On a Midnight Clear

by Sandra Sookoo

  “It can be accomplished today.”

  “Or eat dinner. And I worked so hard...” She put a hand to her cheek, her eyes filled with the last vestiges of fear and hurt that pulled at his heart. “My packages...”

  “Are safe and sound downstairs.” He heaved to his feet. The muscles in his leg were tight and hurt like the devil. Then the sound of pattering feet pounding against the risers met his ears and he threw a rueful glance at her. “The boy is awake, and he’ll soon discover you are not downstairs. Even he, at his young age, will draw the only conclusion as to your whereabouts.”

  A pretty pink blush stained her cheeks. “Nothing untoward occurred.”

  “True, but you will have to explain your presence here, unless I go distract him.” He winked and adored how fragile she looked, how delicious she was mussed in his bed. His groin tightened. “Which I shall do now.”

  Best to separate himself from all temptation.

  It took an hour before Sarah joined him downstairs. In that time, he’d built up the fire, brewed a strong pot of coffee, made a proper English breakfast, and brought all his packages out from their hiding places. When he placed them with hers, there was a decent assemblage. He hadn’t changed from his clothes he’d worn last evening, but he was beyond caring; he’d lived solely for this moment for far too many days.

  Once Sarah was encouraged to occupy the sofa with a quilt tucked around her, he supervised the distribution and opening of the packages, and that’s when he received his second shock of the morning.

  In the large parcel, a pair of new, gleaming black Hessians awaited him. “Dear God, Sarah. This is too much.” He stared at them and then at her, his chest tight, his throat crowded with unshed tears.

  Her smile further worked to undo him. “I used all of the funds I’d taken in from the sale of my teas and tinctures this month to purchase them, for I knew you would appreciate new boots. The tanner is quite skilled.”

  “I do. More than I can say.” Unable to hold back his reaction, tears slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t try to hide the emotion. He’d not had new boots for at least a handful of years. No one had ever cared enough.

  “That’s not all,” she said quietly, with shining eyes of her own. “Open the rest.”

  In another package, he found a knitted muffler of scarlet wool. There were also two pairs of knitted, gray woolen socks. The innocent gifts completely broke through the remainder of his proper English reserve and he sobbed in the leather chair as he pressed the socks to his cheeks. They even smelled like her, for she’d made them when he’d not been aware.

  This one woman whom he’d shared a night of passion with in his past had been the key to making him whole once more. She’d opened her home—her life—to him, she and her son—their son—and without her he would have lost himself so many times.

  “Are you quite all right, Major Stapleton?” Simon asked around a stick of peppermint Cecil had given him. Lined up on the hearth was a set of new tin soldiers, their paint gleaming and sharp in the fire’s glow, for Cecil had made certain the boy had proper toys.

  “Yes.” He laughed through the tears, for even they were healing. Everything in life was if one let it be, and perhaps that was the point of growing. “I’m quite wonderful.” Looking at it through a new perspective was vital.

  “Do you...” Sarah’s swallow was audible. “Do you like the gifts? I wanted to give you things I knew you could immediately use and would never think of for yourself. Even if they’re not wild and impractical.”

  “I adore them.” And you. “I cannot thank you enough.”

  Sarah nodded, and quickly dabbed at her tears. “I’m glad. Thank you for all the things you’ve given me.” Her eyes strayed to a large rectangular box that contained a red velvet gown with a golden embroidered overskirt trimmed with small red satin roses. “Especially the frock. It reminds me of that night...”

  “Thus, the reason I bought it. Forgive me if it doesn’t fit.” He scrubbed at his cheeks. “I had to guess at your size.”

  “I’m certain it will do nicely.” Her chin wobbled. “I’m no stranger to a needle if it requires alterations.”

  Cecil struggled to his feet. “Come, Simon. I wish to go on a walk, and I think your mother needs time to herself without us underfoot.”

  The boy sent a longing glance to the bear Cecil had whittled. “Will we have the surprise from the shed too?”

