A Christmas Bride (16 page)

Serenity started to walk in, but stopped when Timothy took her hand. He picked up a lamp from a nearby table and smiled as he said, “The corners are dark. I am sure you want to explore each one.”

“You know me well.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not as well as I would like.”

Slapping his arm lightly, she said, “You are a rogue, Timothy Crawford.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Being a rogue?”

He laughed. “Just the way you say ‘rogue' in such a teasing, admiring tone.”

“I do admire the way you have chosen the life you want, rather than the one the Polite World would think should be yours.” She started to add more, but simply stared as he held up the lamp to reveal gilt cherubs decorating the ceiling.

The golden paint outlined the intricate diamond pattern along the frescoes and walls. Each window glowed with the color running along the edges of the glass, as if sunlight had been captured within it. Flowers burst from vines of gold.

“This is like being in King Midas's garden,” Serenity whispered.

He chuckled. “Just what I used to imagine when I could sneak in here as a child while it was being rebuilt.”

“Was there a fire?”

“Yes. Only the stones of the fire pit in the center and the floor itself survived.” He laughed again. “I was so pleased that Grandfather did not rebuild it to be a dreary medieval behemoth, as it had been.”

She turned slowly to see as much as the lamplight allowed. “It's magical.” She smiled. “This whole afternoon has been magical.”

“Thanks to you.”

“'Twas Theodora who—”

“'Twas
you
. You gave her the chance to try. None of us thought she could achieve anything but dying young.”

“Timothy!”

“It is the truth, even though it is shameful to own to it. You have shown all of us—including Theodora—that we were wrong.”

Serenity paused by one of the arched windows, and Timothy did, too. She started to speak, faltered, then blurted, “Will you promise me something?”

“Whatever you wish.”

Whatever she wished? Did he truly want to hear how she wished this charade would go on forever, that she would be his beloved fiancée and mayhap one day his wife? Or would he really like to hear her say that she understood his obsession with building and inventing and solving problems that had betrayed him into making up the story of this betrothal?

She dampened her lips and watched his gaze follow the motion. Mayhap he would not be averse to the truth of what she wished, but she knew, as she lowered her eyes, that she could not speak it.

Instead she asked, “Will you promise me that you will take Theodora out to the pond this summer to see the ducklings?”

“Ducklings?” He shook himself as if he had been lost in a dream.

They both had—a dream of letting the lies become the truth—but nothing had changed. His grandfather was an earl, and hers was a forgotten memory.

“She has seen them only through the window,” Serenity said with a weak smile. “I know she would love to sit on the grass on a sunny afternoon and watch them.”

“I promise, Serenity, if you will make me a promise.” He set the lamp on a bench by the wall.

“Whatever you wish.”

Her hope that his eyes would twinkle mischievously vanished when his face remained somber. “Promise me that you will be here to join us by the pond.”

“I wish I could.”

“Serenity, you helped make the impossible happen this afternoon.” He put his hands on her shoulders and let his fingers trickle along her arms like a healing rain. “How simple in comparison it would be to give us a look-in.”

“Your life is your own, Timothy. You may come and go as you please. You may work or play as you please. I have no idea what my life is. Who knows? I may be scheduled to sail to India this spring.” She tried to smile, but failed.

“You could stay here.”

“Here?”

He nodded. “Why not? You are no closer to remembering where you belong than you were when you awoke at the inn. You have nowhere to go and every reason to stay.”

“Save two.”

“Your brother and sister?”

She sighed. “I must think of them.”

“Will you think of
me
after you leave?”

“How can you ask that?”

“How can you leave?”

Serenity turned away to continue to the very edge of the circle of light. “Timothy, I thought you would understand better than anyone that my brother and sister are an obligation I cannot put aside. I should not want to put it aside.”

His footfalls were quiet as he came to stand behind her. His hands swept down her arms, wrapping them around her with his arms over hers. When she rested her head back against him, she closed her eyes, thrilled to be surrounded by his tender strength.

