Make Her Wish Come True Collection

Chapter Seven

Surprised by the gratitude in his voice, Cassie smiled at him. He had listened to her, too. Yet she had not told him everything. He had asked her about who might mean her harm. Offered her aid. The longing to share her burdens was an ache in her chest. If she had learned one thing these past few days, she had learned Adam was an honourable man and not the sort to take advantage of his power. She would trust him with her life. He deserved the truth.

‘My stepson found us yesterday. He is insisting I return the girls home.’

His breathing changed. His eyes became watchful. ‘You think he set the fire.’ His voice sounded harsh. ‘I’ll swear out a warrant against him for arson—’

‘There is no proof. And he is the girls’ only family.’

Adam glowered. ‘You are their family.’

‘Please, Adam. I do not want to involve the authorities. He is their legal guardian and I took them without permission. The authorities will take his part. If you drive us to catch a stagecoach tomorrow as you promised, we can go somewhere he cannot find us.’

‘I can do better than that. Come home with me.’ He looked startled. As if he had surprised himself as well as her.

‘You can’t mean it.’

‘I do. Indeed I do,’ he said firmly. ‘Cassie, there is something I must tell you—’

Loud banging echoed through the house. The doorbell clanged. Someone was at the front door.

‘Oh, sweet periwinkles.’ She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, her heart thundering. ‘Can it be Herbert?’

Adam shot out of bed and looked out of the window. ‘No carriage. You think it might be him?’

‘I don’t know. He went off to find a magistrate. I thought it would take him a couple of days at least. Time enough for us to be far away.’

The clanging came again. The banging louder.

Adam pulled on his shirt and breeches. ‘Wait here.’

Her heart thundered as she listened to his footsteps on the stairs. If it was Herbert with a magistrate, what could Adam do? If he tried to stop them from searching the house, he might be charged with aiding a fugitive. At the very best, he would lose his position. Better she face the music than get Adam into serious trouble. All Herbert wanted was his sisters’ money. It was nothing compared to a man’s future.

She wrapped herself in the dressing gown she found cast over a chair and crept down the stairs to the sound of continued knocking. Why hadn’t Adam opened the door? When she reached the bottom step, Adam emerged from the library. He shook his head at her. ‘A man alone. Stay out of sight.’

She moved into the shadows.

He pulled open the door. ‘What the devil do you mean, banging on my door at this time of night? It had better be something important.’

He sounded so autocratic she could almost believe he owned the house.

A red-faced Herbert shoved his way in. ‘Where is she?’ he shouted.

‘Where is who?’ Adam asked coolly. ‘And who the devil are you?’

‘Norton. Herbert Norton.’ Herbert flourished his card. ‘Be so good as to rouse Graystone at once. I know Lady Cassandra is here with my sisters. I followed their footprints from the cottage. I demand their return.’

Adam’s shoulders stiffened. His back was all she could see of him in the light from the branch of candles he held, but she sensed his shock. ‘Lady Cassandra?’ Heard it in his voice.

Cassie stifled a groan. She hadn’t given a thought to Herbert using her title, but then he liked to consider himself part of the nobility by association. It was another of the reasons he’d insisted she live under his roof. He liked trotting her out to impress his friends with important relations.

‘My stepmother. Well, fellow! Are you going to take up my card?’

‘No,’ Adam said.

Cassie could not stifle her gasp.

Herbert must have heard her because his gaze sought her out. ‘Ah, there you are, madam.’ He curled his lip. ‘I might have guessed you’d worm your way in to some chap’s bed.’

Adam’s fist crashed into his belly. Herbert’s knees sagged. Adam struck him on the jaw. He sank to his knees cradling his face. ‘Ouch.’

Fists clenched, Adam loomed over him and she feared he would strike again.

Cassie stepped forward and caught his arm. ‘Adam, please.’ She glanced up the stairs. ‘The girls…’

‘I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head about a lady beneath my roof or face the consequences,’ Adam said, breathing hard.

