The groom expertly guided the sturdy pony along the path that wound along the river, stopping occasionally so that they could assess occasional clearings where the river might be accessed with enough open space for a roaring bonfire to warm the skaters.
If the current cold continued, Hugh wondered just how many of Rummy’s dignified holiday house party guests would be brave enough to not only venture forth, but lash on skates and glide along the river. He loved to skate and had haunted the river banks in the winter as a boy. He had no idea if Lucy had ever skated, let alone whether or not she wanted to try.
It was hard to be heard above the rushing wind and the jingle of the horse’s harness, so he tapped Lucy’s arm beneath the blankets to get her attention. When she looked toward him, his heart nearly broke at the look of joy on her face. He put both of his hands above the blankets and rubbed them together to signal a question. Did she want him to warm her hands through her gloves?
Her glowing smile was the only encouragement he needed. Once he had both of her hands covered with his, he forgot all about the riverbank, or why he was there. The groom finally pulled up to a likely looking clearing. While a second groom managed the horse, the first servant tramped around the open space and then sent a questioning gaze toward Hugh. When he nodded, the man pulled out several long ribbons from inside his jacket and proceeded to tie them around the branches of several nearby trees. He then tested the ice near the shore with an exploratory poke of his boot, followed by a long slide out a ways toward the center of the river where he stamped around a bit, testing the strength and thickness of the ice covering. Seemingsatisfied with what he’d found, he took a long, running slide back toward the bank.
The two grooms clambered onto the sleigh and turned in a wide arc back toward the Abbey. Hugh never broke his contact with Lucy’s hands.
“Shouldn’t we have gotten out of the sleigh and inspected the clearing?” Lucy frowned a bit.
“Did you really want to leave your nest beneath the blankets and abandon my warm hands?”
“Of course not.” The blazing glow of her smile returned.
Hugh delved deeper beneath the blankets and put one of his arms around Lucy, while keeping his other hand clasped around hers all the way back to the Abbey.
He finally accepted what he’d known for some time. He was doomed to care for women whose hearts belonged to other men.
5
CHRISTMAS EVE
MONTCLIFFE ABBEY
Essex, England
Duncan spied the perfect Yule log in the guise of an old-growth beech tree that had been felled no doubt in one of the early-season, wind driven blizzards that year. He’d actually seen two or three others over the course of the several hours they’d been scouring the countryside. But by tacit agreement with the groom and footmen, they’d said nothing and kept looking. All the better for Duncan to spend a few more hours keeping Grace warm.
He tapped the driver’s back, and when he pulled up the team of horses, Duncan pointed out the location of the huge tree resting among three others that had resisted the fierce storms. Next to him, he could almost feel the relief escape with Grace’s sigh.
“Thank the heavens we finally found a log thick enough to burn through the twelve days of Christmas.” Grace pulled her woolen bonnet tighter over her silver-streaked black curls and snuggled farther down into the pile of blankets they’d been sheltering under all afternoon.
Duncan’s fingers itched with the need to hold her to keep her warm, but he was terrified to move close enough to touch the woman for fear of giving offense. He knew she was determined to pair him off with her niece, but he wished she could see what was plainly in front of her. The two of them fit together like two rabbits burrowed into the tastiest end of a garden.
Instead, he carefully re-arranged the blankets around Grace while he stepped out of the sleigh to help the other men with the two-sided saws they’d brought to cut a heroic-sized section of the tree trunk for their Yule tradition. At the last minute he inquired, “Will you be warm enough whilst we wrest this old king of the woodland back to the sleigh?”
Grace stared at him for a long moment before finally extending one of her woolen mitten-covered hands to place it over his. “Bless you, Major MacKenzie, for doing this great service for Viscount Rumsford and his guests.”
Duncan so wanted to protest that he was indeed pleased to help, but he was helping out mostly to earn her affections. He wisely refrained from blurting out the truth bubbling up in his heart but in the end simply gave her hand a lingering squeeze.
When he joined the others, he was pleased to see one of the footmen had also located a large supply of mistletoe climbing throughout the surrounding trees. “Good man,” he said. “Can’t have too much of this around to celebrate the season.” He gave the younger man a slow wink.
Grace was struckby something she’d rarely faced during her long career as governess, teacher, and headmistress. She was failing. And she was failing in the worst way. She’d thought Lucy would abandon her mad scheme to marry their landlord whenshe got to know Major MacKenzie better. Well, they all knew the major better now, but Grace had ended up being the one to know him best.
She knew, for instance, that his favorite dessert was strawberry trifle in the spring, and he missed his regiment when he was away on half pay, and she knew even better the way he’d squint a wee bit when he was trying to hear what was being said, but didn’t quite understand the entire conversation.
Worst of all? She knew how the warmth of his body felt beneath all the blankets on the sleigh whilst she’d shamelessly pushed herself close to his heat earlier. She also suspected he reciprocated her shameful feelings. Whenever his hand had brushed against her, he’d lingered a bit too long, even after he’d apologized for accidentally touching her.
She’d touched his forearm at one point, under the pretense of being rocked against him by the movement of the sleigh along the snow-covered, uneven river bank. Now she knew the feel of the taut muscles beneath his shirt. And this was only the first day of the viscount’s holiday house party. How much better might she know the man after twelve more days? And twelve more nights?
Also, she’d spent too much time in the countryside as a governess to not have noticed all the suitable felled trees the major had encouraged the viscount’s servants to pass by. He’d wanted to spend more time with her. And she wasn’t sorry she’d had this day with him. She suspected she’d savor the memory long after the day was over. But she’d failed Lucy miserably and vowed to rectify the situation by staying as far away from the tempting Major MacKenzie as she possibly could for the rest of the holiday house party.
Lucy swepta hand across her forehead. She’d been working so hard with the viscount’s servants to make sure every bit of Montcliffe Abbey’s halls were covered with Christmas greenery that she was actually sweating despite how cold she’d been only that afternoon while searching for the perfect ice skating spot along the river.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see her aunt at the huge formal dining room table, constructing kissing ball after kissing ball with mistletoe and holly twined around a center of apples held together with small bits of wooden sticks. Once finished, she festooned each ball with yards of red and green ribbon so that no one would be able to miss their strategic placement throughout the Abbey.
Working alongside her was Sir James’ mother, the Dowager Duchess of Fitzroy, Maddie James, who served as the benevolent hostess for the holiday house party.
