trenchers, old stale crusts of bread, used as plates by all the others. Each place on the dais even had a chalice for wine that was made of silver. Pine boughs lined the table with small silver bells hanging off the edges. Everything looked surreal and beautiful.

  “Thank you, Lady Summer,” he said, feeling very grateful but not at all worthy to join them. “But I am not a noble. I feel I should sit by the fire with the commoners and servants instead.”

  “Nonsense,” she told him. “You are the son of a good friend of mine and will eat with us. Didn’t Crandell tell you that he considered me the daughter he never had? He was very special to me.”

  Crandell did tell him that. He also told him so much more information that Alex almost wished he hadn’t divulged.

  “Thank you just the same, but I think I’ll warm my bones at the fire and eat with the commoners where I belong.”

  Alex strolled through the hall toward the fire. The smell of pine and spices filled the air. He stopped under a beam, noticing the girl called Lady Regina smiling at him.

  “Hello,” he said. “I am Alex.”

  “I am Regina,” said the girl shyly. Then Claire walked up with a goblet of mead in her hand.

  “You are standing under the mistletoe,” Claire told him.

  Alex looked up to see the ball of greenery with red and white berries swinging from a ribbon over his head. “So, I am,” he said. “It’s stunning.”

  “You’re supposed to kiss a girl if you’re standing under the mistletoe,” said Claire. “Go on, Regina, kiss him.” Claire pushed her stepsister toward Alex.

  “Nay, I think he should kiss you, Claire,” protested Regina. “After all, you are the one who noticed the mistletoe over his head.”

  Alex froze. He couldn’t kiss Regina because she might actually be his half-sister. And he couldn’t kiss Claire either, because she might be his half-sister as well. To walk away and deny them would be rude, and he couldn’t do that either. He saw Lady Charlotte approaching from his side vision, and turned and pulled her into his arms and kissed her instead.

  Charlotte walked up to ask Alex to join them at the dais, and the next thing she knew he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers in a sensuous kiss. Surprised and shocked, she stood there looking at him with her mouth open.

  “You kissed her?” asked Claire in shock. “Well, you’re not a nobleman, so it’s no loss to us. Come on, Regina, let’s go find someone else to kiss.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Alex apologized to Charlotte as soon as the other girls walked away.

  “Sorry?” She blinked, trying to figure out why he was apologizing. “Didn’t you mean to kiss me?” The taste of his lips still lingered on her mouth. She had enjoyed the gesture and hoped it had been intentional.

  “It’s not like that. I enjoyed the kiss. What I meant was that I couldn’t kiss Regina or Claire and that’s why I pulled you over.”

  Her feeling of excitement turned to one of despair. “So, I was just an afterthought?”

  “Nay, not at all.”

  “Then why couldn’t you kiss them? Do you have certain standards, or are you just frightened of pretty girls?”

  “I am not frightened by pretty girls. After all, I kissed you, didn’t I?”

  Charlotte perused him, feeling happy that he thought she was pretty. But still, she didn’t understand this man at all. He seemed simple at times and at other times he almost reminded her of a noble. Alexander Masterson was unique. That is what she liked about him.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some of that spiced mead and warm myself at the fire,” he told her.

  “Of course,” she
said, going back to the dais but keeping her eyes on him at all times.

  When the meal was finished, Alex felt much better. With a full stomach of whiting, rabbit stew, and after his first time having swan, he started to feel sleepy. His leg ached from being on his feet so much today, and all he wanted was some shut-eye and peace of mind.

  The musicians in the gallery started playing festive music on their lutes, harps, and even the hurdy-gurdy. The crowd, excited to dance, got up so the servants could clear away the trestle tables and make more room for the activities.

  Alex didn’t dance, and neither did he want to stay here and watch. It made him feel different from everyone else. He reached down and rubbed his leg, feeling the muscles starting to twitch. He had to lie down. Not wanting to be noticed, he slipped out of the great hall and headed toward the stable to find some soft hay to use as his bed.

  Once out in the courtyard, he stopped and surveyed the lit torches and hanging lanterns that gave an orange glow to the night sky. Garland made from winter greens was strung together and fastened from the mews all the way over to the stables and even over to the blacksmith’s shop. Snow silently fell from the sky, covering the courtyard in a blanket of pure white. His surroundings were so peaceful, but there was chaos in his mind.

  As Alex trudged through the snow toward the stable, he pulled his cloak closer to hold in the warmth. Then, something caught his attention. There was a candle burning in the garden right next to a small graveyard. He ventured over, seeing the light beckoning him to follow it. Snow crunched beneath his feet as he approached the garden, noticing the bramble of dormant rose bushes. And then his eyes dropped to the wooden cross. Hanging off of it was a burning candle in a jar. The flame danced, almost mocking him since he could not do that. Below the cross was a board that had something written on it. He hesitantly reached out to brush away the snow. There, engraved upon the wood was a name. It read Peter Mowbray.

  He jumped back, startled to see this name – possibly his name – on the board. When he moved, he knocked into something, and his bad leg gave way beneath him. Reaching out to steady himself, he realized he grabbed on to a person standing behind him.