A Snow moon christmas

Creatures great and small

*Merida*

When I enter the breakfast dining room the following morning, my gaze immediately shoots to Chester.

I don't know why I notice him first. The room is far from empty. Several round tables are filled with guests. He sits at one against the far wall, near a window that provides a view of the gloomy skies. Miss Anne and Beta Raphael are with him. It irritates me that Chester looks as though he's slept well after our parting, while I've done little more than toss and turn.

After going to the sideboard and selecting a few sumptuous items for my plate, I turn and spot Lightfoot sitting in a corner alone. Contriteness snaps at me because I hadn't noticed him sooner. I stroll over. "Good morning."

He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. "Don't know what's so good about it."

His being out of sorts is unusual for him, or at least I think it is. I realize that courting is a strange ritual in which one always sees others only at their best for a few hours, never for any great length of time.

"The storm's let up, for one thing," I say, as a servant pulls out my chair and assists me into it. With a flick of my wrist, I settle my napkin on my lap. I realize he smells of stale cigars and old whiskey. "I was disappointed not to have a final dance with you last night."

With a low groan, he slams his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was in the midst of a game of cards and lost track of the time."

"Were you winning?" I ask.

"No, luck wasn't with me." He twists his lips into a sardonic grin. "To be honest, you are the only lucky thing to happen in my life of late."

I narrow my eyes. "Lucky that we got caught in the garden, you mean?"

He gives me one of the smiles that had charmed me so many months earlier. "Simply lucky."

I slice off a bit of sausage. "I don't suppose you told anyone about our encounter in the garden."

He appears as flummoxed as I had been last night when Chester had mentioned it. "Why would you think that?"

"It's just that there appears to be gossip going around about us and a kiss in the garden. As my father forbade my brothers to say anything and they are quite familiar with his temper, I can't imagine how the rumors might have started." I say.

"What does it matter? We are to be married in a little over a week." He says.

I sigh. "Yes, but we wanted people to believe that we were marrying because we wanted to, not because we were forced to as a result of my disgraceful behavior. My father is quite adamant that there be no scandal associated with our family."

Reaching across the table, he places his hand over mine, where it rests beside my plate. "Be assured, my sweet, that I am marrying you because I want to. Scandal or no."

"Still, it's perplexing." I mumble.

"People are always talking about one thing or another. Don't concern yourself with it." He tells me.

"Yes, I suppose you are right." Although without the discovery in the garden, would I be marrying him? Choice had been taken away from me. It hadn't really mattered at the time because I liked Lightfoot, and Chester was involved with Miss Anne. But what if he hadn't been? What might have been was of no consequence. I would go mad if I focused on that rather than what is.

Shifting my gaze over to Chester, I discover him watching me. He will be about all day. Our paths might cross on occasion. Tonight a theater group will be performing A Christmas Carol, but until then I could find myself partnered with Chester during a session of parlor games this afternoon. I can barely tolerate the thought.

"I was thinking of taking a walk," I tell Lightfoot.

"Where?" He asks.

I laugh lightly. "Outside, of course."

"My sweet, there's half a foot of snow out there." He sounds like he is talking to a kid.

"I have my boots. I thought you might care to join me."

Shaking his head, he rubs his temples. "I feel as though my skull is about to split open."

"I'm so sorry. Why ever did you get out of bed, then?" I ask.

He shakes his head lightly, then flinch. "I have not yet been to bed. I thought some coffee might help with the pounding in my head."

"You have been up all night?" I keep my horror at the thought contained. What if he had decided that he wanted a game of billiards, if he and other gentlemen had walked in to see Chester kissing me… or worse, me returning the kiss with equal fervor? The scandal would have ruined me, perhaps even my family. My father would have never forgiven me.

"Cards do not run on a schedule, so yes, all night," he says.

"But you were losing. Why would you keep at it?"

He shrugs. "I didn't wager that much."

While he doesn't say it, I can't help but think that my dowry, which would soon be his, would settle his debt.

"Besides," he continues, "I can't expect you to understand the thrill of acquiring the perfect hand."

"You won't continue to gamble like this when we are married, will you?" I ask.

He stands. "I'm off to bed." Leaning down, he presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I will see you this evening."

When I glance over and see Chester still studying me, I wish Lightfoot had taken me in his arms and given me a resounding kiss that would cause the windows to fog over. I also wish that I wasn't suddenly filled with misgivings.

*Chester*

I'm standing outside, taking in some fresh air when I spy Merry traipsing off in the direction of the castle that had once been the official family residence.

