Read Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas Online
Authors: Andrea Pickens
Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas (14 page)
She expelled a soft sigh. “I know you still think of me as a nuisance, if
not a spoiled brat, but I am hoping that, in the spirit of Christmas, we might part as. . . friends.”
“It
has been quite some time since I have thought of you as a brat,” he replied slowly, tightening his arms ever so slightly and drawing her closer to his chest.
The subtle fragrance of fresh lavender, mingled with a hint of orange, was even more intoxicating than the sparkling wine. And so was the heady notion that her opinion of him was not entirely negative.
For an instant, he feared his own feet might slip out from under him. But then again, be thought with a rueful grimace, he had already fallen hard for the young lady. However, cold reason quickly reasserted itself, and he reminded himself that only a lovesick fool would think her words were anything more than a casual compliment.
To a friend.
Forcing his features to remain impassive, he went on in a measured voice. “Indeed, you have been all that is kind and thoughtful in regard to Anne, not to speak of all your tireless labors. I am most grateful.” Realizing he was standing still as a statue, Noel forced himself to continue up the stairs. “It
would be most churlish of me to refuse your generous offer, so by all means, let us take our leave on a cordial note.”
“Cordial. Yes. I see.” She blinked, the fringe of her lashes hiding her eyes. “No doubt you will be engaged in some task when Charles comes around with the carriage tomorrow, so perhaps we should say our good-byes now.”
Noel wished he could see her expression, but her gaze had dropped to the treads.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Kirtland,” went on Emma as he reached the landing. “You have been most patient in hosting an unexpected visitor.”
They approached the door of her bedchamber. After an awkward pause, Noel set her on her feet and stepped back.
“Rather it is I who owe you thanks, for you have brought a good deal of cheer to this place with your presence, Lady Emma,” he replied in a voice that he forced to remain neutral. Resisting the urge to gather her once again in his arms and kiss her witless, he took her hand and grazed his lips lightly over her fingers. “May you have a very Merry Christmas.”
“And you, sir.” Emma reached for the latch, but the door suddenly yanked open and a small, drowsy face peeked out from behind the polished pine.
“Oh, you’ve come at last!”
“Toby!” cried both of them in unison.
“Imp, what sort of mischief is this?” added Noel.
“It
is way past your bedtime and your mother—” began Emma.
“But she said I might wait up for my kiss!” The boy pointed at a sprig of green that hung by a slender ribbon from the top of the door molding. “Mama and Mr. Harkness gathered a great bunch of those funny-looking toes on their walk this afternoon. They said that it makes people who stand under it kiss each other.”
He giggled. “Mama said I might have a piece of my own to hang where I wanted, and Lord Lawrance helped me with the hammer and nail. I put it over Emma’s door so that she would have to give me a special good-night kiss before she enters.”
“And you shall have it.” She bent down and hugged him close, then planted a kiss on each cheek.
“Sweet dreams, lambkin.”
Until that moment, Noel would never have believed it possible for a seasoned officer to be jealous of a five-year-old.
“Now, off to bed with you, young man, lest you fall asleep on your feet,” ordered Emma, giving Toby a last squeeze
before directing him toward his room. After watching the little boy disappear around the corner, she started to rise, but her ankle buckled slightly, causing her to take a sharp intake of breath.
Noel was at her side in an instant, his arms slipping around her waist to steady her progress as he lifted her up.
“Have you reinjured yourself?” he asked in concern.
Emma forced a wan smile. “No, no. It was just a momentary twinge.”
“Are you sure?” As Noel looked searchingly at her face, he couldn’t help but note an elongated shadow shading her cheek. Somehow the two of them had come to be standing directly under the suspended mistletoe, and the silhouette of its delicate leaves and berries flickered across her alabaster skin.
He leaned closer. “P-perhaps you should allow me to carry you the rest of the way.”
“Oh, that is not really necessary, sir. As I have said, I have been burden enough on you.”
Her mouth, just inches from his, gave an odd little quirk.
For once in his life he decided to throw all caution to the wind. If a five-year-old could so easily request a kiss from the lady of his affections, then surely an experienced officer should be able to muster the courage to do the same.
After all, if he had not enough spirit to take the chance of declaring himself, then he deserved to have her walk out of his life without a backward glance.
His lips came down upon hers with a gossamer touch.
