The Christmas Stranger Read online

  It had taken some contriving to place a gloss of propriety on a courtship begun so unconventionally. Joss had left her on Twelfth Night, the day before Jane returned from Goathland as the proud grandmother of a little girl.

  He’d arrived, ostensibly as a stranger, to meet and fall in love with Maggie at first sight. Not, as he said, that far from the truth.

  Within a couple of weeks, he’d invited his parents to Fraedale to meet his betrothed. Maggie and Joss had then traveled south in a family party for a February ceremony, all chaperoned and above board.

  How difficult it had been to sleep alone during those nights before the wedding, when Maggie had to pretend she was an appropriately virginal fiancée. Luckily, Arabella had arrived a respectable nine months after their nuptials, almost to the day.

  Maggie glanced up at her husband. “Your son and heir couldn’t wait for me to go back to the party, so he could sneak out of bed to play with his blocks by the light of the moon.”

  Thomas, three years old, and much quieter than his sister, was fascinated with building and the way things worked. Her husband’s brilliance as a designer had clearly descended upon the next generation.

  Joss’s embrace tightened, and he kissed the top of her head. “We’ve been lucky, haven’t we?”

  Maggie still delighted in his casual gestures of affection. After her lonely years, she’d never take Joss’s love for granted. She snuggled closer, a secret smile curving her lips. “Yes, we have.”

  She raised a hand to press his palm to her midriff, just above where their next baby grew. Tonight she’d tell him the news in the privacy of their room, the room where they’d first shared a bed.

  “It’s good to be back. You know, we could live here six months of the year and six months in London.”

  “I’d love that,” Maggie said. “But can you leave your practice so long?”

  “I can bring work up with me. In summer, getting in and out of Fraedale isn’t so difficult.”

  “It is in winter.”

  His soft chuckle brushed across her skin like velvet. “Winter here has other compensations.”

  “Yes,” she said on a reminiscent sigh.

  Below them, Joss’s mother Kitty was clearing a space for dancing. Maggie loved Kitty, who had welcomed her from the first and never shown any sign of minding that her handsome, successful son had chosen a girl who worked as a servant.

  “And the practice has people lining up with commissions.” Joss’s architectural business was thriving. Another secret they kept this Christmas was the knighthood that became official in the New Year. Maggie Carr, humble housekeeper, would step into 1827 as Margaret, Lady Hale. The change still struck her as hard to credit. “I can afford to play the lord of the manor now and again.”

  “Especially when you are the lord of the manor. How generous Dr. Black was to give us this estate.”

  “Absurdly so. I’m so glad Uncle Thomas is here this Christmas.”

  “He and his namesake have established quite the alliance. I suspect he might end up visiting Thorncroft more often now he’s given it away than he did when he owned it.” She stroked Joss’s large, capable hand. “The house has come alive. It’s hard to recall what it was like before you burst into my life.”

  “You were so stern when I turned up on your doorstep.”

  A huff of wry amusement escaped her. “Your fatal charm soon proved my downfall.”

  “Will my fatal charm lure you away now, to start our special Christmas Eve?”

  “Tempting.” She caught Kitty’s eye, as her mother-in-law glanced up from the crowded hall. “We have guests.”

  “Who are all staying until after New Year.”

  “Perhaps we can slip out in an hour.”

  “I sometimes think you married me purely to become part of my family,” he said with mock self-pity.

  She smiled, in a mood to tease. “I’m so sorry you’ve finally realized the sad truth.”

  “They love you nearly as much as I do.” He presented his arm. “Shall we go downstairs, my lovely wife?”

  Once down in the hubbub, there were no more chances for quiet conversation. Instead Joss was caught up in a riotous game of blind man’s bluff that tripped up more than one dancer, while Maggie joined the older folk around the fire.

  It was well beyond the promised hour when Maggie at last found herself dancing a waltz in her husband’s arms.

