Page 35 of Under the Mistletoe
More difficult than a can without a can opener was right.
She turned back to the porch and nearly ran into Mrs. Mathews, who was walking toward her. “I am so glad you did this. Everyone seemed to have so much fun.”
“Thank you. And thank you for making your pond available. I know this is a lot of kids.”
“We’re happy to share anytime.”
“And don’t worry about overwhelming us.” Mr. Mathews joined them from where he’d been standing on the porch and wrapped an arm around his wife. “When you raise seven children, there are always a lot of kids.”
“I think most of the cleanup is done.” Mrs. Mathews surveyed the area. “But there is a gift under the tree with your name on it.”
“What?” Devin hurried up to where the tree had been set up on the wide wood porch. There had been a few Secret Santa gifts left there, but they seemed to have all been taken. But sure enough, there was a small pale-blue box with a silver bow. She picked up the box and flipped the tag over. Had one of the kids gotten her something from Santa’s Workshop?
All it said was “Devin” and it was not written in a child’s script. There was something strangely familiar about the handwriting, but she couldn’t place it. She removed the lid.
Oh my.
This was definitely not a dollar-store trinket from Santa’s Workshop. It was a silver charm bracelet with a single charm of an ice skate on it. She held it up and let the light catch it. A lump formed in her throat. What was wrong with her? It was just a bracelet. But she’d never been given a real present under the tree, and never once had she received a piece of jewelry as a gift.
“It looks like you have a real Secret Santa.” Jess appeared over her shoulder, trying to get a peek. “How romantic.”
“Romantic? It’s probably one of the parents. Who else could it be?”
Jess glanced at the driveway, and Devin followed her gaze. Logan’s Bronco was pulling away. “Logan? I don’t think so. Trust me on this. There is no reason he’d give me a gift. I promise you.”
Jess shrugged. “If you say so. But you have to ask yourself, why did he volunteer to drive you around? Why did he show up today?”
“He’s connecting with the kids.”
“Maybe. But I doubt that’s all of it. Ask him for help this week when the kids aren’t around and see what he says. I’ll put money on the fact the answer will still be yes.”
“I don’t need help before next Saturday.” Devin shook her head and walked away. Shoot, but she did need help because Hannah and her friends were busy Friday. And now she couldn’t ask Jess without admitting why she didn’t want to ask Logan. It didn’t matter. She’d handle it, because there was no way she was asking Logan for help. Not that she was afraid he’d say no.
But because it might be more dangerous if he said yes.
* * *
Stone of Anwar: Chapter 10
Astryn had never hated a man more than the one holding her hostage. The vile man and at least three companions had snatched her from the Cambrian castle gate less than two hours ago. They’d all split up, no doubt to throw Rand off their trail, but it wouldn’t work. Rand would find her. Rand would always find her.
The man pulled a crust of bread from his bag, tore it in half, and tossed it at her feet. “Eat up, pretty lady. We have a long road ahead.”
When she didn’t move, his eyes narrowed. “Think you too good for me bread, eh?”
“I’m not hungry.” It took all her strength to keep the quiver from her voice.
He stepped closer and snatched up the bread, then leaned close to her face. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
The way his beady eyes skimmed over her sent a chill crawling up her spine.Origin, please help Rand find me.
The prayer had barely formed when a branch cracked to the left, just before Rand burst through the clearing of trees on a horse that wasn’t his. Tears sprang to her eyes—he’d come. She took a step toward him but was yanked back by her hair. The rough hand pulled her close as her captor had only enough time to get a blade out and hold it to her throat.
Rand dismounted and pulled weapons in one fluid motion. His golden eyes were as cold as ice as he sized up the man with a dagger against her skin. This wasn’t the rogue prince she’d seen skirting his duties. This was an avenging warrior come to claim what had been taken from him.
He held a broadsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He wore no tunic and his shirt was loose, which meant he must have been readying for bed when he’d heard her scream.
He pointed with his gaze toward her hand clutching her gown. What did he want? She dropped the fabric and slowly reached back, but the wretched man was too fixed on Rand to notice.
