“Jonas, set the manger right in front of the hearth, please, but not too close. Jamie, the chairs go on either side of it, just as we rehearsed.”
Cassie cast a critical eye over the set-up for the children’s Epiphany pageant, then checked her watch. People would soon begin coming into the assembly room, where the rows of audience chairs remained set as they had been for the previous evening’s entertainment. Some of the villagers were already in the inn’s taproom, singing and getting an early start on their celebratory libations.
“Thank you both. It looks good. Let us join the others in the parlor.” She had left the children who had arrived early to don their costumes and sort out their props, since the inn’s private parlor was not spacious enough for her entire cast of players to dress there at once. She only hoped the rest of the group would appear soon. Time was growing a bit short.
As she and the Whitlatch twins emerged from the passage to the assembly room, she could hear a commotion outside in the street and then several of the missing children hurtled through the inn’s front door.
“Miss Tamworth! Miss Tamworth! Eric fell through the ice!”
“What?” She would have sworn her heart stopped, as if it had itself turned to ice.
“In the pond! We were sledding. He slid out too far and the ice broke.”
“Eric Burdis?”
“Yes! They are trying to get him out now.”
“Oh, dear Lord.” The children were reaching for her hands, but she needed her cloak. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Just a minute.”
Of course, the children in the parlor wanted to know what was happening, and Cassie despaired over not only young Eric but also how to keep the rest of the children safe during the commotion.
“Please, all of you! Just stay right here, where you’ll be safe and not in the way of the rescuers. That is the best way you can help.” She grabbed her cloak, mentally checking which children were still absent. “Where are Sammie and Will Salsby?”
“They are still down by the pond,” cried one of the panicked children who had just come from there.
“All right. Please stay here, everyone.”
By this time the children’s news had spread into the taproom, emptying the tables as the customers rushed out to go to the pond.
“You say my sons are down there?” Mr. Salsby said, pulling his cloak over his shoulders as he passed the parlor doorway. “They never told me they were going to be sledding.”
Cassie just nodded as she fell into step with him. They hurried out and down the street, where they could see a crowd had already gathered past the village green. A sense of foreboding clutched Cassie’s heart.
“Will! Sammie!” Mr. Salsby started calling as soon as they reached the edge of the crowd. People made way for them and the two boys elbowed their way to meet their father. Will had tears running down his reddened cheeks.
“We didn’t know this would happen! Eric was on Charlie Poole’s sled.”
“It only went out a little way, but then it hit some bare ice and slid a lot farther,” Sammie said.
Cassie listened, but she was looking out to the middle of the pond, trying to see who was out there attempting to rescue Eric.
“He’s so little, the sled went farther with him than it did with the rest of us,” Will added.
“What were you thinkin’ of, sledding by the edge of the pond?” Mr. Salsby’s voice was laced with pent-up emotion.
“The slope’s good, and there’s nothing in the way to run into. And it’s near,” Sammie answered, his voice catching, then dropping to a whisper. “We didn’t want to be late for the pageant.”
“Come along with me, you two,” Mr. Salsby said.
Cassie lost track of them. Someone had obtained a long ladder (probably the inn’s, retrieved from the Dowdings’ house) and had laid it out across the ice. But it didn’t reach all the way to where the ice was broken. Several men were stationed part way out, but one was at the edge of the broken ice well beyond the end of the ladder, trying to pull Eric out.
Although his back was turned to the crowd, she guessed instantly who it was. Someone reckless but also heroic. She thought she would never mistake his form for anyone else’s. If she had not already been certain, she spotted the Lord of Misrule’s hat on the edge of the pond bank. Yet she still asked, hoping she was wrong. “Who is out there?”
“Lord Forthhurst.” Of course.
He had hoisted Eric most of the way out, and the crowd began to cheer. But suddenly an ominous crack rent the air. The ice he was kneeling on gave way, casting both figures into the freezing water. The crowd’s hurrah shifted into a collective moan of dismay.
And then there was silence. No one moved or spoke, as if everyone was in shock.
He couldn’t be gone. Cassie stood frozen in disbelief. It was the longest moment of her life.
