And it's a Merry Xmas @colinoeyebrows !!! for @cssecretsanta2020
Guess now it'll makes sens why your damn santa wasn't that present here and yet, was inquiring info..... ;p
Was supposed to be done last night, but as we both saw, t'was getting real late and i mean, i finished it at 2-3am :D BUT YAY!! and with it more pics being coloured than originally planned bc i felt bad for being late >o<
Hope you'll enjoy!!!! and yeah yeah yeah....there's indeed some other business shit going to you ....as soon as post mail trafic is back to being less busy
Summary: Set in 1920, Emma and Killian are on their way to spend the Christmas weekend at the Jones family estate. Overbearing older brothers, societal pressures and norms, separate sleeping quarters, and secrets being kept left and right could make for an interesting holiday… to say nothing of the current thorn in the nation’s side. Prohibition.
A/N: The final part of my CSSS25 gift for Marta. I hope y'all enjoy it!
Shoutout to @cssecretsanta2020 for putting on another incredible event and thank you to those involved in running it this year! You guys are awesome. A special thanks to my bestie @kmomof4 for giving this the once over and, when necessary, cracking the whip!
Rated T-ish / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One
Part Two
Killian accepted the cup of demitasse from the footman station by the bar and sipped a soothing swallow of the strong, hot beverage. Slipping his other hand in his pocket, he leaned against a flat piece of molding on the room’s ornate walls and surveyed the gathering. A number of ladies, his Swan included, had just excused themselves to powder their noses now that the party games were at an end. He and Emma had come out victorious in many of them, which did not surprise him in the least. They made quite the team.
Running his thumb over the velvet exterior of the item stowed in his pocket, Killian let out a hopeful sigh and took another drink. Perhaps this would be the weekend she’d agree to becoming more than a teammate. More than a cohort. More than a lover. Perhaps, should he find the courage to get down on one knee and ask her properly, she would agree to--
“Enjoying yourself, little brother?” Liam inquired with a clumsiness to his words and a glassiness in his eyes.
“Not as much as you, apparently,” Killian needled, nodding his head towards the martini glass currently held precariously in Liam’s loose grip.
Liam held up the glass and scrutinized it as though he’d only just remembered it was there. “I’m still not sure I approve, but…” A wide grin broke over his face and it heartened Killian (though he’d never admit it out loud) that this beaming expression of joy and affection, which had for far too long been a rarity, had become more frequent since he’d met Belle. “My wife insisted I ease up and soften my viewpoint in the spirit of the season, and who am I to argue with such a wise and sensible woman.”
“Well, then,” Killian mused, an opportunity presenting itself that he would be foolish not to capitalize on. “Since you have softened your views towards imbibing in alcohol during Prohibition, perhaps you would be so inclined to reverse your decision about certain sleeping arra--”
“Forget it, Killian,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “David would have my guts for garters, to say nothing of the earful I’d likely get from Belle tomorrow. And I have enough of my wits about me to know that I’ll likely pay dearly enough for my reconsiderations tonight in the morning, so if it’s all the same to you…”
He did not finish the thought, but must have felt he’d gotten his point across and purposely set off to engage Philip Briar who was also awaiting the return of his wife, Aurora, from the facilities. Killian had not the opportunity to get to know their latest business partner very well, but Briar seemed a decent enough fellow; one who would fit in rather nicely with the Jones brothers and Graham Humbert. To say nothing of the potential new mergers and acquisitions such a partnership offered them. Many of the other men in attendance were, in a sense, auditioning for just such an opportunity. Earnestly hoping they might find themselves tied to the Jones’ interests in the new year. And the capital that came with such a lucrative alliance.
Not that the Joneses hadn’t benefited from mergers and partnerships over the years. Humbert was proof of that. The intel he’d brought with him concerning one of their biggest rivals, the Mills, had been invaluable. As was the man himself. Killian had never met anyone with sharper instincts and steadfast resolve. He was as cunning as he was charming, with a boyish air about him. It was the latter quality that made him likeable enough for others’ defenses to drop, lulling them into a false sense of security before they realized they’d conceded the upper hand.
Indeed, Humbert was a valuable asset. Killian almost wished he could lure him into the ‘off the books’ sector he’d created, but it was simply too risky. He needed to keep his clandestine affairs as separate from his legitimate ones as possible. He’d already mixed the two with Emma, and while he did not regret the outcome thus far, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned for her each and every time she’d made a run for him.
He still hadn’t recovered from her most recent close call.
“Pleasant thoughts?” Emma’s voice cut into Killian’s musings and he forced a smile (though he did not have to force it for long), hoping his turmoil would go unnoticed.
“Pleasant enough,” he crooned, circling his arms around her waist.
