by Kate Pearce
Perhaps she should have remained home for the holiday. It had only been six months since she received the news that Michael had perished in the war. She remained in mourning and had no doubt her heart would always ache for him. It was too soon for her to be out even if she were only venturing to her parent’s home.
She’d be a spoilsport, ruining the festivities for everyone else. Rather than enjoying the holiday, her parents and siblings would spend their time in vain attempts to cheer her up. Nothing would improve her mood. How could it? She’d lost her husband, her soul mate, the love of her life. And now things were even worse.
She’d be forced to spend the night in unfamiliar surroundings with nothing other than her memories for company. A merry Christmastide, indeed. Nicollet drew in a deep, stabilizing breath. Michael would not want this for her. She had to pull herself together and find a way to go on.
How hard could it be when she’d already faced so much? She would be brave. Strong. Nicollet would find a way to continue without Michael. She had to.
One second, one smile, one holiday at a time. “Lord give me strength.” Nicollet lifted a prayer before leaning her head back against the carriage wall.
Chapter 2
Bloody hell, it was freezing. Wind and snow swirled around Michael Wentworth, his cloak doing little to shield him from nature’s rage as he galloped toward Canterbury. His stallion’s breath came out in great white clouds as the horse carried him toward his destination—his beloved Nicollet.
The moment he’d gained his freedom from Napoleon’s men, he’d procured passage across the channel, then back on English soil he traded his pistol for a horse. He was determined to have Nicollet back in his arms by Christmastide.
Michael nudged his mount urging it to speed up. “Come Comet.” The horse did as he wished, racing down the snow covered road. “Good boy,” Michael praised, holding the reins a little tighter.
So long as the storm did not pick up strength, he would reach her parents home before the holiday ended. He glanced up toward the heavy grey clouds. One thing was certain—the storm showed no indication of stopping. Pray, let me reach Nicollet in time for the holiday.
Michael wished he had a gift for his love. A pretty bauble of some sort, or a new frock. Not that she would care. Nicollet had long ago told him that things were not important, that she only required love. He had to agree, for there was nothing he desired more than to be with her.
She was his everything—his dreams, his soul, the one thing that kept him alive during his imprisonment. How many nights had he laid awake cold, hungry, and in pain with nothing but thought of her to save his sanity? Memories of her—of them lending him warmth and hope.
Lord, he’d give anything—everything to hold her now. To feel her skin touching his, her lips pressed to his. To stare into her golden eyes, run his fingers through her silken chestnut hair. His pulse speed at the thought and he leaned lower over Comet’s back urging the horse forward.
By the time he neared Canterbury the snow had picked up intensity and the winds blew so hard that his hands stung despite the heavy leather gloves covering them. Snow drifts piled up on the road, ice patches creating hazardous conditions for him and his horse. With a heavy heart, Michael made the decision to seek shelter.
Most of the town lay in silence as its residents sought shelter from nature’s fury. Doors were tightly closed, smoke billowed from chimneys, and the streets were all but deserted. Michael brought Comet to a stop outside of the first inn he reached. With numb fingers, he secured the horse to a post then entered the Wild Rose.
Welcoming heat greeted him as the door closed behind him. He glanced around the dark room, his gaze landing on a man seated at a table near the hearth. “Sir,” Michael said, making his way deeper into the room. “Excuse me, sir.”
The man lifted his head to peer at Michael through sleep-laden eyes.
“Are you the innkeeper?” Michael moved closer to the warmth of the fire.
“I am.” The man ground his palms against his tired face before rising to his feet. “How may I help you?”
“Have you any rooms available?”
The man shook his head. “I’m afraid not. With this weather and so many traveling for the holiday we filled up fast.”
Michael pressed his lips together in thought. All wasn’t lost, there were many inns in Canterbury. “Might you know of another establishment where I can procure lodgings?”
