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“Is that…is thatmistletoe?” she asked with an incredulous laugh when he reached inside his greatcoat and pulled out a branch of leafy green tied with a red silk ribbon.
“It is. A very…special woman thought I might need it.” He wiggled the mistletoe above their heads. “Turns out, she was right.”
* * *
“Did you hear that?” Sometime later, in a little workshop surrounded by wooden toys, the old woman nudged her husband in the belly and grinned. “I was right.”
The old man grunted. “It was the sleigh that did it.”
“The sleigh. Thesleigh.” She rolled her eyes. “It was the mistletoe, mark my words. Oh, aren’t they so darling together? I knew we could find a way to make it work. And just in time for Christmas!”
“A real miracle,” he agreed.
True love always was.
Epilogue
Three Years Later
The Night before Christmas Eve
The snow moved in from the west, carried by howling winds and dark clouds. By morning, the grounds of Chesterfield would be covered in a sprawling blanket of white. But inside the manor, it was warm, cozy, and dry.
Tucked snugly beneath a blanket made of wool and fur, Alexandria yawned and set aside the book she’d been reading in an effort to keep herself awake. The candles surrounding her had long gone out, the only light coming from the crackling fire in the hearth.
Above the flames, boughs of evergreen decorated the mantle, put there by her very own hand. Where once she had shied away from anything to do with Christmas, now she celebrated the special holiday whole-heartedly, even going so far as to host a Christmas Eve ball. Soon the house would be overflowing with merry guests, platters of food, and bottles of elder wine. But tonight–the eve of Christmas eve–all was quiet, still, and empty.
Duncan hadn’t wanted to go to London on business. He’d very nearly refused, but the merger he was attempting to organize was too important to hand off to a solicitor, and after her gentle urging, he had reluctantly left with the solemn promise that he’d return before the ball began. It was the first trip he’d taken in nearly four months. Where once he’d gallivanted off to town at every opportunity, now he was loathe to leave his wife for even half a fortnight.
Muffling a yawn, Alexandria stood up and finished what remained of her tea. If she didn’t seek her bed soon, she’d wake up with a sore neck from falling asleep in the chair. Selecting a thin metal poker to give the fire a final turn before heading upstairs (all of the servants had long gone to bed), she spun around and raised the iron rod like a weapon of old when she heard the creak of a footstep directly behind her.
“Is that any way to greet your husband?” drawled the Earl of Chesterfield, blue eyes glinting with amusement as he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I was hoping to surprise you, not be knocked unconscious.”
“Duncan!” The poker fell to the carpet with a soft thump when she launched herself into her husband’s arms. On a husky laugh, Duncan picked her up and spun her around, then set her lightly back on her feet before his mouth sought hers in a hot, hungry, demanding kiss that left them both breathless by the end of it.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.
“I thoughtyou’dbe home tomorrow.” She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in the scent of him; leather, sandalwood, and love.
“I wanted to beat the storm.” Cradling her against the sturdy warmth of his body, he placed a gentle kiss upon her temple. “And be home with my wife.”
“But I haven’t gone shopping for you yet,” she confessed in a soft, somewhat sheepish voice. “I was going to go into the village tomorrow morning, while you were still away, and find the perfect Christmas present.”
“Alexandria.” He nudged her chin up, and the tender adoration she saw swirling in the depths of his gaze made her heart flutter all over again. “You are the only gift I need.”
