Mistletoe and Magic (Novella): A Loveswept Historical Romance (2 page)

Penelope giggled and reluctantly released her sisters, and then turned around so that the dressmaker could unbutton her ball gown. “I know! I mean,” she corrected, “I hope so!”

The Vanderbilts’ Christmas ball was a much-anticipated event of the season. Young Alva Vanderbilt and her husband, William, were newlyweds, and they opened their house to celebrate their own happiness as well as to extend their hospitality to their friends and neighbors.

The townhouse was gaily decorated with sprigs of holly and wreaths of laurel, while tiny bouquets of mistletoe nestled above in the kissing boughs. Gilt banisters lining the staircase were festooned with evergreens and bright red ribbons, giving them the appearance of candy canes. Chandeliers dripping with crystals lent a sparkling light to the festivities as servants crossed the black-and-white marble floor carrying silver trays of
Champagne and tempting ices and cakes to refresh the guests.

“You all look so handsome!” Eve cried as she stood in the foyer with Penelope. Jennifer and Winifred handed their fur-trimmed cloaks to a servant, while their husbands, Gabriel and Charles, dispensed with their top hats and walking sticks. Jennifer, in a sumptuous ruby-colored gown, appeared festive and lovely, while Winifred was the picture of grace in emerald-green velvet.

The sergeant at arms gestured to Winifred and Jennifer, and then turned to the crowd.

“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Forester, Mr. and Mrs. Howe!”

The company applauded, acknowledging the couples. Jennifer and Winifred descended the stairs with their husbands while nodding to acquaintances. The women joined some friends near the fire, while Gabriel and Charles fetched drinks from a passing waiter.

“Jared!” Charles Howe shook the hand of his friend as he approached. “I was wondering where you were, old chap!”

Jared Marton laughed. Clad in a black suit with a white waistcoat, he looked every inch the successful dashing attorney that he was. Accepting a glass of Champagne, he took Winifred’s hand and kissed it, ignoring the sharp look his friend sent him.

“I wasn’t looking forward to this, I assure you.” He raised his head with a grin. “Debutantes and dances are not to my taste. My parents insisted I attend.”

“You are thirty-four,” Charles said dryly, “and won’t live forever. Perhaps it’s time you took an interest in one of our young ladies. There are many pretty girls in need of a partner.”

“You are with the most beautiful woman here, and alas, she’s taken. But perhaps Mrs. Howe will generously allow me a waltz?” He gave her a wicked grin.

Winifred laughed. “I would be happy to dance, Mr. Marton. But you are acquainted with my sister Penelope? I believe they are announcing her now.”

“Madame Eve Appleton …” The deep male voice resonated, breaking through the chatter. “And making her debut this evening, her niece Miss Penelope Appleton!”

A hush seemed to fall over the room as Penelope stepped forward. She was unearthly beautiful, poised on the marble landing beneath the twinkling lights, and more
than one man looked to the heavens as he beheld her. The ivory satin gown gave her the appearance of a Christmas angel amid the darker velvets of the season. A string of simple pearls adorned her throat, and tiny diamonds added sparkle to a face that needed no embellishment. Her blond hair, gleaming in the chandelier light, was tied back with a black band that matched the one at her waist, letting her curls fall artfully around her cheekbones. Demurely, she held a nosegay of white roses and baby’s breath, while her dance card fluttered in enticing invitation from her gloved wrist. When she began to descend the stairs, the applause was thunderous.

“My God,” Jared breathed. Dumbstruck, he could do nothing for several seconds but gawk at the gorgeous creature before him as she walked gracefully down the stairs and was immediately thronged by men. He had met Penelope in the past, and like all men, had admired her beauty, but he’d merely thought of her as Winnie’s baby sister. Yet now, all grown up, dressed in a gown that could have come from Paris, she looked like Aphrodite herself.

Desire, hot and urgent, throbbed in his blood, but what he felt was more than simply appreciation for her looks. He wanted her, all of her, totally and completely. It didn’t matter that she was ridiculously young. It didn’t matter that she was the sister of his good friend Winifred. It didn’t matter that he would have tons of competition for the fabled beauty, or that she was notorious, being an Appleton. Nothing mattered except that he make her his own, regardless of the cost.

“Jared?” Winifred lightly touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

“I think your baby sister has made another conquest,” Charles joked as Jared shook his head, as if trying to rid his brain of an enchantment. “You’d better get in there if you hope to secure a dance,” he advised his fellow lawyer. “She’s surrounded by beaux. I wouldn’t be surprised if her card was already full.”

“We’ll see about that.” Purposefully, Jared rebuttoned his glove and squared his shoulders, as if preparing for battle. He didn’t care if it was one swain or a thousand—this night would not pass without him securing a dance. He strode purposefully through the crowd, directly toward the girl who was causing such a stir, ignoring the comments and inquiries all around him like the buzz of a thousand hornets. Penelope Appleton had certainly made an impact on the staid New York society.

And on him.

Penelope’s lips parted in shock and she paused as she saw a man approaching, parting the sea of black coats like a knight charging into battle. Neville Johnston was entreating her to taste a sugared plum, but she couldn’t even move to respond.
It was him
. Their eyes locked, and neither one of them could look away. Her heart beat so loudly that she wondered if others could hear it, and she had to force herself to take another breath as the heady emotion flooded through her.

