A Midwinter Fantasy (23 page)

They arrived a few minutes later, Mace letting the group in through the front door. Lily rose to her feet but stayed by her warm fire, letting them get organized rather than going out and risking a cold draft. She truly felt them more than ever. Given her breathlessness from just standing, she suspected that Mace might have found a new master just in time, though she had serious misgivings about the woman’s claim.

Then the group was in the kitchen, and Lily frowned down at a contrite Jayden before turning her attention on the newcomers. The young man looked as though he hadn’t had a bath in years—a condition she’d see remedied before she’d let him sit in any of her chairs—and the woman . . . She was beautiful, though battlers didn’t care about beauty, and she was old enough for Mace’s story to be true, though that would mean she’d been very young indeed when she was with him. He’d been a suit of armour at that point, Lily
reminded herself with a hint of amusement. A bit catty of her, she supposed, but this woman was proposing to replace her in Mace’s bed, even if it was a place she didn’t want to be anymore.

She nodded to the woman. “Welcome to my home,” she said.

“Thank y-you,” Sally stammered, looking nervous.

Lily turned to her battle sylph then, putting her hand to his cheek and gazing up at him. He was in pain, but there was patience in his need. He could wait, as he always did—and there were other things going on here that Lily felt couldn’t.

“Dear one,” she said, “please take these two boys to the barn and scrub them clean.”

“It’s very cold,” he pointed out.

“Then you should hurry.”

He ushered them out. Travish looked uncertain, and Jayden was already whining. The dog Mace had taken as an anchor followed, pressing up against Jayden and wagging her tail happily. The boy had his hand shoved deep in her ruff, and she looked as devoted as any dog had ever been to a boy who would play with her.

Lily watched them go and turned to Sally.

“I think I need a bath too,” the woman admitted.

“In a bit, dear. When the boys are done.” Lily eyed her sternly. “I wanted to ask why you lied to Mace. I will not hand my battler over to a woman willing to lie to him, let me be clear about that.”

She stiffened. “I never lied to him!”

Lily sniffed and turned to the stove to get two mugs of tea. “Battle sylphs can’t get human women with child, dear.” She gathered the mugs and turned, seeing Sally at the table with tears in her eyes.

“I never went to another man,” she said.

Lily set the mug down in front of her, realizing what wasn’t being said. “What does that have to do with it, when the man forces the issue?”

Sally looked away, weeping. “I . . . The night after Mace . . . I went to the barn to remember. I’d never gone out at night before, but I missed him. There was a man there, a drover from a passing merchant train and . . . he . . .” The tears fell, a secret Lily knew she’d been carrying a long time now coming out so that she could stay with the being she loved. “He was drunk. He held me down and . . .” She couldn’t finish.

After a moment, she said, “After he passed out . . . I took one of the lanterns . . . The straw was so dry, it burned so fast. They all thought it was an accident, and I never . . . I never said . . .”

Lily leaned down and hugged the younger woman. “It’s all right, dear. You don’t have to say any more.” This was a dangerous woman indeed, she thought. How perfect for Mace.

“Mace
is
Travish’s father,” Sally said fiercely, hugging her back.

“The best families are always found, dear,” Lily allowed.

Mace appeared in the doorway, having sensed their strong emotions. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Lily straightened. “Nothing, dear. I was just telling Sally that I think she would make a wonderful master for you.”

Mace glanced between them, not sure he entirely believed that, based on what he’d just felt, but both women were staring at him, Lily impassively and Sally wiping her face. Was it really worth knowing? he wondered, and decided it wasn’t. He had the two women he loved, and their spirits were brightening even as he watched them. His doubts about this meeting left him. Lily approved, even if there was a little secret smile on her lips. Lily had always had her secrets.

“The boys are nearly done,” he said at last. They might
not pass Lily’s inspection, but at least they didn’t reek anymore.

Lily nodded. “Good. Find them some clean clothes from the press, dear.” She looked down at Sally. “I have a dress that will fit you once you’ve bathed. I haven’t enough food for all of you, so I thought that we could go and enjoy the town feast. It should already have started.” She looked at Mace. “And the healer sylph will be there for
you
.”

Mace watched Sally wipe away the last of her tears, all the tension going out of her. She was going to be accepted here, and she realized it. “But I didn’t bring any presents to give,” she suddenly worried. “That’s always a big thing in Falloweld.”

“You brought a gift,” Mace assured her. “Yourself and our son.”

Sally smiled at him.

When Lily regarded him with bemusement, he told her, “And you gave me a gift as well—sending me after Jayden.”

“Indeed,” she said. “And what gift do you bring?”

“Mace is a gift,” Sally told her.

“Of course,” Lily agreed. “For as long as I’ve known him, he always has been.”

Helen Scott Taylor

To Mum and Dad for all the wonderful
Christmases you gave me
.

~Helen Scott Taylor

Sonja’s neck prickled as she approached the grand entrance to the hotel at Santa’s Magical Wonderland in Iceland and halted beneath a banner that read:
LIVE YOUR DREAMS THIS CHRISTMAS.
Against a backdrop of snow-cloaked wooden lodges, shuttle carts shaped like white cats zipped along carrying smiling moms and dads with giggling kids. A cacophony of Christmas tunes blasted from the rides in the nearby theme park, lending the whole scene a manic out-of-this-world feel, as if a cartoon had come to life.

