Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

A scoff expelled from his lips as he copied her motions and sat down at the end of the table adjacent to her. “I forget, sometimes. Especially when I’ve been surrounded by the men for a long time. Or when I’m at Vinehill. Everyone there is far past being intimidated by me.”

  He cut into the roasted grouse and set a large chunk of the meat, dripping with steaming juices, onto her plate. “You haven’t eaten anything today, so you need to catch up.”

  “You were watching that as well?”

  His gaze caught hers, the dark blue of his eyes almost shifting into grey in the light. “I was.”

  Of course he was.

  Domnall crushed her heart years ago, but he would still be the most attentive man she’d ever known. Infuriating.

  Her attention went to the roasted potatoes and she scooped a heaping pile onto her plate. Not looking at him, she fiddled with cutting her meat. “You need to stop that, Dom.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Paying me any mind. As soon as Maggie is well and the snow has cleared, we will be out of your way and back to the dower house. I already regret this imposition upon you.”

  “You regret saving Maggie’s life?”

  She looked up at him. “I regret that of all the places in the world, you were here last night, in the one place I never would have expected you. I regret that it didn’t take me but five minutes in your presence and I was right back in the place I was six years ago. I regret that you—you make me feel alive. Whole. You always have. But I cannot go back there. Not now.”

  She cut her own words off before she said more. Before she admitted that what she regretted most was what she’d become—and how that would keep them apart more than anything. She couldn’t dare to even imagine how Domnall would look at her once he knew the truth.

  Her forehead dipped forward and she jabbed a piece of the grouse, stuffing it into her mouth to curb her tongue. She’d already said far too much.

  His fault for always listening so attentively to her.

  Another chunk of meat went into her mouth. And another. And another. She’d eaten half the food on her plate, ignoring Domnall’s stare before she reached for the glass of wine he’d poured for her when he sat down.

  He hadn’t even picked up his fork.

  Three long sips and she went back to the food on her plate. For all that she was accustomed to eating alone, his silence unnerved her. For she wasn’t alone. He was sitting a breath away. The only man she’d ever loved. But she could never allow herself to think on that again. Think of him like that again.

  Her shoulders pulled back and she looked at him. “Whatever you hope to achieve with your silence, Dom, it will not work. As I said, I’m accustomed to eating alone and this is no different.”

  He nodded, setting his elbows on the table and clasping his large hands together under his chin. His stare, his dark blue eyes sliced into her. “Is it?”

  “I can easily pretend you’re not here.”

  “My size alone would beg to differ.”

  “Your size never intimidated me, Dom. It took me aback the first time I met you, yes, but after that initial moment, you have always been just you.” She jabbed a potato with her fork. “So yes, I can eat in silent peace and not acknowledge you exist.”

  He leaned forward and lifted his goblet of claret, taking a long sip, then picked up his fork. “So you remember the first time we met?”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Of course I do. It was at the stables at Vinehill. You were in a stall, pitchfork in your hand. You were showing my father and the marquess the mares that would be good options for breeding with the stud my father had just won with at Newmarket. My father and the marquess had walked away and I had stopped to stroke the neck of one of the mares…” She looked down at her plate, scanning her memory. “Rosalinda—that was the mare’s name. She was a beautiful beast. The prettiest speckling. I was stroking her neck and you moved to stand next to me and you asked me what I thought of her.”

  She paused and the softest smile came to her face. “And I was dumbstruck.”

  “You were? Because of my size?”

  “No.” Her head shook. “I was dumbstruck because you asked me the question. Do you know that aside from my grandmother, you were the first person in my life to ask me what I actually thought of something?” Her hand flipped into the air. “Beyond which clothes I should wear or how to style my hair, of course.”

  “You were dumbstruck?” He chuckled. “I was dumbstruck. I was lucky I got any words out at all. I do recall I just wanted to hear your voice. Ye could have talked about butterflies for all I cared. I just needed to hear your voice in that moment. Change the enigma of you into a real person. And then the oddest thing happened.”

