Chapter 2

Shelby woke to the sound of bells. Soft, silvery, chiming bells.

She tried to draw in a breath but found she couldn't inhale deeply. It seemed as if there was a tight band wrapped around her rib cage, constricting her chest. She tried to sit up and found her head spinning.

"Easy there." She recognized that voice with its faint Southern accent overlain with a hint of British. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and helped ease her into a seated position. Her eyes blinked open and she looked up into the stunningly handsome face of Noel Holiday.

His eyes were the dark blue of an evening sky, his hair a true blue-black. High, strong cheekbones and a square jaw framed a face that would have been at home in a Renaissance painting, or on a Hollywood movie poster. Right now, those blue eyes were looking at her with concern as he tucked a couple of pillows behind her back to prop her up. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess. Mostly confused. Did I pass out or something?" It was still hard to breathe, but she wasn't dizzy anymore.

"Or something." His full lips compressed into a narrow line. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were looking at the Christmas village," she said. Slowly her eyes started taking in their surroundings. She'd never seen this room before. The chiming was from a clock that had just stopped, marking the hour. Carved wooden chairs and sofas upholstered in green and gold brocade and spindle-legged tables gleamed in the glow from lamps mounted on the patterned papered walls. Lace doilies covered most of the wooden surfaces. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, but she couldn't see it clearly - she must have lost her contact lenses at some point. Still, the period effect was obvious, even without her being able to make out the details. What was a Victorian parlor doing inside Holiday offices?

"Me too," Noel told her. Seemingly assured that she wasn't going to pass out again, he stepped away and began pacing up and down on the green and gold Persian carpet.

That's when she noticed his clothes.

At the party, his six-foot-plus, athletically built frame had been shown off by a black designer suit, white shirt and a red-striped tie. He was still wearing a black suit and white shirt, but the resemblance ended there. Now the jacket had tails, he'd added a red-striped waistcoat and there was a black bow tie around the high white collar of his shirt.

Trying to draw in a deep breath, she found she still couldn't. She looked down to see what was binding her chest. Just for a second she grew dizzy again. Her tan tweed skirt and jacket were still tan tweed. But the skirt, which had ended just below her kneecaps, now went all the way to the tops of her black high-button boots. Shelby didn't own high-button boots. She'd been wearing sensible brown suede ankle boots.

The jacket had changed shape, going from a man-tailored square cut to a much more fitted style with a peplum and a row of brown leather buttons stopping at the velvet lapels just above her breasts. Velvet lapels? And where had that froth of ivory lace come from? Her shell was plain polyester. Sure enough, there was a matching frill of lace coming from each cuff as well. Sliding one hand on her stomach up under the jacket confirmed her deepest suspicions.

"Who the hell put me in a freaking corset?" she demanded.

"Probably the same sick bastard who gave me this starched collar." Noel stopped his pacing and turned to face her. "Does this room look familiar to you?"

"No, I've never been in here before in my life." Cautiously, she eased herself around until she was sitting on the green velvet chaise instead of lounging with her feet up. The tight jacket made it hard to move even her arms. "Do you know where we are?"

"I have a suspicion," he answered. "But it sounds ridiculous. Look around you and tell me what this room reminds you of."

Once she mastered the shallow breathing required, she stood. Things were still a little fuzzy, but on the table next to her chaise rested a pair of gold-rimmed wire glasses. Maybe those would help. Just for the heck of it, she picked them up and tried them on.

The prescription was perfect. She blinked and studied the room again. "Are those candles on the Christmas tree? Who'd be crazy enough to do that?"

"It was common practice in the late 1800s," Noel said. "Still is in a few places around the world. Now look. What else do you see?"

"Victorian furniture, gaslights and really gaudy wallpaper." After holding her hands out and assuring herself that actual heat came from the cracking flames, she crossed to the big bay window that fronted the room and peeked out the curtains. Her breath frosted the glass, which was icy to the touch. "It's snowing. Snowing!"

"Exactly. I don't think we're in Charleston anymore, do you?"

"What? Where?" She whirled around too fast and tripped over her petticoats. Petticoats? What the hell was going on here?

Then she spotted the sampler on the wall across from the window. A cross-stitched sampler. Why had she just been thinking of that? Without planning to, she crossed to it and read it. "Enjoy the Holiday magic and don't fret. You'll be home for Christmas Eve."

The room spun again as she realized that the whole damn place did look awfully familiar.

Noel crossed the room and caught her by the arm to hold her steady. "Figured it out, didn't you?"

Shelby nodded, looking up into his piercing blue eyes. "Holy cow. We're in the house, aren't we? We've been shrunk down and stuck in the Christmas village."