Timeless Regency Collection: A Country Christmas Part 21

"Jane." He held on to her elbow, stopping her. "I know you can. I would never have recommended that you make the trip if I didn't believe you to be capable." He waited for her to lift her gaze to his. "But believing in someone does not free you from worrying about them."

"You pity me." Her face looked so hopeless he wanted to gather her in his arms.

"Jane, I feel concern, but it is not pity." He took a breath. You are one of my dearest friends. I care for you."

"The others care-Kathleen, Jonathan, and Maryann-but . . ." She winced. "I do not mean to be unappreciative. They have been nothing but good to me, but I know they don't trust me. I have to try, Archie. Push myself to do things I fear, otherwise-"

"Otherwise, you will never know what you can do."

She nodded, lifting her chin, even though her bearing looked far from confident. "I am stronger than any of you think."

"Being strong doesn't mean you have to do it alone. I will help you. And when you feel as if you can't be strong anymore, I will be beside you, ready to catch you."

A tear slipped from her eye, and she bowed her head. "Thank you."

When they reached the cottage, light still shone beneath the shutters. Jane set the packages on the porch, arranging the bows and sprigs of greenery. She stepped back, apparently satisfied with the presentation. "We should extinguish the lantern," she whispered.

Archie blew out the flame, and they were plunged into darkness.

Jane gasped, and he moved closer, taking her hand. The moon gave a soft glow, and within a few moments, his eyes adjusted enough that he could make out the shapes of trees and even see the shadows of the footprints marking the path.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Archie spread his hand toward the door.

She nodded. "Are you ready to run, Lieutenant?" Though he could hardly see her face, in her voice, he could hear an excited smile.

He gave a salute.

Jane knocked, then spun, running along the path, her feet making a crunching sound.

Archie stayed directly behind her. When he heard the sound of the door opening, he pulled her behind a clump of bushes, spinning and crouching down so they could both see.

A splinter of light shone on the snow, then grew into a rectangle. Simon Cringlewood stood in the doorway. He took a step forward, looked in both directions, then down. His face was shadowed, but Archie thought he could see a smile on the man's face. Simon stooped, lifted the packages, and called over his shoulder. "Eliza, you'll not believe this. Father Christmas 'as come."

When the door closed, Jane clapped her hands. "I wish we could see what was happening inside right now, don't you?"

He grinned at the delight in her voice. "I do."

She rose and started along the path. "I can see quite well now. I don't think we need the lantern after all."

He walked beside her, enjoying the quiet and the pure pleasure that came from doing a good turn for someone who genuinely deserved it. Glancing to the side, he could see that Jane was pleased, even though her face was shadowed. Her happiness showed in the way she walked, the set of her shoulders, the lift of her chin. Her silhouette reminded him of the laughing woman of earlier today.

As they continued, the path led through a particularly thick section of trees. The wind sounded louder, and the air felt colder. He glanced again at Jane as her shoulders hunched slightly.

"Jane?"

Her hand slipped into his. "I am all right. I can do this."

"I know you can." He squeezed her hand, feeling her small fingers through their thick gloves. He thought of their first walk through the darkness when the carriage had arrived and the manor was deserted. He'd felt worried and anxious, but Jane's soft touch had brought rea.s.surance. He hoped their connection now provided her the comfort she needed.

She leaned closer to him as they walked. Her breathing was quicker, but she kept her pace steady-well, as steady as possible in the uneven snow. And before long, they could see the glowing windows of the cottage.

Jane relaxed, and Archie let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

At the door, she stopped, turning toward him. A slice of light shone from inside, giving her face a soft glow. Her pretty lips bent in a gentle smile, but it was the look in her eyes that brought him up short. It was warm and grateful and . . . trusting. He couldn't have put words to the expression if he'd wanted to. And he found he didn't need to.

He gazed back, hoping his own eyes would convey the depth of his feelings. How deeply he cared for her, worried for her, ached for her pain, and delighted in her victories. How he'd not completely realized what it was to love a person until today as he watched her feel pride in herself.

She stepped forward, her arms going around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.

Archie held her in a tight embrace. Her body was soft and warm against his, and he noticed how nicely she fit in his arms. He cupped her head and decided it was exactly the perfect height to rest his cheek on. Tightening his arms the slightest bit produced the welcome effect of moving her head to lean into the hollow beneath his shoulder.

She belongs here.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Chapter Six.

