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Her stepmother had locked her in an attic prison this evening. She’d come close to tumbling from the uppermost window of a duke’s massive castle and lost one of the only pair of shoes she owned. Her right foot was wet and her left foot numb and her hems were soaked, yet despite all this, another laugh followed the first, a burst of giddy joy.

Gabriel had been rummaging about at the sideboard, but he turned to her, his lips curved in a soft smile. “You have a lovely laugh, Stella. I look forward to hearing it more often.”

Stella pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, her heart leaping at the softness in his eyes and her head swimming with the scent of currants and spices.

“And an even lovelier blush.” Gabriel joined her at the table, setting a plate with a thick slice of Christmas pudding beside a small pitcher of clotted cream. He handed her one of the two forks balanced on the edge of the plate. “Here you are.”

The fork slid easily through the dense cake, revealing a wealth of currants and almonds, just the way she liked it best. A proper Christmas pudding must have lots of goodies hidden inside. Christmas was no time to skimp.

She scooped the generous bite onto her fork, closing her eyes with a groan as the rich flavors melted on her tongue. “My goodness, this is lovely! I’ve never tasted a nicer Christmas pudding.”

“There’s one other thing.” He rested his fork on the edge of the plate, reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and plucked something out. “I believe this is yours?”

“My shoe! I never thought I’d see it again. Wherever did you find it?”

“Buried under a bit of shrubbery.” He dropped to one knee. “May I?”

“Yes, please.” Tears rushed to Stella’s eyes as he slid her poor, battered shoe onto her foot.

One floor above them, the grandfather clock chimed the midnight hour.

“Look at that.” His gaze met hers, his green eyes shining with love. “It’s a perfect fit.”

Epilogue

Hawthorne Castle

One year later

“It’s nearly three o’clock, Gabriel! What could be keeping them?” Stella braced her hands on the windowsill and peered down into the empty drive below. “It will be dark soon. Do you think the weather has delayed them? There was snow in Dumfries last night. What if they—”

“Patience, my love.” A pair of warm, solid arms wrapped around her waist. “I think,” Gabriel murmured against her ear, “that you should cease fretting. Beatrice wrote that they likely wouldn’t arrive until dusk, didn’t she?”

“She did.” She melted against him, a shiver of pleasure skipping down her spine at the brush of his lips over her ear and the fresh scent of cedar that enveloped him. Had there ever been a gentleman who smelled as divine as her husband? “I can’t wait another moment to see her! It’s only been six months since their wedding, but it feels as if an age has passed since we saw them last.”

What an eventful year it had been!

If anyone had told her she would become a duchess this year, she would have thought them mad. After two long years at Phillippa’s mercy she’d nearly given up on ever knowing happiness again, but now here she was, the Duchess of Hawthorne, wed to the kindest and most handsome duke in all of Scotland, and every day was more delightful than the one before it.

Goodness, life was a funny thing, was it not? It was filled with twists and turns, disappointments and triumphs, and—when one was tremendously lucky—a love that illuminated every corner of one’s heart.

“I’m anxious to see Rowan, myself. Did you notice Lady Bruce frowning at my cravat at church yesterday?” Gabriel chuckled, the deep rumble in his chest vibrating against her back. “Gordon does his best, but he doesn’t have Rowan’s sartorial flair, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, bother Lady Bruce! You’re the handsomest gentleman in all of Dumfriesshire, and that remains true whether or not your Gordian knot is perfectly tied.”

He chuckled again, his arms tightening around her. “Thank you, Your Grace, but methinks you’re too partial to be trusted.”

“Nonsense. I’m as judicious as any lady who’s madly in love with her husband.”

“So you are.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s strange how much can change in so short a time, isn’t it? I stood at this same window at this time just last year, watching in horror as the guests arrived for my Christmas house party.”

“Horror? Didn’t you want to have a Christmas party?”

“God, no. Rowan talked me into it. He was worried I would end up a lonely old recluse rambling about inside this enormous castle, so he set out to find me a duchess, and I must say he did an outstanding job of it.”

“And he found himself his own wife in the process. How wonderfully clever of him.”

“Yes, well, Rowan’s always been terribly efficient.”