  “Shall we retire soon? Nobody will miss us.” Joss smiled down at her. “Although it seems unkind to remove the prettiest girl from the party.”

  Dizzy with love and happiness—it was hard to keep a sensible tongue in her head when all her dreams had come true so magnificently—she smiled back at the man she adored. “You’re too kind, sir.”

  “No, I’m not, by God.” He whirled her around, until they came to a breathless halt beneath an elaborate arrangement of mistletoe and red and gold ribbon suspended from the beams. “You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  His kiss was more circumspect than usual—after all, they had an audience—but it still told her how deeply he loved her.

  “Oh, Joss, I do love you,” she whispered as he drew away. And blushed when she saw that Kitty and Dr. Black had stopped close enough to overhear her fervent declaration.

  Dr. Black viewed them with an unaccustomed misty expression in his faded gray eyes behind their round spectacles. In the last five years, she’d seen more of him than she had in all the time she’d worked at Thorncroft. She’d become very fond of him, although she’d never quite overcome her awareness that once he’d paid her wages.

  “Kitty, I’m so glad you wrote to me all those years ago and suggested I find Joss a wife. Putting my godson and Margaret together was a stroke of genius.”

  “Thomas, you know that was a secret between us,” Kitty said in horror, as a fraught silence crashed down around them.

  Maggie frowned at her former employer. “But you didn’t put us together.”

  Dr. Black, who had been enjoying the Christmas punch, blinked at her owlishly. “Yes, I did. Wrote to Joss saying I wanted the place modernized, so he’d come up to stay. When any nitwit can see Thorncroft is perfect as it is. Then wrote to you to say to expect him.”

  Joss’s arms had dropped from her waist, and some quality in his stance made her shoot him a curious glance. “Joss?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He was frowning into the distance. She stared at him baffled, before she recalled a conversation from their early days as man and wife. He’d smugly declared that he’d found his own bride, and just the right bride for him, without benefit of his mamma’s enthusiastic matchmaking.

  Oh, no. Did he imagine Maggie had set out to trap him with the conniving of his marriage-minded mother? Surely he must know his wife had never deceived him. Surely he must remember how unprepared she’d been for his arrival, that night of the snowstorm.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop it right now.” She turned to Dr. Black. “I’m sorry, sir. I received no such letter.”

  Dr. Black, seemingly unaware of the strained atmosphere, beamed at them both. “Maybe I didn’t get around to writing to you, Margaret. I know I wrote to the boy. Not sure I wrote to Kitty either, now I come to think of it. But I definitely leaped to answer her plea to find my godson a suitable bride.”

  “And you did that, Thomas,” Kitty said, casting her son a doubtful look. His reticence was becoming noticeable. “But it was purely good fortune that Joss and Maggie fell in love.”

  “So our meeting wasn’t a lucky accident after all,” Maggie said, trying to sound lighthearted. No wonder Joss’s family had expressed no surprise when he found his future wife in an out of the way corner of Yorkshire and brought her home for a quick wedding. They must have already been bracing for her arrival.

  “It was a lucky accident,” Kitty said with a hint of desperation, when Joss still didn’t speak.

  “With a lot of help f
rom me,” Dr. Black said, earning him another glare from Kitty.

  “You’re a very unlikely cupid, Thomas,” Kitty said acidly.

  Maggie was still staring at Joss, not understanding his odd reaction. “Do you mind so much, Joss?”

  Joss blinked, and Maggie watched the life and warmth flow back into his face. The green eyes he focused on her were once more radiant with love. “You know,” he said in a thoughtful voice, “once upon a time, I might have. But now I really don’t.”

  “I know you hate to feel manipulated,” she said steadily. “But I wasn’t part of any plot.”

  “I wasn’t plotting,” Kitty said, offended.

  “Yes, you were,” Joss said, although affection deprived his tone of rancor.

  “Perhaps a little,” Kitty sheepishly admitted.

