Timeless Christmas Romance: Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Twenty

  As Fitz ordered the coachman to continue their journey, he could feel two pairs of eyes boring into him. They might well be curious—just as he was himself. The only lady he could think of who might be writing to him would be his great aunt Lady Widbrook, possibly enquiring after Cesca’s whereabouts, since she was supposed to be staying with her. But when he looked at the address, the writing was wholly unfamiliar.

  He read the letter slowly, struggling a little with the untutored script. Then he folded the paper and let out a slow breath. This was news he wasn’t ready to share with anyone. Yet. Tucking the letter into the inside pocket of his greatcoat, he smiled at Cesca. “There’s nothing here to concern us. But I’ll send a groom with a note for Lady Widbrook the instant we reach Fernley, so she knows you’re safe and back with your papa. I’ll ask her to send your things over too.”

  “Assuming we reach there in one piece,” muttered Alicia. “It’s just as snowy now as it was last night and I, for one, am practically freezing.”

  “At least we can see where we’re going now,” he replied, “and are less likely to miss the road or end up in a snow drift. If the post boy can navigate the road, then so can a single rider. If Heathcote would rather not send a groom, I’ll collect Hector from Beaulieu and ride over to Mountney Hall myself.”

  Cesca squeezed his hand. “I’d rather you didn’t—it’s dangerous. I don’t mean to lose you when I’ve only just got you back.”

  “See?” spat Alicia. “You’re already her slave, to be ordered about at will. What a fool love has made of you!”

  “On the contrary, I would say it has made a fool of you,” he responded coolly. “Only in your case, you never felt any love for me. Just infatuation. I wonder if you’re even capable of the real thing.”

  “You never gave me a chance.” She pouted. “You just shot back to your wretched regiment the minute Papa told you to court me.”

  "I'm not interested in crossing swords with you, Alicia. You've done enough damage, and I'm determined you'll do no more. But there's one thing of which I want you to be absolutely certain—I didn't return to my regiment to avoid you. I had a duty to perform, and my family honor to uphold. Though had Cesca asked me to, I'd have stayed in England and duty be damned."

  “You’re no better than a coward!”

  He blinked at this but recalled the letter in his pocket and felt a golden calm steal over him. The letter was all he needed to ensure his future with the woman he loved. He waved Alicia to silence.

  “No more. This discussion can recommence once we’re in conclave with your father, and I advise you not to turn it into a trade of insults, for that will not impress Mr. Heathcote. I propose we make the rest of our journey without speaking.”

  He then turned his attention to Cesca and shot her a smile that made her blush to the roots of her hair. Hair that he had dressed for her this morning, in lieu of a maid. He'd fastened her dress up too, as she couldn't reach the hooks on the back. Then he'd allowed his hands to steal over the ripe flesh of her breasts as he ran a series of nibbling kisses up the slender column of her neck.

  Was she remembering this morning too, or was that blush for last night? Ye gods! He couldn’t wait to have her in his arms once more. Yet he must put a curfew over his lust to dampen the flames, or he’d put Heathcote in a belligerent mood. He now held the card which could win the game.

  But he could play it only once, so he must play it well.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I think,” said Fitz, as he assisted Cesca down the steps onto the snow-encrusted gravel of Fernley Place, “we should all confront your father together. To that end, I’d advise you to follow your sister’s movements—she must not be permitted to pour her poison into Mr. Heathcote’s ear before we have the chance to put our case before him.”

  Cesca wanted nothing more than a hot brick for her feet and a posset with warm milk. She was chilled to the bone, and her stomach was churning with apprehension. The next scene in this drama was unlikely to be a pleasant one. However, she nodded her acquiescence and made sure Alicia knew she'd not be permitted to go anywhere without an escort.

  How strange it was to be home again, after all this time away! She was pleased to see the house sported Christmas decorations—the servants had done themselves proud this year, with swathes of ivy twined around the banisters, and a positive forest of fir and yew festooned above every doorway, with kissing rings suspended from them.

  Now, after an infinity of pain and loss, dare she rejoice? Maybe, just maybe, all her torment, anguish, and worry would soon be put to rest. Her future lay in Fitz’s hands. As did her heart.

  The housekeeper welcomed her with evident pleasure and ushered them all into the library, where a fire blazed cheerfully, and the shutters were closed against the frosty chill outside. The flames of many lamps and candles banished the shadows to the corners of the room and reminded her of how Fitz had looked last night, his glorious body bathed in nothing but flickering firelight. The sight was seared into her memory, and she would never forget the sure touch of his lips, nor the masterful way he’d possessed her, both body and soul.

  Not precisely the studious thoughts usually associated with being in a library.

  Tea was brought, along with almond cakes flavored with rosewater. No sooner had they started on these refreshments than a puff of smoke was sucked into the room as the library door opened to admit Papa. He greeted her with a broad smile and open arms and, surprised by such an outward show of affection, she went to him and was clasped firmly to his chest.

  “My dear, I’ve missed you! Are you come home to us at last?”

  “I fear not, sir,” said Fitz, bowing. “I have come once again to claim her for my own.”

