Heather Graham's Christmas Treasures

by Heather Graham

  She wasn't quite able to ignore Shane then, for he invited her out to the barn. They weren't alone, for the others followed. He introduced her first to Jimmy and Jane, the harness horses, then Diablo, his own big black stallion, and then he brought her to a stall where she saw the prettiest horse she thought that she had ever seen, a mare with a deep dish nose and high flashing tail. "Genevieve," he told her. "I picked her up for you last week."

  "She's—mine?" Kaitlin asked. She could barely imagine owning such a creature. Horses had become so precious in Georgia during the end of the war. She hadn't thought she'd even see anything like Genevieve again. "Mine?" The present seemed incredible. The mare nuzzled her, pushing against her chest. Kaitlin touched her warm, velvety nose and a rush of affection swept through her. "She—she's wonderful. Thank you."

  Shane shrugged. "You need a good horse out here." He turned his back on her. She wondered what she had done wrong. Then she decided that she would enjoy the night, and enjoy her new life, no matter what. She was going to ignore Shane.

  She did. Chancey had done his best with a meal of venison and summer vegetables, and Daniel—being Daniel—had supplied the champagne. They had a wonderful meal. And when it was done, they sat in the parlor, sipping coffee laced with just a touch of brandy.

  Kaitlin sat on the love seat, and Francesca fell asleep with her head in her lap.

  But then it was time for Daniel and Mary to leave, to go onward to their own home. And Shane lifted Francesca into his arms to take her up to bed. And finally there was nothing left for Kaitlin to do but go up to her own room and await her husband.

  She'd bought a new flannel gown that buttoned all the way up to her throat and it was in that gown that she awaited him, in the darkness, in their bed. She thought about pretending to be asleep, but then she decided not to bother. And in a matter of minutes he was there with her. He opened and closed the door and leaned against it in the darkness.

  "Time for that 'wretched' business again, eh, Mrs. MacAuliffe?"

  "If you're going to make fun of me—"

  "I'm not going to make fun of you. That is not my intention at all."

  It wasn't. In seconds he was across the room. And the flannel gown was on the floor.

  And suddenly, all the dread and anticipation of all the long months were with her. His kisses were hot and fevered. They did incredible and wonderful things to her. In the darkness, it seemed that the Christmas magic was there once again, the magic that had touched them when they'd wed. She could have returned his every touch, his every caress. She could have returned his passion. She fought so hard to hold back. She was so very afraid to give to him completely.

  Yet later, it seemed that he was the one to withdraw. He didn't hold her but lay on his own side of the bed. She was suddenly certain that he could see in the darkness with those gold eyes of his.

  But he said nothing to her. "Shane?" she asked softly.

  He grunted. "Go to sleep. Sometimes it can be a hard life out here."

  Perhaps it was a hard life. The next morning at five she was awakened with a firm hand upon her rump. Before she knew it, she was out of bed; and barely dressed and half-asleep, she was proving that she could cook by complying with his orders for a hearty breakfast. He was testing her, she thought irritably. She'd failed him somehow, and this was his way of having her make up for it. Well, she wasn't going to fail him. She could cook, and she did.

  And she could keep house, and she did so. By the end of her first two weeks in Three Mills, she had changed everything about the place. Though the house was big and adequately furnished, it had lacked the little touches that only a woman could provide. Kaitlin gave the place those little touches. Now there were sunny yellow curtains at the kitchen window over the sink and water pump. There were beautiful draperies with valances in the parlor. Needlepoint pillows rested cozily upon the sofas in the living room.

  And Francesca had become almost talkative.

  The hour-long ride into town kept her from any regular schooling, but she was a very bright little girl. And Kaitlin had discovered that if she could dare to love anyone in this life anymore, it would be Francesca. She taught her far more than reading and writing and mathematics. When they finished with two hours of such basics every morning, Kaitlin went on with her, teaching her everything she could remember about etiquette, just the way that her mother had taught her. They would have tea, and laugh together as Kaitlin dramatically overdid the proper way to hold a cup. It was fun.