‘The lady is wearing your—’ Herbert put an arm up and cringed away when Adam clenched his fist. He shuffled back on his rear, until his back met the wall. ‘You have no right to keep my sisters here,’ he said truculently, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at his lip. ‘I am their guardian. That…’ He gave Adam a wary glance. ‘That woman—’ he pointed at Cassie ‘—stole them from under my roof, along with other valuable items. You will hand over my sisters if you know what is good for you.’

Cassie glared down at Herbert. ‘Your wife threatened them with a beating.’

Adam clenched his fists again.

Herbert didn’t seem to notice the effect of his words. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. My father indulged those girls. Lucy was rude to my wife.’

‘Bridget called Diana a good-for-nothing penniless orphan. Is it any wonder her sister responded as she did?’

‘She needs to learn her place,’ Herbert responded.

Cassie was glad Adam had knocked him down. But Herbert had the law on his side. If she did not allow the girls to go with him, he would not hesitate to bring the authorities down upon them. And she could not let them go alone.

‘Very well. I will go with you. But I will have your word as a gentleman that there will no more beatings or deprivations for Lucy and Diana.’

‘I agree.’

Adam gazed at her, his face bleak. ‘You might have died in that fire. How can you think of trusting the word of such a cur?’

Herbert flushed red. ‘Fire? Nothing to do with me, old chap.’

‘Liar.’ Adam glanced down at Herbert’s feet. ‘Yours were the footprints I saw in the snow and if I’m not mistaken…’ He bent and picked something from the leg of Herbert’s breeches. ‘Glass. From the lantern you broke.’

‘I must have picked it up when I went to the cottage tonight.’

‘Hardly likely. Glass cannot fly up from the ground and embed itself at the knee.’

‘Who is going to take the word of a servant against that of a gentleman?’ Herbert said, looking down his nose. ‘Seems to me you would do better to go along with me, or risk losing your job.’

Cassie’s stomach fell away. ‘Adam, this is not your concern.’

‘Oh, I think it is,’ he said. ‘Very much so. This man committed a crime. And I mean to see him punished.’

‘You, sir?’ Herbert spluttered. ‘Just who do you think you are?’

‘I am Viscount Graystone. My father is the Earl of Portmaine. Should my father learn you burnt down a building on his property, he will demand justice.’

Graystone? He could not be… Why had he lied to her all this time? She backed away. ‘Adam?’

But he was not looking at her; he was glaring at Herbert, who sagged back against the wall.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Herbert said, eyes wide. ‘The heir to an earldom doesn’t open doors.’

‘This one does.’

‘Adam?’ Cassie repeated.

‘I’m sorry, Cassie. I was about to tell you right when this idiot banged on the door.’ He glared at Herbert. ‘What do you have to say for yourself now?’

Herbert dabbed at his brow. ‘I—I beg your lordship’s pardon. Had I known, I would never have—’

‘You, sir, are a bully and a coward and you will leave my house at once. Cassie, do you want me to have charges laid against this fellow?’

The brusque man was back. And for a moment it felt good to contemplate Herbert’s punishment. But he was still a part of her family. Herbert was an idiot. Led around by the nose by his unpleasant wife and his overweening ambition to be more than he was.

‘Lady Cassandra,’ Herbert said, trying to smile ingratiatingly and failing miserably. He wrung his hands. ‘It was all a misunderstanding. I’ll do anything. Sign guardianship of my sisters over to you, if you wish.’

‘I suppose I could be persuaded to ask Lord Graystone not to lay charges,’ she said slowly, seeing a glimmer of hope. ‘If you sign over guardianship of the girls and swear in writing that when I left your home I took nothing that did not belong to me.’ She glanced at Adam. ‘If you think Lord Portmaine would agree, my lord?’

‘I’ll do it,’ Herbert said quickly.

‘And you will sign over the girls’ allowance into Lord Graystone’s care,’ she added.

‘What?’ Herbert’s face blanched.

‘Starting now, since I assume all that has come before is gone.’

He swallowed.

Adam tugged him up by the collar. ‘Well?’

‘All right. All right.’

