A Season of the Heart: Rocky Mountain ChristmasThe Christmas GiftsThe Christmas Charm

by Jillian Hart

  “I was fighting a war!” His voice ricocheted off the walls.

  She held up her index finger. “One letter, Keith, that’s all I wanted from you, one letter to keep me going. But you never wrote to me once. I poured out my heart and soul to you in dozens of letters and you never wrote me back once. If it weren’t for Jamie Newton writing his wife, I wouldn’t have known if you were dead or alive.”

  He moved to the kitchen table and laid his flat palm against it as if he struggled with his temper. “I wrote to you three times that first year.”

  His words knocked some of the wind from her sails. “I never got one of them.”

  “No doubt your father did. He never liked you spending time with me.”

  “He wouldn’t have done that. He knew how I felt about you.”

  A growl rumbled in his chest. “Like hell he wouldn’t. He hated my guts.” He shook his head. “I was a no-account drifter who’d won a homestead in a card game. I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.”

  “That’s not true. He never said anything like that to me.”

  Tension radiated from his body. “He sure as hell said it to me.”

  “He wouldn’t have taken the letters. He knew how hard Mama’s death had been for me. He knew I needed you.”

  “I know how your father’s mind worked. He was more worried about you leaving him than he was about your happiness.”

  “That’s not true!” Her mind reeled. “And Richard would have said something when I visited the mercantile. He always gave me the mail. Why would he hold back your letters?”

  Keith leaned forward. “If your father asked him to, he would have. Plus, old Richard had his own plans for you.”

  She rocked back on her heels. “He wouldn’t lie to me!”

  He looked at her as if she was a naive fool. “He had his eye on you long before I left. I saw the way he looked at you. That old buzzard’s gaze turned lean and hungry when you were around.”

  Richard had been so kind to her. “He wouldn’t lie.”

  Keith shrugged. “It looks like he didn’t have to try too hard to win you over. When were you married? Nine, ten months after I left?”

  Pride had her lifting her chin. She could have told Keith about the spring flood that had wiped out their crops and killed her father. She could have told him about how destitute she and Deidre were. That she’d often skipped meals so Deidre could eat. But she didn’t. If he knew her, really knew her, he’d know she’d never have married Richard if she weren’t so desperate. “I think we’ve said all we need to say to one another. There’s already too much bad blood between us.”

  He glared at her and in the next instant crossed the room in three quick strides. He cupped her face in his hands. Need burned in his eyes. “There’s more between us than that.”

  His rough fingers felt warm against her skin. Desire sparked inside her. “Let go of me.”

  He leaned closer until his lips were only inches from hers. “It makes you nervous when I touch you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Nervous in a good way.”

  She swallowed. “It makes me want things I don’t have a right to.”

  “So you don’t deny the attraction.”

  “No. But I won’t give in to it. It has always been easy for us.” Her pulse raced. Despite her prim words, she felt anything but prim. She wanted him.

  He tiled her face up so that their gazes met. “You’ve missed it.”

  She wouldn’t lie. “Yes.”

  Keith nodded, satisfaction glittering in his eyes. “You liked my hands on you.”

  Lord help her but she did. So many nights she’d lain awake dreaming of him touching her. “Yes.”

  “I dreamed about touching you every night I was away from you.” He ran his knuckle over her cheek. “Soft as silk. In my dreams, I’d strip you down and kiss every inch of your naked body before I entered you.”

  She closed her eyes. Her center felt moist and throbbed with her racing heartbeat. “Keith, this isn’t right.”

  He captured a blond curl in his hand and twirled it around his finger. “Why? There’s nothing standing between us now.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “There’s too much anger,” she whispered.

  “That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

  She leaned closer to him. She’d spent so many years doing for others and she wanted this moment just for her.

  Keith kissed her softly on the lips. The chaste kiss wasn’t nearly satisfactory enough. It only whetted her appetite for more. She ran her fingers up and down his arm.

  “Again?” he said, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her again, only this kiss wasn’t as chaste as the last. He coaxed her lips open with his tongue and explored the soft folds of her mouth.

  She savored the kiss. He tasted of the whiskey he’d just drunk. Heat seared her veins.

  In that moment all the anger and frustration melted away and there was only need. A raw pulsing need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts to his chest, deepening the kiss.

  He kissed her mouth, the hollow of her neck, and nibbled her earlobe. “Do you want this?”

  “Yessss,” she hissed.

  That was all the answer he needed. He banded his arms around her, pulling her into a kiss. His body had always been lean, but there was a toughness to it she’d not felt before. She liked the difference. She wasn’t the same flighty girl she’d been eight years ago and he wasn’t the same idealistic young man.

  His hands moved to her shoulders and he pushed the edges of her jacket off her shoulders. Her coat fell to the floor, puddling at her feet. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugged off his coat, as well.