Emma hummed, dubiously, and scrutinized his face. “Applesauce.” The admonishment was delivered in a teasing tone, her raised brows and cocked head emphasizing her confidence that she’d caught him out in the falsehood. Wrapping her hand about the back of his neck, her fingers toyed with his hair sending a ripple of want down his spine. “Wanna try that again?”
“It’s nothing, Swan,” he assured her. “Just thinking about business, which…” he repositioned his hold on her, a grin spreading across his face as a new song began to play on the gramophone. “I shall gladly put off until a more appropriate time. For now. Shall we?”
“We shall,” Emma giggled, following his lead and joining the others who were already cutting a rug to the lively tune.
After a few vigorous dances, a slow speed 78 was put on, allowing everyone to catch their breaths and enjoy a more intimate moment with their partners.
“Having a good time, love?” Killian inquired, tucking an errant strand of her hair that had worked its way loose of its pins behind her ear.
“I am,” she said with a contented sigh. “Tonight has been lovely. Much of the stress about the weekend is gone and I’m really looking forward to the holiday now.”
“I’m glad,” Killan replied with a slight chuckle in his tone. “Though, you may come to regret those words tomorrow when our guests are gone and it’s just our families.”
A smile lifted the corners of Emma’s lips even as she confessed, “I didn’t say all the stress was gone. Only some.”
“Well, you know…” he drawled, running his tongue salaciously over his bottom lip. “I happen to know a very effective way to alleviate stress from one’s body.”
“Do you, now?” Emma replied, pulling her bottom lip teasingly between her teeth.
“Aye,” Killian purred. “And I have no qualms in defying my brother’s edict.” His fingers skimmed down her bare back, a trail of raised fresh left in their wake that made Emma visibly tremble. “Tell me what room you’re in and I’ll come to you later tonight.”
Emma’s brows scrunched together as though she were confused by the request. “You… You don’t know which room I’m in?”
“My git of a brother refused to tell me, as if that would keep me from finding out.”
A sly smile tugged at her lips and a saucy expression took over her exquisite features. “And what makes you think you’ll get that information from me?”
“Come now, love,” Killian countered, his voice dropping to a lower register, a timbre he knew made her toes curl. “You would deny us both the pleasure of my having that knowledge?”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t find it pleasurable,” Emma shot back in a husky tone. “I simply don’t think it would be good form of me to blatantly go against my host’s wishes.”
“You’re serious?” Killian asked, a bit astonished at Emma’s resolve.
“What’s the matter, Hook?” she taunted, evoking his code name. “I thought you loved a challenge.”
Pulling her flush against him, Killian growled, “That I do, Swan. That. I. Do.”
~/~
It was well after midnight before the party goers retired to their rooms, and later still for the house to become quiet and settled, the servants having to finish their work before they could retire as well. Killian waited until he was certain all were abed, not wishing to run into anyone in the corridors and start tongues wagging. With some sly questioning, he’d been able to narrow down which room his Swan occupied through the process of elimination. All he had to do was make his way to the other end of the expansive house without being detected.
Creeping out from his room, he tread lightly along the carpets, thankful for the soft glow of the sconces that remained illuminated in the hallway. His ears strained for any hint of movement; his body tense and ready to dart into one of the common rooms at a moment’s notice. Quick strides had him crossing the open expanse at the top of the staircase, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the east wing.
That was until a figure stepped out from the shadows. A weary eyed footman who did his best to maintain proper posture despite his evident fatigue.
Knowing he’d already been spotted, Killian continued forward, his demeanor exuding the confidence that he belonged there, and began to sidestep the servant.
The footman blocked him.
“Excuse me, my good man.” Killian attempted to step around him once more, but was again thwarted.
The footman’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously at Killian’s incredulous look, and his voice shook slightly as he stated, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Jones, but I am on strict orders from your brother to not let you set foot in the east wing.”
“You can’t be serious.” Of course, Killian knew he was absolutely serious. He’d been a fool not to anticipate something like this.
“I’m afraid I am. His exact works were, and I quote, ‘Tell my little brother he is prohibited from setting foot in the east wing.’”
The use of that particular word - prohibited - was not lost on Killian. Seems he was resolute to uphold some sort of prohibition this weekend, and since he’d wavered on the alcohol he chose to double down on the pre-marital relations.
Wanker.
Before Killian could respond, a door several feet down the hall opened and a man’s head poked out. Killian groaned internally when he saw who it was.
“Jones?” David said, exiting his room, carefully closing the down behind him, then tightening his robe as he made his way over. “I thought I heard voices. What are you…” He paused as realization set in. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sneak into my sister’s room.”
Slipping his hands into his own robe, Killian nonchalantly rocked back on his heels and replied. “Very well, then. I won’t.”
Taking a menacing step forward, David grit out, “I oughta knock your block off.”
Killian relaxed his cocky demeanor, his expression turning serious in the face of the man’s justified ire.