  “Don’t listen to them, Papa,” Alicia cried. “They mean to say such horrid things about me!”

  “You might wish to sit down,” said Fitz crisply. “Our tale is not a pretty one.”

  Papa looked from Alicia to Cesca, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Have the girls argued?" he asked, turning to Fitz. "I did wonder what was keeping Cesca away so long, but Alicia assured me there was nothing wrong, just a little petty jealousy on Cesca's part because I thought you must marry Alicia."

  “Please sit, Mr. Heathcote,” Fitz exhorted him, indicating a chair. “Prepare yourself for a shock.”

  “It’s all a pack of lies,” squeaked Alicia. “You have to trust me.”

  “Alicia, if you don’t allow me to speak uninterrupted, I shall eject you from the room and lock the door on you.”

  Cesca was impressed by the ironclad command in Fitz's tone. Even the irrepressible Alicia cowered, though he'd barely raised his voice. Her stepsister perched herself on a chair, knotting her fingers together and glaring at anyone whose eye she could catch.

  Fitz turned to Papa. “You will be disturbed to learn that neither one of your daughters is still a virgin.”

  Cesca dragged in a breath, shocked by his bluntness. Alicia looked about to explode. There was a tense silence, during which Cesca could hear nothing but the repetitive chuck-chuck of a disgruntled magpie in a tree outside.

  Papa’s stunned expression changed to simmering anger. “Go on.”

  Fortunately, Fitz’s explanation was brief and to the point, sparing her blushes. It took Papa some time to absorb the information, however. She couldn’t help but feel for him—it must have been the last thing he wanted to hear. But who would he believe, Alicia or them?

  Eventually, Papa turned to Alicia and asked, "Do you deny it?”

  “Of course, I do,” she retorted. “Cesca’s just jealous Fitz is courting me instead of her, and she’s trying to cause trouble.”

  “But it’s not Cesca who’s telling me this story,” stated Papa. "It's the only son of a very old friend of mine. I refused to listen to him before. I feel honor-bound to listen to him now. Pray continue, Lonsdale."

  “The man who bedded your younger daughter had sworn to seek r
evenge on me for shaming him in front of our men while the regiment was stationed in Flanders. He intended to seek out the lady I was courting and ruin her. As Alicia has—much against my wishes—busily put it about that she’s engaged to me, she became the target of Brandt’s evil intentions.”

  There was a snort from Alicia’s side of the room, but Fitz ignored it. “My dearest wish is to marry Cesca, and I know she feels the same way. We’re sick of Alicia’s machinations and lies—she’s manipulated everyone, sir, including yourself. I’m sorry to have to say this, but if you deny me again, I shall steal Cesca from you, by fair means or foul.”

  Cesca dug her fingers into Fitz’s hand. Would Papa understand? Surely, he’d let her marry Fitz—she was already wife to him in all but name. She hardly dared breathe as she watched her father, trying to interpret his expression. His eyes locked with Fitz’s, but Fitz remained impassive, unafraid.

  “Cesca’s always been a good and dutiful daughter,” Papa said eventually. “You’ve both committed a grave indiscretion, but I understand it was Alicia’s malice that put you in the path of temptation. From what you say, however, I’m coming to the opinion that a far worse sin has been committed by her, although I hate to condemn her without evidence. Have you any proof of this so-called feud between yourself and Captain Brandt?”

  Cesca froze, but Fitz gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then dug into a pocket and produced the letter he’d received in the carriage, which he handed to Papa.

  Her father scanned the page, then scanned it again. He rubbed a hand across his brow and passed the letter to her. “I think everyone needs to read this.”

  She dragged in a breath and realized she was shaking uncontrollably. Fitz immediately stood beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She clutched at him. Both their futures now hung in the balance. What good could one little letter do?

  Sir, the letter read, Forgive my writing to you, but as you was kind to me in Flanders and helped me comm home with your coin I hope to help you in returne. I have the pox, given me by that dog Brandt I swear tis him as I've bin with no other. He hates you, sir and wants revenge for that you shamed him and sayed in England he'd find your ladylove and take her flower if you know what I mean. Keep away from him a dangeros man he could spoil all your plans and make the both of you sick with the pox this is why I tell you now.

  I have a good doctor so worry not for me I’m greatful still that you stepped in.

  Yours in grattitude,

  Claire Banton

  When she’d finished reading, Cesca tossed the page to Alicia, then sat back in her chair, relief and shock warring within her. She couldn’t help but worry—surely no gentleman would give money to the lower class of female unless he’d had a liaison with her. But Fitz’s blue eyes were guileless as he gazed down at her. He’d acted out of a spirit of gallantry, and she must applaud him for it.

  Alicia’s knuckles whitened as she read the letter, and patches of angry red slashed her cheekbones. “More lies!” she hissed.

  Her father waved her to silence. “You fell prey to a merciless rake, Alicia. Had you not been playing your foolish games, Fitz would have been there to protect your honor—and Cesca's too, had Brandt realized his mistake and turned his sights on her. I now adjure you to renounce all claim to Viscount Lonsdale, to explain to everyone you know that you were mistaken in thinking he’d offered for you—it was all a gross misunderstanding.”