“I do understand,” he whispered.

She shivered as his breath stirred her hair and caressed her ear. It sent fire pulsing to the very tips of her toes.

“I just want you to stay here,” he continued, “until you know more about what you have lost. I don't want you to feel obligated to leave with Twelfth Night.”

“But if I stay …”

“The lie continues.” He sighed and released her. As she turned, he caught her face between his broad hands. “But this also continues, sweetheart.”

His lips brushed her with a gentleness that threatened to undo her completely. Putting her hands over his as he lifted his mouth away, she steered it back to hers. That one brief, captivating touch had not been enough.

With a hushed laugh, he pulled her up against him. The gentleness vanished as he captured her lips, kissing her with a deep, urgent need. His ragged sigh of pleasure stirred the fires deep in her soul in the moment before his lips etched sparks of pleasure across her cheeks. This was what she wanted, what she wanted him to promise her a lifetime of, what—

Serenity pulled out of Timothy's arms as she heard footsteps. Had she gone queer in the attic to surrender to her craving this way?
Sweet heavens!
No matter what Timothy offered, she had no future here. She had no future anywhere until she found her past.

“Over here!” Timothy called, startling her. Was he so eager to put this mistake behind him? When he looked at her with his eyes still glazed with pleasure, she knew what he truly was eager for.

As she was.

Serenity managed a strained smile as Felix and Melanda entered. When Felix shut the door behind them, she frowned. What was he about now?

With Melanda's hand on his arm, Felix led her across the long ballroom toward the lamplight. Their smiles looked much more sincere than her own, especially when they shared furtive glances.

“Are you giving Serenity the tuppence tour of the house?” Felix asked.

“The what?” Serenity returned.

Timothy smiled. “He means a quick tour.” Looking at the others, he said, “I thought 'twas time she saw where we shall celebrate Grandfather's birthday on Christmas Eve.” He laughed. “It is about time she saw it, because, as my betrothed, she shall be the hostess to our guests.”

Excitement pulsed in Serenity at the thought of welcoming guests to this magnificent ballroom when it was decorated with greenery and candles and music. Around her would be glittering ladies and their elegant escorts … and Timothy. A thrill surged through her like a storm wave throwing itself up onto the shore. She would be at his side where she could relish his smiles and how his hand brushed hers. But that was no longer enough. She wanted to be swept again into his arms as he trailed kisses across her face.

Melanda laughed, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. “This will be wondrously grand. I wish the duchess could see this. She has bragged that her house has the biggest ballroom in all of England. It could easily fit within this room with space to spare.”

“Cheyney Park is one of the hidden secrets of northern England.” Felix smiled as if he had designed the house himself.

“If I were the chatelaine of this house, I would have assemblies here as often as possible.” She turned to Serenity. “Don't you agree?”

Serenity smiled back. Clearly Felix had told Melanda about this charade, proving Timothy right that his cousin could not keep a secret. She wondered how Felix had halted himself from revealing the truth to the earl … and why.

“I like the quiet in here, too,” Serenity said as she ran her fingers along the raised wood that made a diamond pattern crisscrossing the wall.

“I guess that is why you are called Serenity,” Melanda said, her voice again sharp, as it usually was when she addressed anyone but Felix. “Too much quiet starts sounding far too loud.”

Timothy chuckled under his breath as Melanda and Felix walked away to look at the fire pit. “They are two of a kind.”

“Not happy unless they are enjoying the entertainments of Town?” Serenity asked.

“Exactly.” He leaned back against a tall stone stand that she guessed would hold a plant or a statue during a party. “Grandfather should be grateful that they tore themselves away from Town long enough to come here.”

“But there is so little to do in Town during the holiday season.”

His eyes narrowed. “You say that with true authority, Serenity.”

“I wish,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, “that I could claim it was a fragment of memory coming to the surface, but it seems that it would be something anyone might know.”