“You’d be well within your rights to do so,” Killian conceded, causing David to blanch. “I won’t even attempt to defend myself.
“Gentlemen, please,” the footman implored. “Our guests are all asleep. What would Mr. Jones say to having the entire house woken up to fisticuffs in the hallway?”
David unclenched his fists and studied Killian with a skeptical eye, still taken aback by the man’s response.
“Out of respect for my host,” David began in a calmer, but no less firm tone. “I shall refrain from any untoward actions, however…” His stare was piercing as he delivered the words Killian had long expected to receive from the man. “I think it’s time you and I had a talk about your intentions with my sister.”
“I agree,” Killian replied. Then, gesturing to a door just off the landing, he suggested, “Shall we do so in Belle’s library.”
“After you.”
David followed Killian into the freshly remodeled library, adorned with wall to wall bookcases that stretched to the ceiling. Out of all the renovations, Killian knew this room was his sister-in-law’s pride and joy. He only hoped, surrounded by words of wisdom and the knowledge of a variety of interests from those who had come before, that they would help keep the present topic and those wrestling with it in the here and now, civil and level-headed.
“You inquired about my intentions towards Emma,” Killian began, positioning himself next to the grand fireplace and allowing himself to be backed against the wall (metaphorically and literally) as a show of respect to David’s position as Swan’s elder brother. “I assure you they are entirely honorable.”
Scoffing, David replied, “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. Don’t forget,” He raised his finger and wagged it at Killian in the same insufferable way Liam did. “I know your reputation. Emma isn’t some conquest.”
“I wouldn’t carry around a two-thousand dollar diamond ring in my pocket for someone I only saw as loot.”
David’s eyes grew wide, and his brows shot up into his hairline. After gaping at Killian like a fish for a moment, he stammered, “You…You bought her a ring? An engagement ring? When?”
A soft smile lifted the corners of Killian’s mouth and he confessed, “The day she finally agreed to accept my dinner invitation and give me a chance to win her heart.” Stepping forward, Killian closed the distance and placed his hand on David’s shoulder, still tense with uncertainty. “Mate, I’ve known Emma was the one for a very long time now.”
“Then why haven’t you proposed? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m waiting for her,” Killian stated, thinking it was obvious. “Whatever we become is as much up to her as it is to me, and when I get down on my knee I want her to be as sure and as ready for that step as I am.”
David stood there, clearly gobsmacked, unable to utter a response. Taking advantage of the man’s current state, Killian added, “There was also the matter of… your blessing.”
That snapped the man back into action. “My blessing? You want my blessing?”
“Of course, I do,” Killian affirmed. “You are Emma’s only family. She loves you more than… well, anyone, probably.” And Killian did not begrudge that one bit. “You’ve carried the duty of her protection and well-being since she was a child, and I… I want to know that you trust and have confidence in me to take on that honor.”
The war was evident in the man’s eyes, the fight to reconcile what he knew of the rake pursuing his sister with the sincerity pouring out from the scoundrel’s heart.
“I don’t expect it tonight, mate,” Killian assured him, letting him off the hook. “I’ve had to prove to Emma over these many months that I am not the same man I was. That I’ve changed. That I’m trying to be better. I want to be a better man… for her.” Swallowing tightly, Killian clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes as he tried to extinguish the guilt burning in his gut as he confessed, “I have a ways to go in many regards, but not when it comes to her. I’m in this for the long haul.”
“You’ve given me much to think about,” David said, softly. “But you’re right,” Killian’s head snapped up and it was now he who was taken aback. Never in all their association had the man ever looked at him with respect. The expression he was giving now was damn near… friendly. “Ultimately, it’s up to Emma. And I learned long ago to not get in her way when she sets her mind to something.” Tilting his head forward, he gave Killian a significant look and added, “Even if that something is as reckless as racing.”
Reaching up to paw a patch of skin begins his ear, Killian shot David a chagrined expression and merely shrugged his shoulders, refusing to confirm nor deny that man’s statement.
“But that’s a topic for another time,” David said on a stifled yawn. “I suggest we both get some sleep… in our own rooms.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed, unwilling to do or say anything that might derail the progress they’d made as he followed David back into the hall, where the footman remained at his post. “I’ll bid you goodnight.”
Nodding farewell to both men, Killian made his way back to his room. Although he had not made it to his desired destination, his efforts had not been in vain. His step was a bit lighter down the dimly lit hallway, and a contented sigh released heavily from his chest when he entered the room, leaning back against the closed door with a swirl of elation (slightly tinged with disappointment that he would not being seeing his Swan that night) zipping through his chest.
A chest he grabbed in startled response to a voice calling out from his bed.
“I thought you’d never come back,” Emma said, stretching as she sat up from beneath the covers. “What took you so long?”
“Swan?! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you… When did you… How did you get to my room?”
“I used the secret passage.”