I hadn't meant to stare at her during breakfast, but I had a rough night of it, unable to forget the feel of her in my arms. Watching her with Lightfoot touching, talking, and smiling had been torment. I want to begin my day with her at my breakfast table.

Bloody hell. I want to begin my day with her in my bed. Breakfast can come later.

As she disappears, I glance around. Surely she isn't going off by herself. She must have arranged a meeting with Lightfoot, but then where is he? I know she probably won’t welcome my company, but if I just happen to be strolling in the same direction, what harm is there? How could she object?

With the thick blanket of snow muffling my footsteps, I take off after her. I remember how much she enjoys the outdoors. Perhaps like me, she is simply starting to feel hemmed in.

The last thing I want is to play a game of charades, and I seem to recall that it's first on the list of today's entertainments.

I quicken my pace, closing the distance between us, catching glimpses of her through the trees. She trudges on with such determination and purpose. In one gloved hand, she holds a pair of skates, and I realize she is hoping to find a pond frozen over.

I wait until she's gone far enough that I don't think she will contemplate returning to the residence in order to avoid my company. Then I lengthen my stride until I catch up to her.

"Bit brisk out for a walk, isn't it?" I ask.

She swings around, the fire of anger in her eyes, when I much prefer the fire of passion. I'm surprised that all of the snow around us doesn't melt. "Let me be, Chester."

"You can't possibly think that I'm going to allow you to march off into the woods alone."

"I'm certain I will be quite safe."

It's not a risk I'm willing to take. "Why isn't Lightfoot accompanying you? Did you have a squabble during breakfast?"

"It's none of your affair." She purses her lips before blurting, "His head hurt. He was up for a good bit of the night."

Drinking and gambling, I think, based upon what I have heard. Raphael had told me over our warm eggs and toast that Lightfoot had ended his night with markers owed to several of the Alphas. I don't know why I want her to feel better about the blighter. "Many were, from what I understand."

"We are just fortunate that they didn't walk into the billiards room during an inopportune moment." She huffs.

"I wouldn't have allowed your reputation to be sullied."

She shakes her head. "Sometimes it can't be helped. Please return to the manor, Chester. I'm out here alone because I need solitude."

"Are you rethinking your plans to marry Lightfoot?" I ask.

"I'm rethinking my decision not to knock my skates against your thick skull." She growls.

I can't help but smile. "At least you are thinking of me."

"Good Goddess, but you are vexing," she states before tromping off.

I should let her go. She doesn't want my company. But I might never have another opportunity to be in her presence alone. I look up at the sky. Gray, with heavy clouds, it has an ominous feel to it.

Falling into step beside her, I say, "I think we are in for some more nasty weather."

"I'm quite capable of dealing with a bit of snow."

Holding my thoughts, I simply watch her breaths turning white and fading away. Her cheeks are ruddy, her strides determined.

I remember my father telling me about a well-stocked pond on the estate where he fished with the previous Alpha of the Snow Moon. I wonder if that's where she is heading. She certainly seems to know where she is going. She also seems to have given up on attempting to convince me to leave her alone.

The bare trees are laden with snow. Every now and then a stray breeze blows a dusting of white from its perch. A hushed silence surrounds us. It seems like the place to let anger go, or at the very least a place to share a special moment, to create a memory that will last a lifetime. If I cannot have her forever, I can at least have her for now. I don't know if it will soften or sharpen the regret with which I will live.

I take her elbow. She pivots around, her arm swinging the skates toward my head. I duck, and when they have passed, I grab her other arm and propel her back against the nearest tree; then, releasing the hold on one arm, I touch my finger to her lips, striving not to give any reaction to how warm they are. Despite the cold, the heat seeps through my leather gloves. "Shh."

"How dare..."

"Shh. We are not alone."

Her green eyes widen. The leaves will match their shade come spring. I will never behold another tree without thinking of her.

Without panic, barely moving her head, she scans the area. "Who?"

"To your right, below that scraggly bush there."

She looks down. I see her expression soften, before she shores up her resolve not to enjoy a moment in my company and gives me a pointed glare. "A rabbit?"

I spotted the white fur just before I touched Merry. "A tad beyond is a deer."

She shifts her gaze and I take satisfaction in her curiosity and say. "I remember the interest you took in birds when we walked through the parks. You seem to know them all."

"I appreciate creatures, great and small. What I do not appreciate is your taking liberties. Please unhand me." She huffs.

"Do you love him? You never truly answered my question last night. Tell me that much at least. Do you love him?" I ask.

She angles her chin. "With all my heart."

Hope soars through me, and I give her a slow, triumphant grin. "You always were a poor liar, Merry."

Then I cover her mouth with mine.