He and Adam disappeared into the library. Cassie slumped into a hall chair. Adam was Graystone. It made sense. The story of his wife. Him owning two carriages. She would have seen it if she hadn’t felt his pain so much as he told his story. Why had he lied?

She recalled their first meeting. She’d assumed he was a servant and he hadn’t denied it. But he had given a false name. Likely he was regularly importuned by women seeking to marry a well-heeled and titled widower, while he remained true to his dead wife. Poor Adam. Well she would not make one of their number. She cared for him too much.

A few moments later, a chastened Herbert left by the front door. He slid a glance in her direction as if he would speak, but one look at Adam’s fierce expression had him scuttling out. Adam threw the bolts home. ‘He won’t give you any more trouble. I had him admit in writing to setting the fire. The girls’ allowance will come to you, though it seems a paltry enough sum.’

‘Thank you. It will be all we need. But, Adam—I mean, Lord Graystone, I must apologise—’

‘None of that,’ Adam said gruffly. ‘Cassie, darling Cassie, I hope you don’t think less of me, because of the title. Believe me, I was about to tell you—’

A sound on the stairs made her look up. Two little girls were peering over the balustrade. When they realised she’d seen them, they ran down and flung their arms around her. ‘Do we have to go back and live with Herbert and Bridget?’ Lucy asked, her eyes over-bright.

Cassie hugged the girls close. ‘Not if you do not wish it.’

‘We want to stay with you, Mama,’ Lucy said.

‘And you, Mr Royston,’ Diana added.

Adam’s expression changed. Tenderness altered his harsh face into endearing handsomeness. He looked so lovely standing there looking down at the girls and there was such longing in his face. He glanced over at Cassie. ‘Would you, Cassie?’ he asked. ‘Would you consider staying with me after I lied to you?’

She made a helpless gesture as longing of her own filled her. He could not mean this. He had not thought it through. He was being too kind. ‘You have done so much for us already—’

‘I need you, Cassie. My life was an empty shell until these past few days. I thought work was enough, but it isn’t. You made me see that.’

Her heart felt too large for her chest. ‘Adam, I—’

He closed his eyes, moved away to gaze down into the fire. He shook his head slowly as if coming to a decision. ‘It’s all right, Cassie. Having misled you, I know I don’t deserve your trust.’ His voice thickened. ‘I also know how much you value your independence, so I won’t push you into something you do not want. I do insist you and the girls remain here at Thornton until I find you a decent place to live. You will allow me to help you.’

‘Why did you lie about who you are?’ she asked.

He turned back to face her, his expression set, his eyes bleak. ‘I often travel incognito. With the title comes obligations. Doing the pretty. After Marion died—’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have the heart for it. And later, when I got to know you, I wanted to tell you, but worried I’d cease to be a man to you and become nothing more than my title. I feared we’d lose what we had. The easy companionship. I’m sorry for ever believing such a thing of you.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘And now you will accept my aid.’

Diana was staring at him, her little nose wrinkled up. ‘Are you going to cry, Mr Royston?’

‘No,’ Cassie said. ‘Lord Graystone is simply being manly and honourable and giving us what he thinks we want.’

‘I don’t like Lord Graystone,’ Diana said. ‘I want Mr Royston.’

‘And you shall have him, darling,’ Cassie said. ‘If he still wants us.’

Adam expression changed to careful neutrality, but hope shone in the emerald depths of his eyes. ‘Cassie. Only if it is what you truly want.’

She went to him, put her arms around him. ‘Oh, Adam, how could you even doubt it? I love you, you lovely man.’

‘I love you so much I don’t have the words—’ He hugged her tight with one arm, put his other arm out to the girls and enclosed them within the circle of his embrace.

‘Welcome home,’ he said softly.

Christmas Day

Adam stood beside his mother in Portmaine’s great hall, watching the rest of the family gather around the enormous Christmas tree that was a tradition started by his great-grandmother, who had come as a young bride from Prussia. While his father, still an imposing man despite the way he’d grown portly and lost most of his hair these past few years, chatted with Cassie, the two little girls played at their feet with the dolls his mother had found in the attic when they had arrived tired and overwhelmed on Christmas Eve.

