Christmas Wishes Part 1. Elizabeth Rolls

strength that bobbled the breath from her lungs, and found herself cradled in his arms. Heat curled and tightened in her belly, tingled beneath her skin as his knowing gaze caressed her.

      ‘Too what, my lady?’ he challenged her, and strode towards the inner bailey. He crossed it without hesitation and made straight for the stairs.

      At the foot of the stairs lay an enormous log, and Maddy’s heart leaped. She looked over her shoulder at Brady bringing up the rear. ‘Is that—?’

      ‘The Yule log, m’lady.’ His grin lit his face. ‘Didn’t think we’d miss that, did yeh?’

      She swallowed. ‘We weren’t going to bother.’ There had seemed no point, with Edward taking possession the day after Twelfth Night.

       If Ash hadn’t married me, we’d all be packing.

      ‘But things is different now,’ said Brady. ‘Go on up, m’lord and lady. They’re waitin’ for yeh.’

      Maddy gulped. ‘Ash, hadn’t I better walk—?’

      ‘Save your breath and don’t wriggle,’ he advised. His arms tightened and he started up.

      * * *

      Ash trod carefully up the stairs, Maddy’s slight weight in his arms a blessed distraction from the guilt. Greet her people, thank them, and then they could be private over dinner while he sorted out the mess he’d made of everything.

      Cheers erupted around them as he stepped across the threshold, Maddy still in his arms, and he stood stock-still, blinking. The great hall, which had been dim and peaceful that last time he was here, was full of people. A fire blazed in the hearth, all the wall sconces were lit and several branches of candles shimmered on the refectory table.

      The hall breathed, simply shouted, Christmas is come! Ivy hung everywhere in great swathes and festoons, twisted among the roof beams. Holly, its berries gleaming scarlet, surrounded the windows, was even draped artistically around the old swords by the fireplace. Pots of rosemary stood here and there, and the vanilla fragrance of bays drifted on the air.

      From the stairs leading down to the kitchen, other fragrances wafted up. Fragrances that made him realise breakfast had been a very long time ago. And the candles—candles everywhere. In the window embrasures, glimmering on an old oak coffer. Light and joy everywhere, dancing and glowing in the eyes of Haydon’s people.

      One look at Maddy’s dazed eyes, suddenly bright with tears, told him she was just as surprised as he was.

      He looked around.

      ‘Go on, m’lord,’ urged Brady.

      Ash obliged, walking farther in the hall.

      ‘That’ll do nicely, lad!’ yelled someone. ‘Now look up!’

      He did. Straight at a kissing bough that looked as though several forests’ worth of oak trees must have been stripped to furnish it with mistletoe.

      His breath caught.

      Slowly, deliberately, he set Maddy on her feet, keeping one arm around her. His blood hammered in his veins as he reached up with his free hand and plucked a berry. He hoped to God that this time he could make sure a simple kiss remained just that—a kiss.

      ‘I think, madam wife,’ he said in a voice that reached only her, ‘that you are under a misconception about my reasons for marriage.’

      ‘Am I?’ she whispered.

      ‘Yes. Perhaps this will help you understand.’

      He drew her closer and time slowed as her slender curves fitted to his as if she were made for him. Gently, he traced the delicate line of her throat, felt a tremor rack her as with a soft sigh she slipped her arms about him and yielded her mouth to his.

      Ash’s head spun at the sweetness of the kiss. Caring nothing for their audience, he kissed her deeply, possessively, moulding her body to his, one hand buried in the coiling silk of her hair. Time slowed, stretched into a glowing infinity of promise and delight.

      * * *

      ‘D’ye reckon it’s the mistletoe?’ whispered an awed voice.

      Maddy’s mind spun as Ash eased back from the kiss and smiled down at her. Her breath hitched at the tenderness in those grey eyes.

      ‘There was something I wanted more than Haydon,’ he murmured.

      He had wanted her? Desire, yes. But had he actually wanted her? Maddy? Enough to marry her despite Edward’s lies?

      ‘Wassail!’ roared someone from the back of the hall, and the crowd took up the chant.

      From somewhere an indecently large cup was produced, filled with hot spiced ale and passed to Maddy. She took the first sip and spluttered. Ash took it from her and deliberately set his lips where hers had rested. Their eyes met. Burned. He drank. His fingers tightened on the cup and, his eyes never leaving hers, he passed it on.

      The cup was passed around until everyone had tasted it.

      Ash’s plans had included meeting Maddy’s household as her husband and then dinner. Not an extended dinner.

      He had reckoned without her household. He’d never realised that here in this isolated spot they adhered to the old tradition of the entire household eating in the hall. And, since it was Christmas Eve, after they’d hauled in the Yule log there was dancing to the lilt of Brady’s old fiddle and his daughter’s flute.

      It was nearly ten o’clock before the hall was clear of revellers and Maddy’s housekeeper bustled her off to the bedchamber.

      Ash reined in his impatience as he sat down at the table. He’d blundered in every way possible in the carriage. He was damned if he’d repeat the mistake.

       Chapter Six

      Maddy had never realised that Bets had a romantic streak at all, let alone one a mile wide. She was tenderly arraying Maddy in her very prettiest lace-edged nightgown, despite her protests that it was nowhere near warm enough for a winter’s night.

      Bets smirked as she twitched the linen sleeve of the nightgown just so. ‘Never you mind that, Miss Maddy—m’lady, I should say, I reckon his lordship’ll keep you warm enough and to spare.’

      She twisted her hands together in her lap while Bets brushed out her hair, long sweeps of the brush. It wasn’t like that at all. Was it?

       He had believed Edward!

      As if Bets had read her mind, she said, ‘Not many men who’d have married you after what Lord Montfort said. Not without they waited to see if you was breeding.’

      Maddy’s hands stilled. If he’d thought Edward had... Her stomach churned. If Ash had thought that, then he must have considered the possibility that she was carrying a child. Edward’s child. She’d been too hurt by his apparent mistrust to think that through clearly.

       And he still married you...why?

      Shame flooded her. He’d answered that in the carriage—to protect you, of course!

      Straight after she’d accused him of marrying her because he’d wanted Haydon.

       He did trust you, you ninnyhammer! Trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t have gone to Edward willingly. And he cared enough to marry you despite the possibility you might be pregnant. To protect you.

      The little bronze horse caught her gaze in the mirror. She’d set it on the shelf over the fireplace. He cared enough to give you that.

      Bets was still speaking. ‘Someone ought to warn you.’

      Warn her?

      She looked at Bets in the