Page 5 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“I suppose you’re right,” she grumbled. He probably still thought of her as a little girl.
“And a rather grubby one, as I recall,” he joked.
“Now you sound like Granny,” she said.
He reached over and tugged one of the curls that hung limply by her cheek. “I’m just teasing. Seriously, Lia, this coin is in excellent condition. Are you sure you want to give it to me?”
“Of course,” she said, stung that he would even consider refusing it. “I told you, it’s your Christmas present.”
As he studied her, she felt strangely awkward, as if he saw something new in her.
“Thank you, sweet girl.” He tucked the coin inside his coat pocket. “I’ll keep it with me always as a good-luck charm.”
“And it will help you to remember me when you’re far away.”
“Goose. As if I could ever forget you.”
If only she could believe he would not. “Truly?”
“Of course. You are my dear little friend.”
She swallowed a sigh.
When the mantel clock quietly bonged out the quarter hour, Jack grimaced.
“You have to go,” she said.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Lia stood. “Don’t be silly. You’ll get in trouble if you stay away any longer.”
He took her hand and led her to the French doors that opened to the terrace and back garden. From there, she could cut through to the path that led to Bluebell Cottage.
“Go straight home,” he said as he opened the doors. “No hanging about and trying to catch a glimpse of the festivities, understand? You’ll get too cold again.”
“Yes, Jack,” she said dutifully. “You don’t have to worry about me.” She could take care of herself, but his concern warmed her more than any fire could.
“I promise I’ll come down in a day or so to visit you and your grandmother,” he said.
She smiled up at him before slipping through the door. Then she paused for a moment. “They’re singing carols,” she said quietly.
He stepped outside and stood with her on the wide terrace, where the stones had been swept clean of snow. When he put a casual arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side, Lia’s throat went tight with emotion.
An enthusiastic if slightly off-key rendition of “Joy to the World” drifted out from the great hall. Lia glanced up at the sky, an inky vault with a bright spangle of stars flung across the void. When she gasped, Jack followed her gaze skyward.
He laughed. “Well, look at that.”
It was a shooting star. No, not one, but another and then another, as if fired from the barrel of an enormous gun.
“Quick, Lia. Make a wish,” Jack said.
Two wishes came to her instantly. The first was that whatever travels or dangers he faced, Jack would always come safely home. The second was that someday she would stand again on this terrace with him, but as a grown woman. Then she would finally tell him that she loved him with all her heart.
“Did you make a wish, too?” she whispered.
“I did.”
“Are you going to tell me what it was?”
