Page 125 of Christmas Magic

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cora blinked. How long had she been staring up at the lights? Only a few seconds, it seemed, but in that short time, she’d somehow gotten a crick in her neck. She rubbed at the twinging spot and looked at Fred, who was rolling his shoulders as though to ease knotted muscles between his shoulder blades.

The crowd’s shouting and cheering rose in volume. Fred still pointed his sword—a prop—at Lucian. Ridiculous. If the two Santas ended up clashing blades, Fred would get hurt. He couldn’t defeat the younger Lucian who had a much bigger and better weapon. Also, Lucian surely had realized that Fred, with his arthritic joints, had little chance of putting up a decent fight?

While she loved that the two men were at odds over her—what woman wouldn’t be thrilled by such attention?—she didn’t want either one of them to get hurt. In that case, the holiday parade would be cancelled, and a lot of folks would be disappointed. The historical society would also lose the much-needed publicity.

At least Lucian was still under her spell. She could make him do whatever she wanted—and she would, when the confrontation needed to end.

“Santa. Santa,” the crowd chanted.

Light flashed close by: a photographer taking photos. One of the reporters for the Cat’s Paw Cove Courier? Pushing her shoulders back to provide her best angle, she tried to locate the photographer amongst the crowd.

“I ask you again: Apologize to Cora,” Lucian shouted.

“You will not get an apology from me.”

More cheering.

“You can swing that fancy sword around all you want,” Fred bellowed. “I am not giving in.”

As expected, Fred was being a stubborn fool. While Cora had always found his stubbornness charming, if it continued for too long, he’d hold up the parade. The organizers wouldn’t let the floats roll out until the route was clear.

But she could let the drama run for a couple more minutes.

“You feel strongly, then, about what happened between you and Cora,” Lucian said.

Fred’s lips flattened. His gaze slid to her.

“If I may be so bold, milord,” Lucian said, “the apology is, for you, a matter of honor.”

Cora fought not to roll her eyes. She wouldn’t want to see a picture of herself mid-eye roll on the front page of the paper. Lucian’s fake knight-of-the-realm act, though, could be a bit much sometimes.

“I suppose it is a matter of honor.”

“Honor is a principle that I understand and greatly respect.”

Next, Lucian would talk about olden-day chivalry. The crowd tonight didn’t want dialogue. They wanted to see action and spectacle. Even a romantic kiss.

Now, Lucian pulling her into his arms and locking lips with her, with Fred glaring at them, would make an excellent front page picture. She must make it happen.

With a coy smile, Cora set her hand on her hip. “Young Santa,” she cooed.

“Fair Maiden, please forgive me for what I am about to do.”

Wait.“What you’re about to do?” She crooked a finger. “I want you to—”

“I see no other choice.”

Lucian lowered his sword, so the tip pointed toward the ground.

Disappointed murmurs and shouts spread through the crowd.

Clearly shocked, Fred recoiled and stumbled back a step.

“No,” Cora muttered in a voice loud enough for only Lucian to hear. “Lucian, you’re going to—”

He dropped down on one knee on the street.