‘I thought never to see you wed again, Adam,’ his diminutive but stately mother said, her green eyes a shade lighter than his own intent upon his face. To anyone else she would have appeared her usual calm self, but he felt her concern.

‘Nor I,’ he said cautiously. He wasn’t exactly sure she approved his choice of a bride or the manner in which he had announced it upon his arrival. His father, though, had seemed more than pleased.

‘She is not the woman I would have chosen for you.’ Her gaze drifted from Cassie’s statuesque blonde lushness to the slender dark beauty making sheep’s eyes at his younger brother, Rad, who was sorting through music at the piano. A young woman very much like his first wife in appearance.

‘My tastes have changed.’

‘Matured,’ his mother agreed. ‘I am so very happy for you.’

He relaxed. ‘Thank you.’ He grimaced. ‘I hope you don’t mind if we don’t do the whole St George’s church thing. Neither of us wants a lot of fuss.’

His mother’s eyes twinkled. ‘Yet another departure from the past.’ Her lips curved in a knowing smile. ‘And I am sure you have no wish to wait for weeks while the banns are called.’

He grinned. ‘You are a wicked woman, Mama. And I love you for it.’ He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze.

‘Really, Adam. Remember my dignity.’ But her eyes glowed with quiet joy. ‘All I want is for my children to be happy.’ She wandered off to stand behind Rad, putting one hand on his shoulder. Rad looked up at her and gave her his devil-may-care grin. Adam’s oldest sister, Mary, joined them. Soon all the family would gather to sing carols as they had done all of Adam’s life.

He strolled over to collect his betrothed and his soon-to-be daughters. ‘Father, it is time for carols.’

‘Then it is time to make sure our glasses are full.’ The earl bustled off.

Diana rose to her feet and slipped a warm little hand inside his palm. ‘May we sing, too?’ she asked, looking up.

‘Of course. You are part of my family now.’ He picked her up and set her on his hip.

Cassie smiled at him and slipped her arm through his, while gesturing to Lucy to join them. ‘You, too, young lady.’

The four of them joined the rest of the family.

‘Happy, my love?’ he asked in a murmur in Cassie’s ear as Rad played the opening notes of ‘Deck the Halls’.

‘More than I ever could have believed,’ she whispered back. ‘But only with you, my dear sweet man.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘Likewise, heart of my heart,’ he murmured.

* * * * *

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A Dreaming of Christmas

A Fool’s Gold Christmas

Susan Mallery

#1 New York Times bestselling author SUSAN MALLERY has won the hearts of millions of readers around the world with books described as ‘immensely entertaining, intensely emotional‘ (RT Book Reviews) and ‘heartwarming’ (Publishers Weekly). While she deeply appreciates the accolades of critics and booksellers, Mallery is even more honoured by the enthusiasm of her readers and the word of mouth that catapults her toward the top of the bestseller lists time and again.

Mallery lives in not-so-sunny Seattle with her husband and a toy poodle who makes her laugh every day and who’s not even a little bit impressed by her growing fame. Visit Susan online at www.susanmallery.com.

To the 2011 Head Cheerleader Char,who has such an amazing heart that she wanted to sharethis dedication with the entireFool’s Gold Varsity Cheerleading Squadin the spirit of Christmas. This one is for you.

Chapter One

The sound of eight tiny reindeer had nothing on a half-dozen eight-year-olds clog dancing, Dante Jefferson thought as he held the phone more closely to his ear.

“You’ll have to repeat that,” he yelled in to the receiver. “I’m having trouble hearing you.”

The steady thudding above his head paused briefly, then started up again.

“What’s going on there?” Franklin asked, his voice barely audible over the banging that nearly kept time with the damned piano music. “Construction?”

“I wish,” Dante muttered. “Look, I’ll call you back in a couple of hours.” The stupid dance class would be over by then. At least he hoped so.

“Sure. I’ll be here.” Franklin hung up.

