A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella (11 page)

L
ucas spurred his horse onward
, holding the lamp he'd taken from Lady Pippa's coachman high and scanning the storm. The seizing in his chest with each gallop made it hard for him to keep a firm hold on the reins. He'd awaited her return at her carriage for as long as he could, but she hadn't come back, and the storm had grown ever fiercer until even the coachman's pleas for Lucas to stay close while he searched fell on deaf ears.

The woman he loved—shocking as that still was to his own mind—was out there somewhere. She could be lost or hurt or even freezing. Lucas needed to find her, no matter the cost to him. He'd left Lady Natalie's home ill-prepared for the cold that would greet him in the storm. The wind blew right to his skin as if he wore no coat at all, his fingers were numb, and he clamped his teeth shut to stop them from chattering.

He hadn't been able to save Randolph, but he could protect Pippa.

He would find her, even if he had to fight the storm all night. He would rescue her and return her safely to her family.

There was no other option left for Lucas.

He would have nothing left of himself if Pippa were gone. She would take what little remained of him after Randolph's passing with her if Lucas couldn't find her.

How had this woman become such an integral part of him—so much so that he knew he'd perish without her—in such a short time? It was as if they'd known one another for ten lifetimes and not just a matter of days.

If he hadn't been a weak man, he never would have departed her home with his parents and Lady Natalie's family. He'd been foolish to think he'd been saving her from certain scandal by agreeing to wed the Sheridan chit. Or thinking Lady Natalie would have him.

If he ever found Pippa—no,
when
he found her—Lucas would never allow her out of his sight again, no matter what she wanted.

Lucas would demand her coachman's head on a spike if anything untoward happened to Pippa.

“Pippa,” Lucas screamed again into the storm. His voice was barely audible to his own ears. There was no possibility if she were out there that she'd hear him call—but he had to do something. Beads of sweat spilled down his forehead even though the temperatures had fallen below freezing. “Pippa!”

Her coachman had pointed Lucas in this direction, telling him she'd planned to stop at five houses along this street. His hope was that she'd sought shelter at one of the homes until the storm passed. However, he knew Pippa well enough to know she'd press onward to deliver all her gifts.

She was mad beyond belief—and beautiful with a kind and compassionate soul that called to his. Or at least what was left of his soul after Randolph had taken half with him when he passed.

Lucas could not allow anything to happen to Pippa…she held his remaining half with her.

Before meeting her, Lucas wouldn't have cared about a building that housed the families of villagers and local servants or a school room. The thought of destroying the building to construct another to store a warehouse full of goods to be sold across England would have sounded like a wise business venture, especially with the growth in rural areas of the land.

But no opportunity to line his pockets with more coins was worth all Pippa would lose. She cared about the villagers—their well-being, their livelihoods, and their future successes.

He would not be the cause of destroying everything she held dear.

“Pippa!” From the pelting snow, he spotted a green coat—the same one the coachman had described to him. He pushed his horse harder, faster through the growing, drifting snow to the glimpse of material.

Panic took a firm hold of him, returning warmth to his numb fingers.

Lucas flew from his horse, his feet hitting the ground at a run to get to her, to assure himself he wasn't seeing things that weren't there. He held the lamp a safe distance away as he wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her to her feet, against him—the snow that had started to cover her clinging to her coat, refusing to let go of her.

“Lucas?” Her words were nothing more than a whisper, pushed through teeth chattering from the cold. “It…cannot…be. You…are with…Natalie.”

“Shhhh,” he coaxed. “I am here, where I should have been all along.”

“But…how…did you…find me?” Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt the wetness from her clothes soak into his. “I am…so…cold.”

Without another thought, Lucas released the lamp and scooped Pippa into his arms. She would not be able to make it to her carriage on foot.

Lucas glanced around to gain his bearings and sense of direction before he headed toward the waiting carriage. He'd only ridden up and down the one street, but he couldn't remember how many times he'd reached the end and turned around to travel the road again in search of her.

He needed to get her to a warm, dry spot—to banish the cold that had set in. He could not see her face clearly, but he suspected her lips were blue, and her fingertips frozen solid.

