“Aren’t you worried the mice will get it?” she asked.
He tilted his head and forced a frown. “Miss Hughes, don’t tell me you still doubt that nisser are real.”
She raised her chin, affecting a haughty expression. “I would never dare to suggest such a thing.”
“Excellent.” His lips quirked. “Then let us move on to the attic.”
They returned inside the main house to the welcome warmth wafting from the fireplaces lit in every room and the cozy glow of candles. Victor headed to the stairs leading up under the roof. Before they went any farther, he grabbed an oil lamp to light their way.
“Watch your step,” he cautioned as Miss Hughes followed with the last bowl of porridge. Reaching out, he brushed aside a few low hanging cobwebs and climbed up into the space that had been a fairytale land for him and his brother as children.
“Goodness.” Miss Hughes stood beside him, peering at all the items that peeked back through the darkness when the oil–lamp’s light swept toward them. “This looks like a pirate’s lair.”
“It was my favorite place in the world as a boy.” He moved to the right. “Part of the fort Sven and I built is still intact. You can set the bowl right here.”
She crouched beside him, her shoulder bumping his, and placed the bowl on top of a box he’d once used as a table. “You still have books here. Drawing supplies too, it appears.”
Holding the lantern higher, he illuminated the papers she gathered between her hands and watched dust swirl through the air as she blew it away. Sketches, long forgotten, burst to the forefront of his mind. There was a cat that had long since passed away, the forest at sunset, an attempt at capturing his brother’s likeness and–
“What’s this?”
She’d picked up another piece of paper – a dust–free one that looked as though it had been used today. Victor brought the pencil–drawn image upon it into sharper focus and sucked in a breath while Miss Hughes gasped with as much surprise as he felt. How could this be? How could an image of them delivering porridge together already be drawn? And placed here for them to find of all things?
“There’s another,” she whispered and slid a new page into place on top of the other.
Victor stared at the image of him and Miss Hughes sharing a kiss. “I’ve no idea what to make of this. I swear to you, this isn’t my doing.”
“Perhaps it’s your household nisser at play?”
“But…” It was as good an explanation as any. “Are there any more?”
“Just one.” She showed it to him and his heart pounded harder. A sketch depicting them both with three children standing before them.
Miss Hughes set the drawings aside without a word, then placed her hand on his arm. “You said they can perform tricks, that they can even turn themselves invisible. Perhaps then, they can also predict the future?”
“I…” Victor made an attempt at rationalizing their find. Could it have been a maid, the butler, or even his brother? He himself had been behind his father’s wrapped ledgers.
“Forgive me.” Miss Hughes laughed and moved as though she intended to stand. “What a silly suggestion.”
He caught her hand and pulled her back to him. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”
“You don’t?” Her voice was soft, a bare whisper in the dim glow from the oil lamp.
“No.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, slid them around the nape of her neck, and drew her closer. A sigh filled the air between them before their lips met with the gentlest of ease. Nothing had ever felt more right than this kiss. It warmed Victor’s soul and expanded his heart with the magical joy of Christmas.
Whether nisser existed or not, he wasn’t sure, but he thanked fate for bringing him Eva, and as he wrapped his arms securely around her and deepened the kiss, she answered the unspoken question he asked. Yes, she felt as he did and yes, she looked forward to spending an endless series of Christmases with him. Whether in Denmark or England would be a decision left for another day. For now, they would simply savor the gift of love this particular season had brought them.
December 19
A Shocking Revelation for Christmas
There was nothing better, Edmond Bankroft mused, than enjoying a late night drink in the library with his best friend, Sam Hollander. The two had met at university nearly seven years ago where their thirst for knowledge, specifically in the field of medicine, had brought them together. While their fellow students went cavorting in the evenings, they’d helped each other prepare for the next lecture.
Edmond sipped his brandy and glanced at Sam. His friend had arrived a couple of days ago after much coercion on Edmond’s part. In all the time they’d known each other, Sam had never before spent the night in his home. In London, there’d been no reason to do so since he’d rented his own rooms on The Strand, but when it came to the unentailed Somerset manor Edmond inherited from his maternal grandfather, excuses always kept Sam away from the place Edmond so dearly wanted to share with him.
An internship at the Westminster Hospital had been used one year, the inability to request time off from his new position at St. George’s the next. Both were reasonable reasons, but then there had been a sickly aunt who’d materialized out of nowhere, followed by an article Sam suddenly had to write for some medical journal for which the deadline just happened to fall exactly after Christmas.
This time, however, Edmond had been more insistent than usual. Having recently learned of Sam’s new job offer at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, he knew it might be years before they had another chance to spend the holidays here – an opportunity for him to share his favorite place on earth with the person with whom he was closest. Unless this evening took the turn he hoped it would. In which case Edmond was ready to follow Sam to his new place of employment in a heartbeat.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, allowing his thoughts to be spoken aloud for Sam to hear.
Sam’s mouth curved, not with amusement exactly, but in a thoughtful sort of appreciative way that lit up his eyes. “Me too.”
Warmth surged within the confines of Edmond’s chest. He took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, and drank some more brandy. Lord help him he needed the drink, if only to calm his anxious emotions. Stomach tight with the desperation of a truth he hadn’t dared face until now, he struggled to find his courage.
He knew he gambled their friendship, but to keep on pretending he didn’t want more would be a lie. This realization had been difficult enough for him to come to grips with. He’d always fancied himself a great admirer of the female form. Men had never held any appeal. And yet, somehow, he’d fallen in love with Sam.
He’d no idea how the hell that had happened. It was beyond shocking, not to mention a bloody dilemma that had taken a great deal of time and brandy for him to get used to.
Reluctant to face the complications at first, he’d hastily locked the notion away inside a box he’d built in his brain. Only to have the thought escape and cause havoc until he’d accepted it for what it was – a truth he could not ignore.