“As I said, many have sought rooms. I’d be surprised if there are any left empty.” The man turned toward the stairs at the sound of footfalls. A rotund woman dressed in a brown frock of rough material came into view. “Kitty,” the innkeeper called. “Do you know of any available rooms?”
The woman brows drew together as she turned kind green eyes on Michael. “There are none. Last I heard, stranded travelers were being directed to Klaus Haus.” A light blush crept into her cheeks. “It’s not an inn mind you, but it’s better than freezing to death in the streets.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Michael gave a nod of appreciation. He didn’t care what the establishment was so long as he could secure a warm place to sleep. He’d not be staying long at any rate. The moment this dreadful weather let up, he’d be back on his way to Nicollet.
Michael stepped away from the fire then asked, “Would you be so kind as to provide me with directions?”
The innkeeper pointed. “Go to the corner then turn onto Castle Street. You can’t miss Klaus Haus.”
Michael gave a firm nod before stepping out into the raging snow storm.
Whatever Nicollet was doing, he prayed she was safe and warm. She would be back in his arms the very moment this dratted weather cleared up. He’d allow nothing else to prevent him from reaching her. They’d already been apart for far too long.
He patted his pocket where he’d tucked her perfume scented handkerchief. Soon my love.
Chapter 3
Nicollet could scarcely believe where she found herself as she alighted from her carriage. The building radiated warm light from the bright lamps burning within. Laughter, song, and loud voices poured out of the establishment. Bold colored drapes framed the frost covered windows blocking her view, but she could well imagine what lay beyond the doors.
Heavens, Michael must be rolling in his grave at the very idea of her entering a brothel. Wellbred woman did not enter such establishments—not for any reason—and yet, here she was. And on Christmas Eve no less! She should be arriving at her parents in a few hours’ time. Attending midnight services at their parish and attempting to make merry with her siblings while they saw the mistletoe hung.
She most certainly should not be seeking shelter at a brothel. But then what choice did she have? Every inn in Canterbury was full to capacity. If she refused to enter Klaus Haus she’d likely perish in the storm.
“Are you alright, Ma’am?” Her coachman asked, concern furrowing his brow.
Nicollet pulled in a steadying breath. “Yes, I’m fine. You go and see to the horses.”
He gave a nod, then returned to the carriage.
Nicollet swallowed back her reservations and mounted the steps leading to the large wooden door. There were worse places she could be. Not that she could think of any at the moment, but surely there were. At least here she would be safe and warm.
Her heart beat wildly as she lifted her hand to sound the knocker. Before she caught hold of the garish golden ornament, the door swung open. A scantily clad woman with dark red lips and coal lined eyes ushered her inside. “Come along. It’s bloody cold out there.”
When Nicollet failed to take a step, the woman reached for her arm and yanked her inside. “We don’t bite.”
“I-Of course. I’m sorry,” Nicollet stammered as the door thumped closed behind her.
The woman smiled. “I’m Minett but everyone calls me Mini. I assume you are not here for pleasure.”
Heat scorched Nicollet’s cheeks and she averted her gaze. “No.”
“The
n, it is shelter you seek.” Mini nodded toward a brightly lit, garishly decorated room. “Do not fret, many others have done the same. Follow me.”
Nicollet glanced back at the door with a moment of longing. Turning back to Mini, she gave a weak grin. “Thank you.”
“No need for all that.” Mini shook her head.
Nicollet followed the woman into the room she’d indicated a moment before. Several people were gathered within—many of them appeared to be stranded travelers. They were fully dressed and lacked the face paint and ornamentation Mini possessed.
A fire burned strong in the hearth, casting heat through the room and several lamps and candles were lit. The room boasted luxurious furnishings covered in lush fabrics, bold colors and cherry wood pieces decorated the space. Nicollet’s eyes roamed over the tannenbaum, it’s green bristled branches decorated with paper roses, apples, and tinsel.