  Dr. Black at last picked up the less than positive response to his self-congratulations. “Have I put my foot in it?”

  Joss reached out to catch Maggie’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Forgive my distraction, my darling. I had to rearrange my memories of our courtship, so they fit the new picture.”

  Maggie regarded him with a frown, not wanting this nonsense to spoil what had been such a lovely day. “You mightn’t have liked me when you met me. It’s not as if you had no choice in what happened.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Of course I had no choice.”

  “Josiah Hale!” his mother protested, even as he continued.

  “Maggie, you are the woman I was fated to love. From the moment I first saw you, I couldn’t resist you.” Leaving her gratified—and relieved—after his ardent declaration, he turned to Dr. Black. “Uncle Thomas, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you’re the author of my present happiness, I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  Dr. Black’s cheerful humor revived, and he bestowed another glowing smile on Maggie and Joss. A smile perhaps a few degrees brighter, thanks to the brandy enlivening the punch.

  “Knew it was the perfect solution.” He turned back to Kitty. “Let me know if you want my help with any other unmarried sprigs littering your life, my dear Kitty. I’ll find them all a pretty girl to wed, just like Maggie. Although they’ll have to be pretty indeed to hold a candle to you in your heyday, by George.”

  “Time for us to go, my love,” Joss said in an undertone. As he tugged Maggie away toward the staircase, she watched her self-possessed mother-in-law blush and kiss Dr. Black’s cheek.

  “Joss, you’re not really angry with Dr. Black for setting up our meeting, are you?”

  “Angry?” Joss’s relaxed laugh soothed her last niggling worry. “If I hadn’t already named my son after him, I’d be ready to do it again. We can christen all our future children Thomas. Even the girls.”

  She gave a choked gulp of amusement and leaned in, close enough to murmur for his ears alone, “Let’s come up with something different for the new baby. It would be so inconvenient to call for one child and get the whole lot turning up to answer.”

  Joss stopped so abruptly at the base of the stairs, she stumbled into him. “The new baby?”

  She smiled to see the wonder illuminating his expression. “Next summer, I think.”

  “Oh, my glorious beloved, I couldn’t adore you more.” He seized her up for a passionate kiss that this time paid no heed to observers.

  And Maggie kissed her husband back with every ounce of love in her overflowing heart.

  THE END

  Please continue reading for an excerpt from:

  Mistletoe And The Major

  * * *

  Previously published in the anthology Under the Kissing Bough.

  The Major is home from the wars at last…

  Edmund Sherritt, Major Lord Canforth, has devoted eight tumultuous years to fighting Napoleon. Finally Europe is at peace, and he can retire to his estates and the lovely wife he hasn’t seen since their brief, unhappy honeymoon. The innocent girl he loved from the first moment he saw her, but who shied away from him on their wedding night.

  The beautiful woman who greets him at Otway Hall on Christmas Eve is no longer the sweet ingénue he remembers. This new and exciting version of his beloved countess is strong, outspoken, and independent, and she’s willing to stand up for what she wants. The question is—does she want the husband who returns to her arms more as a stranger than a spouse?

  Now the real battle begins.

  Felicity, Lady Canforth, has had eight long years to regret that she sent her husband from a cold marriage bed to face brutal combat, danger and hardship. The only child of elderly parents, Felicity came to marriage innocent and ignorant, and unable to conceal her shock at the sensual power of the earl’s caresses. Before she found the nerve to offer Canforth a more generous welcome, he was called away to war. The Major left behind a countess who was a bride, not a wife; a woman unsure of her husband’s feelings, and too timid to confess how fervently she desires the man she wed.

  Fate has granted an older, wiser Felicity a second chance to win her husband’s heart. Now nothing will stop her from claiming victory over the famous war hero. This Christmas, she’ll deploy every ounce of courage, purpose and passion to seize the life and love she’s longed for, ever since Canforth left to serve his country. Whatever it costs, whatever it takes, she’ll lure the dashing Major back into her bed, where she means to show him he’s the only man she wants as her lover—and her love.

