She pa.s.sed the church where Isaac would be attending services.

And if I must be pa.s.sed over for something, I suppose church on a Christmas morning isn't so bad a thing.

Alice turned her face into the light wind and continued on her way. The miles back toward Killeshandra would not be pleasant; that was quite sure and certain. Some other poor traveler was but a few streets ahead of her, braving the same elements.

She held her coat closer to her with her gloved hands. Perhaps if she thought hard on the blankets and the warm fire in the kitchen hearth in the farmhouse that waited at the end of that long road, she'd not feel the chill quite so deep and acute. If nothing else, the antic.i.p.ation quickened her steps.

She quickly came even with her fellow traveler. He, apparently, hadn't sufficient imagination to push him onward.

Alice set her mind to offering him an encouraging smile and a Christmas greeting as she pa.s.sed. A person ought to receive at least that when alone on a morning such as that one. No sooner had she reached the stranger's side than he spoke.

"Have ya a friend to walk around Lough Oughter with ya?"

Her gaze immediately jumped to his face. "Isaac?"

He didn't look at her but kept his eyes trained ahead. "Might I make the journey back with ya?"

She didn't answer right off, but continued walking in confused silence. She'd not at all expected to see him on the road.

"Why is it ye're not in church this morning? I've never known ya to miss services. And on Christmas Day of all days." 'Twas more shocking the longer she thought on it.

He finally looked at her, but his expression was one of apprehension. "I didn't know when ye'd be pa.s.sing by, and I didn't dare risk missing ya. I've been out here some time already."

"Out here? In this weather?" Heavens, the man must have been near frozen.

Alice opened her satchel as they continued walking, digging through her meager belongings until she found the woolen scarf her cousin had knitted her. She'd kept it tucked away should she need more bundling during the walk home. But one look at Isaac's red nose and bare neck made up her mind on that score.

He was still clearly unsure of himself. Did he think she disliked him? That she didn't want him about? He'd been thick-headed and stubborn, but love doesn't fly away for such reasons as that.

"Come, then," she instructed, stopping and motioning him closer.

She began wrapping the scarf about his neck.

"I can't take yer scarf, Alice. Suppose ya need it yer own self?"

She shook her head. "I've a warm one on already. Now ya just take this, and don't make a great fuss over it."

He held quite still as she finished wrapping and tying. Alice's heart pounded clear into her fingertips. Except for the occasional moment when he helped her over a muddy bit of road or b.u.mped against her on accident, they'd never really touched. Yet wrapping her scarf about his neck, her hands brushed against him. She felt the tiny moment of contact clear to her very soul. She gazed up to find his eyes locked with her own.

They stood there at the very edge of Cavan Town directly on the road leading away, simply looking at one another. Each breath they took fogged the air between them.

"I've been a fool, Alice," Isaac whispered.

"Have ya now?" Her voice emerged even quieter than his.

His hand lightly touched her cheek, just inside the brim of her bonnet. Such a look of sad regret weighed down his handsome face. "I'm too stubborn by half, ya know. And when my mind's set to something I don't always heed the world about me. I miss a great many important things that way."

For the first time in some weeks, Alice's heart smiled along with her lips. "Ya are terrible stubborn, Isaac Dancy."

His eyes traced her smiling face, and some of the heaviness left his expression. His hand slid from her face to her shoulder, down to her arm and took hold of her hand. "I hope, Alice, ye're every bit as forgiving as I am dimwitted."

"I'm a woman." She shrugged. "We've had to be forgiving since time began."

"Speaking of which..." He set something in her free hand.

What in heaven's name? She examined the little cloth-wrapped bundle. "What is it?"

"Tis a present, it is. A Christmas gift."

"For me?" She'd not been expecting that.

"It's certainly not for Miss Kilchrest."

Alice shot him a look of warning at that. If the man truly wanted to get back in her good graces, he'd do well to leave a certain woman's name out of things.

