Once Upon a Winter's Eve (Spindle Cove #1.5)(26)

“One moment.” He stepped back. He pulled on the lapels of his coat to straighten it, then pushed both hands through his hair to calm the ruffled waves. She loved him for the small endearing gesture of vanity. Even with the wild hair, coarse attire, and the twice-broken nose, he was the still the most handsome man she’d ever known.

He turned back to face her and took her hands in his. “Violet. Dear, sweet Violet.”

Her heart leapt. Even though she knew full well it was coming, her heart insisted on that joyful bounce. At last, it beat. At last, at last.

“Violet, I…” He stopped, frowning.

Now her heart pinched. No, don’t stop. Why are you stopping?

“Good Lord. You’re shivering like a leaf.”

“It’s all right,” she forced through chattering teeth. A freezing gust of wind stung her cheeks. Her nose must have been bright red. “C-carry on.”

“God’s truth.” He wrapped her tight in his arms, enveloping her in delicious masculine warmth. “Darling, you know I would fall to my knees, beg your forgiveness, extol your virtues, and plead for your hand. But it’s too damn cold for speeches. Just know that I love you, to the very center of your brave, beautiful, generous soul. And if you’ll have me, I won’t ask you to wait another day. I’ll marry you right here and now.”

“Right here and now?” Surely she’d heard him wrong. “If only it were possible.”

He kissed her lips. “It’s Christmas, Violet. Anything’s possible.”

“I don’t understand.”

He glanced up at the church looming over them. “I know we’ll have to do it again someday. Inside one of these, rather than huddled outside the door. With our families and friends and a clergyman and a license, and every lavish bit of froth you ever dreamed. You’ll be so beautiful, and I’ll be so proud.” He touched her face. “But I will make my vow to you right now, on this doorstep, with God and all these carved saints looking on. And if you’ll have me…from this night forward, you will be Lady Christian Pierce in my heart.”

His thumb caressed her cheek. His eyes held her, warm and strong. “I, Christian James, take you, Violet Mary, to be my wife. To have, to hold. To love, honor, and cherish. To amuse, to pleasure, to make smile and laugh. To dance with, at every opportunity. To respect always, and tease on occasion. To confide in, whenever need be. To treasure, protect, admire—”

She couldn’t help but give a nervous laugh. “I don’t think these words are in the vows.”

“They’re in my vows,” he said gravely. “But in the interests of time, I shall to return to form. All that richer-poorer, sickness-health business goes without saying. And I will gladly forsake all others, so long as we both shall live.” His hand slid back into her hair, grasping tight. Raw emotion roughened his voice. “I need a lifetime with you.”

She began to tremble, and not from the cold.

“I, Christian,” he whispered, “take you, Violet. And I pray to God you’ll see fit to take me.”

Her heart swelled. She loved this man so much it hurt.

“Christian.” She took his hand in both of hers. And whispered, “It’s time to run.”

Chapter Eight

There was simply no time to waste.

Now that everyone had assembled before the All Things Shop, Violet knew they had a clear path round the church and the remainder of the green. To the Queen’s Ruby rooming house, where Violet and all the other visiting ladies stayed.

She led him around the back of the building, through a little-used entrance. As she’d suspected from the lights warming the parlor windows, it seemed all the ladies had gathered in the large front room.

Violet made her way down the corridor and put her ear to the wall.

“Ladies, ladies.” Through the jumble of conversation, she made out Diana Highwood’s voice. As always, the voice of calm and reason. “Ladies, please. I know the news from Summerfield is alarming, but I have faith everything will be fine. Mr. Dawes has instructed us to remain gathered in the parlor until he returns. The militiamen are searching the village.”

Violet bit her lip. If the militiamen were searching the rest of the village, that meant the safest place for her and Christian was here. For the moment, anyhow.

Another chorus of replies rose up from the ladies, and Violet took advantage of the noise. She grabbed Christian’s sleeve and pulled him up the back stairs.

“Where are you taking me?” he whispered, as they made their way down the deserted corridor.

Lifting a finger to her lips for silence, she opened the door to her chamber and pulled him inside.

What supreme patience it cost her, not to slam the door shut. But Violet forced herself to guide it by slow degrees. Inch by torturous inch. By the moment the latch finally turned with a gentle click, her heart must have beat a hundred times.

At last, she turned to him in the darkened room. “I’m not taking you anywhere. I’m just…taking you.”

“Oh.” He exhaled. “Thank God.”

Placing her hands to his chest, she backed him toward the bed. When the mattress hit him in the back of the knees, he sat down on the coverlet. Fabric rustled as she hiked her skirts a bit. Just enough to sit on his lap.

“I, Violet Mary, take you, Christian James.” She touched his cheek. “To be my husband. To have, to hold. To love and honor. All that sickness-health, richer-poorer business too. Forsaking all others, so long as we both shall live.“