O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,80

“And I am aware of how much it honors me and my family. However, I’m afraid I cannot accept your obliging offer.”

It might have been imagination, but for an instant, she thought an ugly shadow crossed his face. But no, a sad smile curved his lips.

“May I know why?” he asked mildly.

“I am a foolish creature, and I have discovered I can only marry for love. While I hope you and I will always remain friends, I find I do not love you as your wife should love you.”

“Emma.” He took her hand once more, and though she was uncomfortable, it seemed rude to immediately snatch it back. “Have you considered that is because you are not yet my wife? When we are one, you will love me. I shall make sure of it.”

She drew her hand free. “Sadly, that is up to me, not you. I hope I don’t cause you pain, my lord, but indeed we would not suit.” She rose quickly, highly relieved when Roberta walked into the room with John.

Normally, Roberta would have scolded her for being alone with a man, but on this occasion, she only smiled indulgently. While John played host, pouring sherry for everyone, Joe and Selim wandered in, deep in conversation.

Almost at once, Selim’s glance sought her out. And she could not resist returning his spontaneous smile.

There is no one else. It has always been Selim…

However, as she hastily looked away, she saw Davitt gazing from her to Selim, and his expression was grim. It did not bode well for a comfortable dinner, but fortunately, Emma had placed her between Standish and John, so there were no opportunities for private conversation with either Davitt or Selim.

And in truth, it was an informal dinner, and as usual, when the family was together, banter and laughter flowed around the table and across it. Hazel had become part of the fun, and Standish, who rarely understood it, accepted it. Selim and Davitt were inevitably dragged into the conversation, and Selim more than held his own as he had during his last visit.

And just like last night, gazing at the lone star, Emma’s reality slipped. She could almost see many such dinners in the future, many such Christmases when the decorative leaves and berries might change, the guests might differ, but the central core would be the same. Her mother, her brothers, and sisters. And Selim.

Selim, who did not believe in the divinity of Christ.

Reality flooded back. She did not underestimate the difficulties. Even the impossibilities, but at this moment, she was truly happy.

Although they waited up until midnight in order to wish each other Merry Christmas, Emma could not face going to bed. Unlaced by the maid, but still dressed with a shawl around her shoulders, she paced her bedchamber, going over the magical evening of warmth and laughter, of music and friendship. She felt full of love for the world and of hope for happiness, for although she and Selim had exchanged no promises, no words of love, he had looked at her.

How he had looked at her. Her body thrilled with heat even at the memory of his eyes.

Restlessly, she pulled back the curtain and gazed up at the clear sky. Yes, there was that star again. In the east. She laughed at herself for imagining last night that it was Selim’s spirit falling to earth. The mist and clouds had merely blocked it, and then she had seen his approaching lantern. Tonight, the sky was clear, and frost glistened heavily on the ground.

Was Selim watching, too? Did he remember her grief last night when she had imagined him dead? Did he know that she loved him? Did he, could he, love her?

Suddenly, it was unbearable to waste more time. She would go back to the terrace, see if he joined her there. She stamped her feet into her boots, snatched up her fur-lined cloak, and left her bedchamber. At the last moment, she grabbed the candle from beside the door.

She hurried along the dark, empty passages, down the stairs to the gallery and the drawing room, which was also in darkness. As she pulled the curtain back, pale light from the stars and the new moon spilled on to her. She unlocked the door and stepped onto the terrace, softly closing the door behind her to keep the cold out of the house.

It was bitterly cold. The frost crunched beneath her boots as she walked toward the balustrade, her gaze on the