Pippa had been found, and it was up to Lucas to save her—and himself.

Settling on a direction, Lucas started off. His steps were solid and sure as he moved through the snowdrifts in search of the carriage, his horse's steps followed closely behind him.

They had to find the carriage—there was no other option.

As Lucas continued on, he saw no signs of shelter. The buildings had disappeared behind the falling snow, obscured from view.

“We are almost there,” he reassured her. Pippa's body shook with the cold as she absorbed the little heat his body gave off. “It is right ahead.”

Lucas saw nothing but never-ending white before him. But he would not feed into her fear by admitting the storm's void was swallowing them whole.

He would push on, carry her the entire way to her family estate if necessary to save her.

Out of nowhere, an arm shot from his left and grabbed his elbow, pulling him sideways until the remaining lamps hanging from the carriage came into view.

“M'lady be unharmed?” the coachman questioned as he threw a blanket around Lucas's shoulders and pulled the carriage door open, pushing them inside. At Lucas's nod, he slammed the carriage door. “We be home before ye know it.”

The carriage dipped as the driver climbed to his seat, preparing to carry them all to safety.

Lucas kneeled on the floor of the carriage and settled Pippa on the seat before him. Her eyes were closed, and her body still trembled from the cold. He removed the blanket from his shoulders and laid it across her, rubbing her arms and legs through the material to warm them.

She was still too cold, and Lucas dreaded that she would not wake, no matter how long he worked to return her warmth.

“
L
ucas
?” Pippa's eyes fluttered open, straining to focus. She was in her carriage, but she had no idea how she'd gotten there or where Lucas had come from. “You are here.”

“I am,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I am here, and I will get you home.”

“You should be with your family,” Pippa muttered through her chattering teeth. “…and Lady Natalie.”

Lucas shook his head at her words. “No, Pippa. My place was never with my parents or Lady Natalie.”

His words confused her, but she'd promised her mother not long ago that she'd listen. He'd left earlier with them to attend Natalie's family's Christmastide celebration. They were betrothed to one another. He should be there, with his intended, not saving Pippa from her foolhardy errands.

It wasn't right, and it certainly wasn't proper.

“You must return to your family,” Pippa chastised him.

“You are the closest thing to family I have left,” he confided, confusing her all the more.

While her mind was still hazy, Pippa sensed that she could ask him anything, and if she waited, the moment would pass, and he'd lock his darkness deep inside once more—ending Pippa's chance to dispel it for good. It could be the extreme cold that had her thinking such insane thoughts, but she would not allow the opportunity to slip by.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Your parents are here in Somerset and wanting you close. I am sure of it.” Much like her own parents were surely worried that she hadn't returned home before the storm settled once more.

Darkness clouded his eyes, and Pippa knew she'd asked the right question. It was the question he'd wanted someone to ask him for many years. He opened his mouth to speak but clamped his lips shut once more, forbidding the words to escape.

“Lucas, what do you mean?” Pippa's voice was no longer strained or exiting on a stammer as the warmth of the carriage reached through her damp dress. “I am here, and I am listening.”

She saw the resistance flee, and his secrets began to flow forth.

Pippa could do nothing but listen as Lucas told of his brother's heartbreaking death and Lucas's accountability for the tragedy. She gasped when he shared how Randolph's cold, lifeless body had been found by the creek where Lucas had banished imaginary pirates during his long night out. She squeezed his hands when he confessed the alienation and continued dismissal by his parents since that day.

A new path—a far more preferable course—cleared for Pippa as her mother's words sprang to mind, so muddled and unclear before now making more sense than anything she'd heard before.

Her heart shattered into more pieces than her cherished angel collection.

He kept talking until Pippa wasn't sure she could handle any more of his pain. But she allowed him to continue, absorbing his hurt and anguish. The carriage swayed gently in the storm.

“I could not lose you, too,” he muttered over and over, his shoulders shaking as he allowed his guard to completely fall—and his tears to flow unrestrained.