She’d never seen anything like it. Probably never would again. All she could do for a long moment was stare at her surroundings. Giggling from the corridor drew her attention from the tanennbaum and she turned her head in time to catch a glimpse of a half-naked woman rounding the staircase.
“Miss.”
Nicollet looked back to Mini. “Sorry.”
Mini just laughed as she shook her head. “You’ll get used to it. Now come.”
Mini led Nicollet into another boldly decorated room of golds and reds. She came to stand before a middle-aged woman with a long face and expressive eyebrows arching over her blue eyes. An ornate turban of green and gold silk pinned with a gold brooch and three white feathers crowned her.
“We have another one,” Mini said.
The woman stood revealing her full height. She was much taller than most woman Nicollet had seen. She bobbed her head sending the feathers into motion. “Thank you, Mini.”
Nicollet swallowed back a protest as Mini quit the room. She felt very much like a fish flopping on the beach as the other woman stared at her. Forcing air into her lungs, Nicollet waited for the woman to speak.
“Welcome to Klaus Haus. I am Madam Frau Elke Klaus.” She held her hand out.
Nicollet stared for a moment unsure what to do before she took the madam’s hand. She never would have imagined herself in such a position, and yet here she stood. More than that, she was finding her surroundings welcoming. These people did not seem so much different from herself. They were kind and warm. Nicollet gave a genuine smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Nicollet Wentworth.”
Frau Elke gave her hand a little squeeze. “I assume you are looking for a room?”
“Do you have any available?” Nicollet nibbled her lower lip, praying the madam would have one to offer her.
“I won’t turn you out. There is always a way when one has a will to find it.” Frau Elke winked, her eyes taking on a decided sparkle.
“That is most kind of you.” Nicollet rested a hand on her belly. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure. Now come along and let’s see what we can manage.”
Nicollet followed the madam from the room, through the hall, and back into the common area. To her surprise, more people now crowded the space. Her stomach sank a little as she studied the scene. How could there possibly be any place for her with so many people already here?
“George. George come here.” Frau Elke waved a lad of no more than ten over to where they stood.
Nicollet watched the boy as he made his way passed the tannenbaum. Several men and women had gathered around the festive evergreen and a couple of them nodded to the lad as he strolled by. She could not help from wondering what the boy was doing in a brothel, though he clearly enjoyed his station. He was well kept and appeared to be well fed. Most importantly, he had a smile on his face as he came to stand before the madam.
Frau Elke reached out and ruffled his hair. “This is our boy George, he does all sorts of errands for me and can surely find a space for you to spend the night.” She grinned at the lad. “Isn’t that right?”
His smile widened as he nodded. “Of course I can. I’ll get right to it.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
“Wait here and I’ll fetch ya when I have a room.” George dashed off back the way he’d come before Nicollet could reply.
“Please choose a seat and rest while you wait. Refreshments will be brought out before long.”
“Thank you.” Nicollet glanced around looking for an unoccupied chair. Her gaze seized on a man standing near the entrance of the room. It couldn’t be. Her imagination had to be running wild. Too much wishful thinking, far too much…
Frau Elke took her elbow, steadying her. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I may have.” Nicollet stared harder at the man fully expecting him to evaporate—and yet he remained. “Michael.” His name left her lips a mere whisper.
“Who?” Frau Elke asked.
Nicollet brought her shaking hand to her lips. “My husband.” She took a tentative step toward him, Frau Elke releasing her elbow. “Michael.” This time his name left her throat with force causing several of the guests to look her way. She did not pay them any mind as she continued toward him, one tentative step after the next.
He glanced at her, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Nicollet?”
She raced across the room at the sound of her name and flung herself into his arms. Clinging to him, she buried her face in his coat. He did not dissolve. She hugged his solid mass, inhaled his scent. Her shoulders began to shake as the first tears crested her eyes.
“It’s alright, my love. Everything is alright.” He placed his thumb under her chin guiding her gaze back to his. “I’m here now.”