“I beg your pardon?” Killian said, certain he had misheard her.
“The secret passage,” Emma repeated, a sassy and amused expression taking up the entirety of her face.
“What secret passage?”
“The one uncovered during the restoration that leads from my room, to a secret hallway downstairs, to another set of stairs that leads…” Moving off the bed, she sauntered to a bookcase in the corner of the room and pulled on one of the volumes, causing a hidden door to spring open. “Here.”
Flabbergasted, Killian marched over to take a closer look. “How did you--”
“Belle told me when she showed me my room.”
Spinning around, Killian faced Emma in shock. “She did? Why? I mean… Why just you? Wh--”
“Come here.” Emma took his hand and led him back to the bed, allowing them to both get settled before explaining. “She promised Liam not to tell either of us when he realized we were assigned these rooms, but thought he was being a ridiculous prude in making us stay in separate bedrooms. I thought she would have told you, too, but when you asked what room I was in…”
“You couldn’t help but have a little fun?” he accused, though his tone carried no weight of agitation.
“Something like that.”
“Wait.” Killian said, agitation now hitting him full force. “Liam knew about the passage?”
“Of course,” Emma laughed. “It’s his house afterall.”
“That’s it,” Killian said, throwing up his hands. “I am going to murder my brother.”
“That might put a damper on the holiday.”
The two of them could only gaze at the other and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Once their amusement was spent, Emma tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze to where her fingers were lazily drawing senseless patterns against his skin.
“You know,” she began, hesitantly. Wetting her lips and swallowing nervously, she took a deep breath and said, “There’s a way to ensure we never have to have separate bedrooms again.”
Killian’s heart skipped, then began to hammer loudly within his chest. Sitting up, he crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could address her eye to eye. “Swan. Are you suggesting we get…married?”
With a small shrug and hopeful expression, she replied, “Would that be such a mad idea?”
“Well,” he drawled out, reaching over her to the bedside table and retrieving something from the drawer. “If it is, then…” Opening the black velvet box, he murmured, “We’re both a bit mad.”
“Oh, Killian!” Emma gasped.
Shifting his position, he pressed his knees into the mattress and held out the ring. “Emma Swan Nolan. Will you marry me?”
With tears glistening in her eyes, Emma leaned forward and carded her fingers through his hair. Pressing their foreheads together, she murmured against his lips, “What do you think?”
From the way she kissed the holy hell out him, Killian gathered it was a yes.
The End.
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Summary: Set in 1920, Emma and Killian are on their way to spend the Christmas weekend at the Jones family estate. Overbearing older brothers, societal pressures and norms, separate sleeping quarters, and secrets being kept left and right could make for an interesting holiday… to say nothing of the current thorn in the nation’s side. Prohibition.
A/N: Ho, Ho, Holy cow I am actually getting the first part of your gift posted before the end of the year. It’s a belated Christmas miracle!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year @snowbellewells! I was your Secret Santa! It has been an absolute delight to write this fic for you. I’m just sorry it isn’t entirely finished to post all in one go, but I promise the second half is will be posted soon.
I know you will get a lot of the references in this fic, but I do want to point out a few things and give some background for everyone else. I set the fic in 1920 because Marta said it was one of her favorite time periods, AND because it allowed me to work in some things we learned when we went to the Prohibition Museum in Savannah this past fall. I also named the Jones family estate in Marta’s honor, so if you are confused as to where the inspiration came from, it is entirely tied to my giftee and not to canon.
I hope everyone enjoys the fic, but especially Marta for whom I could not be more grateful. All the support you have shown over the years has meant the world to me, and I am SO GLAD we finally got to meet in person this year and will be reunited again in the next. All my love!
Also, shoutout to @cssecretsanta2020 for putting on another incredible event and thank you to those involved in running it this year! You guys are awesome. A special thanks to my bestie @kmomof4 for giving this the once over and, when necessary, cracking the whip!
Rated T (for now?) / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
Part One
December 1920 - Maine
The scenery from the passenger seat was picture perfect. A forest of tall, snow-covered pines flanked the road, with an occasional dot of red punctuating the green and white from a perched cardinal. Snuggling down into her fur coat, Emma Swan Nolan leaned against her man and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Staying warm enough, love?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid obvious slick spots.
“Mmmm,” Emma hummed contentedly. Having spent her childhood in a Boston orphanage, she was accustomed to the cold. Usually she hated it. Hated the feelings and memories it brought up. But just now she didn’t mind it. It gave her an excuse to stay close to Killian during the long drive.
“Not much longer now,” he told her, his grip on the wheel just a tad too tight for a normal, leisurely drive. Of course, there was nothing normal or leisurely about their destination.
“You know I would have driven, right?” A sassy smile curled Emma’s lip as she quipped, “I am much more proficient at it than you are, after all.”