  Her eyebrows quirked. “What?”

  “Ye were intelligent. Ye went down a list of the multitudes of considerations for the breeding of each of the mares I had shown your father and the marquess—and not only the attributes that had been discussed, but how those attributes played with the factors I hadn’t considered—the horses’ reactions when approached by a male. Their pride. Their personalities. Not just the length of their stride or the breadth of their thighs.” He set his fork down and picked up his glass, tilting it to her before taking a sip. “And you were right on every accord. Ye designed some of the best matches ever made from the Vinehill stables that day.”

  “Do not short yourself, Dom. You always do that.” She pointed at him with the tines of her fork. “We designed the matches. The both of us. I talked, but you not only asked me questions—you actually listened to my answers. Countered my points. And we were both better for it.” She exhaled a breath, her hand on the fork dropping to the table as her look went to her plate. Her voice faltered. “We always were.” Her gaze lifted to him. “How did we lose that?”

  A flash of anger flickered across his face. Come and gone so quickly she wasn’t even sure she saw it. Domnall had always been able to do that. Hide each and every emotion he had from her.

  Except for how he had once wanted her. That he hadn’t been able to hide.

  He wanted her. His body, the heat in his dark blue eyes whenever they had been alone in a corridor or in the stables.

  But she hadn’t been enough for him.

  She stared at her half-eaten food, not able to lift her fork to it. Her appetite had vanished.

  Domnall cleared his throat, his voice rough. “You’re beautiful, Karta—beyond compare. And then I learned ye were smart. That ye took in all that was around you, but ye were never allowed to speak. From the very first, I knew I never had a chance with you. Even though I lied to myself for years on the matter. Ye were destined to marry Jacob. He was heir to Vinehill. After he died, there was one minute where I had hope, but then the marquess deemed you were to marry Lachlan.”

  He shook his head. “One brother to another. And I always knew, deep down, you were made for grand estates and diamonds and London and balls and silk dresses. And I couldn’t give ye any of that.”

  Her fork slammed down onto her plate. “And that is exactly why you were my match. You didn’t care about any of those things. You couldn’t give me all of that—only you. Only yourself. That was all you could give me and all I ever wanted. The biggest, strongest man in Scotland. A man who saw beneath what my father created in me—the gilded lady that he demanded me to be. You saw everything beneath that. But then I wasn’t enough for you.”

  “What in the devil’s name do you mean, Karta?” He set his goblet down on the table, his own voice rising against hers. “Ye said that last night—I broke your heart. When? When could I have possibly done that?”

  Her lip curled, her head shaking, and she shoved back in her chair, jumping to her feet as she leaned over the table to him. “Don’t even try that. You didn’t come, Dom. I waited and you didn’t come.”

  “Come to what?”

  “The blasted midsummer ball.” Her palm slammed onto the table. “You told me you were coming, but you
didn’t. So that was it. That was the end of our time.”

  His brow furrowed. “What? What madness are ye speaking? You left me because of a damned ball?”

  She shoved off from the table, her hand flying in the air. “There was no more time. I made a deal with my father—I risked everything—everything on you. If you came for me by the midsummer ball, he would consider you. Consider letting me marry you. But if you didn’t come…if you didn’t, I was to marry the viscount. And you didn’t show, Dom.” Her fingers curled into a fist and she knocked it onto the table. “You didn’t show. So I stood by my word. I left the next morning for the Leviton estate.”

  He pushed back his own chair, standing, towering over her. “I showed up the next day after that ball, Karta. The next day. I bloody well told ye I was coming for you, and I did.”

  Her arms clasped over her chest, her look flinging daggers up at him. “Yes, well you were obviously delayed.”

  “You’re telling me I was hours late? I missed ye by a few blasted hours?”