  “Not until this afternoon once the horse I’ve rented is delivered.” He looked at Sarah and winked. “We’ll return in a twinkling. When I come back, I’ll help you prepare for dinner.”

  “Where will we go, Major? For more firewood?” Simon asked, for that chore had rapidly become a favorite of the boy’s, and Cecil suspected for no other reason that he had the chance to talk with him.

  “Perhaps.”

  When they’d made it into the wooded area beyond the garden, Cecil inhaled deeply of the sharp, winter-crisp air and let it out through his nose. It had snowed again overnight and there was a fresh few inches on the ground.

  “Too bad we never found mistletoe,” the boy said with sadness lining his little face.

  “Did you want it for a specific reason?”

  A red flush infused Simon’s cheeks. “I wanted you to kiss Mama under it.”

  Genuine laughter escaped him. “I can accomplish that without the plant.” They gained the spot where they’d chopped wood for the past eleven days. Cecil drew his son to the tree stump and gently encouraged him to perch there while he kneeled before the child. “I need to ask you a question, Simon.” There was no sense in delaying the matter that sat heavily on his heart.

  “What?”

  “Would it be all right if I ask your mother to marry me? I thought I should request your permission since you are the man of the house.”

  The joy in the boy’s face gave Cecil all the answer he needed, but he wanted to hear it aloud. “Truly?”

  “Yes.” His chest was tight with an array of emotions he would never have discovered if he’d not returned to the cottage—and this little family of his. “I’ve come to love your mother and...” His throat constricted. “I’ve come to love you too, Simon, though in a different way, of course.” He rested a gloved hand on one the boy’s knees. “I would like to be your father, to teach you all I know, if you’ll let me.” In that moment, it no longer mattered the boy had been raised thus far to think someone else was his sire or that he bore a different man’s name, for Cecil was here now and would be—hopefully—for the rest of the boy’s life.

  If Sarah agreed.

  Simon’s eyes widened with wonder and then excitement. “I think that would be a splendid idea, Major. I wished for this exact thing and believed in it.”

  Tears welled again in Cecil’s eyes. Dash it all, how is it that I’ve become a watering pot? Yet, in the last couple of days, he’d wished for the same. “It’s good to have faith.”

  The boy extended a little, mitten-covered hand. “Welcome to the family, and if you don’t mind me saying, Mama is touched in the head if she doesn’t agree to marry you.”

  “I concur.” Cecil laughed and the sound was strange and foreign in the stillness of the woods. He grasped the offered hand, but then wanted so much more, and he tugged the boy in for a hug—a father to his child. “I love you... son.” God, how good it felt to say that aloud. This boy belonged to him, his own flesh and blood; he was the something good in his life.

  Now to claim the other—winning Sarah’s hand.

  When they pulled away, there were tears in both their eyes.

  After chopping a few logs for the fireplaces, Cecil led the way back into the garden.

  “When will you ask Mama?” the boy wanted to know.

  “I think perhaps at sunset, just before dinner. I need time to clean up. There is a certain bridge over a creek I found during one of my walks that can be romantic if one tries hard enough, and she’ll have on her best. A woman might appreciate such a setting and the nee
d to look nice.” He vowed to dress with care tonight and wear his new boots as well.

  “Do you have a ring? Ladies like that.”

  He grinned as he gained the door. “I do indeed. Bought it when we went to the village a few days back just in case I needed it.”

  “Good.” Simon nodded. “It seems you have everything in order.”

  “That I do.” Cecil winked, and his heart felt lighter than it ever had. “Once I’ve asked her, we’ll come here and then go in a ride in the sleigh. But I need you to keep my secret.” He looked the boy in the eye. “Can you do that?”

  “I can.” He pulled himself up as if he were a little man. “Major?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think before we go inside that you can put me on your shoulders and walk about the garden with me?” His cheeks turned red once more. “I’ve always wanted to do that if I had a father...”