For an instant he feared she was about to use her good foot to boot him head over heels back down the stairs. But then, with a muffled sigh, she tilted her head back and allowed her mouth to soften under his.
The kiss ended all too quickly for his liking, as Emma drew back in some confusion.
“B-but, sir, you don’t even like me! You think me. . . a. . .a. . .”
“A sweet angel,” he finished. “One who has touched all of us with your warmhearted spirit. But most of all me.”
Her lashes lowered. “Y-You are just being gentlemanly.”
“If I were a true gentleman, my dear Emma,” murmured Noel, “I should not be doing this.” He kissed her lightly, first one cheek, then the other, then full on the mouth, where his lips lingered for a lengthy interval.
“But I can no longer keep my true feelings hidden away and risk having you walk—or hobble—out of my life. Do you think you might come to feel some regard for a grim-faced country farmer, with no Town polish?”
Emma placed her hands on his shoulders and drew him into another embrace.
It was some minutes later before he recovered his equilibrium.
“You realize, my love, that I have only a modest inheritance and this small manor to offer you?” he added.
“I am well aware of what you have to offer, Lord Kirtland. And it is infinitely more precious than any of the things of which you speak.”
“Still, I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that it will be rather crowded here, compared to what you are used to,” he continued. “Anne and Toby do have a home here as well.”
A twinkle came to her eye. “Their company will always be most welcome, but judging from how Edgar behaved while helping your sister hang the mistletoe in the front hall, I have a feeling they may be well on the way to having a home of their own again.”
Noel grinned. “Why, that would be splendid news indeed. He seems a very fine fellow.”
“Very fine,” agreed Emma. “There is, of course, no need to mention to either of them that they neglected to shut the door while engaged in their efforts.” She brushed back a shock of dark hair from his forehead. “I trust you aren’t going to suggest any other drawbacks, else I might start to think you are trying to drive me away.”
He hoped the ardor of the embrace that followed put to rest such a ridiculous notion.
“Good Lord, no,” he said softly as his lips reluctantly raised from hers. “I just want you to be sure you don’t mind that I can’t offer you fancy gowns or glittering jewels for Christmas. Only my love.”
“That, my dearest Noel, is the most wondrous gift I have ever received.”
* * *
“
W
ell
? What’s happening?”
Edgar edged a little farther around the corner of the house and craned his neck so that he might see up to the dimly lit window. “Nothing. . . no, wait! He is. . . bending toward her.”
“Thank goodness!” sighed Anne, her breath turning into puffs of white in the chill night air. “I thought he would never admit, even to himself, that his heart was engaged.”
“Now what?” asked Charles with some urgency.
“I can’t quite make out. . . Or is she?. . . Yes!” exclaimed Edgar. “She is kissing him back!”
“That’s the spirit, Emma,” murmured Charles. “Always knew that despite your penchant for taking occasional tumbles, your innate good sense would prevail.”
He pulled a fresh bottle of champagne from inside his coat and popped the cork. “Now we truly have something to celebrate.” After a prolonged swallow, he passed it to Edgar.
“To friends and family, old and new!” said Edgar, giving a wink in Anne’s direction as he took a generous nip and handed the spirits back to Charles.
She repressed a laugh on watching the two of them become increasingly unsteady on their feet.
“Well, well. It appears that it’s going to be a very merry Christmas indeed!”
T
hank
you for reading
Christmas By Candlelight
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T
he Dangerous Liaisons
Series
T
he Lessons
In Love Series
T
he Scandalous Secrets
Series
T
he Intrepid Heroines
Series
I
began
my writing career at age five with a number of lavishly illustrated Westerns, which were lovingly preserved for posterity by my first fan (Thanks, Mom!)
I have since moved on to writing about Regency England, (clearly I have a thing for Men in Boots!) an era that has fascinated me ever since I picked up a copy of Jane Austen’s
Pride And Prejudice
.
I have a BA and an MFA in Graphic Design from Yale University, where I studied book design (As you see, I’ve always had a left brain-right brain love affair with art and the printed word.) These days, when I’m not tethered to my keyboard I enjoy traveling to interesting destinations around the world—however, my favorite spot is London, where the esoteric museums, funky antique markets and used book stores offer a wealth of inspiration for my stories.
p.s. I also write I write Regency-set historical mysteries under the pen name
Andrea Penrose
.) And I write Regency-set historical romances, which are sexier than these traditional Regencies, under the pen name
Cara Elliott
.