  Her shoulders lifted and she took a step toward him, her voice lifting into a growl. “I don’t know—I don’t know when you showed up. No one ever said anything about it and it didn’t matter. I was gone. Done with you. I made the deal and I was bound to it.”

  “Ye should have damn well told me you made a blasted deal with your father.” His words slowed, his head shaking. “Ye set everything upon that moment and ye didn’t even tell me.”

  “If I was important enough—you would have come.” Her palm slapped onto her chest, her neck craning to look up at him. “I trusted you to come because you said you would. Do you know I stood there that entire night, refusing to dance, my eyes on the entrance? I was in the exact spot where I thought I would be easy to find, in front of the pillars just to the left of the French doors leading to the gardens. And I had the vision of you coming through the double doors, filling the width of them, your blue eyes searching all the corners of the room until you found me. And then you would spot me and cut across the dance floor and pull me into your arms in front of everyone. Marking me as yours in front of my father, in front of everyone. And life would be right—our life, together.”

  The rage in her voice petered and she had to swallow a shaking breath. “I waited until the ballroom was empty and they snuffed the candles, Dom. I waited alone in the dark. And not once in those moments did I doubt you would show. I knew you were coming. But then the morning rays started streaming in. And my father appeared.” Her eyes closed, her head shaking. “If only you would have shown like you promised you would, Dom. But you didn’t.”

  Her lips pulled inward, her gaze skewering him. “You made that choice—I wasn’t important enough.”

  Chapter 6

  “Not important enough?” He looked down at her, at the fury lining her eyes, at her strained full lips.

  That she could even think such a blasphemy spiked the blood in his veins, his chest twisting at the injustice of it.

  That he’d been vilified for being late to a damned ball. That she’d ever believed she wasn’t important enough.

  And then he saw it. The quiver in her irises. The pain. The pain in her brown eyes that she was trying to cover up with indignation.

  Pain at something he’d done.

  His breath stilled.

  He had promised he would come to the ball, and he didn’t.

  He’d failed her.

  He’d failed himself.

  And he hadn’t even known it until that very moment.

  He’d always blamed her for leaving him. Leaving without a word. Leaving everything they’d dreamed about being together.

  She had been the one that left him.

  Except she hadn’t.

  He hadn’t shown at the ball. Hadn’t shown until the day after.

  And the pain of that moment—of that destruction he’d caused in her heart—still vibrated six years later in her amber brown eyes.

  Pain he needed to make disappear.

  He stepped toward her, closing the space between them, his body brushing against her arms clamped in front of her.

  His hands clasped onto her face and he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a storm. She stilled for a second, her body going rigid, almost as though she was to fight it.

  But then her lips parted to him.

  Parted to him, but angry. Angry that he was here. Angry at what they had lost. Angry that she still could not deny him—deny how their bodies needed each other. He absorbed all of that in the kiss as she met him with fire in every breath, every swipe of his tongue against her lips.

  She didn’t back away. She met him move for move like she always had.

  He pulled slightly up, his voice raw. “Whatever you thought, Karta, you have it wrong. You were always the one—the only important thing.”

  She flinched. “Then where were you?”

  “I don’t even know.” He shook his head, his look going to the ceiling. “Out for the marquess, checking on the new flocks, if I recall. But I do remember I was muddy and exhausted and I had to clean myself before appearing at your father’s home and I thought you would understand.”

  “So you chose the almighty Vinehill estate over me, again.”

  His look dropped to her, skewering her. “Ye ken that’s not true. That it was never true.”

  “Wasn’t it? Because your bloody loyalty to them was all I ever heard about from you. Every excuse I ever heard from your lips was lined with the needs of Vinehill.” Her arms unthreaded from her chest. “We couldn’t be together because I was betrothed to Vinehill men—first Jacob, then Lachlan. We couldn’t be together because the marquess needed you to scour the estate for his blasted sheep. We couldn’t be together because Lachlan needed you to tramp about the countryside with him, scouting roadways. We couldn’t be together because you had to go out to collect the rents. We couldn’t be together because you couldn’t leave the family in crisis after the fire that took Jacob. We couldn’t be together for hundreds of reasons and every single one of them had to do with Vinehill.”

