Page 107 of Christmas Magic

“Ho ho ho,” he said. “I’m Santa from long ago.”

The woman’s expression brightened. “Of course. I’m sure your sword isn’t real. It’s just a prop to go with your costume.”

Judging by the relief in her eyes, he’d best not tell her it was an authentic, deadly sharp weapon dating back to the Middle Ages.

After reminding the boy to hold tight to his hot chocolate, she steered the lad toward empty chairs nearby.

Lucian continued on, waving while he walked. Cora hadn’t mentioned the vintage Santa having a broadsword, but he’d thought up a provenance for the blade. Cat’s Paw Cove had been founded by English folk in the seventeenth century, and a few had probably had noble blood. That meant they could have inherited such a sword or even purchased one themselves. Also, the town’s Sherwood cats had originated in Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire, England—the same woods rumored to have been the home of the legendary medieval outlaw Robin Hood.

If pressed, Lucian would say the sword had been retrieved after the shipwreck off the Cat’s Paw Cove coast centuries ago, had been returned to its English owner, and passed down through generations. He wore it in honor of its place in the history of the town.

Whether folk believed his story or not, he wouldn’t surrender his sword.

Soon, he’d need it for battle.

Upon reaching the barrier, Lucian exchanged greetings with the people standing there and walked past the obstruction.

Cora had said the historical society float was fifth in line.

He heard her voice before he saw her chatting with Roberta and several other women near the float decorated to look like the Guinevere sailing on ocean waves. He doubted folk in the seventeenth century were familiar with sparkly garland like the stuff draped over the sides of the vessel on the float, but he wouldn’t point that out.

Seeing him, Cora beamed. “Lucian. There you are.”

How his heart swelled to see such joy in her eyes. He hadn’t a single doubt about the rightness of what he must accomplish that night.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“No. We’re all set, now that you’re here.” Her gaze wandered over him, as though she wanted to check the costume’s fit. He’d used some safety pins to bring in the waist of the trousers, but the pins were well hidden under the bulky jacket.

He looked at the Coquina Castle float directly behind the historical society’s. He didn’t see the real Santa. He had to be close by, though.

A light caress on his arm snapped Lucian’s attention back to Cora. Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “You look very handsome in that costume.”

He grinned, unable to hold back the rush of delight from her words. He’d worn the livery for her, because she’d asked him to, after all.

“So? Is the suit comfortable?”

About as comfortable as wearing chain mail armor on a blistering summer day. “Comfortable enough.”

“The sword’s a nice touch.”

“I think so.” He’d worn the weapon on Cora’s behalf, too. With it, he would avenge his Fair Maiden.

Roberta frowned. “Are you sure he should have a sword? It does look rather…big.”

“Bigger than average,” he agreed proudly.

Cora and Roberta made strangled sounds.

“Well, it is.” Were they trying to smother their laughter? They should be awed, not amused. Maybe he should free the blade from its scabbard and show them just what he could do with it.

Cora cleared her throat. “Roberta—”

“I’m just trying to be helpful. Santa doesn’t usually have a sword, does he? We don’t want to frighten the children. What if some of them get scared of Santa? End up with nightmares, even? That wouldn’t be good for our organization, would it?”

A flash of red snared Lucian’s attention. Fred and two elves had just walked out from behind the Coquina Castle float.

Resolve flared sharp and hot. Lucian flexed his hands. “Pardon me a moment.”