A Sprinkling of Christmas Magic: Christmas Cinderella

‘Wait a minute...’ He would not sit here and let Channing play the martyr, not when Channing had brought his London business home to the house party in the form of Lady Alina Marliss and asked him to keep the business portion a secret. ‘I’m not the one who brought home a special friend. You walk around with Lady Alina on your arm while you make eyes at Catherine. If anyone in this room is playing someone false, it’s you.’

Finn’s anger began to simmer and then it began to boil. He would not concede the field. Inside, some integral part of him knew it would kill him to see Channing with Catherine—Channing, who couldn’t even remember she hated nicknames, Channing who didn’t know the first thing about history.

‘Well, you don’t have to worry about it any more.’ Channing’s fists curled into tight balls at his sides. ‘I spoke with her tonight and she refused me.’

The room went silent for a brief moment and then it erupted, his mother and father talking at once. Now he knew what it was Catherine hadn’t told him. Finn placed his head in his hands. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Nine

‘I think cutting the Yule log is just an opportunity for men to remove their jackets and show off their muscles.’

‘I don’t mind that tradition at all.’ The girls standing near Catherine gave high-pitched laughs. The house party had tramped out to the woodland with saws and a long sled for the annual log cutting. The snow had stopped, but it was terribly cold. She doubted there’d be much jacket removing today, no matter how virile the man.

At the thought of virile, her eyes went straight to Finn. Unlike her, he’d not had the luxury of sleeping late and, as a result, looked tired, with a pale, haggard appearance to his face. There’d been no time to talk, no time to catch him alone. Which she supposed was fine. She hadn’t any idea what she’d say to him and was regretting not telling him about the proposal. Finn would know by now. Channing had never been any good at keeping secrets. Nor was Channing a gracious loser. He’d stayed back at the house today, warm and toasty next to the fire with Lady Alina while Finn had to keep up appearances as host out in the cold.

‘This one,’ Finn called out after looking over several possible logs. The men with him dragged over their tools and they set to work, a man at each end of the saw. It was heavy work cutting through a thick log, but Finn made it look easy.

‘Catherine, are you in?’ Alyson nudged her. ‘We’re wagering pennies on who will be the first to take off his coat.’

‘I think it will be Lord Swale,’ Jenny Brightly put in slyly. ‘I hadn’t noticed how divine he was until last night. He’s so tall and those shoulders just go on for ever.’ She gave a dramatic shudder.

Meredith came to the rescue. ‘I have to bet on Marcus.’ But the diversion wasn’t enough. Meredith shot Catherine an apologetic look. Every female there wanted to talk about Finn: his shoulders, his long legs, the dark brooding stare he was wont to wear. One girl went so far as to speculate she wouldn’t mind if he spouted Latin phrases while he kissed her.

‘He’s so mysterious.’

‘You know what they say about the quiet types.’ The other girls laughed as if they knew the answer. They wouldn’t be laughing if they did. They were wrong, of course. Finn was much more than the sum of his physical parts, much more than broad shoulders and brooding stares. If they knew Finn at all they’d know he was committed to family, that he loved animals, that he climbed apple trees to rescue a scared little girl who had disobeyed him when he himself had a dreadful fear of heights. And they would know he smiled. At least he did when he was with her.

‘Catherine?’ Meredith said softly at her side, jolting her out of her thoughts. ‘Are you all right?’ But Meredith answered her own question, her eyes travelling the path of Catherine’s gaze to where Finn and Marcus worked the saw and back. ‘Oh, my dear, you love him.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Catherine was very much afraid of what loving Finn would mean. It would mean leaving. A rapid plan formed in her mind. She would go back to Paris as soon as Christmas had passed. She couldn’t stay here and watch him court another, marry another. Catherine knew what it meant. It would mean spending the rest of her life alone or settling for a marriage that was less than what she wanted.

‘It will be all right,’ Meredith intoned the necessary words.