She tilted his chin up until his gaze met hers.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “I love you.”
“Yes, you do. You saved my brother. You were hurt that night too and could have easily been killed. Tristan loves you. He fought four men to save you both. Now you have to live the rest of your life as his brother. Some might say that is punishment enough for your sins.”
“Don’t tease,” he bid.
Cassie kissed him. “I can’t help it. But I am here for you when you feel overwhelmed by this, just like you were there for me. I promise I will listen when you need to talk about it. Talking about Old Bill with you made it better. There isn’t a way to fix or erase what happened, but just having someone else who knows is enough. It was for me.”
“I really helped you?”
“Sometimes I still dream of him, but my dreams are different. You gave me that. I’ll walk past his grave and see him running in the field. I’d like to think…he’s telling me he is well.”
“I don’t know if I can ever feel ambivalent about that night. That’s all right too. I’m not asking you to forget, but please forgive yourself. You are not those four men. You are not the villain in this story. Even wounded yourself, you were able to save him.”
“Untie my hands,” he said.
“Why?”
“I need to hold you.”
Cassie grinned and loosened the rope. “You could have gotten out of this if you really wanted to.”
“I know, but part of me needed to be forced to sit and speak to you about this. Just don’t tell Calvin.”
“I won’t, but I can’t speak for the twins.”
Sidney cursed. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
He pulled Cassie into his lap, and they kissed, his arms coming around her, holding her tightly. Cassie hoped that he would find the same peace she did after confessing her fears. She prayed that her love would be enough to bury his guilt at last, so they could be free of his past and move forward together as one, as they were always meant to be.
Pounding on the stable door interrupted their kiss.
“Argh, ye be done yet?” Clara called. “Miss Grace says we can have hot chocolate if we go inside.”
Cassie and Sidney laughed as they broke the kiss.
Cassie smiled, her heart full. “I want two daughters just like them.”
He smiled. “Two daughters? What about sons?”
“We can have two of those too.”
“My house will never be quiet again.”
Cassie crawled off his lap. “Is that so terrible?”
“No. It sounds like heaven.”
About Dayna Quince
Dayna Quince was only fourteen when she developed a serious addiction to romance novels. Dayna and her husband live in Southern California with their two children and two fur babies. Dayna is happiest at home where she can be with her family and write to her heart’s content.
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A Scandal Before Christmas
by April Moran
For James
Always
Beneath a sprig of mistletoe
I found my love.
And stole from those lips
The beat of my heart.
Only to return it
A thousand times o’er.
A thousand wicked kisses
Just before Christmas
At the stroke of midnight.
Chapter 1
Just south of Stratford, England
December, 1840
Lady Lauren Georgianna Kendall considered returning to London as the coach trudged along.
But it had taken almost forty-eight hours to come this far, and she was close to her destination.
It was so cold. No, it was more than that. It was positively freezing, the wind cutting with such sharp bitterness, she wondered how anyone could stand it.
A loud snap of the reins reminded Lauren of the driver handling the coach in such foul weather. Sympathy flashed through her. She hoped his coat, and that of the horses, too, proved thick enough to withstand the biting wind.
Yesterday, it had taken only a few hours on the train to travel from London to the tiny town of Farringdon. The train’s passenger car was relatively luxurious, with emerald colored seats and brass lanterns. Lauren’s maid, Anne, sat with her while Ollie, Lord Kendall’s former manservant, traveled in a separate area along with other male servants. Anne practically bounced on the richly hued velvet, excited by her first train ride.
Debarking in Farringdon for the next leg of the trip, Lauren immediately hired this coach upon the train master’s recommendation. But the four-in-hand vehicle, jostling over the ruts and holes in the road, was certainly a reminder of more primitive travel. Snowdrifts impeded their progress, stretching the time it would normally take to reach Settleton Hall in Stratford. For the safety of the driver and the horses, they’d spent the previous night at a cozy inn along the way.
Turning back for London was not an option at this point. Viscount and Viscountess Settleton were expecting her, and besides, Mother would not allow her cousin’s invitation to be declined anyway. She insisted Lauren go, even if it meant going alone.
“I hope Lady Kendall is feeling better.” Anne snuggled under the carriage blanket, propping her boots beside Lauren’s on the tin can of coals keeping the coach’s interior on the edge of being warm. On the opposite seat, Ollie was fast asleep, wedged upright in the corner. The man would have ridden up top with the driver, but because he’d nearly frozen to death the day before, Lauren insisted he ride inside the coach today.
“Mrs. Townsend is taking excellent care of her,” Lauren replied. In fact, their housekeeper treated Lady Kendall as if she were the Queen herself.
Her mother was recuperating from a recent illness. She could not travel with the bitterly cold weather currently gripping England.
When Lauren said she would remain home and continue caring for her, Mother objected at once.
“No, you simply mustn’t miss it, Lauren,” her mother claimed in an almost panicked tone.
Lauren swallowed the lump of guilt rising in her throat. She’d spent a year mourning her father’s death. But when the opportunity presented itself, she readily escaped London. Did that make her a terrible daughter? The fact she was so eager to experience gaiety and laughter again? Even with her mother’s blessing, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.
Lauren’s jaw tightened. She could, and would, venture out into society. She was her own woman now, responsible for herself and her decisions. There was only one person to whom she would have answered, had matters progressed as planned.
Fisting the coach blanket in agitation, she told herself she would not think of “that day.”
But that was impossible.
The call had not been a pleasant one. Just a week following her father’s funeral, Lauren faced her betrothed. There, in the drawing room of her parents’ Mayfair home, she broke off her engagement with the man who had stolen her heart.