It was
him
. Jared Marton was the dark-haired stranger in her dreams! Penelope knew it instantly. Why had she never noticed how handsome he was, that his eyes were a compelling deep green, his chin firm and square, his mouth a sensual promise? He really was a magnificent specimen of a man, she mused, even though he was known as a rogue and one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. Wealthy to boot, he was popular with the ladies, though he seemed to have no intention of settling down with just one. He enjoyed women, had a zest for life, and was used to having his own way.

This man was her destiny
.

She couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement that raced through her.

He had his work cut out for him. This realization dawned, for even as Jared came to his senses, another man claimed her hand. Helplessly, Penelope was drawn onto the dance floor. As she started to take her place, Jared stepped firmly between her and her companion.

Penelope gasped. “Sir, what do you think you are doing?”

“I believe it’s called a waltz,” Jared said smoothly, bowing back to her as if there had been a prior agreement between them.

“I beg your pardon, sir!” Neville Johnston, Penelope’s partner, turned an interesting shade of red when Jared took her hand as if the man wasn’t even there and claimed her for the dance. “But this is really too bad of you! I sought my dance hours ago—you can see my name on the card … I had to wait …”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Something in Jared’s eyes sent the poor lad sputtering as the attorney swept Penelope into his arms. Seeing the sympathetic glances around him, Neville had little choice but to storm off the dance floor and retreat to the wall, where more than one young lady was ready to console him.

“Mr. Marton, that was extremely rude!” Penelope admonished, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Mr. Johnston is a nice young man and you embarrassed him.”

“I know. And I really will make it up to him. I happen to know he is very enamored of Miss Eggleston. I will put in a favorable word, since she is the sister of a good friend.” Jared pulled her close to him, and she could feel the strong length of his body against her as his hand pressed gently against her waist. When he looked down at her, he whispered in a seductive voice, “But I hope you get used to me cutting in, Miss Appleton, for you see, I intend to make you my own.”

Penelope hid the excitement his words engendered and tried to appear indignant. “Why, that’s awfully forward of you! If I recall, I didn’t even agree to waltz …”

“We are dancing, though, are we not?” He grinned, sweeping her across the floor
as if to make a point.

She had to laugh. Even if she hadn’t known that Jared was her destiny, she would have been impressed by his confidence. When she looked up at him, she realized he was studying her, his eyes caressing every feature as if to remember her always.

“I have to admit, Mr. Marton, you confuse me,” she said as he whirled around another couple with a flourish.

“How so?” Lightly, he traced the curve of her spine with his fingers, making her feel warm and tingly.

“When we met last year, you didn’t seem to notice me at all. And even now you haven’t complimented me.” A practiced flirt, she looked at the floor and sighed as if disappointed. “Most gentlemen would try to win my favor by telling me how fine my eyes are or how golden my hair. So I suppose you don’t find my looks to your liking?”

She waited for the protestation, his apologies, and a rush to expound upon her beauty. So she was even more puzzled when he slowed the dance and tipped her face up to his.

“You will find I am not as other men.” Jared’s eyes met hers and the teasing quality was gone. “And when I beheld you across the room this evening, I saw much more than your beauty: I glimpsed the woman within.”

Penelope gasped in stunned surprise and for a moment, her heart stopped. For the first time in her life, she realized her looks were not the draw. She felt more rattled than when Jennifer had practiced a spell and accidentally unleashed a house full of ghosts on them. Desperately, she fanned her face with her gloved hand. “My, Mr. Marton, how you do run on! Are you trying to flatter a poor girl like me?”

“Not at all,” he said gallantly, but Penelope saw that his expression had changed as if he was disappointed in her. “You are quite an accomplished flirt, Miss Appleton,” he continued in the same bantering tone. “I would imagine there isn’t anything a man could say to you that you haven’t heard before. And you are a wonderful dancer.”

Yet as he swirled her once more around the room, she felt a keen sense of loss, as if she’d let something slip through her fingers. When the music ended, he bowed before her, and then took her hand into his.

“Thank you for the waltz, Miss Appleton.”

The seductive warmth of his fingers entwined with her own as he kissed the back of her hand. She started to respond, but a familiar humming sounded in Penelope’s ears. Desperately she tried to stop the vision from coming, but the room faded softly into gray and the noise of the ballroom, the music and laughter, seemed very far away …

It was snowing. She could see the flakes sifting through the air and falling onto a brick walkway, only to dissolve into nothingness on the clay
.

A man was walking, his boots striking the ground the only sound in the wintry night. When he reached the end of the road, shots rang out behind him. Penelope gasped as the man collapsed into the unforgiving street. A pool of blood encircled his head, while a crimson rivulet trickled slowly toward the curb as footsteps rang out, and his assailant disappeared into the blackness
.

“Miss Appleton?” Jared paused, aware that something was very wrong. His beautiful companion stared across the dance floor and her face was white, as if she’d seen a ghost.

Penelope didn’t hear him.

In the next second she saw her morning paper hit the steps and fall open to reveal a blaring headline:
JARED MARTON, 34-YEAR-OLD LAWYER, SHOT DEAD!

Penelope fainted.