Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  Edmund certainly did.

  Molly was quiet as she stepped across the room, finding a tankard in a cupboard which she closed quietly. With her back to him, Edmund was able to watch her without being caught, and his body stirred with longing as she leaned over the tap and tried to twist it for some water.

  The tap did not budge. Just before Edmund rose to help her, Molly took a careful look at the tap, and then hit it carefully on one side, four inches down the pipe.

  The tap immediately twisted.

  Edmund frowned. “How in God’s name did you do that?”

  Molly froze. Every inch of her ceased movement except her heart, which was battering against her ribcage painfully.

  She was a fool, and she was going to be found out. She had used this tap – what, a hundred times? The only way to force its cooperation was to hit it just right. She had learned the skill months ago, what felt like years ago.

  But a woman who was not meant to know why she was kidnapped shouldn’t know the secret to getting a tap to work.

  Trying to slow down her frantically beating heart by keeping her breathing level, Molly straightened up and smiled at the gentleman who had made her feel – such things. Things she had never known before, had not even know she had not known them.

  Pleasure beyond compare. The sensation of being wanted and needed, not just a body to get his own pleasure from.

  He was so unlike her disgusting and now departed husband that she wondered whether they could both be men.

  “I said,” Edmund repeated slowly, “How in God’s name did you do that?”

  Molly swallowed. If she looked nervous, showed any sign of weakness, he would jump on it. He would know she had been lying, lying about everything.

  She was no innocent victim here, except that her brothers would probably leave her for a few more days than normal. But they would release her, and with little harm.

  No, it was Edmund who was the victim, and he did not even know it.

  She allowed an awkward smile to spread across her face. “The tap? I hit it just like the one at home. ‘Tis no prodigious skill – not like the skill I enjoyed last night.”

  Her guess had been correct. Edmund’s look of suspicion and confused disappeared immediately as he propped himself on his shoulders with a lazy grin on his face.

  “Ah, so you enjoyed yourself then?”

  Molly had to work hard to keep her face steady. Really, in many respects, men were the same the world over. Even if you added a title, wealth, and a certain disregard for the rules, a gentleman could always be depended upon to be distracted by talk of his prowess in the bedchamber.

  “It was…” Her voice failed her as the realisation of the truth dawned in her mind. Molly swallowed. She had shared herself with this man, shared the most vulnerable part of herself. So why was being honest about it so difficult?

  He was watching her, his hair falling over her eyes. Molly’s stomach gave a lurch. She was for it now. She knew what that lurch meant.

  “It was the best time I ever had,” she said truthfully.

  Edmund’s face broken into a grin. “Truthfully?”

  Molly nodded. Her fingers were only just holding up her gown which could fall at any moment, but she knew she had to keep talking – had to keep Edmund from realising that she had almost certainly been here before.

  The smile on his handsome face broadened but then froze. “You ever had?”

  It was impossible not to laugh at that. “Did you think I was an innocent, Edmund?”

  Edmund shifted uncomfortably as he lay on the floor. “Well…yes. It is not a strange assumption, Miss Kimble. Few women make love with anyone before they are wed.”

  Molly took a deep breath. She had wondered when this would surface, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to put right a few of the assumptions Edmund had made, what felt like years ago, in the King’s Head.

  Pulling her gown around her, she stepped forward with a smile and sat beside Edmund. He leaned forward and kissed her and she lost herself to it for a moment, desperate for the warmth of his touch.

  And then she broke the connection and looked into his grey eyes. “Edmund, I am not Miss Kimble.”

  His forehead creased. “Not Miss – but you said…”

  “I said that my name was Molly Kimble,” she said gently, not looking away from him. “And you…you assumed that I was unmarried.”

  Edmund’s look of confusion now became one of horror. “Unmarried? Molly, you are not…you are not married?”

  Molly swallowed and dropped her gaze. “Widowed, actually.”

  There was silence in the room. All she could hear were the chimes of the church clock just outside the window, chiming seven in the morning. It was Boxing Day. The joy and festivities of Christmas Day were over – and so was the magic between herself and Edmund.

  A hand gently nudged her chin upwards so that her eyes met his. Edmund was smiling, and there was no fire in it. This time, they were full of kindness.

  “Tell me.”

  Molly smiled wryly. “‘Tis not much to tell, if I am honest. I was young, dreadfully young when I met him. He was a friend of my – of my family. I was a Bletchley before, and when he proposed I said yes. He died two years later.”

  A wrench of guilt tore into her stomach. Well, it was hardly proper for her to explain exactly how he died. What was it to Edmund, after all? Was she not to have any secrets from this gentleman with whom she was kidnapped?

  Edmund was watching her closely, as though attempting to read her mind. “To be widowed so young – to lose the love of your life – ”

  “He was not the love of my life.” Molly saw his face. “I did not intend my words to be so harsh, but it is impossible not to speak harshly of a man who had been so harsh to me. Yes, I mourned him for what could have been. But he…he was not a good man, Edmund, and though I did not celebrate his passing, I have lived a better life since he has gone.”