Isaac looked immediately contrite, but with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. Here was the banter she'd missed between them. Here was his silent, lighthearted laughter. She'd needed it these past weeks.

She untied the fabric and unwound the gift. After unlooping the fabric for a moment, she reached the center. 'Twas the most beautiful bit of jewelry she'd ever seen. Clearly it was a pin, but with a peg on the side. Alice pushed the peg in, and the round, blue and gold case opened.

"A watch." She'd always wanted a timepiece of her own, but never had she imagined one so beautiful.

"Ya need one, ya know," Isaac said. "Always pestering me to know the hour." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "A man can only take so much aggravation."

"I don't know how to read it," she warned him.

His smile was kind and tender. "We've a long walk ahead of us. I'd be happy to show ya how."

Alice ran her finger over the delicate flowers on the deep blue watch case, inlaid with gold.

Beautiful.

"This must have come very dear." She knew he was not a wealthy man. He was not dest.i.tute, but he hardly had endless coffers at his disposal.

"It matches yer eyes, Alice. Matches quite perfectly. I couldn't pa.s.s it by."

Matches yer eyes. That he even knew the color of her eyes came as both a surprise and a comfort. Perhaps she'd not been so overlooked all those months. "Ya had to have purchased this before the party last night." Before Miss Kilchrest made her nature quite clear.

Isaac nodded. "I decided on a lot of things before last night, though the evening firmed up my resolve on most of them."

How she hoped one of those decisions was to toss aside Miss Kilchrest in favor of her.

She pinned the watch to the front of her coat, careful to clasp it securely. "Will it do, do ya think?"

"Lovely." But he wasn't looking at the watch. "I don't know how I didn't see it before."

"Blinded by ambition, ya were."

He nodded solemnly. "And by my own stupidity."

"Aye. That, as well." She set a hand on his chest for balance as she stretched on her toes and placed a single, brief kiss on his cheek. "I thank ya for the fine Christmas present. I'll cherish it always."

"Will ya let me cherish you, Alice?" One of his arms wrapped around her, keeping her nearby. "Will ya at least let me prove to ya that I can, that I will? All these months, I've grown to care more for ya than any person I know. I tell ya my thoughts and worries. I trust ya with my concerns. I miss ya when ye're away and worry over ya when ye're not close by. All these months, and I never realized-"

"Ya talk too much, Isaac Dancy." She took hold of the scarf about his neck and pulled him within an inch of herself. "It's not words I'm needing just now."

His smile tipped a bit roguishly. "I'm most happy to oblige."

And he was. And did. His lips met hers in a caress so gentle at first, she hardly knew he'd begun kissing her. But his efforts quickly grew more urgent. Alice slid her arms around his neck and held fast to him.

Here was the affection she'd longed for from him, the rea.s.surance that he cared for her just as she cared for him. 'Twas home.

Flakes of snow drifted softly and slowly down around them as they sealed quite a few unspoken promises with a fine bit of kissing on a peaceful Christmas morning on the road to Cavan Town.

About Sarah M. Eden.

Sarah M. Eden read her first Jane Austen novel in elementary school and has been addicted to historical romance ever since. An avid researcher, she loves delving deep into the details of history. She was a Whitney Award Finalist for her novels Seeking Persephone (2008) and Courting Miss Lancaster (2010). Visit her at www.sarahmeden.com.

Other Works by Sarah M. Eden.

Seeking Persephone.

http://www.amazon.com/Seeking-Persephone-ebook/dp/B005JU5SQM/.

Courting Miss Lancaster.

http://www.amazon.com/Courting-Miss-Lancaster-ebook/dp/B005EOCET2/.

The Kiss of a Stranger.

http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Stranger-ebook/dp/B004HD6E42/.

Friends and Foes.

http://www.amazon.com/Friends-and-Foes-ebook/dp/B006UKH7KU/.

An Unlikely Match.

http://www.amazon.com/An-Unlikely-Match-ebook/dp/B009M84FL6/.