Dante glanced at the bottom right of his computer screen. The ever-present clock told him it was seven-fifteen. In the evening. Which meant it was eleven-fifteen in the morning in Shanghai. He’d stayed late specifically to speak to Franklin about an international business deal that had developed a few glitches. The clog dancers had made the conversation impossible.

He saved the spreadsheet and went to work on his email. He and his business partner had plenty of other projects that needed his attention.

Just before eight, he heard the clog dancers going down the stairs. They laughed and shrieked, obviously not worn out by an hour of misstepping practice. He, on the other hand, had a pounding pain right behind his eyes and the thought that he would cheerfully strangle Rafe first thing in the morning. His business partner had been the one to rent the temporary space. Either Rafe hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about the dance school parked directly above. The offices were in an older part of Fool’s Gold and had been built long before the invention of soundproofing. Rafe didn’t seem to mind the noise that started promptly at three every single afternoon and went well into the evening. Dante, on the other hand, was ready to beg the nearest judge for an injunction.

Now he got out of his chair and headed for the stairs. He made his way to the studio. He and whoever was in charge were going to have to come to terms. He had to spend the next couple of weeks working out the problems of the Shanghai deal. Which meant needing access to his computer, contracts and blueprints. Some of which he couldn’t take home. He needed to able to use his phone, in his office, while speaking in a normal voice.

He paused outside the door that led to the studio. It was as old-fashioned as the rest of the building, with frosted glass and the name of the business—Dominique’s School of Dance—painted in fancy gold script. He pushed open the door and entered.

The reception area was utilitarian at best. There was a low desk, a computer that had been old a decade ago, backless benches by the wall and several coatracks. He could see through into the studio itself—a square room with mirrors, a barre that was attached to the wall and, of course, hardwood floors. There wasn’t a piano, and he realized the endless, repetitive song that had driven him insane had come from a compact stereo.

He rubbed his temples and wished the pounding would stop, then walked purposefully into the studio. He was a coldhearted bastard lawyer, or so he’d been told endlessly by those he bested. He planned to reduce the dance instructor to a blob of fear, get her to agree to lay off with the dancing and then go back to his phone call. All in the next ten minutes.

“We have to talk,” he announced as he came to a halt in the center of the room.

He realized there were mirrors on three walls, so he was seeing himself from unfamiliar angles. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair mussed, and he looked tired, he thought briefly, before turning his attention to—

Dante swore under his breath as he took in the tall, slender woman dressed in nothing more than a black leotard and tights. Despite the fact that she was covered from collarbone to toes, the clinging outfit left nothing to the imagination. He almost felt as if he’d walked in on a woman undressing. A sexy woman with big green eyes and honey-blond hair. A woman who was completely untouchable, for a host of reasons.

He ground his teeth together. Why hadn’t Rafe mentioned that his sister was now working here? But even if his business partner didn’t kill him for looking, Dante had a firm list of rules that were never broken. Not getting emotionally involved was number one. Anyone who taught little kids to dance had to be softhearted. Nothing got him running faster than a hint of emotion.

“What are you doing here?” Evangeline Stryker asked.

Yes, he thought as he stared at her. Rafe’s baby sister. She was responsible for the nightmare that was his life. She and those unbelievably loud mini-dancers she taught. So much for reducing the dance instructor to anything.

“Dante?”

“Sorry,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice from growling. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Evie gave him a wide-eyed stare, then a strange half laugh. “Right. I work here. I teach dance. Lucky me.”

Dante knew Evie had broken her leg a few months ago, but he didn’t remember hearing anything about a head injury. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she snapped and put her hands on her hips. “Do I look all right?”

He took a step back, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever she had going on. “I came upstairs because I can’t work like this anymore. The pounding, the same piece of music playing over and over again. I have to talk to Shanghai tonight, and instead of peace and quiet, there were clog dancers. You’ve got to make it stop.”

He held out both hands, palms up, speaking in what he knew to be his most reasonable tone.

“Make it stop? Make it stop?” Her voice rose with each word. “Are you kidding?”

* * *

EVIE KNEW SHE SOUNDED shrill. She was sure she was wide-eyed, flushed and more than a little scary, but right now she didn’t care. She was in full panic mode and now Dante was stuck listening to her rant.