Her instincts were usually accurate, but Sonja couldn’t spot anyone watching her—apart from two scruffy, black birds perched on a wire above the road. She squinted at them, a sense of unease wriggling up her spine. Perhaps she just felt guilty for coming here without telling her aunt.

Rubbing her neck, she walked under the impressive ice-palace facade of the Magical Wonderland hotel and into the foyer. A familiar sense of isolation closed around her as she threaded her way between the happy family groups. Twin girls dashed past, holding a younger boy firmly by the hand, and she paused to watch them catch up with their mother and have a group cuddle. When she was younger she’d longed for a brother or sister, although she’d have been satisfied with just a mother or father.

With a sigh, she ignored the people and concentrated on assessing the place with a travel professional’s eye. Despite
the crowds, the hotel had a welcoming ambience. A huge Christmas tree hung with shiny decorations reached to the top of the glass-domed atrium, while the ice-palace theme gave the place a sense of fantasy.

The resort staff wore green velvet outfits trimmed with white fur. A receptionist wearing the name badge
FRIDA
looked up and smiled as Sonja approached the desk.

“May I help you, madam?”

“I have an appointment with Vidar.” Using the managing director’s first name made Sonja cringe, but she’d been told this was how people addressed each other in Iceland because they didn’t have normal surnames.

Frida’s gaze sharpened with interest before she checked her computer screen. “You are Sonja?”

At her nod, the woman extended a hand, indicating she should come around the end of the reception desk to a door marked
PRIVATE.
On impulse, Sonja grabbed a red and white button with the slogan
LIVE YOUR DREAMS THIS CHRISTMAS
as she passed a display of resort freebies and dropped it in her pocket. She’d collected buttons when she was a little girl and still kept up the habit. Perhaps it would bring her luck when she met Vidar. Frida punched in a security number and held open the door.

They entered a plushly carpeted hall. The door closing behind them shut off all noise, leaving a sudden silence. Another woman dressed in uniform admitted Sonja when she reached the other end of the corridor. She gestured her toward some leather chairs arranged around a low glass table.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Sonja?”

“Oh, no thanks.” Her stomach did nervous somersaults. She closed her eyes and opened her mind to the loving presence of the spiritual being she thought of as her guardian
angel, who always soothed her mind when she was upset or nervous. His quiet strength filled her, steadying her nerves. When she was a little girl, she’d assumed everyone had a spirit to comfort them until her aunt threatened to put her button collection in the trash if she ever told anyone.

Silently she rehearsed her pitch to secure a room allocation at deep discount for her aunt’s travel company, Destination Heaven. If she secured this plum deal, her aunt would have to admit she was ready to handle the foreign destinations. She wished she’d had time to work up marketing plans to show Vidar, but his letter inviting her aunt Una to a meeting had only arrived yesterday.

A buzzer sounded. The second woman ushered Sonja toward a set of double doors. “Vidar will see you now.”

Sonja’s heart jigged. Her fingers touched the button in her pocket. “May my dreams come true,” she whispered. She swallowed a few times and cleared her throat.

She breezed through the door, trying to imitate Una’s confidence. One look at the man who rose from his chair to greet her and her step faltered. Vidar stood tall, his powerful physique showcased by a dark suit. His shaggy black hair gleamed under the office lights while stubble shadowed his lean, bronzed face. He obviously wasn’t a native Icelander. Her research indicated that he’d founded the resort in the late fifties, but that couldn’t be correct as he only looked to be in his midthirties.

He stepped out from behind his desk and extended a hand, his lustrous golden gaze devouring her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Sonja’s heart thumped as the firm warmth of his palm swallowed her hand.

“Sonja.”

He spoke her name in a thick velvet whisper, as if it were
sacred. The seductive foreign lilt of his voice zinged along her nerves. She had the weird feeling that she knew his voice, knew
him
. Even though she’d never seen his face before.

“Hello, Vidar, thank you for meeting with me.”

For long moments he scrutinized her. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from his compelling golden brown eyes.

“Where’s Una?”

His question broke the spell, and she dropped her gaze to the white cat-shaped pin in his tie. Did he know her aunt, or had he used her aunt’s Christian name because of Icelandic convention? Sonja tried to pull back her hand, but his grip tightened.

“She’s taking a martial arts course in South America. I thought your letter sounded too good an opportunity to delay the meeting until she returned.” Sonja winced at her overly eager response. She might as well get down on her knees and beg for his business.

“Hmm.” Even his murmur had a husky foreign tone that echoed through her, raising goose bumps on her arms.

“I have my aunt’s permission to negotiate a deal on her behalf.” It was a little white lie but the only way she’d ever get a chance to prove herself.

Finally, he released her hand. He waited for her to be seated in the leather guest chair before he dropped back into his seat on the other side of the desk. With a brooding look, he ran the side of his hand over his lips.

“What has Una told you about our customs?”

“My aunt’s told me a little about Iceland.” A lie, but he wasn’t to know. Her aunt flatly refused to tell her anything about the country of her birth or her parents.

Vidar stared at her some more and shook his head to himself. “You’re the spitting image of your father.” He gestured toward her. “Exactly the same blonde hair and blue eyes.”