Jane entered the cottage in a state of extreme contentment, still warm from Archie's embrace. But her happiness went much deeper than simple enjoyment of his physical closeness. She'd stayed in the shadows for so long, worried about people discovering her condition and worrying herself about losing control of her mind. She could hardly remember a time when fear hadn't been forefront in her thoughts. But today had been different. For a few brief periods, she'd felt free, completely able to act as her nature dictated, instead of tempering her reactions lest exerting herself brought on another spell.

And she attributed it to Archie. His belief in her had given her confidence she'd not felt since . . . possibly since she was a young child.

She smiled and stepped forward as Archie helped her remove her cloak. His fingers brus.h.i.+ng over her shoulders sent a tingle over her skin, eliciting a sigh. Even as she tried to talk herself out of it more times than she could remember, she was falling deeper in love with Archie Clawson with every pa.s.sing hour.

But, of course, it was all foolishness. She had only to remember the fiasco of the kiss in the Cringlewoods' kitchen the night before and Archie's face when Jonathan had pointed out the mistletoe to know that her feelings were one-sided. Archie certainly cared for her, but his affection was friendly, not romantic.

Yet there were times when she imagined she saw something in his eyes, felt there was more to his attentions. She sighed again, this time frustrated at her imagination. Perhaps she only saw what she wished to see. She untied her ribbons and slid the bonnet from her head.

Maryann and Kathleen hurried toward her with worried expressions, and Jane drew back, bracing herself and feeling her defenses rise into place.

Archie put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. "I am pleased to report a successful mission." He spoke in a loud voice to the entire room.

His words stopped the others before they could fuss over her, and she felt a wave of relief at his intervention. She looked up, giving him a grateful smile, then turned to face the room. "Yes, a very successful mission." She liked the feel of the two of them acting as a pair.

"And all credit goes to the general, here. This young woman is quite adept at the role of Father Christmas, I'll have you all know."

"Not all the credit." Jane gave a small smirk, turning her head so only Archie could see. "I'd not have managed without my very skilled lieutenant."

He returned the teasing expression, and she felt a thrill at their private joke.

"I am glad you are safely returned," Kathleen said.

"Oh, it truly looks like Christmas." Jane only now noticed the holly and ivy adorning the corners of the windows and decorating the hearth. She spun, taking in the entire cottage and its new festive appearance.

"Funny how a few leaves and twigs can brighten up a place, wouldn't you say?" Maryann took the cloaks and head coverings.

"It's splendid."

Jonathan was sliding the kitchen table to the side, and Archie moved away to a.s.sist him.

Maryann returned to her sister, taking her hand. "Are you truly well, Jane?" She spoke in a soft voice, and Jane felt guilty hearing her sister's concern and seeing the worry in her eyes.

"Completely well," Jane said.

Maryann squeezed her hand. "You've been different on this trip-happier. More like the sister I remember."

Jane smiled. "Perhaps I am getting better."

Maryann opened her mouth as if she would say something, but stopped when Archie spoke.

"What's the consensus?" Archie asked, standing in the s.p.a.ce before the fire and motioning to the sofa and chairs. "Furniture? Or should we spread the blankets again?"

"I, for one, enjoyed sitting on the floor," Kathleen said.

"Agreed." Jonathan nodded. "If the other ladies are of the same mind, I think the blankets are much more appealing than the lumpy furniture."

The others concurred, and the group set about moving furniture and spreading blankets. They settled onto the floor, returning to their earlier positions, and the men removed their coats.

"I could permanently adopt this practice," Archie said, pulling off his neck cloth and loosening his collar. "Perhaps I could convince Mother to amend the holiday fas.h.i.+on policy."

He rested an arm on his bent knee, the other leg tucked beneath. The sight of him so casually dressed made Jane's breath catch. She had no brothers and had never experienced a man behaving so informally. His collar loosed, she could see the dip where his neck met his chest, and blushed, hoping no one else noticed her glance.

Archie appeared utterly at ease, and sitting beside him on the floor with their arms nearly touching seemed intimate. She felt special, knowing the memories from their time in this little cottage in Chiddingfold Forest were something that they shared-something that belonged only to the five of them. She wondered for a moment where they would be next Christmas. Would she be invited to Ashford to attend Lady Bromley's Christmas Eve ball? Even if she was Archie's guest next year, the experience wouldn't be the same. He'd be obligated to his family and friends, spending time with them, planning the festivities, and acting as host with his parents.

And she . . . Jane tried to imagine what the coming year would mean for her, but came up short. She had no future plans of her own, and that knowledge felt extremely discouraging.