Scoffing in mocked offensive, Killian quickly shot her a disgruntled side-eye. “Are you questioning my ability to captain us safely to our destination?”
“Oh, no,” she replied. “I know you’ll get us there safely. I’m just saying, if I were driving, we would have been there by now.” Another teasing smile pulled at her lips and she mischievously glanced up at him through her lashes. “You drive like an old man.”
“Well, I am scandalously older than you, darling.”
His brows waggled down at her causing a giggle to spill from her lips.
“I wouldn’t call seven years scandalous,” she said, straightening up to readjust her coat around her. “But you are pretty old.”
“A demanding family and risky business ventures may have given me experience, but…” he paused and turned a cheeky expression her way before adding, “You cannot deny that I have retained my youthful glow.”
Emma chortled and shook her head as she resumed her position against Killian’s side, soaking in his warmth and allowing his solid presence to calm her nerves.
With each passing moment and bend in the road, they grew closer and closer to their final destination. The place they would be spending the holiday weekend, celebrating with family and friends, for the first time as an official couple.
The Jones Family Estate - Pendleton Wells Manor.
Of course, this was just one of many properties Brennan Jones, Killian’s father, had acquired during his lucrative and, some would say, ruthless time as a Captain of Industry alongside the likes of Carnegie and Rockefeller. However, unlike many of the other Captains, Brennan had two capable, studious, and enterprising sons to whom he could leave his legacy when he passed. Killian’s older brother, Liam, had taken on the role their father had left behind, carrying the weight of the Jones name almost entirely upon his back, while Killian worked to prove himself and advance the family business into the modern age.
Whether Liam - or the Modern Age - was ready for it or not.
After several long, silent moments, Killian reached down and took Emma’s hand. Squeezing it gently, he murmured, “Relax, love. My brother has always adored you.”
Emma returned the grip and sighed. “As David’s little sister, maybe. Neither of us are certain how he’ll react to my being your girl.”
It was true, Emma had known the Jones brothers for much of her life. The Nolans had taken her in when she was eleven; the matriarch, Ruth, had found her digging through their trash looking for food after she’d run away from the orphanage. Again. After seeing the appalling conditions of the orphanage, they had elected to officially make her their ward and set up a fund for the nuns who ran the establishment. Although Emma was pretty sure her guardian, Robert, had done it to boost his public perception more than out of a sense of altruism. The Nolans may not have reached the fortune or status that the Jones had, but Robert, then his sons, James and David, had done well enough to find themselves within the same social circles.
Which had put Emma in those circles by proxy.
And, yes. Liam had always been polite and cordial with her, especially as his friendship with David - the only surviving Nolan left and the one member who had ever really felt like family to her - had matured over the years. It wasn’t until she was well into her adolescence, that she met the youngest Jones. Killian had been sent to live with relatives in England, attending boarding school then university before returning upon its completion. She hadn’t liked him at all back then, with his flirty demeanor and devil-may-care attitude.
Okay. That was a lie. She’d been immediately smitten, but refused to admit it to anyone, especially herself. He was a rogue. A rake. The black sheep of the family, with a new girl on his arm every week and a fresh black eye or split lip almost as often. It wasn’t until the death of his father that he finally turned serious attention to the family business and his role within it.
Which happened to be about the time David married Mary Margaret, and Emma and Killian were properly reacquainted at their wedding.
Little did the wedding party know that the two had been improperly reacquainted days before during an illegal canon-ball run. Emma would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he discovered it had been a woman, and his older brother’s best friend’s little sister to boot, who had bested him and his Blitzen in the point-to-point car race.
Of course, the bastard made her pay for it with teasing threats to expose her extracurricular pastime during the wedding unless she shared a number of dances with him.
Not that she really minded being in his arms half the night, especially when it seemed to irk her brother so much.
“I understand your trepidations,” Killian commiserated, pulling Emma back into the moment. “I am not relishing the face-off I am likely to have with your brother as he interrogates me about my intentions.”
They shared an amused and knowing look with one another before setting their eyes back on the road and the grand house that was now coming into view.
Killian had only just parked when a bevy of servants emerged from the house. Two footmen collected their bags while another man, the family chauffeur Emma presumed, took the keys to Killian’s Bentley to stow in the garage. With a firm yet gentle hand at the small of her back, Killian led her up the steps and through the front door where their host and hostess were waiting to greet them.
“Welcome home, little brother,” Liam boomed, taking Killian’s outstretched hand and slapping him affectionately on the shoulder.
“Younger,” Killian muttered exasperatedly before turning his attention to Liam’s wife. “Belle. So good to see you.”
“And you,” Belle replied, turning her face towards him so he could place a brotherly kiss at her cheek. “It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.”
Killian opened his mouth to respond, but Belle promptly cut him off.
