The Christmas Lights: A Gorgeous Christmas Romance Full of Love, Loss and Secrets by Karen Swan

Author:Karen Swan [Swan, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Holiday, Women, General
ISBN: 9781509838097
Google: fdtoDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2018-11-01T10:47:53.154000+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Lodal, June 1936

Signy held her breath as the crown was laid on her head. The girls gave a collective gasp as Margit adjusted her hair and pulled her costume straight.

‘There,’ she whispered, looking back at her little sister proudly, her eyes shining with unusually vivid intensity.

‘Do I . . . ? How do I look?’ Signy asked her, apprehension lurching like nausea as she heard the crowd gathered outside, waiting.

‘Like a princess.’

It wasn’t true of course. Real princesses didn’t wear lace-up boots or have sunburn on their cheeks but Signy beamed anyway, wishing she could see herself fully; the only mirrors up here were the back of spoons and the lake on a still day. It felt strange not to be in the loose, gauzy cottons of her summer dresses and her hands ran over the tight velvet bodice, her fingers rippling over the dense red and gold embroideries; the thick, full black skirt all but obscured by the pristine white apron that cloaked it. But it was the crown – made of birch twigs and blossoms – that really marked her out as special tonight: the Midsummer bride.

‘Are you ready?’ Margit beamed, leading the way to the door. ‘Your groom awaits.’

With a proud nod, Signy let her sister open the door and she walked out of the cabin to the waiting villagers all gathered around, seeing how the happiness shone in her mother’s eyes to see her toeing the line for once and looking appropriate in traditional dress. It was an honour bestowed upon the youngest girl and she felt her heart swell as the village cheered her out. Her groom, Johan Muldal, the blacksmith’s youngest son, looked on in trepidation. A year younger and three inches shorter, even than her (which was really saying something), he had run scared from her ever since she had thrashed him for kicking the heads off some Black Vanilla orchids that everyone in the village knew were rare.

But she took the nervous hand he held out now and as the fiddler began to play, they both followed him over the grassy path, beyond the cabins, past the hayricks and down to the dell by the stream. Behind her, Signy could hear Kari and Ashi giggling, Brit, Sofie and Margit all talking in excited voices as they were shadowed in turn by the boys and young men who also made up the procession. Some of the villagers were carrying flaming torches, not for the light – for even at almost midnight the sky was still lit, a pale blonde with violet threads – but to ignite the bonfire the men had worked all day to assemble. It was taller than a house, drier than a desert, a steeple pointing to the gods to bring abundance and good harvest to the valley. The animals had all been gathered into the closed pens for the night, away from the roar and light and searing heat, and Signy had been so excited she had even

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