  After years of yearning and separation, will a Christmas miracle heal the wounds of the past and offer the earl and his bride a future bright with love?

  Chapter One

  * * *

  Otway, Shropshire, Christmas Eve, 1815

  Edmund Sherritt, Major Lord Canforth, pulled his tired horse up on the brow of the hill. Below him, the fine Jacobean manor of Otway Hall nestled in its pretty valley near the Welsh border. Early winter twilight descended, lengthening the shadows and turning the leafless trees to silhouettes against the darkening sky.

  At last he was home.

  Four days ago, he’d finally received permission to turn his back on a distinguished military career and return to civilian life. He’d left London at a gallop, traveling on horseback because he couldn’t bear to wait for his carriage to be packed and ready.

  North and west he’d ridden, eager and happy. The first night on the road, he’d snatched a few hours’ sleep in a rough inn and set out at first light.

  But as the miles from London mounted and the miles to Otway dwindled, he found himself unaccountably slowing down, taking his time. Lingering over meals. Staying in bed longer in the morning—he couldn’t call it sleeping without making himself a liar.

  One might almost imagine the gallant major delayed his arrival at the home he’d longed to see for close to eight years. If such an idea weren’t inconceivable in connection with a decorated war hero, one might even wonder if the gallant major dallied because he was…afraid.

  Of course that was absurd. Lord Canforth had served his country since the British army joined the Peninsular War in 1808. He’d been wounded at Waterloo, and once recovered, he’d spent the last few months crossing the Continent, working to establish the peace. Such a man would hardly quail at the idea of returning to his estates.

  Afraid or not, he’d dawdled on the road, when by rights, he should already be sleeping in his own bed.

  Even a sluggard’s journey eventually came to an end. Now he paused above the landscape he loved more than any other. Whatever uncertainty he harbored about his reception, he felt long-delayed pleasure seep into his bones.

  This was a fine view in any season. Winter lay lightly on the valley, creating a symphony of subtle greens and grays and browns. His gaze drifted across the gardens surrounding the house, and the bare woodlands rising behind it. The low hills encircled what to him had always seemed an earthly paradise. Brimming with happy boyhood memories of loving parents, and freedom and adventure.

  Smoke curled from the house’s chimneys. This close to Christmas, he hadn’t be
en sure if anyone would be home to greet him. The coward who had possessed his soul since he’d returned to England last week had hoped the house might be empty, giving him a chance to settle in before he needed to worry about anyone else.

  Of course he’d have to deal with people again. He was the Earl of Canforth, and he had obligations to his estate. But a few days alone would offer a welcome respite.

  A few days before he had to meet the wife he’d married nearly eight years ago and hadn’t seen since.

  ***

  Felicity, Lady Canforth, emerged from the dark warmth of the stables, blinking against the gray light and carrying an empty bucket she intended to fill at the pump. The promise of snow edged the air. It looked like a cold Christmas ahead.

  When the raw-boned bay horse clattered into the stable yard, she didn’t recognize it. Or the man bundled in hat, scarf, and greatcoat in the saddle.

  This isolated valley didn’t get many unexpected visitors. And it was odd for someone to come to the stables instead of the front door. She straightened, annoyed at the intrusion, not least because in her brown pinafore, she wasn’t dressed to receive guests. “Can I help you?”

  The rider drew to a stop, and she felt him studying her from under the brim of the hat he’d pulled down low over his face. A thick green muffler concealed his features. “I hope so,” he said through the scarf.

  “An introduction might be a nice start,” she said pleasantly.

  One gloved hand rose to pull away the scarf. “Don’t you remember me, Flick?”

  Dear God in heaven. Shock shuddered through her like a blow. Her legs threatened to collapse under her. The bucket crashed to the cobblestones where it rolled disregarded.