A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness

by Carolynn Carey

  A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness

  Carolynn Carey

  A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness

  Copyright © 2009 by Carolynn Carey

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at cc@carolynncarey.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To learn about upcoming releases, please visit my webpage (carolynncarey.com). You can keep up with releases by signing up for my newsletter.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  A Note from the Author

  Also by Carolynn Carey

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  December 5, 1815

  Nottinghamshire, England

  The pitiful mewing coming from just outside the drawing room window sounded so desperate that Anna Marshall couldn’t ignore it.

  Not on a blustery winter’s evening when the wind screamed like an angry demon, rattling the shutters and whistling around the eaves.

  Not when sleet pellets clattered against the window glass so loudly that Anna held her breath, fearing the noise would wake her great-aunt Cora, who dozed in a wingback chair in front of the fire.

  Anna placed a marker in the book she’d been reading, laid it on the table beside her chair, and lit a candle from the lamp sitting there. She stood and eased across the room toward the bank of windows facing the front of the house. The meowing intensified.

  She couldn’t open the window and rescue the kitten without disturbing her aunt, so she crept to the door leading from the drawing room into the entrance hall. She paused there, her hand on the knob, to glance back. Fortunately, her aunt’s snores continued.

  She’d have to move quickly so a draft wouldn’t sweep from the unheated hall into the drawing room. A draft would chill the room and make the fire flare up, possibly waking her great-aunt.

  She eased the door open a few inches, then shivered as the cold rushed in. Protecting the candle’s flame with her cupped hand, she squeezed through the opening, then pushed the door closed with her hip. A few seconds later, because she couldn’t resist, she cracked the door long enough to assure herself that her aunt hadn’t moved.

  No longer hampered by the need for caution, she set her candle on a nearby table, hurried to one of the front windows, and looked out. Unfortunately, the moon was hidden behind dark clouds. That meant she’d have to make do without light, because the wind would immediately extinguish a candle if she took one outside.

  She unlocked the door and braced herself before pulling it open a couple of inches. Frigid air pushed its way inside, chilling her instantly.

  “Nodcock,” she murmured as she shoved the door closed. “You’d better take time to get your cloak.” Fortunately, when she’d returned from her usual jaunt into the woodland that afternoon, she’d left her outdoor clothes on the hall tree near the front door. She retrieved her cloak, mittens, hat, and boots and then pulled everything on as quickly as she could.

  Bracing herself again, she opened the door and stepped outside. The wind flung tiny bits of ice across the width of the porch and into her face, so she turned her back to the wind and used her hands to feel along the wall. While stepping sideways toward the spot where she’d heard the kitten mewing, she called out softly, “Here kitty, kitty.” The rampaging wind ripped the words from her mouth and tossed them soundlessly into the air, so she increased her volume. “Here, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  A frantic meow answered her.

  She continued scooting her feet along the porch toward the drawing room window. A bit of light from the candles inside slipped through a crack in the draperies and illuminated the kitten’s eyes, which were wide and green and shimmering. Anna took another step, then reached to grasp the trembling cat.

  The smell of damp fur told its own story. Obviously, the cat’s shivers resulted from cold as well as fear. She opened her cloak and thrust the kitten into one of her inside pockets. Its trembling ceased within seconds.

  “Now to get you inside and fed,” she murmured. A sudden burst of wind almost knocked her off her feet, and she grasped the window enclosure to steady herself. A second later, the wind died completely. Puzzled, Anna turned to look toward the lane that ran in front of the house and felt a shiver of fear dash down her spine.

  Although she’d heard no hoofbeats and there’d been no telltale creaking of harness, a huge black coach sat in the lane opposite the house, and a form was walking toward her. But who would be out on such a night? Could her eyes be playing tricks on her?

  But no, there was definitely someone there. The figure, holding a lantern at arm’s length to light the way, moved steadily closer. The wind had not picked back up, so the lantern’s beam shone unwaveringly, and the person walked with apparent great purpose straight toward the porch and Anna.

  “Who’s there?” Anna called in a voice that trembled a bit. The stranger didn’t respond, so Anna called out again, increasing her volume as much as she dared, still conscious of her aunt sleeping in the room behind the window. “Are you lost? Are you in need of shelter?”

  There was still no answer.

  Now more irritated than frightened, Anna spoke even more loudly. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

  The figure paused and lifted the lantern high so that instead of illuminating the ground ahead, its light shone on the woman carrying it.

  She was gorgeous beyond belief. Anna stared at her, reveling in the pleasure of looking at the woman’s face, which was pale but perfectly proportioned. A red bonnet sat atop her blonde hair, which haloed her head, the golden strands shining as though lit from within.