  She slid her hands into the folds of his vest. He was all sinew and bone.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up and carried her to the bed in the corner. He laid her on the straw mattress. The support ropes groaned under their weight. Immediately, he straddled her, trapping her narrow hips between his legs. He moved his hands over her breasts, squeezed gently. She arched, pressing her center into his hardness.

  Keith reached for the hem of her skirt, pulled it up to her waist and revealed white pantaloons dotted with pink ribbons. He reached for the waistband and pulled them down, exposing her white skin. She felt no shame, only heat as he positioned himself above her and unfastened his belt buckle.

  She stared at his erection, understanding this wasn’t about love but raw sexual desire. And at this moment, that was just fine with her. It had been so long since she’d known such pleasure.

  Keith pressed his fingers against her moist center and she hissed in a breath.

  “You like this,” he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

  “Yes.”

  “You want me inside you.”

  He needed to hear the word. “Yes.”

  Without hesitating, he pushed inside her. Her body closed tightly around him. He hesitated a moment, letting her become accustomed to him, and then he began to move inside her. His fingers began to circle her moist center, sending shivers of desire through her body. She moved her hands up and down his back, savoring the feel of his body.

  The warmth inside her built so quickly. Every muscle in her body bunched as he continued to stroke her. She wanted to hold off and savor all this, but in a split second the waves washed over her, touching every inch of her body. She clutched Keith close and breathed his name into his ear.

  He groaned, and unable to hold back, found his release, buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

  For several seconds, he lay on top of her. She could feel his heart hammering against her skin. For this one perfect moment, she felt at peace, whole.

  But as the moments passed and their heartbeats slowed, words like foolhardy and reckless came to mind. Dear Lord, what had she done?

  Chapter Six

  Minutes passed as Colleen lay under Keith. His breathing was ragged, as i
f he’d just run a mile. And he seemed totally relaxed. He was in no rush to go anywhere.

  But Colleen was. She needed to put distance between them so she could think. She started to move under Keith. “I need to get up.”

  Sensing her discomfort, Keith rolled off. He glanced down at her face, and seeing her frown, realized she didn’t share the same kind of contentment he did.

  He fastened his pants and rose.

  Without his body covering hers, the cold air brushed her skin, making her very aware of her nakedness. She pulled up her pantaloons and pushed her skirts down and covered her legs. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked down at her, annoyance sparking in his eyes. “Sorry for what?”

  “I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

  “You weren’t the only one.”

  “I should have known better.” She and Keith had been together a half-dozen times before he’d left for the war. Each time, she’d feared she carried his baby in her belly. There’d been no child then, but there certainly could be now. The timing was right.

  “This was wrong.”

  Keith’s confusion gave way to more aggravation. “You make it sound like what happened was a terrible mistake.”

  She brushed the curtain of blond hair back off her face. “It was.”

  His body went rigid. “I’ve no regrets.”

  Neither spoke for the next hour. The snow came down harder, blanketing the landscape in white. Frost coated the windows.

  Colleen felt as if she was going to go insane with worry. Oddly, she wasn’t as worried about Deidre now. Her sister was no doubt married, and if the marriage soured then Colleen would deal with the troubles when they came.

  It was her future that was so up in the air now. Her hands slid to her belly. She could be carrying his baby.

  A baby. Despite all the reasons why she shouldn’t be pleased about a child, she was. She’d longed to hold her own child in her arms for years. So many times her empty womb constricted when she heard a baby’s cry or saw a mother cradling her child.

  Once Richard had had his stroke, there’d been no more intimacy. She’d moved down the hallway to another bedroom so that he could sleep more comfortably. Silently, she’d grieved for the children she would never have.

  And now there could be a babe in her belly.

  The dream was tempered by reality. If Keith ever found out she was carrying his child, he’d insist on marriage. He’d told her about his tough upbringing. His father had died when he was six. He’d gone to work in the tobacco fields soon after and his mother took in laundry. They’d barely scraped by and often there wasn’t enough food to eat. Then his mother had died when he was twelve and he’d been on his own. He’d always sworn a child of his would never struggle.

  She thought back to that last day they’d spent together before he left for the war. He’d asked her three times if she was pregnant. She’d assured him she wasn’t. He’d not been worried about leaving her but he had been about leaving a child behind.

  Oh, yes, Keith would insist on marriage if she was pregnant.

  And marriage between them would be the worst thing. The anger and the hurt between them would doom a union from the start.

  She’d grown up in a house where there’d been constant fighting and turmoil. How many times had she taken her baby sister and gone outside to sit under the oak tree so she’d be away from her parents’ shouting?

  She’d never do that to her child.

  Once this mess with Deidre was over, she’d return to her store. And if she was pregnant, she’d find a way to keep it hidden from Keith. Perhaps she’d move to Staunton until the baby was born, or Charlottesville.

  Yet, the more she thought about putting distance between her and Keith, the stronger his presence seemed to envelop her. He dominated the cabin.

  He had invaded her life.

  Keith too was restless. He’d stoked the fire and tossed fresh logs onto it. When the fire blazed he wasn’t content, so he put on his coat and hat and went outside to check on the horses.