“You are forgiven, however, considering the peace offering you’ve brought with you. Emma!” Belle hurried toward the woman who had been hanging slightly back and wrapped her arms around her. “I am beyond thrilled that you could join us for Christmas!”
“I… uh. Of course. I mean… thank you for inviting me.”
Pulling back, Belle kept her hands resting on Emma’s forearms as she stared up at her with kind eyes. “You hardly need an invitation. You’re practically family, after all.”
Taken aback by Belle’s pronouncement, Emma felt her cheeks grow warm as a blush swept across her face. While she hoped that she and Killian might settle down with one another at some point, there had been no mention of matrimony between them. Despite having known one another for nearly a decade, they’d only recently become an official item over the summer.
Fortunately, Belle quickly changed topics, saving both she and Killian from having to stammer out a reply.
“This coat is simply magnificent,” Belle cooed, running her hands over the soft fur before waving a footman over to assist Emma out of it.
“Thank you. It was a gift from Killian.”
Belle shot her brother-in-law a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. “Killian always did have good taste.” Turning back to face Emma, she added, “In just about everything.”
Another flush worked its way up Emma’s neck and she turned her attention to Liam, who was now approaching her. “Now, now, Belle,” he crooned softly at his wife. “Give the poor girl a chance to get beyond the threshold before you smother her.” Leaning in, he took Emma’s hand between his and stated, “We are very happy to have you, Miss Nolan. Please, make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” The words lacked proper volume due to the overwhelming feelings she was currently experiencing at having been so warmly welcomed. Clearing her throat she added, “I will.”
“Wonderful,” Liam boomed, clapping his hands together and taking a step back to address the group. “Belle, darling, perhaps you and Ashley could escort Miss Nolan to her room while I accompany my brother to his?”
“Of course!” Belle replied cheerily, gesturing towards a young maid who had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Ashley will serve as your lady’s maid while you’re here.”
With an air of command befitting the lady of the house, Belle led Emma up the steps towards the second floor, giving her a quick layout of the house as they went. Glancing back, Emma caught Killian’s confused and somewhat disgruntled expression before turning the corner towards the east wing of the manor.
“Aye,” Liam firmly stated. “Unless you and Miss Nolan have been recently joined by a clergyman, then yes. Separate bedrooms. I will not subject my wife to the scandal of unwed cohabitation.” Pausing, he gave Killian a stern and serious look as he reminded, “Besides, I did not think you’d wish to broadcast to her brother just how intimately you know his sister.”
Sobered, Killian conceded, “You may have a point.”
“Indeed,” Liam responded matter-of-factly in that somewhat pompous tone that never failed to grate Killian’s nerves. “Now come. You’ve just enough time to rest and wash up before meeting me in my office to discuss various affairs I’ve been meaning to ask you about until we both need to change for dinner. Formal attire required.”
Sighing, Killian followed his brother up the stairs towards the opposite wing from where his Swan had been led.
~/~
Emma spent the majority of the afternoon being pampered by her borrowed lady’s maid. A hot bath had immediately been drawn, a tray of coffee and refreshment waiting within her room after she’d made good long use of the soaking. She’d curled up on one of the chaises in front of the exquisite marble fireplace that had a warm fire crackling comfortably as she noshed on the provided tidbits while Ashley quietly performed her duties, readying Emma’s evening gown and stowing away her other garments and necessities for the weekend.
On their way to the room, Belle had informed Emma that this particular wing of the house had not been in use for a number of years. Brennan Jones had left it outdated and ignored, preferring to live and entertain in the more modernly updated west wing of the manor. After Liam had acquired it, he’d given Belle leave to renovate the east wing as a pet project to keep her occupied whilst he was away or engrossed with the matters of the family business that had been thrust upon him unexpectedly.
While Emma longed to explore and discover some of the uncovered hidden treasures Belle had pointed out to her, she had also been quite content to remain within the comfort and solace of her room. Of course, she missed spending time with Killian, but he had, no doubt, been railroaded by his brother to discuss work and give an account of the areas which he oversaw. And while she would not have minded spending the afternoon with Belle, she also did not wish to burden her when she already had so much to do in preparing for the evening’s gathering.
There was also the issue of her brother and sister-in-law’s arrival and the subsequent fawning from Mary Margaret and a peevish attitude from David over the current status of her love life.
Hoping to stay that interaction for as long as possible, Emma lounged and munched and read from the bawdy book she’d chosen to bring with her until it was time to dress. Ashley did an impeccable job shaping and pinning her hair into an elegant updo even though the modern trend for women was a shorter, sleeker style. Her beaded gown of deep green and stark black was, however, the very cutting edge of fashion and would probably have Killian telling her she cut quite the figure in it.
At least, that was what his expression was telling her as she descended the stairs, his gaze of awe and pride (mixed with just a hint of something improper) fixed upon her with a wide smile beaming from his handsome face.