  His lips pulled inward, this battle that he’d fought with her a thousand times rearing up from deep in the past. “Ye know why I’m loyal to them. Ye cannot ask me to be otherwise.”

  “I can’t?” She grabbed his upper arm, the touch sending fire into his veins.

  The first time she’d voluntarily reached out and touched him since he’d found her in the snow.

  Her look pinned him. “I know you were an orphan. I know they took you in. I know that they built you up to be all that you are. I know that they are your family. But what about me, Dom?”

  His stare shifted from her, fixating on the silver platters of food on the sideboard.

  “Look me in the eye, Dom.” Her fingers dug into the muscles in his upper arm.

  His jaw flexing, his gaze dropped to her.

  “What about me? What about living for yourself? For me? That was what we were going to do. Us, together, a farm, a flock of sheep—I didn’t care. All I wanted was you. And you know the marquess would have given you whatever you asked for. He’s a wicked old devil, but he rewards those that are loyal—and there have been none more loyal than you. He regards you as one of his grandsons.”

  Everything she said he knew to be true. And that grated on him all the more. “I had planned to do all of that, Karta. But I didn’t know I was on a blasted time limit.”

  “You didn’t know?” She shook his arm. “No, don’t try that, Dom. I told you—I told you how important it was for you to be at that ball. I told you our life together depended upon it.”

  “Yes, but you’d said that before, again and again—our future depended on me being somewhere—at a ball, at the horse racing your father sponsors, at the Vinehill dinners. Our future always depended on those things—but all those I missed, it was because I was working on our future, working on how I would exit Vinehill.”

  Her body stilled, her hand dropping from his arm. “Yes, well, you ran out of t
ime.”

  She took a step backward—away—and her hip bumped into the chair.

  “Don’t move away from me, not now.” The words came out in a low roar.

  “Why not now, Dom?”

  “Not when you are in front of me for the first time in six years and I realize exactly how I failed ye. Not when there is the slightest possibility that I can right whatever wrongs there were of the past. Not when I want ye more than I ever have. Not when this unlikely gift of the two of us together again—trapped, with nothing but time—appeared out of nowhere just before Christmas.”

  He stepped closer, staring down at her, waiting. Waiting for the slightest motion, the slightest indication that all was not lost between them.

  Her dark lashes fell closed. Her chest rising in one breath. Two. Three.

  Her full lips parted. “I don’t think it can be the same, Dom.”

  He stared at her closed eyes. She was teetering. Opening up her heart to the possibility.

  His words rumbled low from his chest. “I don’t want it the same. I want you. However you come to me now, I take ye.”

  Her brown eyes, warm with streaks of honey gold, opened to him. Uncertainty, but it was there in her look. The possibility.

  His mouth descended on hers, taking her into a kiss.

  He felt it instantly, the quiver that ran through her, that sent her body pressing into his. He parted his lips, edging hers open. No resistance. Plunging. Descending into the depths of the kiss, the draw of how their bodies had always needed to be touching.

  His tongue slipped out and tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Sweetness and heat. Matching him with every swipe of his tongue, every shift of his lips.

  The slightest mewl bubbled in her throat and her hand lifted, her fingers burying into the back of his hair. Holding him close, not letting him leave her for even a breath.

  His hand on the small of her back trailed upward along her side, his thumb curving under the swell of her breasts. She didn’t jerk away, only leaned into his touch. His fingers went up, rubbing across her nipple, dipping beneath the lace that lined the bodice of her dress. Down. Further. Deeper until he reached the dimpled skin of her nipple. He rolled the bud in his fingers and she gasped, her head slipping backward as a low hum vibrated in her throat.