  And busy. There was so much to do. It was a large house to keep clean. There were soap and candles to be made, linens to be washed, chickens to be fed, floors to be swept. And Kaitlin was determined to excel at it all.

  For Shane noticed. Every move that she made, he noticed. He seldom commented, though, unless she asked him. "Do you like the parlor?" Or "Does the kitchen suit you?"

  His grunts she assumed were by way of approval.

  Except when he saw her with Francesca. Then he watched her very thoughtfully.

  And then there were the nights...

  The first two weeks were exactly the same. He came up to bed at ten, looked at her without expression, and took her into his arms.

  And as the nights passed, she discovered herself more and more fascinated with her husband. Excitement stirred her blood as he came near her, wonder filled her at his touch. But she held back, so carefully, determined that she would not dare put too much trust into him, nor would she give him any opportunity to deride her.

  Usually he stared at the ceiling when they were done, then eventually fell asleep.

  But one night the end of May, he did not. He abruptly turned to her.

  "In what way have I failed you?" he demanded. "You've come halfway across the country to a new life. You've my name, and my house. Why won't you uphold your part of the bargain?"

  Kaitlin gasped, pulling away. How had she failed him? Had he found some fault with her? Did she simply do everything wrong?

  "I've kept my part of the bargain!"

  "No, no, you haven't!" he told her. His hands were on her shoulders. Though shadows crept between them, she could see him then. See the passion and the strength in his face. "Are you still in love with Daniel?"

  "I was never in love with Daniel!"

  "He was the man you wanted to marry."

  "He didn't accuse me of awful things!"

  "Well, I did find you in a whorehouse and gambling establishment."

  "I told you—"

  "Yes, you told me," he said wearily.

  "I was a lady! Always!" she cried.

  "Oh, yes, always. With your pinkie up as you sip your tea. It's wonderful. Just wonderful."

  "If there's something wrong with me—"

  "No, no, Kaitlin, there's nothing wrong with you. Even Chancey says he's never seen a more perfect or beautiful woman. You're a princess, Kaitlin. A damned princess. Ice princess!" he added softly.

  She felt as if she had been slapped, and she turned away from him, fighting tears. "I don't know what you mean," she told him indignantly.

  His fingers feathered down her back. "Don't you? Never mind. Go to sleep, Kaitlin."

  She wasn't sure exactly how things changed after that. Perhaps she'd had a chance at happiness, and perhaps she had thrown it away.

  Maybe it was just summer, and the Christmas magic was all gone.

  Perhaps it was the situation with the Indians.

  Whichever. But on the first of August, Shane was leaving. There had been confrontations with the Blackfoot Indians and since Shane had once signed his own individual treaty with Black Eagle, he promised the sheriff and the people of Three Mills that he would go speak with the chief once again.

  Her heart seemed to be in her throat the day that he rode away. She was terrified that she would never see him again. She wanted to tell him that she...

  That she what?

  That she wanted him to come home, that she needed him. He had become her life. She cared for him.


  That morning she discovered that she loved his eyes. Those gold eyes that could stare at her so shrewdly, always searching. She loved the planes of his face, the wry curl of his lips. She loved his shoulders, and the warm feel of his bronze flesh. She loved sleeping with him.

  But there wasn't time. No time to say all of these things. War drums were sounding, and Francesca was at her side. And bright tears were in Francesca's eyes. Shane was staring at her, daring her to be anything other than perfect.

  His perfect ice princess.

  So she waved to him when he left, when he rode away, and she held tight to Francesca.

  The days seemed longer. She didn't teach Francesca so long in the morning. The two of them started taking morning rides over to see Daniel and Mary. Kaitlin loved riding Genevieve. And she was grateful for the company, and glad to be there for Mary, who was very nearly due. The days she could manage.

  The nights she slept alone. And waited.

  "I wouldn't worry about Shane," Daniel told her one day. "He's seen Black Eagle often enough in the past."