Archie b.u.mped her arm, shaking her from her reflections. She realized she was staring at the blanket, running her fingernail along a seam. When she looked up, he was holding a large earthenware mug toward her.

"Tea?"

She took the mug, inhaling the hot steam and comforting smell. "Thank you." When she glanced back, she saw Archie still watched her. He c.o.c.ked his head and lifted his brows.

She smiled. "Excuse me, my mind wandered."

"Somewhere nice, I hope."

Taking a sip of tea, she shrugged off the question.

Archie watched her a moment longer as if to ascertain that everything was all right, then he scooted forward on his knees and placed more wood onto the fire. It spewed and crackled with the new logs. "Well, it isn't a roaring fire, exactly, and I am a bit disappointed that we haven't a Yule log, but the requirement was for a merry fire. And I'd consider it merry, wouldn't you?"

He spoke loud enough for the group but watched Jane as if her approval was the one that mattered.

She pushed away her thoughts, determined to focus on the here and now. Pursing her lips, she contemplated the fire for a moment and tapped her chin. "I think one more branch, a smallish one. Yes. That one there."

Archie placed it onto the fire where she directed, and Jane gave a nod of approval.

"Now that is what I call a merry fire," Archie said.

"I have never seen merrier," Jane agreed solemnly, then smiled.

He smiled back and stood before the hearth, facing the room. He cleared his throat, and the others grew silent.

"Thank you, each of you," he said. "Thank you for being here with me for this . . . ah, unconventional, yet very special Christmas."

Jonathan raised his mug. "Hear, hear."

"Special, indeed," Kathleen said, and the others lifted their tea and voiced their approval.

Archie clasped his hands behind his back. "And now, I yield the floor to Maryann for our Christmas program, along with my apology for the lack of a Bible or a pianoforte."

Maryann stood. "No apology necessary."

Archie inclined his head and moved back to join Jane, sitting a bit closer than he had before. He rested back on his hand, leaning so he barely brushed against her shoulder.

Jane was tempted to rest against him. It would be quite easy to do. With her legs tucked to one side, she was already slightly off-balance. She glanced up at him and saw him watching her thoughtfully.

Maryann told the story of the Lord Jesus's birth from memory. While Jane quite loved the scriptural account, her sister's words gave the story a simple beauty that touched her heart. Between segments of the narrative, Maryann paused and Kathleen led them in an appropriate Christmas hymn.

The music was beautiful, even with only the five of them singing. Kathleen had a lovely soprano voice, and Maryann a warm alto. With the men's low tones, she thought the angels themselves could not have sounded lovelier on that Christmas Day of old.

As they sang about shepherds watching their flocks by night, Archie took Jane's hand, holding it in the small gap between them. He ran his thumb over her knuckles and made gentle circles on the back of her hand.

Jane's mind emptied, her entire consciousness centered on Archie's touch. She glanced at him, but he continued to sing as if he'd not noticed what his hand was doing. Was he utterly unaffected? Jane's hand grew warm as if the stroke of his finger left fire in its wake and sent heat over her skin. Her breathing became uneven, and she stumbled over the words of a hymn she'd sung since she was a child.

She could feel a mighty blush moving up her neck and onto her cheeks. Perhaps the others would attribute it to her closeness to the fire.

Feeling bold, she allowed herself to relax, just slightly, until the back of her shoulder brushed against Archie's chest. She braced herself for him to pull away, but instead, he moved closer, pressing against her.

Jane's heart sped up, her blood pumping in her ears. She could feel his chest vibrating as he continued to sing. How could she possibly feel so safe with a person yet, at the same time, have trouble catching her breath?

She glanced around the room, the euphoria of cuddling against Archie blending with the spirit of the music and the love she felt for the people in the cottage. This is how Christmas is supposed to feel, she thought, a swell of grat.i.tude making her heart soft.

"Magnificent," Jonathan said when the song concluded, his face filled with genuine contentment.

Maryann brought out a bundle of sticks. Four were tied with string, forming crosses. These she placed carefully on the floor and laid the other sticks along the edges, constructing a primitive-looking cradle.

Jane let out a soft breath, curling her fingers around Archie's while she watched.

As Maryann continued with the nativity story, the memory of their mother telling the same story as she built a simple manger quite overwhelmed Jane. Her throat tightened, her eyes itched, and, without any warning, a sob wrenched free from her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth but could not stop the flood of tears and weeping that burst forth.

"Jane," the others said in unison, their voices tinged with worry. She shook her head, embarra.s.sed and not wis.h.i.+ng to ruin their Christmas Eve, but unable to speak, let alone hold back her tears.