Winter's Tale (14 page)

The stream of well-heeled professionals who
sought them out from Manhattan soon cured her concerns. Hearts of
Gold—Hans’s choice for their company name—was a nicely manageable
success. Business was flush enough that they’d leased a little
house and hired a few employees.

Thankfully, they weren’t so busy they
couldn’t take off when they wanted to. Hans turned out to be as big
an adventurer as she was. They’d seen the country from to New York
City to Sedona to—God help her—Kalamazoo, Michigan. Lately, Hans
had taken it into his head that he had to see Barcelona, Spain in
order to determine if the architecture was fae-inspired. Duvall,
their pureblood faerie friend, was working on “charming” up a
passport.

Entertainingly to December, Hans still found
the grocery store and gas station exotic.

He made grown-up life fun, more fun than
she’d imagined it could be. She barely noticed she was working, and
when she did, she was proud of it. This was lucky. Her father had
cut her off after she skipped out on Rackham. Hans had spun a tale
for the headmistress and the police that he, her slightly older
secret boyfriend, had convinced her to run away with him.

One look at him and they’d believed it,
though—interestingly—no one questioned either of them about the
simultaneous disappearance of Bridget Blake. Sonia Westin had also
left—to teach at a boys school, she claimed. December was pretty
sure Hans’s faerie luck was responsible for both those
conveniences.

Her father didn’t doubt their story. He
simply thought it added up to no good; hence the financial snip.
December was certain he’d anticipated her crawling back to him in
short order: broke, dumped and with her tail between her legs.
Instead, she sent him a scrupulously polite thank you note for his
support up till then.

Satisfying though that had been, at the
moment, she regretted the sarcasm. She was hoping to pull off more
diplomacy tonight.

Having ignored the valet service, she’d
parked behind the venerable Connecticut country club her parents
had swanned around since she was a kid. Though she’d been here for
Sunday brunches and birthdays, it was very much their turf.

She’d chosen it to increase the odds of them
accepting her invitation to meet her fiancé.

“You don’t need their blessing,” Hans
reminded. “You’re your own woman now.”

December knew that, along with being
rock-solid certain that she was loving and loveable and could damn
well be counted on. Hans had taught her that, and their new friends
in Kingaken. Eight whole months in one place, with people she liked
who liked her right back, had healed the wounds in her soul. Gypsy
no more, she’d learned to be less suspicious of happiness.

As she squeezed Hans’s hand for courage, she
savored the feel of her emerald engagement ring between their
entwined fingers.

“I want to do this for me,” she said. “One
last declaration of freedom from any hold my folks have on me.”

“In that case—” He treated her to the wink
she loved better than any wink in the world. “Let’s get this show
on the road.”

December undid her seat belt.

“Wait,” he said as he always did.

Even if he “let” her drive, which she was
better at than him, he had to jog around the car and escort her out
like a gentleman. December would shake her head but didn’t truly
mind. Learning human customs—especially romantic ones—tickled Hans.
If they could have bottled the boyish glee he took in it, none of
their clients would have needed their services.

“I’m not nervous,” she insisted as he shut
her door.

“Hm,” he said, clearly dubious.

She smoothed her snug-but-not-too-snug red
cocktail dress. “I look too good to be nervous.”

“You look amazing. Perhaps you’d like to
change out of your driving shoes.”

She cursed, because she’d totally forgotten
she wore sneakers. Grinning, Hans pulled her heels from the pockets
of his swank dress jacket. He couldn’t have looked smugger if he’d
produced the shoes magically.

“You’re Cinderella,” he teased, bending to
help her slip them on.

“Well, you’re definitely my prince.”

He straightened, holding her eyes with his.
“You’re ready to do this. Nervous or not, you can face them.”

Because she
was
a little nervous, she
gave him a quick hug. “All right,” she said, wishing her parents
hadn’t trained her to expect the worst of them. “Show, meet
Road.”

The flowers in the antique Chinese vase in
the lobby were just as she remembered. Ditto for the starched
maître d’ and the mingled scent of silver polish and martinis. Hans
kept her hand in his as they entered the dining room. It was
Saturday night, and the place was busy. Her parents were already
seated at their favorite power table under the chandelier. They
were bigwigs here, and she was their slightly embarrassing
offspring.

She tried not to be too grateful that they’d
showed up.

Her father rose when he saw them, buttoning
his jacket, as tall and stern as ever. Not that she expected it,
but he didn’t move to hug her.

“You look . . . well,” he said as if her not
being a hobo were some kind of oversight.

Her mother, the arbiter of all that was chic,
couldn’t agree with his assessment. She had to start in on her
right away. “December,” she said, shaking her head mournfully.
“That color—”

“I
know
,” Hans broke in as if her tone
had been quite different. “December looks totally fuckable in
scarlet.”