  She stopped there, afraid of revealing too much. And yet it was not a unique story. How many fathers wept when their daughters married men undeserving of them? How many families were torn apart when choices were made to bring ruin and destruction on them?

  How much better was it when the perpetrator was removed by God’s hand – or man’s?

  “How did he die?”

  Molly looked away from him. “‘Tis immaterial. The fact is that he is dead, and even when he was alive…Edmund, he never gave me such pleasure in two years as you have given me last night.”

  The words were truthful, but as she glanced back at him she saw that they had had their desired effect. Edmund was no longer curious about the demise of her husband. He was more interested in comparing his prowess.

  She had to smile. Edmund was just like any other man, and yet at the same time, so unlike any she had ever met before. He was unique; a gentleman raised for riches who gave it all up for honour and justice.

  “Truly?” Edmund beamed. “You do not just have to say so. I have an ego, naturally, but I would rather it was fed with honesty than muck.”

  Molly nodded and felt her cheeks crimson. “Edmund, I have…I did not even realise the body could experience such exquisite ecstasy. I – ”

  But her words were stopped as he kissed her full on the mouth – and this kiss was different. True, there was warmth in it. It was a kiss from Edmund, after all.

  But there was more than that. Something had changed between them, as they had shared this kiss in the full knowledge, now, of Molly’s past.

  Molly lost herself in the sensation of his lips on hers, his hands around her waist, the warmth between her legs. Kidnapped with a knight or not, she could easily lose herself for days with this man, in his touch, with his kisses.

  Edmund pulled her down to nestle in his arms, and Molly lay with him willingly. His arms were strong around her, making her feel safe.

  But she was not safe. Not until she could escape this prison of a house, and without – and if she could,
it would be a miracle – this wonderful man who she was falling in love with discovering that it had been her own brothers who had put them here.

  Chapter 8

  For the first few seconds of the heavy knocking, Edmund kept his eyes shut. What on earth could that noise be? Why was it interrupting this wonderful moment with Molly – a woman he now knew to be a loving, caring, woman.

  A widow. A woman with nothing to lose in the area of love, and much to catch up on.

  Edmund smiled as his eyes remained shut as the knocking increased.

  “That was…that was wonderful.”

  God, he knew he should not take such delight in it, but he could not help it. He was a man! Any man who heard such words would find not only their ego growing, and it had been clear she had spoken the truth.

  That a woman married for two years had not experienced pleasure, true pleasure, was an outright shame.

  The fact that he was the one who gave it to her was, of course, the second best part.

  And yet that knocking still did not go away.

  “Hie there, open up!”

  Edmund’s eyes snapped open. “It is them. Molly, it is the kidnappers!”

  He had thought she would open her eyes with a smile, with relief that they were about to be released form their slightly damp prison. But as he looked down, Molly was looking at him in terror.

  “W-What?”

  Edmund sat up so quickly that Molly almost fell from him, so desperate was he to find his clothes. “The kidnappers are knocking at the door! My God, never a sentence I ever thought I would say…”

  His voice trailed off as he looked everywhere for his breeches. How was it possible for them to have disappeared?

  Molly was still lying on the floor and she had a frantic look on her face. “Edmund, I do not think we should answer the door.”

  Edmund paused, one leg in and one leg out of the breeches he had finally discovered. “What do you mean?” Her words were so nonsensical, he almost tipped over. “We have been in here for days now, Molly, the food has run out, and even with your tap magic we cannot survive on water alone.”

  Molly bit her lip. She looked terrified, and Edmund understood her concern.

  Pulling on the second breeches leg, he knelt down to her and smiled. “You have nothing to fear, Molly. I will not let them hurt you, I will not let them even touch you. You are completely safe with me.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but the knocking started up again, more insistent this time, and a second voice called out through the door.

  “Wake up!”

  “Wait.” Molly spoke hastily as she rose to her feet but Edmund was barely focusing on her. He knew he had a shirt somewhere. “Edmund, I do not want to go to the door. Please do not – if you trust me – ”

  Edmund was just finishing the last button when his brain caught up with his fingers. He looked over at Molly. There was something different in her voice, now. Something desperate. Pleading. She truly did not want to go over and talk to the kidnappers banging on the door.

  “Why?” He said slowly.

  Molly swallowed, a curl of her golden hair falling across her eyes. Edmund’s stomach contracted. She was so innocent, despite the widowhood. She knew so little of the world, and here she was, trapped in a house with a man disowned by his family.

  “Hie there!” The knocking had returned and the voice was louder than ever. “We want to speak to Molly – Molls, are you still in there?”

  Edmund froze. He must have heard that wrong – that could not be correct. How in God’s name could that be possible?

  His eyes darted to Molly, who stood hurriedly and tried to tie on her gown properly. Her fingers were fumbling as she spoke hastily.

  “Edmund, I need to tell you – ”

  “Molly!” The harsh voice shot through the door again and Edmund felt nausea rising in his stomach.

  “Edmund, wait – ”

  Ignoring Molly’s hand reaching out to him, Edmund picked up his shirt and pulled it on as he strode across the room to the door where the knocking was emanating. His mouth was dry and his hands were wet.