  She wore a red velvet cloak trimmed with golden lace around the collar. Black gloves encased her hands, and her dainty feet were clad in black boots.

  A smile touched the woman’s lips but quickly faded. “There’s a man in need of help,” she said in a voice both soft and strong. “He’s in the lane, back toward the old Bellingham gatehouse.”

  “What man?” Anna asked. A dozen questions leapt to her mind. Who was he? What kind of help did he need? Why did the woman think Anna could help him? And who was this beautiful lady anyway?

  “I can’t help him,” the woman said, ignoring Anna’s question. She motioned with her free hand back toward the lane. “My coach awaits me. I must go.” She lowered the lantern and turned.

  “Wait,” Anna called. She intended to follow the woman, to question her further, but just at that moment, snowflakes started falling. Huge snowflakes, some the size of saucers. And the moon slipped from behind a cloud, illuminating the thickening fall of flakes. Anna watched in amazement as the landscape changed, almost instantly, from dark and foreboding to white and sparkling.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Anna asked. But when she looked back toward the lane, the woman was no longer in sight. Anna hurried through the snow, which was surely two inches deep already, hoping to catch the woman before her coach
pulled away.

  A few seconds later, the woman’s voice drifted back to her, a melodious sound that seemed to ride on the swirling snowflakes. “Remember, my child, that Christmas is a time for forgiving.”

  “How strange,” Anna murmured. She assumed the woman had paused to wait for her, and she planned to ask her what she’d meant by that statement. But when she reached the lane, there was no sign of the woman or of her coach. Whatever tracks might have been left by the carriage’s wheels had been filled in by snow.

  She looked around her again. The accumulating snow had changed the appearance of the landscape dramatically, but she wasn’t concerned. She could easily find her way back to the house, although she couldn’t do that just yet. Not with a man in need of help somewhere near the old Bellingham gatehouse.

  She was as familiar with the countryside around here as anyone in the district. She’d lived in her great aunt’s dilapidated house in the country since she was eight years old, and with only Aunt Cora for a companion, she’d been free to spend most of her time outdoors. Over the years, she’d wandered through the forest so often that she could recognize most trees between here and the Earl of Ashington’s estate. She’d been warned by numerous neighbors never to set foot on the earl’s property. She’d heard many tales about the man’s animosity toward the people in this district, and of their dislike for him.

  The kitten wiggled, apparently curling into a more comfortable position in Anna’s pocket. Its movement reminded her that she needed to finish this chore and get back home before her aunt woke up and missed her. Anna hoped to slip into the kitchen where she could hide the kitten until morning. Aunt Cora wouldn’t appreciate having another mouth to feed, but she’d never turn anything out into the cold.

  Newly energized, Anna lifted her skirts and took off down the lane, thankful that the fickle snow had stopped again. While walking still wasn’t easy, at least the snowfall no longer obscured the path she needed to follow.

  The Bellingham gatehouse was situated about two miles toward the east at the beginning of an overgrown driveway that had once led to a manor house. The Bellingham mansion had burned to the ground many years in the past. The owner moved away, and the gatehouse was left to age and slowly crumble.

  Most people in the neighborhood preferred to avoid the gatehouse after dark, which puzzled Anna. She’d never heard any particular stories about the place that would instill fear. Perhaps people were merely unnerved by the gloom cast by the overhanging trees and the sad condition of what had once been a charming building.

  In any case, the moon was out fully now, and the path was as visible as if it were high noon. She made good time, even taking into consideration her frequent pauses to look around at the incredibly beautiful landscape. Evergreen shrubs had become mounds of white and the spiny limbs of deciduous trees and shrubs appeared to be trimmed in delicate lace.

  As she neared the gatehouse, she forced herself to move more slowly and to pause occasionally to listen. She couldn’t help wishing the beautiful stranger had been more specific about this man in need of help. Was he hurt? Was he lost? Or was it some combination of the two?

  Suddenly the snow started up again, first as large and fluffy flakes that quickly changed to tiny bits of half ice, half snow that stung any exposed skin. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, and a bank of heavy fog rolled in.

  She ducked her head and pulled her bonnet low, trying to protect her face from the bitter bits of sleet. When that didn’t provide sufficient protection, she veered toward the side of the lane where she hoped to find some shelter under the overhanging branches of the forest.

  She’d barely taken two steps when an arm appeared from out of the fog and someone’s hand grasped her upper arm. A masculine voice, just off to her right, snarled, “There you are! Good grief, girl. Don’t you know better than to go out on a night like this?”

  Her heart now hammering, Anna attempted to pull out of the man’s grasp, but his hold tightened. “Be still, will you?” His voice was gruff. “I’m going to toss you up on my horse and get you out of this weather.”

