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    Falling Stars
    Falling Stars
    Falling Stars
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    Falling Stars

    By Loretta Chase

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    About this ebook

    New York Times bestselling author, Loretta Chase shares an enchanting Regency Christmas novella about romance, forgiveness…and a second chance for a once in a lifetime love.
    Ten years ago, dashing Marcus Greyson and naïve Christina Travers fell madly in love—and parted in anger. Now, wiser and more seasoned, both know better than to trust the wayward impulses of the heart.
    But some feelings never fade; and the joys of Christmas and family just might rekindle a certain, special spark…
    This novella was previously published in A Christmas Collection anthology
    “One of the finest romance authors of all time.” –Julia Quinn
    “Wickedly witty, warm, and engaging.” –Stephanie Laurens
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNYLA
    Release dateNov 23, 2015
    ISBN9781943772353
    Falling Stars
    Author

    Loretta Chase

    Loretta Chase has worked in academe, retail, and the visual arts, as well as on the streets—as a meter maid—and in video, as a scriptwriter. She might have developed an excitingly checkered career had her spouse not nagged her into writing fiction. Her bestselling historical romances, set in the Regency and Romantic eras of the early nineteenth century, have won a number of awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA®. For more about her past, her books, and what she does and doesn’t do on social media, please visit her website. LorettaChase.com

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      Book preview

      Falling Stars - Loretta Chase

      Falling Stars

      Loretta Chase

      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.

      Falling Stars

      Copyright © by Loretta Chekani, 1992

      Ebook ISBN: 9781943772353

      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, NY 10001, New York.

      http://www.nyliterary.com

      Contents

      Falling Stars

      Merry Christmas from Loretta Chase

      Also by Loretta Chase

      About the Author

      Falling Stars

      Wiltshire, England,

      11 December 1818

      If a man could sleep through the racket of early morning London, Marcus Greyson told himself, he could certainly sleep through the noise of lively children. He pulled the pillow over his head, but he could hear it all the same: shrill voices and the thumping of little feet up and down the corridors. Even in the intervals of silence, he was waiting, braced for the next outburst of shrieks and thumps.

      With an oath, he flung the pillow aside and dragged himself out of bed. He had slept only three hours. That, evidently, was all the sleep he was going to get. A glance at the window told him morning was well advanced—a winter morn so crisply bright it made his eyes ache.

      Despite his grogginess, Marcus washed and dressed quickly, while his mind ran over a dozen possible excuses he could give his elder brother and sister-in-law for turning up in the dead of night.

      Julius and Penelope probably still weren’t aware he was here.

      They had all been asleep when he’d come. He had simply let himself in with his own key, and gone up to the room they always kept ready for him. While they’d be delighted Marcus had changed his mind about spending Christmas at Greymarch, they were sure to wonder about his bizarre traveling schedule.

      He gave his thick mane of tawny hair the usual slapdash brushing, and pulled on his coat. Since he didn’t have a reasonable explanation, he might as well give an unreasonable one, so ludicrous they’d be too busy laughing to ask any more.

      He opened the door and stepped into the hall just as a matched pair of fair-haired little girls came barreling round the corner. One neatly dodged and shot past. The other tripped over his foot.

      Marcus caught her before she hit the floor and briskly set her back on her feet. As he met her dazed blue stare, he inhaled sharply. He knew those eyes... no, it was impossible.

      Delia! Livy! came a feminine voice from the stairway.

      His head swung toward the sound.

      Yes, Mama, the little girl called out. We’re just going to the schoolroom. Flashing Marcus a grin, she darted down the hall.

      Not before we have a discussion, young ladies.

      Even while his mind denied, disbelieved, his senses recognized, and stirred.

      The voice’s owner came round the corner, then stopped dead.

      All else stopped, too—his heart and breath—as though they’d collided physically. The impact sent him reeling into the past.

      He had met her in summer, but hers was winter’s beauty. Her hair was pale sunlight framing the snowy purity of her skin, and there was winter, too, in her eyes, clear, ice-blue. Christina.

      He regained his breath and managed a bow. Mrs. Travers.

      Mr.... Greyson. The fingers of her left hand curled and uncurled against the grey woolen gown. No wedding ring. When had Arthur Travers died? Some two or three years ago?

      I was not... Her full mouth formed a tight smile. I was unaware you were here. Penelope said—that is, no one mentioned your arrival.

      That low voice with its trace of huskiness... so like a caress... He pulled his wandering mind back.

      They couldn’t have known, he said. I arrived late last night. A spur-of-the-moment decision. His heart was beating too fast—because he was taken aback, Marcus told himself. He knew she and Penny still corresponded, but from all he’d heard, Christina hadn’t left Cumbria since she was married. He hadn’t been told she’d be here, and couldn’t possibly have expected it.

      He backed away a step. She did, too.

      How... pleased Julius will be, she said. And Penelope. And of course, the boys. They’ve boasted of their uncle to the twins.

      The little girls, he said tautly. Yours, obviously.

      She nodded. Delia and Livy. Her ice blue gaze melted a fraction. Seven years old last month. And dreadful hoydens, as you’ve probably noticed. I hope their noise didn’t wake you.

      Seven years old. That seemed impossible. But it had been ten years since he’d last seen her, and she’d married soon thereafter—a mere three months thereafter, he recalled, with a sting of bitterness that startled him. He retreated another pace.

      The children didn’t disturb me at all, he lied. I was just going down to breakfast.

      Then I mustn’t keep you.

      She moved past him, a breath of scent teasing in her wake. Lavender.

      He’d known many other women who wore lavender. The scent should have conjured up recent memories. Instead, as he stood in the hall listening to her light step fade, the scene opening up in his mind rose from a decade ago.

      It had been late May, a fortnight before Julius’s wedding, and the first group of houseguests had arrived. Julius was taking them on a tour of Greymarch, and he’d nagged Marcus into going along.

      Though acutely aware of Penny’s beautiful friend, Marcus had kept his distance. He detested prim and proper Society, and above all loathed its featherbrained misses, with their virginal white gowns and twittering voices and mincing, mannered ways. The males weren’t much better: a lot of complacent hypocrites among whom not a single original thought could be found.

      While the guests explored the old gatehouse— the Greysons’ Picturesque Ruin, Julius called it— Marcus had gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut, resolved for Julius’s sake to endure boredom and frustration in silence. Marcus had been leaning against a fir tree, softly whistling the melody of a bawdy song, when Penny’s friend had shyly approached.

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