“You have not lost me,” Pippa confessed, pushing to sit on the seat and facing him where he kneeled before her. Reluctantly, he allowed her to move, the blanket falling to her lap. “Look at me, Lucas.”

Pippa's hands rose to cradle his face, and she stared into his eyes as the darkness faded. It did not recede as before to be hidden deep. No, Pippa felt, more than saw, the tenseness and tightness leave Lucas, his demons seeping from his body to leave behind only the light Pippa knew was obscured below the surface.

“I do not know how it happened or when,” he spoke again. “But, Lady Pippa Godfrey, I am in love with you. I know this sounds impossible since we've been acquainted such a short time, but I cannot envision my life without you. You've returned a part of my soul I'd feared was gone forever.”

Pippa continued to hold his face a mere two inches from hers and listened.

“I know I deceived you. I was not fully honest with you about…” he paused, drawing in a deep breath, “…anything, really. But that part of me is done. I love you…I am in love with you. Your compassionate, caring, smart, witty nature makes me want to be a better man, a man worthy of you.”

She contemplated allowing him to go on, but could not take the growing desperation in his voice.

Pippa leaned in, closing the space between their lips, and kissed him, silencing his words.

She had so much to tell him but resigned herself to allow their kiss to convey her feelings, her needs, and her desires. Their kiss deepened as Lucas's tongue explored her mouth.

Wrapping his arm around her, Lucas shifted to sit on the opposite seat, bringing Pippa with him and settling her on his lap. As he moved her legs to straddle his hips, their lips parted.

“Pippa?” The question in his single word was clear.

“I love you, too,” she confessed. “I think I've known since you walked through my front door—all furious and drenched. Long before our kiss.”

His brow pulled tight, and Pippa laughed. Any remaining chill left her body as the heat from Lucas took hold.

“We kissed,” she said again, but it did not seem to clarify anything for him. “Do you not think this means something?”

“I do not know what that signifies,” he said, settling his hands on her hips and placing a kiss just below her ear. “But I am happy that something was working in our favor all this time.”

“A Christmas kiss certainly means something…does it not? One does not kiss someone they have no designs on.” She leaned into him, allowing him to place a trail of kisses down her neck.

“If it were my choice, we'd be wed before
this
Christmastide, my lady,” Lucas said, pulling back.

Pippa moaned, immediately missing the warmth of his lips on her. “Truly? It is I you want and not Lady Natalie?”

“I had never set eyes on the lady before today,” he said, giving in and placing his lips to her neck once more. “It is you I want—you I need.”

“I am yours, Lucas.”

The sway of the carriage ceased, and Pippa knew they'd arrived at her home. She feared the connection between them would also stop, but Lucas did not release her, even after the coachman had opened the door and cleared his throat to gain their attention—and bring to their notice the improper nature of their position.

“I haven't a ring, nor am I asking in the proper way. But, Lady Pippa,” he said, staring into her eyes, his longing shining through. “Will you marry me and return the beat of my heart?”

“After all you've shared—your past and the secrets that kept you from being yourself—there is nothing I want more than to be your wife.” After all Lucas had lived through, all of his misguided guilt and anguish over his brother's death, and the ability of two parents to completely neglect their remaining son so completely that he'd blamed himself for nearly two decades, he'd survived—banished his darkness to live in the light with her.

“I only have one last question.”

Pippa's back stiffened at his words. “What is it?”

“Do you think your mother will accept my help in the kitchen?” he asked. “We have a feast to prepare.”

Pippa laughed, shaking off the last of the cold from her time outside. “I think she will love to have you with us for Christmastide…just as much as I.”

She leaned in once more and pressed her lips to his, unsure when they'd have another opportunity for a moment of privacy.

“Shall we?” he asked, lifting her from his lap and stepping down from the carriage. She took his proffered hand and stepped onto the snow-covered drive.

She nodded, taking in the look of her family land—a thickening layer of snow concealed the ground for as far as she could see. The limbs of the trees separating her land from Lady Natalie's were heavy with fresh white powder.

Nothing was as she'd expected—but her Christmastide promised to be the most perfect holiday yet.