“Pah!” Adam’s head broke through the surface, hauling Eric’s up with him. He gasped for breath and then shook the water out of his eyes.
“Slide the ladder out!” he called. “Don’t come with it.” He was grasping at the edges of the ice, trying to support both himself and the boy.
The men on the ice carefully complied, while others in the crowd on shore called for more blankets and rope. Cassie watched in horrified fascination as the rescue unfolded in time that seemed to have slowed to a crawl.
Adam grasped the end rung of the ladder once it was close enough to reach. As he tried to raise himself or Eric up enough to get out of the water, the edges of the ice kept breaking. Ropes had been attached to the end of the ladder and he waved, signaling that the other men should start dragging it towards shore. Holding Eric protectively away from the ice, Adam clutched the rung with one hand and was hauled along the ice like a cutter, breaking a path open as he went. Jagged pieces of ice pushed against his chest. Cassie knew the torture of watching must be nothing compared to what his body was enduring.
Finally, closer to shore, they reached shallower water and ice that was firmer. Adam was able to stand in the water and managed to lift Eric onto the ladder. He wrapped the boy’s frozen hands around the wooden rungs and spoke to him softly, saying words Cassie couldn’t hear.
“Pull him in!” he called to the other men.
It took forever for the ladder bearing Eric to reach the pond-bank, where the boy was bundled in blankets and immediately carried to the nearest house. Cassie never took her eyes off Adam, worried that he might succumb while he waited for his turn. As he made no move to climb onto the ice and come in without help, she realized that he was too cold. Every moment he stayed in the freezing water increased his danger.
Fate could not take him from her now. Not when she thought she had finally come to understand him. Staring out at him in the pond as the men pushed the ladder back out a second time, she experienced a moment of absolute clarity.
She knew this man. She knew he was honorable to his very core. He might take risks, but he was no devil. He might one day believe that truth about himself if he had someone to hold up a mirror to him. She wanted to be that someone.
He didn’t need to be redeemed, he needed to be loved.
The ache that started in her chest swelled and the pressure of it squeezed tears into her eyes.
She loved him. That plain truth had eluded her–or had it? Hadn’t it crept up on her? She had simply refused to see it, until right now.
The emotion was overwhelming, so much deeper than mere need or the physical desire she had been fighting from the very first day. Her tears spilled over. Please God, give me a chance with him.
Adam’s shivering took hours to stop, or so it seemed. He had no actual idea of how much time had passed since he’d been hauled out of the pond. Stripped of his wet clothing and wrapped in layers of warm blankets, he lay in a bed with a lively fire burning close by and all sorts of people coming and going with broth and tea. Eric Burdis was recovering from their shared ordeal in a similar fashion, he was told.
The efforts to warm him were working, but they could do nothing to lighten the leaden ache in his heart. He was certain he had missed the Epiphany Pageant. So had Eric, but Adam would have wagered he felt the loss even more keenly than the small boy. Cassie had worked hard to make certain the pageant would happen, and the children had been so excited about presenting it. Adam had wanted to be there, supporting them.
The depth of the disappointment knifing through him was remarkable, considering the man who had arrived at this village just twelve and a half days ago. Who would believe had he come to care so much about a simple children’s pageant? Was the change in him what allowed him to fall in love with Cassie? Or was being with her what had changed him?
His recollection was hazy, but he thought she had been here earlier, checking on him.
He tried to stir within his cocoon of blankets. His limbs were limp. Apparently exhaustion was the end result of almost freezing to death. He would sleep a little, and hope when he awoke he would feel stronger. Tonight’s assembly was the culmination of all his days as Lord of Misrule, and he positively could not miss that. He had something important to do.
Adam was more alert when he awoke sometime later. He managed to ask questions of the stout, hearty woman who brought him some veal broth, Mrs. Lenis, in whose home it turned out he was currently a guest.
“I’m next closest to the pond,” she told him. “They took the little lad to my neighbor next door.”
“I am terribly sorry to be a burden on you, Mrs. Lenis. I will make it up to you when I am better.” He took a moment to gather more energy. “Am I correct that I have missed the pageant?”