  "I'm really not worried," Kaitlin lied.

  She had barely said those words before Mary called out suddenly to them. The baby was coming.

  Daniel, completely disconcerted, had to be reminded that he needed to ride into town for the doctor. Kaitlin, scared silly herself but determined that Mary not realize it, tried to remember all the proper things to do. They needed all kinds of clean linen and scissors for the cord, and the worst of it was that she needed to sit with Mary.

  For the first two hours, Mary seemed to be fine. Then she cried and screamed out, and no matter what Kaitlin tried to say to her or do for her, nothing seemed to help. Mary was soaked with perspiration. She fell asleep several times, only to wake screaming once again.

  Kaitlin walked to the window, watching for Daniel to return with the doctor. They didn't come. It began to dawn on her that things were going badly, very badly, and that there was no one there but herself.

  She gritted her teeth, and waited some more. The ride into town was at least an hour. And an hour back out. The doctor would still come.

  But two more hours passed. Then three. And Kaitlin realized in panic that the baby was going to come.

  "I'm going to die," Mary said softly, looking up at the ceiling.

  "You're not going to die! I simply won't let you. I'm not going to live out here without you," Kaitlin told her fiercely.

  And I'm not going to live out here and have a baby, ever! she decided. It was too frightening, too dreadful, after all she'd been through already.

  "Oh, Kaitlin, the baby is coming!"

  The baby was coming. Kaitlin assured herself that she was capable, and she kept thinking of all the things that she must do. She had to deliver the baby.

  And she did. The tiny head appeared in her hands first, and she urged Mary to push again. Then came one shoulder, and then the next.

  And the baby seemed to pop right into her hands, and to her great relief, let out an ear-piercing cry, filling its lungs.

  "Oh, Kaitlin! What is it?"

  "What?" Kaitlin stared at the miracle in her hands, for even if it was a bloody mess, Mary's infant was a miracle.

  "A boy!" Kaitlin said. "A boy!"

  It was just minutes later that Daniel and the doctor did arrive. The doctor came in to see to Mary, and Kaitlin walked out into the hallway with Daniel.

  "What happened? What took so long?" Kaitlin demanded. Perhaps she shouldn't be so rough on Daniel, she scolded herself. He looked as if he had just been through hell himself.

  "When I went by the Thompson place, they told me that there was some worry about an Indian attack on white riders down the main road. I thought that I had best ride around the long way."

  "Oh," Kaitlin said simply. She walked down the hall, her knees trembling. She did love Daniel—she loved him like she loved Mary. They were both good people.

  But she was certain that Shane would never have left her in such a position. He would have ridden through every pack of Indians in the West to see that his child was safely delivered.

  Except that she was never going to have a child. She was determined about it. Not after today.

  Exhausted, she walked down the stairs and sank into one of their parlor chairs. She leaned her head back, just meaning to close her eyes, but she fell asleep. Sound asleep.

  She was startled when a male voice awoke her. "Kaitlin. Kaitlin."

  She opened her eyes, vastly disoriented. Then she realized that Shane was standing above her. He was back.

  "Shane!" For a moment a wide smile lit up her face and she nearly leapt to her feet to greet him. He was back.

  He seemed to be looking at her with a rather tolerant smile. "Yes. And I hear I've married rather a heroine. You delivered Mary's baby."

  "I wasn't a heroine. I didn't mean to deliver the baby."

  He kissed her forehead. "Maybe not. But he's beautiful. Big and beautiful. And wonderful. With any luck, maybe we'll soon have a son."

  The smile faded from her lips. No. No, she didn't want to have a baby.

  But he didn't see her expression at the moment. He was talking to Daniel, telling him about his meeting with Black Eagle, the chief of the Blackfoot tribe.

  "I think that he'll call off his warriors. As long as we keep to our side of the bargain."

  "I don't think that he can be trusted," Daniel was saying. "He's a heathen! Why, no man was more warlike before. Remember the Petersons? How they were killed?"