It Happened Twelfth Night.

By Heidi Ashworth.

Prologue.

Luisa waited behind the tree with bated breath. Percy, a black handkerchief about his eyes and arms outstretched, was close enough to touch. Did she, however, wish to be found? To be discovered by the grazing of his fingers against her gown amidst shrieks of his friend's laughter would be delicious. Yet to win the day and carry forth the trophy (this year it was a basket of delightfully pink blooms) had been one of her heart's desires for almost every one of her eighteen years.

Percy's father and mother, Sir Walter and Lady Brooksby, loved a good celebration and eagerly availed themselves of every opportunity to welcome throngs of people to the abbey. This June day was the 74th birth anniversary of old King George and, though he was not likely to have been the least aware of it, it was a long standing tradition to invite the entire village to a celebration at the abbey on His Majesty's behalf. The itinerary was the same every year: lawn games were followed by the unveiling of tables groaning with delectable foodstuffs both sweet and savory, each dish interspersed with pitcher after pitcher of tart lemonade. The pure white batiste cloths adorning the tables, so long they swept the green blades of gra.s.s, were so beautiful they made Luisa's heart ache.

In point of fact, in her eyes, everything Sir Walter and his Lady set out to create was executed to perfection, including their eldest son, Percy. Those golden tresses! Those smoky eyes! That chiseled chin! Luisa was persuaded there was never another like him in all of England.

But now it seemed she was to be caught after all. The idea was every bit as intoxicating as she had hoped, especially since he seemed to know at once whose waist was suddenly between his warm palms as he spun her around to face him. Pulling the cloth over his head, she looked up at him, a question in her eyes. His slow answering grin caused a fluttering in her stomach, a sensation with which she had been most familiar of late. She couldn't be certain when Percy-her-friend had become Percy-her-beau, but there was no mistaking the gleam in his eye as he tugged her by the hand and led her to the relative privacy of the summerhouse.

Leaning against a shadowed wall of the round stone structure, Luisa tried to catch her breath, but the way Percy was looking into her eyes was, for her lungs, a bit of a dilemma. For Luisa herself, it was nothing of consequence; who needed whole draughts of air when one could be gazed at in such a searching way? As for herself, all she was able to find, to see, to dwell on, was the perfect pink of his lips as they descended upon her own. Her eyes fluttered shut, and all sound was reduced to a rushing in her ears; all thought tuned to the rhythm of his heart hammering in unison with hers.

"I love you, Luisa Darlington, and when I return from this unforgivably interminable trip abroad, I shall look for you, right here, directly upon my return."

Luisa opened her eyes to find his gaze locked on hers. Unaccountably, she began to giggle. "Won't the summerhouse be shut up for the winter? Shan't I wait for you in the abbey instead?"

"No, right here! While we are parted, I shall think of you every minute of every day just as you are, your hair divinely tousled and your lips swollen with desire. Vous avez l'air parfait comme vous etes."

"You know I don't comprehend a word of French," Luisa murmured, secretly hoping he would be just as content to discover her by the blazing fire in the library on that long-to-come December day.

He must have seen doubt cloud her eye, for he took her by the shoulders, and with a little shake, said in a voice full of urgency, "Swear it! Luisa, you must!"

"Yes! Of course! Did I not say so?" she asked with a buoyant smile calculated to dispel all misgiving. A barely audible moan of longing escaped his lips before he once more pressed them to hers with great affect.

Taking her again by the hand, he said, "It is settled, then. You shall be here when I return, and only then will I feel truly happy."

How Percy would convince his parents that she, daughter of the keeper at the abbey gate, was a suitable bride for their son was a question that nibbled at the edge of her mind, but she put it aside. His father was a baronet, not an earl or marquis. "It is an accord," she replied with a squeeze of his hand and with a gentle tug, Luisa led him back to the gaiety of the party, her heart swollen with love and her mind full of the knowledge that true happiness had already found her.

Chapter One.