“Oh, indeed, milord. Miss Tamworth said t’would be best for everyone to go ahead with it, after all the excitement.”
“She is very wise, is she not? I think she stopped in here, earlier. Did she?”
“She did. Very concerned about you, she was.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Apparently his confessions during their walk last evening had not entirely soured her interest in him. They’d had no chance to talk since then. “I fear everything that happened after they brought me out of the pond is a bit blurry.”
“You were half-froze,” Mrs. Lenis said. “Don’t you fret about that. You saved Eric Burdis’s life, and no one here is going to forget that. ’Tis a blessing you were here.”
What if the reason he had been stranded in Little Macclow all along was for this rescue?
He shook his head as if that would knock more sense into it. If he hadn’t come to Little Macclow, the accident would likely not have happened at all, for he was the one who had introduced the notion of sledding for fun to children who had never done it. The mishap was his fault.
“I am no hero, Mrs. Lenis. Certainly anyone else would have done the same as I did.”
“No, milord. Besides risking ye’self on the ice, ’twas you who called for the ladder. I doubt anyone else had that idea.”
A giant of a man ducked through the doorway, and Mrs. Lenis introduced her husband. Adam had noticed him around the village, but they had not previously met.
“I come to check on ye, my lord. There’s people askin’, and ye’ve visitors besides. Do ye know where ye are, and who we are? Do ye recollect what happened?”
Adam assured the man that he did.
“Good. Ye seem to have yer wits about ye. Do ye feel as if ye could sit up for a bit?”
“I’m as weak as a new foal, but I need to stir. I’m feeling better.”
“All right then. Lady Anne and Squire are here to see ye. I’m not certain I could naysay them anyhow.” He flashed Adam a huge grin.
The Twelfth Night assembly required a complete re-set of the hall once the children’s pageant was finished. Cassie scrambled to collect the props and the children and get everything out of the way as quickly as she could. She tried to concentrate on those tasks to keep her from worrying about Adam.
He had been conscious but hardly alert after he’d been carried into the Lenis’s house by the pond. She was not certain he even knew she had been there. His skin had been ashen and his shivering uncontrollable, but she had been told he would be all right. How fast could a man recover from nearly freezing?
Whether or not he would be able to perform as the Lord of Misrule tonight was the concern of many around her, but Cassie only wanted him well, however long it took. She and Adam had unfinished business between them. She would wait however long was needed.
Just outside the inn’s entrance, a wagon full of long boards and sawhorses had arrived from Highfield where they were stored all the rest of the year. A crew of men were busy unloading them. They would be set up as rows of long tables in the assembly room, with a shorter head table set crosswise and a space in front of it for presentations and performances.
The King and Queen of Fools would preside from there, with Lady Anne and Squire seated to one side of them. The Lord of Misrule was supposed to sit on the other side. If he was absent, they would manage somehow. But how unfair to think Adam might have sacrificed witnessing the final stage of all his work! His heroism deserved a better reward.
Cassie wanted to check on him again. She had sent the children to their homes, so now was her best chance, before she became caught up in other tasks. She hurried down the main street of the village towards the green.
A little way past it, she saw Lady Anne and Squire coming towards her. She waved, her heart lightening a little at the sight of them.
“Hallo! And a happy Twelfth Night to you. I am just on my way to the Lenis’s house to check on Lord Forthhurst.”
“We are just returning from there,” Lady Anne said, opening her arms to give Cassie a hug. “I know you must be eager to see him, my dear, but I have to tell you he is resting now, after but a very short visit with us. He still needs to regain his strength. I assure you he is much improved, however.”
“So you are saying I should not go right now?”
“I’m sorry, Cassie. If only I had thought. You could have come with us.”
“No, I am only just now finished with the last tasks of the pageant.”
“Which was wonderful!” Lady Anne took Cassie’s arm and turned her to walk along in the direction she had just come. “I don’t know how you do it. Every year I think it is better.”
That made Cassie laugh. “Every year I think it is exactly the same, Lady Anne. But you are kind to say that.”
There was no point in resisting the change in plan. Rest was what Adam needed most to recover. She would put his need ahead of her own, no matter how badly she wanted to see him.