  To keep her hands busy, she decided to cook lunch. She wasn’t hungry, but doing anything was better than sitting here letting the hours tick away. She moved to the small bank of shelves stocked with tins of beans and sacks of flour. She found a pan and went outside and scooped up as much pure snow as it could hold. She set the pan of snow on the stove and knelt in front of the firebox.

  The door opened and Keith came back inside with a rush of cold air on his heels. He stamped the snow from his boots and brushed the flakes from his coat before hanging it up.

  “Let me do that,” Keith said.

  She heard him move toward her. “That’s okay. I can do it.”

  He stood behind her. The cold radiated around him. “The stove is old and unpredictable. Let me. I’ve lit it before.”

  She moved away from him, fearing if they touched they’d end up in bed again. Despite the satisfaction she’d felt just an hour ago, she realized she wanted more of him.

  Standing at the counter, she grabbed a cupful of flour and dumped it into a wooden bowl.

  Keith shoved kindling into the firebox and struck a match to it. Soon it crackled and blazed. He closed the metal door and rose. “The stove should be hot in about a half hour.”

  “Good.”

  She dumped a spoonful of lard and salt into the flour. With a fork, she started to cut the ingredients together.

  He leaned against the counter beside her and folded his arms over his chest. “You look like you know what you are doing.”

  She felt clumsy and foolish with him so close. Why did he have to stare? “I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking.”

  “Last I remember, you couldn’t heat beans without burning them.”

  And he’d bravely tried to eat the charred beans and biscuits just to please her. It took effort to keep her voice even. “I had to learn after I married.”

  He tensed. “No matter which way we turn, obstacles rise up between us.”

  “You’re right.”

  She’d expected Keith to get angry, as he’d done each time Richard’s name came up. But this time he didn’t. “What happened with Richard? He was a strapping man the last I saw him.”

  She had to struggle to remember what Richard had been like before the stroke. He had been a force of nature; a man who knew what he wanted. “He was working in the store, balancing the accounts. He started moaning in pain. I rushed to his side. He was holding his head. He was in terrible pain.” Colleen’s heart tightened at the memory. “I got him to bed and called the doctor. By the time the doctor came, Richard was unconscious. He lingered for days and the doctor was convinced he’d die. But he was strong and he woke up. When he did, he couldn’t sit up or walk without help.”

  He stared at her. His gaze took in everything from the flour on her skirt to the way she attacked the dough. “I heard his mind was sharp.”

  “Yes. He could remember the price he’d paid for flour in ’59, but he couldn’t do anything physically. It was very frustrating. The last years were very hard for him.”

  Thinking back to the man Richard had been, she realized he was capable of holding back Keith’s letters. When Richard wanted something, he went after it. But if Richard had lied to her about Keith’s letters, she couldn’t be angry with him. He’d suffered so.

  “And what about you?” he said softly.

  An incredible sadness washed over her. If Richard had lied, he’d stolen so much time from her and Keith. Unshed tears tightened her throat. “What do you mean?”

  “It had to be hard for you.”

  The tenderness in his voice was nearly her undoing, but she refused to cry. “I survived.”

  He tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear. “There’s too much life in you, Colleen. You deserve more than just surviving.”

  She moved way. Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Be nice to me. I like it better
when we are angry. I can manage the anger.”

  He expelled a breath. “Maybe I’m tired of being angry.”

  Chapter Seven

  An hour later they sat down to a quiet meal as the snow howled outside. Neither spoke, but the air was charged with energy. Colleen stole glances at Keith, and several times realized he’d been staring at her.

  “Why did they have to marry today?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she swirled her nearly untouched food with her fork. “Why couldn’t Deidre wait two more years and finish her education? Why couldn’t she figure out what she really wants and then marry?”

  He leaned forward. “You’re eight years older than Dee. Do you know what you want?”

  “Of course I do. I want to build that addition onto the store. I want to be important to my community. I want to help the church build a new sanctuary.”

  “That’s not living. It’s busywork.”

  “It’s very fulfilling. It makes me happy.” Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive.

  He pushed his plate away. “Does it?”

  “Of course!”

  His gaze was calm, direct. “You were living more when you didn’t have two nickels to rub together.”

  His words struck a nerve. She thought about the thousand things she did in a day, yet none brought her any joy. And lately the days had started to stretch into endless activities.

  He set his fork down. He’d barely eaten, as well. “Why did you marry Garland?”

  She sighed. “I discovered Father had taken out another mortgage on the land. He’d overextended himself on cattle. He expected his investment to pay off big. That was the worst winter we ever had. Most of the men had gone to war, and when Father was killed in the flood, Dee and I couldn’t keep up with the ranch. The cattle died in a late snowstorm. And the bank foreclosed.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “I wasn’t. The place had become my prison that last year. I watched my parents die there. That ranch was draining the life out of Dee and me. I was glad to see it go.”