Page 21 of Christmas Secrets

Holly’s head snapped up. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we? The sooner my brother realizes that, the better off he will be.” She dumped the dishes into the water.

“Do you really believe that?” He picked up the wooden cups and followed her to the wash basin. “Don’t you think since it is Christmas, the boy should have his toys? After all, what else does he have to look forward to?” He handed her the cups.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said, her hands stilling. She looked like she was about to cry. “But we can’t go back. We just can’t.”

“What is it you’re afraid of, Holly? Tell me, please.” He caressed the side of her face with his hand and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“Mayhap I would if you’d trust me enough to tell me your secrets.” He kissed her then, and it felt good. Damned good. Her lips were so soft and she tasted sweet from the wine and currants. And for some reason he thought she smelled like flowers. Mayhap it was just his longing for her that made him feel this way, but he needed her close to him. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She rested her head against his chest and he could feel the wetness of her tears right through his tunic.

“I’m sorry you have gotten involved in my problems, Percival. Mayhap it would be best if you just forgot about us and went back to the castle tomorrow. You have family there. They want you there. You need them.”

“What I need is for you to trust me. I’m here for you, yet you keep shutting me out.” He pulled her over to a chair and sat her atop his lap. “Now tell me, Holly. Where was your home and why can’t you go back?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t giving him any information at all.

“It matters to me.”

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?” She turned the question on him now.

“I told you. My father died on Christmas.”

“Yes, you said that, but you didn’t tell me why.”

“If you must know, he died by hanging a few years ago. It was Christmastime. His abductors mocked him and decorated the gallows with holly and juniper boughs.”

“Oh, my.” She pulled away and sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I can see now why you don’t like the holiday. Still, don’t let your hatred for what happened to your father ruin all the good things about Christmas.”

“I’ll just be happy when the blasted holiday is over.”

“Why was he hanged?”

This was a question he was hoping she wouldn’t ask. But now, he was going to have to answer.

“I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to tell me where you lived and why you really left. And why you cannot go back.”

“That’s three things you want to know from me, when I only asked one from you.”

“Then at least give me one. That should be fair.”

“All right,” she said with a small nod. “You first.”

He half-thought she was tricking him and wouldn’t give him any information. But if he acted like he didn’t trust her, she really wouldn’t tell him a thing.

“My father was accused of plotting to kill the king.”

“Oh!” Her eyes opened wide. “And was he really plotting to kill the king? Did you know about it?

“That’s two more questions. Are you willing to answer three for me?”

She slowly shook her head and he thought it was over. “Keswick,” she told him.

“You lived in Keswick?” He’d heard of that town which wasn’t far away, but had never really been there.

“Yes,” she said, getting off his lap and saying nothing more. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish cleaning the dishes.”

“Tomorrow is the start of Christmastide,” he said, speaking of the eve before Christmas day. The celebrations would last for twelve days. He looked back at the boy. “Noel is going to be so upset that he didn’t get to make wreaths before he fell asleep. He seemed so excited about it.”