“Will you come along with us for a visit at Highfield?”
“Thank you, Lady Anne, but I think I will go home. Resting before the evening’s activities seems like a wise idea.
Every villager who was physically able to do so attended Twelfth Night. In Little Macclow, the holiday was among the biggest celebrations of the year. The festive assembly room was thronged and noisy with above a hundred people crowded into it. They freely enjoyed the wassail set up in two large bowls on either side of the room.
Among the guests were characters dressed in costumes, men of the village who began the event with a pantomime of St. George and the Dragon. The Green Man, clad in winter holly, introduced them, and a great deal of silliness and play with wooden swords followed until Evil, personified by the dragon, was dead.
Cassie, seated with her father, kept eyeing the passage leading into the assembly room, hoping Adam might find enough strength to appear.
In his absence, Lady Anne and Squire had taken on the role of hosts. “Dear people of Little Macclow, it is time to see who will be crowned as the King and Queen of Fools!”
On cue, two tea carts were wheeled into the room bearing the large and elaborately decorated Cake of the Bean and the Cake of the Pea. Both cakes were sliced and the pieces distributed, “bean” slices to the men and “pea” slices to the women.
Cassie could not have been less interested in the cakes and the selection process this year. She had done her part by making the new King and Queen capes. Other village women had made the crowns, which were circlets made from ivy and holly, decorated with ribbons. Without Adam there, the entire celebration felt hollow to her.
She bit into her slice of cake absently. As she started to chew, her tongue discovered the hard round shape of the pea. Her heart dropped. This was not what she wanted! She could not imagine a worse candidate to play the Queen. Couldn’t she give the pea to somebody else?
Her face must have betrayed her. Her father immediately asked, “What’s the matter, Cassie?”
In answer she took the pea out of her mouth and dropped it onto her plate.
He reached for the hand she had hastily put back in her lap and squeezed it. “Perhaps the distraction will cheer you.” Then he raised her hand along with his own. “We have a Queen of Fools!” This was answered by a thunderous cheer.
The Lord of Misrule should have been the one to escort her to the head table. At this moment Cassie wished she were as absent as he was. To be absent with him, even better. Here she was, trapped again in a role she did not want.
Smiling benignly, certainly unaware of her turmoil, her father escorted her up to the head of the hall, where she took her place at the table. All that remained was to see who her King would be.
No one yet had found the bean. More cake was passed around to the men. And then, a shout from the table next to where her father sat. David Pratt stood up, brandishing the bean between his fingers, and another cheer went up.
It wanted only this! Could her night get any worse? How was it possible that instead of the beautiful evening she had envisioned watching Adam play his role and eventually hearing his proposal of marriage, she was about to play Queen to Mr. Pratt’s King? A pair of fools, for certain. If there had ever been any magic, most certainly it was not at work now.
Mr. Pratt could not have looked any happier. Beaming, he walked up to join Cassie at the head table. She glanced quickly at Lady Anne to see if she showed any sign of understanding Cassie’s distress, but saw no clue of what that good lady was feeling. A polite mask that covered anything was required to do Lady Anne’s job.
“We have our King and Queen, good people,” she exclaimed with what might or might not have been genuine enthusiasm. She and the Squire lifted the beautiful shoulder capes from the backs of the two chairs and draped them around Cassie and Mr. Pratt’s shoulders. The beribboned circlets of greens were set on their heads. Cassie didn’t feel any magic.
Mr. Pratt looked over at Cassie, delight radiating from every inch of him. He leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “This feels so utterly right!”
“Not to me.” Had he somehow arranged for this to happen? Everything about this felt utterly wrong. Yet Cassie looked out at the roomful of happy faces, and knew her village did not deserve a sullen Queen of Fools. How would she manage to put a good face on this?
“Behold the King and Queen of Fools!” intoned the Squire, inciting a nearly riotous level of cheering and applause. When it began to die down, he added, “If it is your royal pleasure, may the feast begin?”
She and Mr. Pratt nodded. The question was purely rhetorical, as the servers were already lined up in the passageway bearing huge trays full of food.