  He rubbed at his brow, and Cesca saw to her concern that his hand was shaking. “It looks as if I must track down this Captain Brandt and induce him to marry you instead,” he continued. “Unless you wish to risk the shame of bearing a babe out of wedlock? And a visit from Doctor Pargeter is also necessary. Damn it, girl! I am bitterly disappointed in you.”

  “You can’t let him do this!” Alicia looked beseechingly at Cesca.

  Cesca lifted her chin and subjected her step-sister to a long, unblinking stare.

  Confronted by such an insurmountable bastion of disapproval, Alicia finally realized she'd lost the game. "You don't know how awful it's been," she wailed, “discovering that Fitz never loved me, even though I doted on him.”

  “That’s enough.” Their father silenced her with a gesture. For a brief instant, Cesca was tempted to pull free of Fitz’s grasp and comfort Alicia. The girl had behaved like a monster, but the punishment that awaited her was harsh. A hideous illness and a husband who couldn’t be trusted—she’d put her entire future at risk.

  Fitz held Cesca back, murmuring in her ear, “Let your father deal with her. I’ll take him back with me later, to explain the situation to the earl—assuming he feels up to it, and you’re willing to part with him. Is it entirely safe to leave you alone in the house with that viper?” he asked, cocking his head at Alicia.

  “Perfectly safe. I know exactly what to expect, although I still live in the hope that she may improve,” Cesca whispered back. Hearing the library door close, she suddenly realized her father had escorted Alicia away, treating Fitz and herself to a precious moment of privacy.

  The next thing she became aware of was that she was shaking, her breath coming in short gasps. “Oh Fitz, I was so afraid back there! I hate to admit it,” she said.

  “No more fearful than I.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I couldn’t bear the thought of Alicia triumphing. How would I go on if I lost you?”

  “You’d never have lost me. I would always be there for you—as a friend—whatever happened.”

  “I should never have left for Europe. I should have stayed here and dealt with Alicia head-on. Oh, the pain and uncertainty I put you through!” he exclaimed, his brow wrinkling in anguish.

  She looked up into his beloved face, the face that filled every waking moment, graced every dream and culled every nightmare. “Consider yourself forgiven,” she said softly.

  He chuckled, brushed his lips across hers, then pulled away, looking at her intently.

  “No,” he said decisively. “Not enough.” Reaching behind her, he turned the key in the lock, then kissed her so thoroughly, she thought her heart would burst with the joy of it. When he finally released her, the tremors of shock had been replaced by those of passion, and she had to cling to him to prevent her knees folding beneath her.

  “Not nearly enough,” he said thickly, his eyes dark with desire. “But this is, alas, neither the time nor the place. Shall we celebrate with a drink? Would you like a brandy, to calm your nerves?”

  “It was brandy, and that fateful game of snapdragon, that got us into this tangle,” she pointed out.

  “On the contrary,” he said, taking the stopper from the decanter. “It was brandy and snapdragon that gave us the means to get out of it.”

  He handed her a glass, then saluted her with his own. “Here’s to parlor games, locked rooms, and ghosts who know when to keep a low profile.” His mouth quirked up at the corners.

  She’d never seen him look so handsome, nor so happy. “And here’s to us,” she said. “Now that I have you, I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of anything again.”

  “Do you still have that nightmare about the bed being alight?” he asked suddenly.

  “Why, no. Not once. Not since that night you came in to comfort me. I’ve always imagined you were with me, at least in spirit, and that comforted me.”

  “I always will be, my love, I always will be. I’d walk through fire for you.” The laughter had gone from his eyes, and she knew he spoke from the depths of his being.

  “And I would do the same for you, my love.” Tears of joy pricked at her eyes. “I’d do the same for you.”

  They clinked glasses, and the leaping flames in the hearth echoed the leaping flames of hope in her heart, a fire of which she would never be afraid.

  A fire she vowed would never be put out again.

  About Elizabeth Keysian

  Bestselling author Elizabeth Keysian adores history and archaeology, and writes romances that give the reader an experience of travelling back in t
ime.

  She feels very British-despite her Viking ancestry-and loves creating rich backdrops for her stories based on real places and actual experiences. She used to be a re-enactor, so has sampled the living conditions, clothing, and smells of the past. She’s also sampled the food, which was actually pretty good.

  Her characters battle their problems with both tears and laughter, but she always guarantees them a Happily Ever After, no matter what she’s put them through.

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  Seduction, Scandal & Spies- heart-pounding, captivating historical romances from Elizabeth Keysian- there are plenty more on the way!

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  A man who lurks day and night in an eerie tower must have something to hide. So thinks Galatea Wyndham, governess to Lord Ansford’s love-starved young daughter. Galatea’s new employer is objectionable, stubborn, great-hearted, handsome and, curse it, well worth saving from himself.

  He proves her right with some shocking physical encounters, adding tinder to the blaze of her growing love for him. But just as the barriers between them are crumbling away, the tower crashes down.

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