  Cecil’s throat tightened. He dropped his load of wood. It clattered upon the snowy ground. His chest constricted with love. “Of course, my boy. Anything you want.” Then he lifted Simon up and settled him on one of his shoulders. For the first time he didn’t mind the stiffness or soreness in his muscles, for the feel of the little hand wrapped in his collar and the little legs draped over his chest took away that sting. “Let’s take another walk.”

  Yes, life was, indeed surprising, and hopefully, if he were fortunate, he would gain the last miracle he’d wanted on this most hopeful of days.

  After spending an inordinate amount of time on his toilette—bathed, shaved, and then dressed in buff-colored trousers, his best loose-fitting lawn shirt, a copper brocade waistcoat, new cravat tied just so and brown superfine jacket, along with the new Hessians—Cecil made his way downstairs. He put a finger to his lips as Simon glanced up, but he continued down the hall to the kitchen, where Sarah checked on the chicken roasting in the oven. A pot of potatoes waited in water, which she’d boil soon. The sweet, spicy scents of an apple cake filled the small space as the confection cooled.

  His stomach growled, but he had other, more important things on his mind than food. And she wore the gown he’d bought her, though her customary apron hid the bulk of the garment from him. “Would you do me the honor of taking a walk?”

  “Right now?” She blew out a breath that ruffled the dear lock of hair that insisted on escaping the knot to fall over her forehead.

  “Yes.”

  “But I’m dressed for dinner and I don’t wish to ruin my hem with moisture or mud.”

  “I rather doubt you will.” For the landau carriage fit with skis waited on the lane where it met the garden gate. He’d folded down the top. “Come.”

  The look she threw him was enigmatic at best, but excitement sparkled in her eyes along with hope that sent the gold flecks dancing. “What are you about? Surely not another present.” She removed the apron and draped it over a hard-backed wooden chair. “Let me find my cloak.”

  “You can wear my jacket if you’re chilled, but we won’t be gone long.” If they delayed much longer, he might lose his nerve. “Please.” He wanted this woman more than anything in his life. Couldn’t she sense that?

  “You are acting exceedingly strange, Cecil.” She grabbed an ivory shawl from a peg as they went out the door. Then she gasped upon spying the makeshift sleigh, complete with the rented horse. “How lovely!” She turned to him with a grin. “This is what you’ve been so mysterious about when you vanish to the shed.”

  “Yes.” He grasped her about the waist and boosted her into the conveyance that was devoid of doors now. “We must go in haste if I’m to make use of the sunset.”

  “Why?” She turned toward him while he threw himself into the carriage beside her and took up the reins.

  “You’ll see.” Awareness danced over his body from her proximity. His heartbeat raced in time to the muffled clop clop of the horse’s hooves on the snow-covered ground. “There’s a certain spot I found during one of my walks I want you to see.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “At sunset?”

  “Yes.”

  “But... why?” Bewilderment hung on the question. “Why must you keep secrets? It’s not fair of you.” The pout she presented nearly became his undoing.

  “All’s fair in love and war. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” He grinned. Oh, she was a spitfire, and her strength supported his own. Yet, he adored her for so much more—her caring, her nurturing spirit, her ability to make the best of any situation. “I want to thank you for sharing your home with me these past eleven days.”

  She snorted. “Your home.”

  “Our home.” Would she catch the gist of his thoughts? “Regardless, without your presence in my life, without knowing that Simon is my son, I shudder to think of where I would have ended while caught in that downward spiral.”

  “You are stronger than you think,” she whispered and laid a hand on his arm.

  Heat streaked upward from the point of contact. “I know that now... because of you.” As the sun’s setting rays glimmered through the tree line, he came to the tiny clearing he sought. “We’re here.”

  Sarah craned her neck to peer around him. “What a beautiful place. I wonder who built the bridge.”

  It spanned a shallow, babbling creek that meandered through the wooded area. He hadn’t had the opportunity to explore the start or end to the water, but he would this summer with Simon. The wooden structure featured a wrought iron railing, and there was no logical reason for its existence, yet here it was within the backdrop of snow-shrouded trees whose bare branches lifted to the golden-streaked sky as if in worship.

