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    Candle in the Snow
    Candle in the Snow
    Candle in the Snow
    Ebook118 pages2 hours

    Candle in the Snow

    By Olivia Drake

    2.5/5

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    About this ebook

    From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Olivia Drake comes a charming Victorian historical romance—perfect for the holidays!

    A pretty English schoolteacher anticipates the homecoming of her long-absent, devilishly handsome husband…the only holiday gift that will satisfy her yearning heart…

    **originally published as Barbara Dawson Smith**
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNYLA
    Release dateOct 15, 2018
    ISBN9781641970662
    Candle in the Snow
    Author

    Olivia Drake

    Olivia Drake is the author of Seducing the Heiress, Never Trust a Rogue, and Scandal of the Year. She has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1981, and her novels have won the Golden Heart Award, Best Historical Romantic Suspense and Best Regency Historical from Romantic Times, and the prestigious RITA award. She lives in Houston, Texas.

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      Book preview

      Candle in the Snow - Olivia Drake

      Candle in the Snow

      Olivia Drake

      This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Candle in the Snow

      Copyright © 1992 by Barbara Dawson Smith

      Ebook ISBN: 9781641970662

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

      No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

      NYLA Publishing

      121 W 27 th St., Suite 1201, New York, NY 10001

      http://www.nyliterary.com

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Excerpt from THE DUKE I ONCE KNEW

      Also by Olivia Drake

      About the Author

      Chapter 1

      Wiltshire, England

      December 1855

      Chelsea!

      The distant voice echoed from her past. Heart leaping, Chelsea Devlin clutched the brown paper parcel tight against her gray wool mantle. Bracing a hand on the stone market cross, she swung sharply and scanned the street. Sunshine glistened on the shop windows. The frosty Saturday in early December rang with the jangle of harness and the clopping of hooves as the townsfolk of Rossbury bustled past, tradesmen with mufflers framing their reddened cheeks and housewives hastening about their daily errands. Across the green, a trio of boys teased a girl walking her dog.

      The scene looked commonplace, nothing out of the ordinary.

      The tension prickling her skin eased. It couldn’t have been him, Chelsea reasoned. She’d imagined that deep, resonant tone. The snug velvet bonnet must have addled her hearing. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she resumed her progress toward Miss Maxwell’s Academy for Young Ladies, beyond the outskirts of the village.

      Chelsea, wait! the voice called again, closer this time.

      She froze for a single protracted moment; then with the sluggishness of shock, she pivoted. The midday brightness dazzled her eyes and lit the cramped, honey-hued buildings of High Street. Only half-heeding the inquisitive glances aimed her way, she squinted frantically at the passersby.

      Then she saw him.

      Tall, lean, and self-assured, he elbowed through the throng of shoppers. Sunlight kissed his broad shoulders, the thatch of coal-black hair, the rakish angles of his face, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Familiar eyes that had once sparkled with laughter and darkened with passion.

      He stopped in front of her. The parcel slipped from Chelsea’s nerveless fingers and tumbled to a grassy patch beside the road. The world tilted giddily; her gloved hands whisked to her mouth.

      Sean? she said in a strangled whisper. Oh, dear God, Sean!

      He smiled, his teeth a white flash against healthy bronzed skin. His hands were perched at the waist of a fine navy overcoat which gaped open as if welcoming the wintry weather. Aye, love, he murmured, ’tis your Sean.

      She struggled to grasp the inconceivable. Her husband, alive and well, standing before her! A tumult of emotion burst from her stunned heart: disbelief and joy and panic. He couldn’t be here, he couldn’t be! Not when she’d finally reconciled herself to his death and made plans for the future...

      His smile wavered. Stepping closer, Sean grasped her shoulders. Faith, Chelsea, he said, the words raspy with emotion. Is this how you welcome your prodigal husband home?

      Her tongue felt tied in knots. Fleetingly she noticed that the lilting caress of his voice had acquired an intriguing hint of an American accent. She could only shake her head and gaze at him in wonder.

      With abrupt impatience, he snatched up her parcel. Then he tugged at her arm. Feeling as wooden as a Punch-and-Judy puppet, she let him lead her into the shadows of an alley between two shops.