  He swallowed. “How do you know Miss – Mrs Kimble’s name?”

  There was a moment of terrible silence. Then laughter broke out on the other side of the door.

  Edmund turned around to see Molly standing in the middle of the room, her face white, her hands twisted together. Something painful jolted in his heart. Could it be…

  “Not know Mrs Kimble’s name?” One of the kidnappers guffawed. “Why would not know our own sister’s name?”

  Molly could not move a muscle. The only thing that seemed to be able to stir was her heart, thundering against her ribcage as though desperate to escape it.

  Edmund was staring at her with wide eyes, his shirt badly buttoned and his hair messy. Both of them were ignoring the continued knocking on the other side of the door.

  It did not matter. Molly’s secret, the secret she had hoped to take with her – the secret she had hoped would never be necessary to reveal – had been shattered and the repercussions were only just starting. She knew that.

  She should have known it was all too good to be true. Women like her did not meet and fall in love with gentleman like him.

  “No,” Edmund whispered.

  Molly found she could move again and she took a step forward, speaking hurriedly. “Just because I am related to someone, that does not mean – that does not make me any less of a prisoner in here, Edmund!”

  “What?” Edmund scoffed, taking a step away from her and preserving the gap between them. “I hate to break it to you, Mrs Kimble, but that is almost certainly what it means! How could you keep something like that from me? How could you fail to mention that – ”

  “They are nothing to me, nothing at all,” Molly said hastily. This was her nightmare, this was exactly what she feared, and bitterness rose in her throat as she thought how close she had been to happiness. “Edmund, I swear to you, my brothers and I…we fell out, months ago, and – ”

  “Those two men in the pub,” Edmund interrupted, his eyes still wide. “Were they…?”

  Molly swallowed. The instinct to continue lying was strong but if she was ever going to untangle herself from this mess, she needed to come clean.

  It was going to be one of the most difficult conversations she ever had. Would he ever trust her again?

  Would she blame him if he did not?

  “Yes,” she said heavily. “Those were my brothers. I had met with them to attempt to persuade them to leave their crimes behind them – as I have!”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Molly realised her mistake.

  “As you have?” Edmund stared at her, and now all the warmth had disappeared from his eyes. “As you have, Molly? God’s teeth, ‘tis worse than I thought! Here I was, thinking I had found myself…”

  “What?” Molly prompted.

  But Edmund was not to be drawn, that was clear. He frowned at her. “Nothing. ‘Tis of no consequence now, the person I thought you were is dead. She never lived.”

  Pain shot through Molly’s heart. “She does – I am right here, Edmund!”

  “Molls girl, come and talk to us!”

  Molly ignored the battering of her brothers. She had attempted to escape them before and not managed it. She was not going to allow them to destroy perhaps her one chance of happiness.

  “Yes, they are criminals,” she said quickly, as though speaking rapidly would make the words less painful for her to say and for Edmund to hear. “Yes, I helped them in my younger years – how do you think I met my husband? But no, I am not that person anymore. I have changed, I have left that all behind me!”

  Edmund shook his head with a wry smile. “No one can change that much.”

  Irritation burned in Molly’s lungs, and before she could stop herself, she shouted, “Just because your father did not want to change, that does not mean that I cannot!”

  There was ringing si
lence after her words. Edmund stared at her, pain etched across his features. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out.

  Molly closed her eyes. “I…I cannot believe I said that. Edmund, I am sorry, I – ”

  “I always thought that my father was wrong,” he said slowly, cutting through her words. “He always told me that the lower classes were base, treacherous, and criminal. But most of all, he told me that they could not help themselves. That it was bred into them, and so it was foolish to expect good of them.”

  Molly’s eyes snapped open. Edmund was leaning against the wall now, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

  “And he was right,” he said softly. “God damnit, Molly, you have proved him right. You are just like the rest of them, like your brothers. Everything you are saying is a lie.”

  Panic was rising in Molly now. She had been sure she could explain everything show him just what she meant, what he meant to her.

  But there was a dull sadness in Edmund’s eyes now. He had lost all hope, all trust in her. And she deserved it. Why, oh why had she not told the truth when she had had the chance?

  “Edmund,” she said softly, taking a step towards him. “You have never made a mistake? You have never wanted to change things? I know you have, you left your family and your title, your money, all of it behind. Because you wanted to change. Because you saw your father and saw what you did not want to be.”

  He did not respond but just stared at her. Molly swallowed.

  “You have to believe me when I say that I have left that part of myself behind. My brothers…they have not. They wanted to punish me, to frighten me, I suppose, into returning to the family business. That is why I am here. There is no other reason.”

  For a moment, Molly thought he believed her. Something shifted in his eyes, the way he was looking at her. She smiled slightly and reached out a hand to him.

  Edmund pushed past her and strode to the other side of the room. “You sought me out in the pub. You meant for this to happen – ‘tis a honeytrap!”

  A flicker of irritation seared through Molly’s heart. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who sought me out – you asked me to search you, and then propositioned me!”