Mrs. Salsby and every other village woman who knew her way around a kitchen had helped to cook the Twelfth Night feast. The food was always plentiful and delicious, and again Cassie felt bereft that Adam was not here to enjoy it. She wished he could be well enough to enjoy some portion of the evening.
As the various dishes were delivered to the head table, Cassie set her attention on eating. Perhaps if she were very occupied with her food, she could avoid having to converse with Mr. Pratt. If she were very lucky, he might take the hint and do the same.
Cassie was in between bites of excellent roast beef when she saw Adam. He had come! Almost as if she had conjured him, he leaned against the wall of the entry passageway, looking into the room. So much like the first time she had seen him.
Seized with joy, she almost jumped up from her chair. She wanted nothing more than to run to him. Instead, she pulled in a deep breath. Someone should announce him.
“Squire. Lady Anne. Look. Lord Forthhurst.” She tilted her head towards the passageway, and was gratified to see their faces light with pleasure. She imagined Mr. Pratt’s did not.
“Oh, my good people! Look, our Lord of Misrule has arrived!” Lady Anne crowed, exultant.
If Cassie had thought the response to crowning the King and Queen had been thunderous, it was nothing compared to the roar of approval that answered this announcement.
Lord Forthhurst stepped into the hall, grinning, and tipped his hat to the crowd.
“Our hero!” yelled someone from the middle of the room. Someone else began to stamp their feet, and the tumult grew from there, with stamping and chanting. “He-ro! He-ro!”
As he advanced into the room, Cassie saw his smile falter, just for a moment, as he spotted her sitting at the head table with Mr. Pratt. He repaired his smile quickly and continued to make his way closer. Just before he arrived in front of them, he turned to the crowd and waved his hands to quiet them down.
“My friends, I thank you. That is the warmest welcome. But I must protest that I am no hero. Just a man doing the right thing, and I did not act alone. I would not be standing here before you without the efforts of the others who also helped to rescue young Eric and myself. We worked as a team, one I was proud to be a part of. And that team was aided by everyone else who brought a blanket, ran to get the ladder, or helped in any other way. Let us sound huzzahs for all the people who were a part of this.”
His request set off another round of noisy appreciation. As it faded, he turned back to face the head table.
“Greetings to Your Majesties, the King and Queen of Twelfth Night. Also Lady Anne and Squire Hammon. I apologize for being tardy, but I am here now and at your service.” He performed a deep bow, doffing his hat and jingling its bells. “We have a room full of transgressors this evening, whose forfeits I hope will serve well to entertain one and all.”
Cassie thought he gave a particularly hard stare at David Pratt, which she could not translate. Was Adam up to some mischief? She studied his face, concerned that he should not be attempting this performance so soon after endangering himself. Apart from some signs of strain about his eyes, and a little lack of color, he seemed fine.
Let Mr. Pratt do as he pleased. She would play the role of Queen for Adam. She rose and holding herself majestically, nodded in approval. “We thank you, oh Lord of Misrule.”
She looked directly into his green eyes. “We look forward to what you have in store for us.” She smiled, hoping he would understand the double meaning she intended.
Adam called for a chair, first, to help him make it through the evening. Then he began to call forth his forfeiters, one at a time. He was exhausted already, but he could do this performance. He would do it. He had a plan and nothing in his entire life had been more important to him than the outcome of this night.
The first several forfeiters were ones who had chosen games rather than gifts. Adam had prepared a collection of slips of paper with a variety of characters and situations which forfeiters had to act out. The varying success of their efforts earned a great deal of laughter.
He switched then to the gifts category to keep the presentations interesting. He had charged Mrs. Gulliver, the vicar’s cook, to present the five golden rings from the old song. When they’d spoken, she had blanched at thinking he’d meant it literally, but he had winked and told her to try apples.
She had met the challenge splendidly, presenting a plate bearing five round cored apple rings, coated in an egg and flour batter with cinnamon and fried to a golden brown.
“Round and golden,” Adam told the crowd, “to symbolize prosperity and wealth in the new year.”