      Let me show you the homecoming I’ve long fancied, he said.

      Setting down the parcel and pressing her against the rough stone wall, Sean lowered his mouth to hers.

      No, her mind cried out, even as her body softened against his hard chest and her eyes drifted shut. He pushed off her bonnet, so that it dangled by its velvet strings, and worked his supple fingers into her prim blonde bun. Her reason scattered before a torrid wind of rapture. Long lonely years flashed away as she drank in his astonishing presence, breathed the outdoors scent of his skin, absorbed the firm familiarity of his embrace. Sean... her first love. Sean... the man who had introduced her to the mysteries of passion and the bliss of love. Tears pricked her eyelids. How many desolate nights had she dreamed of such a moment, to lose herself in his arms again, to relive the precious brevity of their youthful marriage?

      At last he lifted his head. Wood sprite, he said, his voice breaking, his hand stroking her cheek. Forgive me for staying away so long. Forgive me for ever leaving you.

      Her mind danced away from the long-ago memory of their final, bitter argument. In a daze, she noted the subtle tracery of lines around his eyes and mouth, lines that had deepened during six years of separation. He was still the handsomest man she’d ever seen. No longer a youth, he looked hardened by adventure and more roguish than ever.

      She couldn’t keep from laying a gloved finger against the cleft in his chin, as she’d done a hundred times before. Sean... Sean. I thought you were dead.

      His arms bracketed her; his black brows clashed into a frown. Didn’t your agent report back to you?

      Your agent. Like a blast of winter air, alarm iced her giddy joy. She swallowed. Yes. He said you’d perished in a landslide in California.

      Chuckling, Sean shook his head. I wasn’t even working my claim at the time. You must have hired a bletherin’ opportunist who’d lie to gain his fee.

      I didn’t... Chelsea gulped back a hazardous explanation.

      He brushed his lips over her temple, his breath warming her cold skin. Pleased I was to hear you tried to find me, love. For so long I feared you were ashamed of me, that you never wanted to see me again. But, bless Saint Brenden, you really did care whether I lived or died.

      His husky words cut deeply into Chelsea’s soul. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Dear Lord, she thought. Oh, dear Lord, what can I say to that?

      We’ll start anew, he went on, anointing her forehead with kisses. ‘Twill be better this time. We’ve both had a chance to grow up, to realize how much we need each other. I can provide for you at last, Chelsea. I can give you everything you’ve ever fancied. I love you—

      No! Wrenching away, she sucked air into her paralyzed lungs. Once she had dreamed of hearing his tender declaration again, but no more. Reality smacked her like a frozen fist, and she shivered. What had she been thinking, to kiss him like that?

      You’re assuming too much, Sean. You can’t simply appear after so many years without a word, and expect me to welcome you with open arms.

      He propped a hand on his hip, drawing back his natty braided coat. Seems you did just that. And ’twas a fine welcome, indeed, m’ love.

      His knowing expression infuriated her. The pain she’d suffered over his callous desertion struck with staggering force. She raised her chin. You haven’t changed at all, Sean Devlin. You still think you can sail through life, relying on charm and wit. Unfortunately for you, I’ve learned that a woman requires much more from a husband.

      He leaned closer until their eyes were level. Such as?

      A steady provider. A respectable man who won’t run away on a whim. Not a laggard who squanders his life chasing rainbows.

      And just supposing there’s a pot of gold sitting at the end of that rainbow?

      A pot of gold more important than me? She scoured her hair into a proper twist at the back of her head. You and your ridiculous Irish folklore. Imagine, a grown man believing in leprechauns and banshees.

      He cocked a black brow. You can’t take pleasure in fanciful tales anymore, can you, love? Old Lady Quincy trained you well... too well.

      My guardian preferred me to read the classics, and rightly so. Perhaps that’s something a man of your background can never understand.

      The cruel insult hung like a storm cloud between them. Suddenly remorseful, Chelsea yearned to call it back.

      A faint bitterness shadowed the blue brilliance of his eyes. I couldn’t help my lack of schooling, he murmured. We were both orphans, but I never had the advantages you did.

      "I’m

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