  She started to object but before she could say a word, the fellow grasped her around the waist, swung her into the air, and unceremoniously plopped her onto the back of a horse.

  Her objection became a grunt of surprise which turned into a squeal of dismay when the man swung himself up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. For the first time in her life, Anna felt the sensation of a male body pressed against hers, and the experience warmed her in places she would not have expected. Confused, she inhaled deeply, and her nostrils were filled with his fragrance, an aroma that reminded her of evergreens and earthy woodland soil.

  Giving her head a tiny shake in an attempt to clear it, she at last found her voice. “Sir? What do you think you’re about? Let me down this instant.”

  “After what I’ve gone through to find you, lass? I think not.”

  “I don’t know who you were looking for, sir, but you’ve found the wrong person. I myself was out looking for a man.”

  “Rather blatant about admitting it, aren’t you? Unfortunately, it appears you found a snowstorm before you found your beau. He’ll have to make do without your services tonight, because I’ve gone to too much trouble finding you to allow you to freeze to death now. I’m taking you with me. We’ll see about getting you home as soon as this insane weather permits.”

  Indignant, Anna exhaled quickly. “I don’t need you to take me home. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way home by myself. Just let me down.”

  The man ignored her order. Instead, he pulled on the reins to turn his horse around and start off in the opposite direction from Anna’s home. They passed the abandoned gatehouse, barely visible through the fog, but the man continued down the lane. It was then Anna realized who had abducted her and where he was taking her.

  For there was only one man in the neighborhood who would behave with such arrogance and only one estate that lay within riding distance down this lane.

  She was undoubtedly in the clutches of the wicked Earl of Ashington, and he was taking her to Ashworth, his remote country house. Anna bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, praying she’d find a way out of this horrible situation before he discovered what she’d been up to all these years.

  Phillip, the tenth Earl of Ashington, wrapped his arm more tightly around the blasted female he’d rescued. The icy snow continued to come down, now crusting on top of the several inches that had already fallen. Were it not for the dark bulk of the forest showing through the fog on either side of the lane, he was not certain he could have kept going in the right direction.

  And that circumstance made it imperative for them to get back to Ashworth as quickly as possible. Not only was he now responsible for this girl’s safety, but his own life was also at stake. Certainly he had no wish to end up as a frozen corpse alongside the lane. Considering how little he was loved in the neighborhood, he didn’t doubt but what the locals would leave his body for the scavengers to pick over.

  He inhaled deeply, only to be greeted by the fragrance of violets. He’d never liked the smell of violets, which he considered too sickly sweet, but for some reason he now found the odor appealing.

  The girl wiggled and he clenched his teeth to keep from cursing. Riding double was not easy, either for him or for the horse, and she was making the exercise more difficult.

  “Will you be still?” he muttered. “You’re making bad matters worse.”

  “I’m not moving,” she responded, just as though he wouldn’t recognize movement when he felt it.

  “There,” he said. “You did it again. In case you have not noticed, the fog is thickening. I need to concentrate as much as possible. Kindly sit still.”

  The female’s exaggerated sigh was followed almost instantly by another movement. This time the movement was accompanied by a strange sound. What in blue blazes? “Did you just moan?” he asked.

  “I di
d not.” Her tone was as icy as the sleet that peppered down on them. “I suspect you heard my cat meowing. You’re practically crushing the poor thing with your arm.”

  Phillip quickly lifted his arm off the bulge beneath the female’s cloak. He’d thought it was her elbow. “Cat? You brought your cat with you on a rendezvous?”

  “Of course not. I wasn’t participating in a rendezvous. The poor cat was out in the cold. I rescued it and brought it with me while I tried to find the man who needed rescuing.”

  “Ah!” Phillip imbued his tone with as much sarcasm as he could manage. “All of your motives were altruistic, I perceive. You’ll forgive me if I’m not impressed with all your talk of rescues.”

  “I won’t forgive you for anything and especially not for throwing me up on this horse and refusing to let me make my way back home.”

  “Ah yes, you were doing such a fine job of making your way home alone. No doubt that’s why a search party was looking for you.”

  “Search party? Dear heavens! You must have mistaken me for the man who was in need of help.”

  Phillip opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again. It would not do to say what was in his mind, namely that he could never mistake this lass for a man. Her shapely buttocks pressed against his lower abdomen, and the soft swell of her breast lay against the arm he had wrapped around her. No, no danger of mistaking her for a man. He just hoped he could control his reactions well enough to keep her from detecting what he was feeling. Feeding the animosity between them suddenly took on a whole new purpose.

  “Come, lass. There’s no need for you to pretend that your errand was one of compassion. After all, if you want to go out looking for a man, that’s your business. However, I’d advise you to wait for warmer weather the next time.”