“You want to talk to me about your troubles?” she continued. “Fine. Here are mine. In approximately six weeks it’s Christmas Eve. That night, the town of Fool’s Gold expects yet another chance to see their annual favorite—The Dance of the Winter King. You’ve never heard of it, you say? I know. Me, either. But it’s a huge deal here. Huge!”

She paused for breath, wondering if it was possible for her head to actually explode. She could feel a sort of panicked pressure building. It was as if she was in a nightmare where she was going to be naked in front of a room full of strangers. Not that being naked in front of a room full of people she knew was any better.

“I won’t go into the details about the storyline,” she continued, her chest getting tighter and tighter. “Let’s just say it’s a lot of students dancing. Oh, and the dances they’re doing this year are different than the ones they did last year because, hey, they move up. Which wouldn’t be a problem because there’s always Miss Monica, who’s been teaching here for the last five-hundred-and-fifty years.”

She was getting shrill again, she realized, and consciously lowered her voice. “The only problem is Miss Monica has run off with her gentleman friend. The woman has to be pushing seventy, so I should probably be impressed or at least respectful that she has a love life, except she took off with no warning. She left me a note.”

Evie pointed to the piece of paper still taped to the mirror.

“She’s gone,” she repeated. “Left town. Flying out of the country first thing in the morning. Which leaves me with close to sixty girls to teach dances I don’t know for a production I’ve never heard of, let alone seen. There’s no choreography to speak of, I’m not sure of the music and I heard the sets are old and need to be completely refurbished. In the next six weeks.”

She paused for air. “It’s up to me. Do you want to know how long I’ve been teaching dance? Two months. That’s right. This is my first ever, on the planet, teaching job. I have sixty girls depending on me to make their dreams come true. Their dreams of being beautiful and graceful, because you know what? For some of them, this is all they have.”

She knew she was skating uncomfortably close to talking about herself. About how, when she’d been younger, dance had been all she’d had. She might not have any teaching experience, but she knew what it was like to want to be special and, by God, she was going to make that happen for her students.

She stalked toward him and jabbed her finger into his chest. More specifically, she felt the cool silk of his fancy tie. It probably cost more than she spent on groceries in a month. She didn’t know very much about Dante Jefferson beyond the fact that he was her brother’s business partner and therefore disgustingly rich. Okay—he was reasonably good-looking, but that didn’t help her right now, so she wasn’t going to care.

“If you for one second think I’m going to stop having practice here,” she told him, “you can forget it. I have a serious crisis. If you want to have a conversation with Shanghai, you can do it somewhere else. I’m hanging on by a thread and when it snaps, we’re all going down.”

Dante stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the studio.

She glared at his retreating back. Sure. He got to leave and go back to his fancy life. Not her. She had to figure out what to do next. While running in circles and screaming might feel good in the moment, it wasn’t going to get the job done. Nor was railing at the unfairness, kicking something or eating chocolate. She might have failed in other areas of her life, but she wasn’t going to fail her students.

“You have to rally,” she told herself. “You’re tough. You can do it.”

And she would, she thought as she sank onto the floor and rested her head on her knees. She would figure out The Dance of the Winter King and teach her students and let them have one magical night.

First thing in the morning. But now, she was going to take a few minutes and feel massively sorry for herself. It was a small thing to ask, and she’d earned it.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Evie started her day with a heart full of determination. She had survived worse than this before and probably would have to again. Mounting a production she’d never seen with no help might seem daunting, but so what? Her pep talk lasted through her first cup of coffee, then faded completely, leaving the sense of panic to return and knot her stomach. Obviously the first step was to stop trying to do this all alone. She needed help. The question was, where to get it.

She was new in town, which meant no support network. Well, that wasn’t totally true. Her brothers had taken a surprising interest in her lately. Rafe had even prepaid for her townhouse, against her wishes. But they would be useless in this situation, her mother wasn’t an option and going up to strangers to ask them what they knew about The Dance of the Winter King seemed questionable at best. Which left the women in her brothers’ lives.