Page 22 of Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon

A love left fallow was a waste for all.

Brigham turned toward the manor—his home…Mellie’s home—and wondered how long it had taken for her love to subside. Perhaps she would share her secret to suppressing her love for him, and how long it would be until it faded enough to bare returning to his family home and seeing her.

“You have a gift for me?” Her soft voice by his ear had him turning back toward her, seeing her with fresh eyes, through the unclouded stare of a man who’d lived his entire adult life holding on to a thread of hope. “I should like to see it before you depart…if you must leave, that is.”

That she still wanted anything he had to give her startled him nearly as much as her breath at his neck and the weight of her hand as it settled on his arm to halt him from fleeing the garden.

Brigham glanced down at the tiny box nestled in his hands. He’d selected the box with precise care and consideration, for it housed the Christmastide present that was to change their entire relationship. It had been meant to make amends for the past, speak of a new commitment for their present, and give them hope for the future to come.

Instead, it would be a parting gift.

“I had this commissioned especially for you, Mellie.” He held the box out to her, begging himself to have the strength to watch her open it.

She took the gift and smiled up at him, her eyes clouded with tears.

The bright moon overhead made them glisten as they threatened to fall.

But then she was focused solely on the box, and her fingers shook as she removed the top to bring the pendant into view.

It was a simple adornment, as Mellie had never been one for garish jewels or gems.

Yet, it was made of the purest silver with a heart-shaped outer shell with wild blossoms encapsulating it. The pendant spoke of Mellie in a way no other necklace could. Quickly, she found the tiny, hidden clasp and released it, opening it to see inside. Two tiny images, barely decipherable in the night were nestled inside.

As if knowing the moment was a great turning point, the moon’s rays brightened, casting a light like that of a close candle over the pair and illuminating two hand-drawn portraits; one of Mellie’s parents, Baron and Baroness Montfort, and on the opposite side, Mellie and Brigham on their wedding day.

“Oh, I had no idea these portraits existed,” she sighed, her finger tracing first the likeness of her parents and then the one of she and Brigham. “Where did you…how did you…”

“I have always kept a painting of us with me. For the one of your parents, I went to Tapton House during the last Christmastide season and retrieved it.”

When he’d journeyed to the neighboring estate the year before, it had been to assess the damage and repairs needed, but he’d found the portrait hidden in a corner of a dusty, abandoned chamber and he’d known he needed to take it. For what purpose, he hadn’t been sure at the time.

However, seeing the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her green eyes, and the blossom of her complexion now was enough for him to know his choice of gift was perfect.

Though it hardly changed anything.

“May I?” Brigham held out his hand for the necklace. When she set the gift in his palm, she immediately turned around and lifted her hair for him to clasp the chain about her neck.

“It is beautiful, Brigham,” her breathed as the weight settled on her bosom. “I shall cherish it always.”

Why did her words hold such a powerful sting?

Because that was all she’d have to cherish, for he would be gone.

Before Brigham knew what was transpiring, he leaned forward and kissed her neck, following the trail of the pendant’s chain as it cascaded over her shoulder, down to her clavicle, and to her cleavage where the heart lay.

“You are cold.” Her skin was icy against his lips. “Let us return inside.”

She turned to face him with agonizing slowness as she began to unbutton her cloak.

“The night is harsh, and I should retrieve your muff.” Brigham glanced about, spotting her hand warmer on the ground several feet away.

He hurried over to collect it, and when he returned, she’d laid her long, flowing cloak on the ground—in the exact spot they promised to love and cherish one another for all their days.

The morning sun did not burn brightly in praise for their joining this night.

No, it was the Christmastide moon…full and casting its luminous glow over Mellie as she lowered herself to the cloak, her hair free about her shoulders and the pendant hanging between her breasts.

Never had Mellie been more stunning. Captivating. Utterly enchanting as she arranged her skirts about her on the ground.