Five was the perfect amount to offer to the head table occupants, with one left for Adam. When he passed the plate to Cassie, he winked. Would she know how to interpret the gesture? There was so much he wanted it to mean to her: have patience with me, trust me, I love you. Waiting until he would be able to say those things to her was ripping his heart out.
Mr. and Mrs. Lenis had slipped in after Adam’s arrival. He had offered to exempt them from any forfeits, but they would not hear of it. Mr. Lenis was quite proud of his, he’d told Adam.
“Mr. Lenis failed to observe poetry day, so he was charged by my deputy to write a poem to his wife,” Adam explained to the assembly.
The huge fellow stood up and clasped his hands behind his back, turning to face his wife.
“My love is as fair as any’s e’er been/ She’s bonny as a rose,” he recited. “She’s brawny and big, the best to be seen/ And that’s how my poem goes.”
Enthusiastic applause as well as laughter rewarded his effort. Mrs. Lenis was blushing a fine shade of red, which only deepened more when her husband, ignoring propriety, bussed her soundly on the cheek. That effort received even more applause.
The crowd was rowdy. That suited Adam. He saw that Mr. Salsby’s staff and the other volunteer servers were doing a fine job of keeping the wassail bowls filled.
He continued on down his lists, remembering occasionally to sit down. One fellow had to sing the Twelve Days of Christmas song backwards as a memory test. There were more charades, and people charged to dance, drum, or play a pipe. But Adam was building toward something bigger.
Eventually he judged the time was ripe. “Dear people,” he began, standing in the center and looking broadly around the room to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “There is among us one transgressor who failed to participate in any of our activities, and who also has failed to fulfill the forfeits he was charged. What do you say to that?”
A satisfying clamor of indignant murmurs and wrathful catcalls replied.
He cast a quick glance at David Pratt. Had the curate any idea what was coming? Adam had kept an eye on the man in between everything else, wanting to be sure that he didn’t upset Cassie or behave in any way that was not appropriate. He’d seen no sign to indicate that Pratt had repeated his marriage proposal, and grudgingly gave the fellow credit for recognizing the situation was not right for it.
That was about to change. Adam smiled. “What is worst, I think, is that this transgressor among us is masquerading as our KING!”
There was no way for Pratt to escape easily from his seat, but Adam moved quickly anyway. As he approached, the coward ducked under the head table.
That move only made it easier for Adam to pull him out. Holding him by the back of his collar, he turned back to the crowd. “I haven’t used the pillory yet tonight. There it stands lonely in the corner. What say ye? Shall I give him a forfeit he can’t ignore?”
Oh, the assembly loved that. Their supportive outcry made Adam grin.
Pratt tried to wriggle out of Adam’s grip. “You can’t do that to me. I’m the King of the Bean!” he said loudly for the public audience. In a furious undertone for Adam alone he added, “You miscreant! How dare you! You know I mean to ask for her hand again. Did you plan this?”
Adam laughed, choosing to ignore the insult. “You set it up by your own actions, my good man. And I am merely following the desires of the crowd.” In a loud voice he called for two volunteers to place Pratt in the pillory.
Two burly grooms Adam knew from the livery stable came up and took charge of the protesting curate. “A moment, gentlemen,” Adam said. He stepped up and removed the shoulder cape and circlet that Pratt was still wearing. “It isn’t fitting for a king to be pilloried.” He nodded then for the men to take him.
As the laughing crowd watched the men lock Pratt’s head and fists into the wooden device, Adam slid the king’s cape over his own shoulders.
Pratt could not raise his head fully, but he vented his full ire at Adam, shouting his loudest. “You cannot be the king! The Lord of Misrule cannot have two roles to play!”
Adam was still holding the king’s circlet in one hand. He raised his arms to the crowd. “I was told the Lord of Misrule has absolute power. Who is to say I cannot be both Lord and King?” He turned in a small circle, still holding out his arms and the circlet. He waited but no protest came (besides Pratt’s). Then he slowly and deliberately placed the circlet over the tall crown of his hat.
What was Adam doing? Cassie watched in astonished fascination as he effectively nullified Mr. Pratt. The poor curate continued to moan, “You cannot do this,” but no one was listening. All attention was now fixed on Adam.