“Swan, you look…”
“I know,” she quipped in a preening tone, taking his proffered arm and allowing him to lead her to the reception hall.
Festooned with lavish decorations, the anchor of which was a gigantic Christmas tree placed in the very center of the space, the hall and, each room she’d been able to sneak a peek into, simply took her breath away. Garlands and swags hung and draped from every corner. Baubles and bows garnished the lush greenery and the sparkle of golds and crystal shimmered in the glow of both candle and electric light.
Emma reluctantly tore her gaze away from the magical decor to greet her host, mildly surprised that it was only Belle there to receive them. The two women exchanged compliments on the other’s attire and Emma shared her heartfelt praise over the transformation the manor had received to welcome the holiday.
“Thank you,” Belle responded with satisfaction. “The servants out did themselves bringing my vision to life.”
“They certainly did,” a voice agreed, turning their attention to the guests who had just arrived.
“Mr. and Mrs. Humbert! How lovely that you were able to come,” Belle greeted warmly before making introductions. “I believe you both know Killian, Liam’s younger brother, but allow me to present Miss Emma Nolan, David Nolan’s sister and Killian’s…”
“Aaahhh,” Mr. Humbert drawled knowingly as he shot Killian a razzing look. “You must be Killian’s Swan. He mentions you quite often.”
Emma blushed and cut her eyes to Killian, who also had a tint of pink about his features and cresting the tips of his ears.
“Graham Humbert,” the man stated before turning attention to his wife. “And this is my wife, Ruby.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Emma replied, taking the opportunity to step closer to the other woman as Mr. Humbert approached Killian for a handshake of greeting.
“Please,” Belle said, gathering those who had already arrived and were assembled within the hall’s attention. “Won’t you all come through for light refreshments before dinner is served?”
Making their way into another exquisitely decorated room, Mrs. Humbert struck up a polite string of pleasantries. They were barely a step within the drawing room before both she and Emma were called into a corner where Mary Margaret was already conversing with another impeccably dressed woman.
“Oh, Emma! I’m so delighted you came!” Mary Margaret took her sister-in-law’s hand and pulled her in for a light yet affectionate hug. The ladies all offered introductions then spent a few moments pointing out and sharing the names and identities of the other guests. Several times Emma and Killian caught the other’s eye from across the room, struggling to keep decorum and good manners about them as they mingled.
One of the men, Arthur-something, had just asked where their esteemed host was when Liam suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Welcome everyone,” he said with a slight tone of agitation underpinning what was certainly meant to be a warm greeting. “I beg forgiveness for not immediately joining you, however, I need a moment with my brother.” Casting stern eyes on the man in question, he clipped, “Killian. A word.”
Not ones to ever pass up the chance to witness drama or feast on a tidbit that might make good gossip, the party began to move towards the door so they might overhear the brothers' conversation. Or rather… Liam’s admonishment.
“Would you care to explain why champagne is being poured and trayed for passing, and wine decanted for dinner? Or where the bloody bottles came from in the first place?”
“Relax, brother,” Killian responded with a hint of amusement in his calming tone. “It is all on the up and up, I assure you.
“Spirits are illegal, little brother, and well you know it,” Liam reminded in indignation, the vein in his forehead practically calling him to the carpet all on its own.
“Aye,” Killian acknowledged, his inflection and posture demonstrating his appreciation for how serious the subject was to his brother. “I am very aware that it became illegal to manufacture, sell, or transport alcohol after Prohibition began. I, however,” he continued on with a little less seriousness and definitely more cheek. “Having the sensible foresight to plan ahead, purchased and stored within my cellar on this property, every bottle, cask, and barrel before it went into effect.” Liam opened his mouth, a tirade ready on his tongue, but Killian cut him off with an emphatic reminder, “And the law says nothing about it being illegal to consume. Therefore, we are not breaking any laws.” Slipping his hands into his pants’ pockets, he rocked back on his heels and grinned smugly at his brother. “And I have the receipts to prove it.”
“That flies into the face of the spirit of the law, and you know it.” Liam jabbed his finger in his brother’s chest for emphasis causing Killian to pull his hands from his pockets and ball them into fists.
“Liam. Darling,” Belle called out, her words bright yet sympathetic. “It’s Christmas.” Sidling up to her husband, she made a small, signalling gesture towards the corridor behind them, then wrapped her arms around Liam’s waist. “Now is not the time to quarrel. You both need to loosen up, and…” A footman appeared at her side, a tray laden with coupes of champagne bubbling delicately in their presentation. Selecting a fizzing glass, Belle raised it in salute and in no uncertain terms ordered them to, “Have a drink.”
~/~
Champagne and merriment flowed through the remainder of the social hour and continued right on into dinner where the bubbly was exchanged for wine. The sharp clinks of the cutlery were softened by the lively conversations that happened around the table. At times the entire group joined in, discussing one singular topic brought up by the host or hostess, while at others, tête-à-têtes formed between those who were seated within close proximity of one another.