“You are probably right. How do you endure not remembering your past?”

“I do not endure it easily.”

“I should think not. I honestly thought you would have recalled the whole of it by now.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I had hoped that I would. Now I wonder if it ever will return completely.”

When he did not answer, she discovered him staring at the far side of the ballroom, as if he expected to discover all the answers imprinted on the wall.

“Timothy?” she whispered.

His gaze moved to her, and she saw regret in his eyes. Regret? For what?

“'Tis not your doing,” she said quietly.

“Mayhap I should have heeded my instincts rather than Felix's idea. If I had arranged for you to be in a familiar place, you may have regained your memories with more alacrity.”

She put her hand on his sleeve. “But what place would have been familiar? The inn was not.” As her fingers glided along his arm, the flashes of heat returned to glow in his eyes. “Leaving me there would not have helped.”

He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Nor would we have had this opportunity to become acquainted.” His voice softened. “Serenity …”

Holding her breath, she gazed up at him. The hunger in his voice burned in his eyes and deep within her. The sample of ecstasy in their interrupted kiss honed the desire for another, this one continuing until they were sated. But would a single kiss ever be sufficient when she was utterly addicted to this pleasure?

Melanda's laugh trilled around the room again. Serenity looked hastily away from Timothy's enthralling expression.

Bending, he picked up the lamp and gave her a wry grin. “Shall we find out what is so amusing?”

“Yes,” she said, even though she yearned for this interlude to linger, holding them together for another pair of heartbeats.

Felix threw out his hands to emphasize a point and struck Timothy's arm. Serenity gasped as the lamp flew out of his fingers. No one moved when it shattered against the fire pit, the light vanishing to leave them in a blanket of darkness. Melanda's shriek hurt Serenity's ears.

Quietly Timothy said, “No need for alarm, Melanda. Allow your eyes to adjust, and the moonlight will be enough to guide you to the door. You should have left the door ajar, Felix.”

“I thought some privacy would be nice,” he grumbled.

Serenity bit her lip to keep from laughing as she heard Melanda's sharp intake of breath. Mayhap Felix and Melanda had not intended to intrude on her and Timothy. Mayhap, instead, they had been seeking a private place for a rendezvous. She could not forget how Theodora had spoken of seeing them kissing by the duck pond.

“
I
think we should take our leave while the moonlight remains,” Timothy said. “With its help, we should have no difficulty reaching the door.”

In spite of Timothy's reassuring words, he grasped Serenity's hand as they edged around the fire pit. She glanced at him and saw the faint sparkle of his smile in the dim light. For a moment she thought he was simply amused by his cousin and Melanda. Then, as he laced his fingers through hers, she saw that muted sparkle widen. She knew the truth. He had been as beguiled by their kiss as she was.

Fearful that everyone else could hear the sudden thunder of her heart, she held that thought close to cherish it. She was glad to think neither of the past nor the future, but to enjoy this moment when his thumb's clandestine caress against her palm sent bolts of delight through her.

Timothy opened the door and said, “I shall get someone to clean up the broken glass.” He hurried along the hall.

Felix mumbled something before turning to Melanda, who sank to a nearby chair, her face as gray as if she had already succumbed to the vapors. When Melanda began to lament, Serenity wondered how she could be so distressed about something so incidental. Nobody had been hurt, save for the lamp.

Serenity wanted to take her leave as well, but she was unsure if Felix, who was wringing his hands as if he held a dishrag, would be able to help Melanda if she was consumed by a
crise de nerfs
. Glancing wistfully in the direction Timothy had chosen, she stood in silence and listened to Melanda bemoaning how she suffered through the darkness and how she would prefer to be anywhere but these desolate moors. Serenity was not quite certain what the moors had to do with a broken lamp and a shadowed ballroom, so she started to ease away. Melanda's voice was growing stronger and sharper with every complaint.