Page 71 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“That’s right,” Nat said with a laugh. “I made it the last Christmas we had here. I must have been sixteen, I think, but then we had that scrap and… well, I never gave it to you. Better late than never, eh?”

The duke turned the rather ugly little dog in his hands and said nothing for a long moment. “He was a faithful friend,” he said softly. “I still miss him, and… and you too, Nat. Thank you for this.”

Meg’s heart ached as she guessed how hard it was for the duke to say such things, certainly in front of people.

“You’re welcome,” Nat said awkwardly, before adding in a rush, “and… if it comes to that, you were a good friend, Hawk. I’m sorry that we… well, whatever we did.”

“We grew up,” Hawkney said wryly. “It happens to the best of us.”

“No,” Nat said, shaking his head, his expression grave. “Not me.”

Hawkney laughed, a proper laugh that reached his eyes as he turned and grinned at Nat. “No, Nathaniel. Not you.”

Though everyone else had gone to bed, Meg lingered in the parlour. As much as she was eager for tomorrow, she was not quite ready to go to sleep, to end a day that had been so filled with joy.

“I thought I might find you here,” Nat said, coming into the room and finding her standing by the fire.

She smiled, leaning into him as he stood behind her, wrapping her in his arms.

“Have you had a good Christmas, love?” he asked her softly.

Meg laughed. “I don’t have words enough to express how wonderful it has been. I feel like I might burst or cry, or sing even—and truly, you don’t want that, I have a dreadful voice,” she said apologetically.

Nat snorted with amusement. “I don’t think that’s cause enough to call off the wedding. I shall endure it manfully.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she replied, turning in his arms and gazing at him. “Are you real, Nathaniel Ashford? Can my life truly be this wonderful?”

“Yes, and yes,” he said, bending to kiss her nose. “I’m here to make up for all those years of solitude, for that girl who dreamed of parties and seeing the world. You deserve every bit of this, Meg, and I am more grateful than you’ll ever know that I’m the one who gets to show you the world, to escort you to balls and parties, and to share every part of my life with you.”

Meg sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. The scent of the greenery that decorated the fireplace surrounded them, the crackle of the fire both soothing and cheerful, and Meg spared a thought for her parents. Had her mother never known she’d be welcomed home again, that she might have been forgiven? Had her father never thought to tell them they had a granddaughter, or considered that Meg might be greeted with warmth and have a new world opened up to her? She did not know, could never know, and did not wish to apportion blame or feel regret. Her father had done his best for her, and she had not been unhappy. He had been a kind man, if rather selfish, but he had lost the love of his life, and what might that do to a person? Now that she loved too, she could only feel compassion for what he had suffered.

“Penny for them?” Nat said, stroking her hair.

“I was thinking about my parents,” she replied. “I believe Papa would be happy for me, and I am sure my mother would be thrilled that her family has accepted me so readily. It’s still such a lot to take in.”

“Well, there’s time now, and we’ll visit them in the spring if you wish to, and you can discover them for yourself.”

Meg nodded, then smothered a yawn. “I suppose I had better get some beauty sleep. I expect Betty will scold me for having stayed up so late, but it’s been such a perfect day.”

“Tomorrow will be perfect too, Meg.”

She looked up at him, feeling that strange combination of heat, excitement, and anticipation stir deep inside her. “I know.”

“Come, then.”

Nat took her hand and led her out of the parlour, the entrance hall was empty now, no sign of any servants, and Nat paused beside the staircase.

“What is it?” Meg asked him curiously.

“Look up.”

She looked up, giving a soft laugh as she noticed the mistletoe above them.

“Oh. I see. Are you about to take a liberty, Mr Ashford?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Just a small one, but I give you fair warning, love. Tomorrow, I shall have them all, every one, to the full extent of my abilities,” he told her gravely, before pulling her into his arms.

The kiss was like nothing Meg had ever experienced before, his arms holding her so tightly, his mouth upon hers urgent and demanding. It seemed to be a promise of everything they would share, of everything he felt for her, and Meg could do nothing but respond in kind. She reached up, twining her arms about his neck, pressing closer, feeling the softness of her body crushed against his harder form.