“I agree that this is highly irregular,” he added, speaking to the crowd in a conversational tone. “In view of that, I shall charge myself a forfeit.”
A mix of murmuring and laughter responded to that.
Adam turned and stalked back towards the head table, taking exaggerated steps. “You may have noted that all this while I have not charged Miss Tamworth with any forfeits. Did you think she had perfect compliance? Or that somehow she had been granted immunity? I assure you that neither is the case.”
He stood in front of Cassie, clad in the cape she had made, and held out his hand to her. She had no choice but to leave her seat and come out in front of the table to join him. Truly, she had no idea what he was about. But the happiness bubbling inside her surpassed any embarrassment.
“I propose a double forfeit!” He laughed a little wildly. “But for this we need two chairs, out there in the center where everyone can see, set back to back.” As two men quickly complied with this request, Adam led Cassie out to the center of the room.
“Miss Tamworth,” he said in a most formal tone, “Would you please step up onto this chair?”
His grin kept reappearing every time he paused. Cassie thought she was probably grinning, too, without even knowing why. His playfulness was contagious. No wonder his friends did whatever he bid them to do!
“I will assist you, of course.” He raised the hand he was holding and offered her his other one for support. She eyed the chair and wondered how to avoid lifting her skirt. Looking to him again, she saw his right eyebrow quirk. She knew instantly that he was remembering their first meeting, just as she was.
“I believe I will require a lift up,” she said, trying (and failing) to school her expression into something more serious.
“Ah, very well.” He seized her by the waist and neatly deposited her on the chair, facing the back. He then climbed onto his own chair, facing her. She felt the warmth of his hands all the way through her body.
What in the world were they doing here, standing on chairs in the middle of the entire Twelfth Night assembly? “Is this our forfeit?”
He shook his head. “Patience, Miss Tamworth.”
He looked out at the crowd again. “My forfeit is that I must ask for Miss Tamworth’s hand in marriage here in front of all of you and risk her refusal. Her forfeit is that she must listen to my proposal. Her answer is not part of the forfeit, and may be given here or not, as she so chooses, and will be whatever she chooses, possibly to my eternal regret. But there is a second part of her forfeit, and that is a gift. No matter how she answers my request, she still must give me a kiss.”
His announcement elicited joyful hooting, cheers, applause and table pounding. Cassie felt a blush burning her neck and cheeks–embarrassment trying to overcome her happiness, but not succeeding. She could endure anything as long as she was with him.
“Lest you all be scandalized, let me make certain our kiss is acceptable,” he was saying. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a holly leaf and a small sprig of mistletoe. He held them up. “Voilà, a portable kissing bough.” The crowd loved that.
He looked down into her eyes. “I stole the mistletoe from some decorations at Blakehill. But the holly leaf is the one I took from your hair when we met on Christmas Eve.”
He had kept it all this time. She thought now perhaps he had also had her heart from that moment, although she had not known it.
“Must I really listen to your proposal?” she asked softly. “I already know my answer.”
She saw a flicker of uncertainty pass through his eyes. It might even have been fear. Did he truly not know, even now?
He was standing rigidly, his hands tight on the top rail of the chair back. All his bravado had disappeared. “I am a deeply flawed and reckless man,” he began. “Until now, I cared nothing if my name was linked with scandals. You deserve better. I cannot promise I will settle down so completely that the devil in me will never come out again. But I promise you this: I love you. I love you more than life itself, and more than any other man could ever do.”
She put both hands up to cradle the sides of his face. She did not care that a hundred or more people were watching, including her father. Maybe not all the scandals should be Adam’s alone.
“You silly man. Your biggest flaw is your inability to see what a good, kind, honorable and intelligent man you are. I love your courage, your zest for life and your ability to play. If you know you are loved, you might be a little less reckless. Past scandals are past. Marry me. I love you. I want to be your wife.”
Completely ignoring the wild cheering around them, she pulled his face down for her kiss. As their lips met, she was vaguely aware of Adam holding up the holly leaf and mistletoe, then letting them drop so he could wrap both arms around her.
No doubt their kiss lasted much longer than mistletoe magic allowed, but she did not care.