Such was the case as the dinner party began to enjoy their desserts.
“Emma. May I call you Emma?” Ruby inquired, then continued on after receiving heartfelt approval. “I was wondering…” Her eyes flicked across the table to where her husband and Killian were engrossed in their own chat, then focused back on Emma as she asked, “Why does Killian call you Swan? Please tell me there’s a scandalous and juicy reason for it.”
Emma laughed at the woman’s eager expression and jumping brows.
If she only knew…
“Swan was my surname before the Nolans took me in,” she told Ruby, and the few others she could tell were listening in. “Killian began calling me Swan as soon as he learned that. I think it was because he didn’t want to have to think of David every time he had to address me as Miss Nolan. Given that the thoughts he had of me whenever we were together were ones he in no way wanted my brother associated with.”
A round of chuckles chortled through a number of the guests and Emma caught Killian’s eye; his smirk told her he had heard her response and was just as amused by it. Her brother, however, was not, if the tight grip on his fork and the softly placed, appeasing hand from his wife upon his forearm were any indication.
She shuddered to think what his response would be if he knew the truth.
Not that what she’d said had been a lie. Killian had taken to calling her Miss Swan or just Swan right after they’d become reacquainted, and she didn’t doubt it was partly for the reasons she’d given, but she also knew that it was mainly because Swan was the pseudonym she used for racing. The name she’d used when she raced and beat him. The name she used bootlegging for him, seeing as women were much less suspected in running liquor than men were.
Killian may have been honest with his brother about the alcohol he’d stocked the manor with, but his hands were in no way clean when it came to following the law in regards to Prohibition. In addition to buying up various types of alcohol in bulk, he’d also acquired a number of non-descript properties where he could safely store it, then built a network of bootleggers who oversaw the sale and transport of the illicit goods to speakeasies, private customers, and fronts who used a legitimate business as cover for their more clandestine enterprises.
Emma knew they were both playing with fire, but the rush of it all was something that had drawn them closer. It felt good to be a little bad, and she wouldn’t deny that she found Killian’s gangster persona (a role he put on to hide his true identity) extremely sexy. No one would deny his handsomeness, especially on a night like tonight where his face was cleanly shaved, his hair styled and tamed, and his tuxedo fit him to perfection, but… There was just something about the stubbled growth, mussed hair, and tweed suit, complete with suspenders and waistcoat he’d often tuck his thumbs into as to give a glimpse of the holster that lay beneath his jacket, that really got her blood pumping.
“And do you have a pet name for him?”
The question pulled Emma from her heady thoughts and she wet her lips in order to give herself a moment of composure before answering.
“Not really, no,” she lied, casting another furtive glance Killian’s way. Who was currently eyeing her with lowered brows and a heat in his gaze she often associated with his more colorful moniker. Hook. The nom de plume he used for his underground endeavors. A name that set an expectation that he was not a man to be trifled with; a man who would not hesitate to use less than savory means to get what he wanted, no matter the cost.
Sometimes it was difficult to know which of those men Emma loved more. The wellbred societal elite who was tender, civilized, and respected by his peers, or the dangerous, savvy, and ruthless man who was feared by those who were foolish enough to cross him.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to choose between them.
“Shall we adjourn to the salon?” Belle suggested, seeing that most everyone had finished their desserts. “We have some party games planned and the gramophone set up for those who may wish to make use of it.”
A chorus of delighted responses filled the dining room as guests stood from the table to follow their hostess to the salon, many of them taking their wine glasses with them. Emma and Killian both clocked Liam waving over a servant to fill his glass before following his wife out, and shared an amused (and in Killian’s case a somewhat smug) expression as they exited the room to join the merriment that would continue into the evening.
Hope you have a wonderful start on all the Christmas galore 🎄🎄
Im hoping to pin point something to write that you will love. (I will aim to make it a one shot...) So let me know if there's something you really like as tropes in terms of cs plot. Do you prefer Canon or AU or both?? Im all for writing both... and don't mind writing spice if thats you jam😜🫠
Any characters you do not want me to include (as side characters etc) or tropes you just hate...
Have a nice day.... looking forward hearing from you.
Hello, Santa!!
Sorry it took me a couple of days to respond. I got slammed by the busyness of the season already! I promise to be more punctual.
I am a fan of both canon and AU, but probably favor AU more. I love a good 'there's only one bed' or fake dating fic. Even though the season is all about being Merry & Bright, I don't mind some angst, spice, or whump, but only if you're comfortable with those things. I am sure I will love whatever the muse inspires.
As for characters I hate, the only character that really gets on my nerves is Aurora (which is a shame bc she's my favorite classic disney princess), and there aren't really any tropes I shy away from.
I hope all that helps!
What are you most excited for this holiday season?