She reached up, placing her shaking hand on his cheek. “They told me you were killed.” Nicollet traced his jaw with her fingers before bringing them to his lips. “You’re real. You’re here.”
He kissed her fingertips. “I was taken captive, but I’m alive and well, my love. I’m here now, and I am not going anywhere.”
She moved her fingers from his warm lips to rest her hand on his chest. The strong beating of his heart matching her own racing pulse. “Oh, Michael. I’ve missed you so terribly I thought my heart would die from my sorrow.” A fresh round of salty tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged him closer.
“Thoughts of you kept me alive. Our memories brought me through all I had to endure.” He wiped her tears away. “I’ve missed you with every beat of my heart, Nicollet. I love you.” He captured her lips in a passionate kiss full of promises for the future—their future—and she knew without a doubt that he’d come back to her.
“It’s a Christmas miracle.” Frau Elke’s voice broke through Nicollet’s muddled mind as a round of applause filled the room. She should care that they were creating a spectacle, but with her beloved kissing her so soundly all she could do was match his enthusiasm with her own.
Michael eased his lips from her. “Merry Christmas, Nicollet.”
“The merriest one ever.” She smiled up at him, her heart near to bursting with joy. He was her Christmas miracle—the only gift she truly wanted, and she’d cherish him always.
A Christmas Bauble from La Befana
Jane Charles
This wasn’t the first Christmas Eve that Elias Radburn, the newest Marquess of Lydell, had spent in a brothel, but the circumstances were certainly unusual. However, he wasn’t here to find peace between a woman’s thighs. Instead, it was the only place he’d found to escape the winter storm.
It was a bloody blizzard outside! The likes of what he’d expect back home in Boston, not in England. He’d been told that winters were mild in England. At that thought, Elias nearly snorted. There was nothing mild about the blinding snow and driving wind that forced them to stop along with the others gathered in the garish common rooms and seated near Frau Klaus’s Tannenbaum as they listed to stories being told.
Bloody hell, there were misses and an assortment of individuals one might find at
any gathering amongst society—not inside a brothel. Well, except the whores. There were a few of them enjoying the merriment and storytelling as well. Maybe they were happy to have a night free of entertaining above-stairs.
As these guests were more respectable than the usual clientele that probably frequented such an establishment, at least where the women were concerned, Elias would not seek the entertainment that usually brought him to such a place. Then again, even if it were a normal situation with lightskirts on laps, Elias was fairly certain he’d not participate.
With a frown, he sipped from the brandy Frau Klaus had been kind enough to offer to ward off the chill.
Of late, he’d no desire to visit a brothel nor had he wanted a quick tumble with a welcoming yet unfamiliar woman. Release might bring peace, but it left loneliness in its wake, and as much as Elias fought the very idea of marriage and permanency, he was beginning to understand where it might hold merit.
Perhaps if he weren’t alone on his journey, he wouldn’t feel this way but months ago, Elias had been forced to leave Boston when word of his cousin’s demise had reached across the Atlantic. Nobody expected his cousin to die so young. He was only a few years older than Elias and old enough to have at least beget an heir, if not a spare, but he had died leaving only an infant daughter.
Daughter! Elias was now responsible for a little moppet of a girl, not quite two years old, who had been handed over to him as soon as he arrived in London. Alice was a delight. Her nursery maid, however, was the most sour and unpleasant woman who’d ever made his acquaintance. Unfortunately, Elias was stuck with the woman for the duration of his travels and until they finally arrived at his ancestral seat. At that point, Elias fully intended to let her go and hire someone far more pleasant to tend to the child.
“I’m turning in, Gaia.” Lady Dargate kissed her daughter’s cheek and retreated above-stairs. The daughter, Lady Gaia Darby remained in her seat to the left of Elias. A lovely young woman with midnight hair and the warmest brown eyes, and even though they’d not spoken after introductions, he found her quite pleasant to be around as they listened to others tell stories, such as the one being told by a young woman name Bríet, an employee in this establishment.
