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The door opened and Bernie looked up from her embroidery. “How was town?”
“Cold. Dreary.” Serena stood for a moment by the bright fire, warming herself, then crossed to the window seat. “Budge up.” She wriggled beside Bernie and looked critically at her embroidery. “You’re improving.”
Bernie threw it aside with a laugh. “Give me a sword over a needle any day.” She traced Serena’s cheek gently. “You’re cold, my lady. Might I warm you up?”
Serena brushed her lips over Bernie’s. “You may.”
Sometime later, they were lying in bed together, pleasantly sated.
“It made me sad,” Serena announced suddenly.
“Hmm? What did?” Bernie had been enjoying the way Serena’s fingers were tracing over her old scar. “Not..?” Surely not what they had just been up to.
“Town.”
“Oh, right.”
“No colour, no enjoyment. Even when father and then Edward wouldn’t let us celebrate Christmas, I could at least watch other people and their joy. And now…” Serena heaved a sigh and nestled into Bernie, “now, there’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry, love.” Bernie kissed Serena’s dark hair.
“It’s not your fault,” Serena murmured. “God knows you did enough to try and stop it all.” She moved to press a swift kiss to Bernie’s lips. “I just – I want music, and laughter, and food. Church and carol singing and wassailing. Mince pies!”
Bernie stroked her hair. “I’m sure that we can manage some of those. In the privacy of our house, anyway.” She considered thoughtfully, and then decided to give up a secret. “Henrik is making mince pies. And christmas pudding.”
Serena sat up, her dark hair tumbling over milky white breasts. Bernie smiled, enjoying the view. “Is he! I knew he had something under his hat.”
“We made a plan a little while ago. So we could buy supplies without anyone being suspicious.” Bernie reached up to cup one full breast. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed.
“Flatterer,” Serena said, leaning in her to her touch. “So, you and Henrik plotting away...”
“Serena,” Bernie nudged her until she was straddling her thigh, “no more about Henrik, please.”
Serena guided Bernie’s free hand to the apex of her thighs and grinned. “As you wish.”
On Christmas morning, Bernie went into town. With shops open just as if it was a normal day, it was sensible to show her face. She bought some ordinary household requirements and then left again. It was dreary. Of all the things that the Puritans had inflicted on England, this cancellation of Christmas might be the worst. This year even the weather was following suit – no cold and crisp mornings to be found, only mild weather and drizzling rain.
But in the privacy of their own manor house, she and Serena had planned something more resembling the celebrations Bernie had been used to. Their private chambers had been decorated with holly and mistletoe. The children – now so nearly adults – had presents. And Henrik and Bernie had continued their plotting, and several ducks were even now roasting in the oven.
Bernie reached the manor thankfully. She handed off her horse to Fletch with a nod. He and Jac were expected for lunch. Master Levy, who had arrived earlier, ostensibly to give Elinor and Jason their lessons, was also invited.
Bernie stepped through the manor door, closed it and the world behind her, and breathed a sigh. Inside, it was Christmas. The manor smelt of duck and spices. The children were dressed in their finest. Elinor was sitting at the harpsichord, carefully picking out a melody which Jason was singing – somewhat tunelessly – to.
And then Serena came down the stairs. Dressed in the red gown that Bernie had given her for their very first Christmas together, her hair curled, her eyes sparkling – she took Bernie’s breath away.
“You’re home,” she said. She pressed one hand against Bernie’s chest and leant up to kiss her. “Time to get changed, and then we’re going to sing carols.”
“Come with me, my lady?” Bernie offered.
Serena met her eyes with a grin. “We’ll have to be quick.”
Bernie traced her fingers against Serena’s waist. “I can be quick,” she promised.
Five minutes later, Bernie was reappearing from under Serena’s skirts. “Told you,” she said smugly, and wiped her mouth genteelly.
Serena, with one hand flung across her face, smiled. “Did you ever think it would be like this?”
“Like what?” Bernie asked as she settled Serena’s skirts back into neatness.
“After all this time, you and I – still ...” Serena raised her head to meet Bernie’s quizzical gaze, “wanting this. Loving this. Loving each other.”
“Yes,” Bernie said simply. “I couldn’t – I can’t imagine any other life than this, with you. I love you, Serena. With all my heart. Forever.”
“Oh Bernie,” Serena said, her voice catching. “I love you too. For eternity.”