  “I don’t know, but it’s a perfect place for what I intend.” He struggled out of his jacket when she trembled, but she refused the offering.

  “I’m fine.” She lifted her chocolate-brown gaze to his and from the look in her eyes, she knew. “Help me out.”

  Some of the pressure eased from his chest. He vaulted down, tied the reins to a tree trunk and then came around to her side of the sleigh and assisted her to the ground. “I wish to gain the bridge—”

  “No.” Sarah drew him to a halt near the edge of the creek. The bridge was but a few feet ahead of them.

  “No?”

  She nodded. “No.” Her eyes sparkled, and a pink stain tinted her cheeks. “Ask me here.”

  “Ask you what?” How the devil could she possibly have known?

  “What you brought me out here to ask.” She laid a palm on his chest.

  Enough heat flooded through him that he never felt the absence of his jacket. “Did Simon betray my secret?”

  “He did not, though he’s been almost quivering with excitement all day.” Sarah came a couple of steps closer until their bodies nearly brushed. “And if I may tell you a secret of my own?”

  “You may.” He didn’t dare hope she was of the same mind.

  “I’ve harbored a wish in my heart for the last few days now...” The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow, which drew his gaze to the soft swell of her bosom above the neckline of her gown. “You see, I’ve done the most foolish thing in my whole life: I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  If his heart grew any fuller, it would explode with joy. “Why do you consider that foolish?”

  The shawl slipped unheeded from her shoulders. “I didn’t know if you returned the sentiment, for I had no idea if you were marriage minded, and if you weren’t, the last thing I wanted was to become an obligation or—”

  Cecil stopped her flow of words with a swift, thorough kiss, and when he let her up for air, he grinned. “Never an obligation.” He brushed his gloved fingertips along her cheek and then pressed gentle kisses to her bruises. “Never a chore.” He trailed his thumb along her lower lip. “Never a woman consigned only to memories from my past.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead and finally peered into her eyes. Their future rested in those rich depths, and he plunged in after it, for he wanted everything.

>   “And?” she asked in a breathless, throaty sort of voice that had various portions of his anatomy hardening.

  “I love you, Sarah. I have for a while now, and when that blackguard took you hostage, I almost went out of my mind...” Cecil left off and when she gave into a shiver—whether from the cold or emotion he couldn’t say—he clutched her elbows, framing her body with his. “We might have come together in a fit of mutual passion years ago, but the thought of you in the intervening years has made me think I’ve always been with you.”

  “I feel the same way.” When she dropped her gaze to his mouth, he stifled a groan.

  “Then when I came here, spent time with you without anything to lose or gain, came to know Simon as my own, I wanted this life we’ve been building together. If I have nothing else to my name, I won’t care, for I finally have a family who loves me.” The deuced tears had returned to his eyes, and he let them fall as they would. “It’s a novel feeling and one I don’t wish to lose.”

  She brushed the moisture from his cheeks. “There’s only one way to gain everything you want.” One of her eyebrows lifted. “Don’t you have a question to ask?”

  Oh, what a darling she was. Without further delay, he pulled a circlet of tiny pearls from his waistcoat pocket. “Sarah Presley, will you do me the honor of marrying me with alacrity?” He held his breath, for she could very well still reject him.

  “Of course, I will, you silly man.” She held out her left hand, and he slid the ring onto her trembling fourth finger. “I love you, cannot believe how extremely fortunate I am to have you in my life.”

  Cecil didn’t answer with words. Instead, he gathered her into an embrace and treated her to a string of tender, soul-binding kisses but then drew her away to arm’s length before they grew too heated. His throat constricted and his heart sang. “I never knew what I wanted from my life, but now I do. It’s having a son... and it’s winning your heart.” He kissed her again. “I love you, and I cannot wait to wed you.”

  She burrowed into his arms with a sigh full of contentment. “This is the best Christmas gift you could have given me.”