  "Black Eagle's wife had been killed by that stupid trapper, Johnson, right before!" Shane said.

  "You're defending him."

  "I'm not defending him. I know him. He'll kill if he thinks it necessary. He promised that he'd even kill me if I disturbed him on his own ground again. But there is something about him..."

  "What's that?" Daniel asked.

  "He's always willing to listen."

  Kaitlin was drifting off to sleep again, when she suddenly felt strong arms around her. Blinking, she met Shane's golden eyes.

  "I'm taking my wife home, Daniel. Congratulations on your boy."

  Kaitlin didn't ride home on her own horse. Shane held her on the saddle before him, with Genevieve trotting behind them on a lead.

  * * *

  By the time they reached their own home, she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

  Shane looked at his wife a long while, then swallowed down his expectations for the night. He carried her up the stairs, and laid her down on their bed.

  She was so beautiful. And strong, and courageous.

  Maybe he'd been too hard on her. Maybe he owed her more. His bitterness over his first marriage had tainted his second. Yet when she had first seen him tonight, there had been something wonderful in her eyes. As if she had waited for him. As if she wanted him.

  As if she loved him.

  He smiled. Maybe he hadn't realized it, but perhaps she had been the best Christmas present he had ever received.

  He didn't disturb her, but let her sleep. Her face was like porcelain, her skin ivory, her cheeks blushed a perfect rose.

  He leaned down to kiss her forehead, not intending to wake her. She was very tired, and he was weary himself. And he was suddenly determined that he was going to woo her. Make her fall in love with him.

  And maybe there he would find the warmth and the passion he sensed beneath the barriers she cast against him.

  But as his lips touched her flesh, she opened her eyes. And she sat up quickly, as if she were suddenly frightened of him.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  "I'm—I'm tired. I'm so exhausted. Please..."

  "Please what?" he demanded, aggravated.

  She flushed and her lashes fell. "Please don't—er, force anything on me."

  He gritted his teeth. "I didn't know that I did force things on you."

  She rose from the bed. "I can go in the guest room and not bother you—"

  "Get in here," he told her harshly. "I will
force this upon you—you can sleep in your own bed. I never intended to touch you, Kaitlin. Not tonight. I know you're exhausted, what with the baby—"

  "That's just it," she whispered. "I..."

  "What?"

  "I don't want a baby."

  "What?" he said again, blankly.

  "I don't want a baby. We—we have Francesca. I don't want to have a child out here in the wilderness where you can never reach a doctor—"

  "Kaitlin, I would have reached a doctor."

  "And children are so delicate. Look at what happened to Francesca. Look how she was passed around. Life can be so very cruel to children."

  "Was it so cruel to you? My lady with her pinkie flying so elegantly in the air?"

  "I grew up in a cabin with a drunkard for a father. Is that what you want to hear, Shane? The one good thing in my life was my brother, but the war took care of him. I was never Leroux's woman, but I was never a great belle, either. Are you happy? Whatever, it doesn't matter. I don't want a baby!"

  A baby? Or his baby? Shane narrowed his eyes. "Well, we're in a sad state of affairs here, aren't we? I do want a baby."

  She went very pale. He tried to remember his resolve to woo her. So what if unimaginable fires seemed to burn inside him when he was lying beside her? He wasn't going to force anything. Not for a while, anyway. She was tired. Upset. Maybe she just didn't see him as the charming, docile man she saw Daniel to be.

  "Get in bed!" he roared. "I won't touch you. Not tonight."

  Her green eyes luminous, she complied.

  And lay beside him, her back to him.

  His Christmas present...

  Yes, but there was next Christmas. And it was coming soon, very soon.

  For some reason, he felt a shiver race down the length of his spine.

  Chapter 4

  Thanksgiving came, and it was a wonderful day for Kaitlin. The house was warm and comfortable, there was a light snowfall, and Shane, ever-watchful in the background, seemed willing to let her have her way with everything.