One Perfect Christmas (Short Story) by Stefanie Sloane Read Free Book Online

going easier. “How silly of me.”
    Lord Needles offered her his arm, but Jane refused, though why she did so she could
     not exactly fathom.
    “As for observation,” he continued, clasping his hands behind his back in a scholarly
     manner. “This morning’s service was quite enlightening.”
    Jane cringed at the mention of the Christmas message. “Yes, well, Vicar Jones does
     have a way with words.”
    “What was your favorite point from the sermon, Jane?”
    She could have sworn the path between the vicarage and Juniper Hall contained nothing
     that could be compared to a hill. And yet her body strained with effort, her mind
     with panic. “Well, it is very hard to pick just one,” she began, looking at her companion.
    Lord Needles appeared to be hanging on her every word.
    Blast
. “If pressed, I would choose the donkey, near the manger. And his …” It appeared
     lying was every bitas exhausting as tromping through fresh snow. “And his humble, yet pure spirit.”
    “You weren’t listening, were you?”
    Jane stopped and released her skirts, resting her hands on her hips. “But there’s
     always a donkey in the Christmas story.”
    “The vicar spoke on chapter two of the book of Luke,” Lord Needles explained, offering
     his arm a second time. “And the importance of the shepherds as messengers.”
    Jane should have known the vicar would reuse last year’s Christmas sermon. She accepted
     Lord Needles’s kindness this time, looping her arm through his and allowing herself
     to rest against his bulk.
    “You weren’t listening because you were far too busy pretending to
not
be in love with Mr. Cavanaugh,” Lord Needles continued, patting her hand with his.
    All was not lost. It couldn’t be. Not yet. “A passing fancy, my lord.” Jane strove
     to adopt a light, dismissive air. “Nothing more than an infatuation from our youth
     that rears its ugly head from time to time.”
    “I don’t believe you,” he replied, his hand warming hers. “I’ve seen a woman look
     at a man like that. You love him. And if I’m not mistaken, he loves you.”
    Jane stared at him, aghast, her mouth moving, though no words came forth. “Wh … I … Bu …”
     She tugged Lord Needles to a stop and squared her shoulders. “You are mistaken, my
     lord. As mistaken as one ever could be.”
    “Jane,” he said in a kind tone. “I would like to court you—perhaps even marry you
     one day. I am almost sure we would have a good life together—a splendid life, even.
     But doing so would rob you of the greatest gift this life has to offer—love. Are you
     willing to give up what you so greatly deserve? Forget everything else and think only
     of your heart. And then give me your answer.”
    Jane’s panic, so recently rising in her throat and threatening to make away with her
     senses, suddenly cooled. Mild, relief-riddled acceptance took its place.
    She looked at Lord Needles intently, imagining a life with him. There would be laughter
     and companionship. Comfort and the blessing of children. A strong and true affection
     born of genuine appreciation. But not love.
    “Miss Jane!”
    The cry carried from around the bend, followed closely by the appearance of Robby
     astride Fickle, the draft gelding.
    Jane and Lord Needles watched the elderly man draw near. He balanced precariously
     upon the massive horse, his wiry frame bouncing up and down in time to Fickle’s hoofbeats.
    “Miss Jane, there you are!” Robby exclaimed, bringing Fickle to a sliding halt in
     front of her and Lord Needles. “Beggin’ your pardon, but it’s Reg. He’s gone missing
     again. And I fear for him in the coming storm.”
    Jane gasped at this closer view of Robby. Her old friend was wrapped in a hand-me-down
     coat she’d thought ripped to bits for rags years ago. He was shaking from the cold
     and his teeth were literally chattering.
    Jane removed her hand from Lord Needles’s and reached for Fickle’s reins. “Come,