He’d put his faerie half’s mojo into his
voice. Though he hadn’t spoken loudly, his admiring words carried
through a room jam packed with her parents’ peers.

Her mother probably hated that her
beautifully powdered cheeks went red. “If you like that sort of
thing,” she said primly.

Hans laughed uproariously. “My God, who
wouldn’t?”

Deliberate though it was, his humor was
infectious, brimming with good nature and enjoyment of life’s
pleasures. December saw smiles break out around the room.

“Hear, hear,” said a grinning woman at the
next table.

Too smart to wait for an invitation to sit,
Hans pulled out December’s chair and handed her into it. Then he
took his own seat and shook out his napkin. Huntsman or not, he was
completely elegant. Maybe all faeries were.

“This meal’s on me, Paul,” he said to her
father. “Your daughter and I have a lot to celebrate.”

December looked at her father, curious to see
his reaction. To her surprise, he seemed amused. He couldn’t have
missed that Hans was usurping the alpha dog role from him. When her
mother opened her mouth to object, his father shifted his hand onto
hers to shush her.

“You must be Hans, the fiancé, ” he said. His
corporate chairman eyes raked her beloved up and down, taking the
measure of his glowing good health and looks, his beautiful custom
suit . . . even his shaggy hair. Hans was no bum, but neither was
he the type of male Paul Worth could easily pigeonhole. “There
aren’t many men brave enough to take on a handful like my
daughter.”

“Lucky enough,” Hans corrected. He dropped
his hand high up on her thigh. “She’s made me the luckiest man in
the world.”

He beamed at her, both putting on a show and
meaning every word. He was so beautiful inside and out, so smart
and sweet and protective that he brought tears stinging to her
eyes. She tried to say she was the lucky one, but her throat was
too tight to speak.

“Well,” her mother huffed, reduced to lame
one-word protests.

“
Very
well,” December responded,
locking her eyes with Hans’s. As unashamed as he’d been, she let
her gaze tell him secrets and make him promises. Both his halves
going to get extra lucky before this night was done.

“Good Lord,” he muttered after a bit of that.
His eyes danced with laughter, but his fingers had gone tighter on
her leg. He squirmed just a tiny bit. “Maybe you should pass me
some ice water.”

Satisfied she’d made her point, December
looked down and smiled. Whatever ups and downs they faced in the
future, she’d always treasure this moment.

# # #

EMMA
Holly is the award-winning,
USA Today
bestselling author of more than thirty romantic
novels, featuring vampires, demons, faeries and just plain
extraordinary ordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read
and to write!

If you’d like to discover what else she’s
written, please visit her website at:
http://www.emmaholly.com
.
She runs contests and sends out newsletters that often include
coupons for new books. To receive them, go to her contest page.

You can read more about Duvall and Belle in
Move Me
and
The Faerie’s Honeymoon
. If sexy
shapeshifters are your thing,
Hidden Talents, Hidden Depths
and
Hidden Crimes
are set in the same general story world as
Winter’s Tale
.

Thanks so much for reading this book!

BELLE’s
eccentric Uncle Lucky left her
his spooky house in the tiny village of Kingaken. Twenty years ago,
her little brother disappeared here, never to be heard from again.
Returning to the place for the first time in so long resurrects
more ghosts than she cares to face. When it also summons a sexy
faerie, with an agenda of his own, Belle had best pray her luck is
better than her sibling’s.

“A little mystery, a dramatic homecoming, and some
seriously melt the snow hot sex.”—
Guilty Indulgence

available in ebook and print

DUVALL
of Talfryn adores his new human
bride. She’s smart, she’s sexy, and they love each other—flaws and
all. The half-magic city of Resurrection seems ideal for a
honeymoon. It’s less dangerous than Faerie, and Belle can get her
first real glimpse of his fae nature.

Problem is, Belle gets a glimpse of more than
he counted on. Will this down-to-earth junkshop owner decide an
entitled prince of enchantments isn’t who she signed on to wed? Can
Duvall overcome his pride and bare his true heart to her?

a companion story to
Move Me

“
The Faerie’s Honeymoon
was hot and erotic
with wonderful discoveries that will keep you turning the
pages.”—
Joyfully Reviewed

available in ebook and print

THREE
full-length paranormal romances:
Hidden Talents, Hidden Depths
and
Hidden Crimes
.
Whether they involve irresistible werewolf cops, sexy wereseal
kings or sassy firefighting tigresses, these adventures turn up the
heat!

“The perfect package of supes, romance, mystery and
HEA!”—
Paperback Dolls
on
Hidden Talents