He looked at a ladder leaning up in the corner, and the comparison of his wife to the tree…the green monster must have at least three feet on her.
From the corner of his eye he saw her smile. “I don’t want you to hate the holidays—more than usual anyway—and with my luck I’d either go down or the tree would. Both very bad.”
Kasper shook his head and Emilia giggled, reaching for a slice of cheese. “They are hardly comparable.”
She handed him the cheese and stood back up, arranging the glittery, red ribbon from the bottom of the tree to as high as she could manage. Meanwhile, he very much enjoyed watching her dance around the tree, swearing every time she got sap on her fingers or had to stretch on her tippy-toes to adjust a light or ribbon edge. Kasper still watched the silly movie, unsurprised that the man who had everything learned how valuable his wife and children were.
How ridiculous was this person that he would try to kill himself over something as expendable as money? Over something as inconsequential as prison time? He had the love of a decent woman! Friends and children! (One more subject he did not want to think about.) Granted, Kasper understood this film took place during one of the more difficult times in America’s history, yet Kasper still failed to understand how so many Americans took to melancholy so easily. How could they be so unappreciative of all wonderful things they had, the opportunities for relationships, when there were people like him who had so few?
“How much longer are you going to watch me struggle?” she asked after a while.
“That’s the best part.”
Though she shook her head, she laughed, working to get the sap from beneath her fingernails while he stood and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“What do you think of the movie?”
“It’s silly and harebrained—not unlike the other films you enjoy.”
Emilia nudged him gently with her elbow. “Instead of starting another fight, why don’t you go and get the ladder?”
Kasper did his best to imitate Emilia’s act with the ribbon, glad that Mrs. Levkin had been around to secure the lights on the top half of the tree. Or at the very least he told himself that much—taking Emilia’s advice and not willing to start a fight about something as ridiculous as his phobia of her using the ladder.
***
By Christmas Eve, considerations were being made to convert the wine cellar into a panic room, and Frankford was giving regular updates by phone and e-mail. Still, Emilia resolved not to let Kasper’s fear impact the holiday, decorating an elaborate gingerbread house and attempting to mix eggnog from scratch. And while Emilia performed each of these activities with a smile and small bit of enthusiasm, a small part of her buried herself in the holiday to avoid thinking about her reoccurring dreams of childless swings and empty hallways.
Almost nothing was being said about Cyrus’s escape, prompting more nervousness from Emilia than she would have liked to admit. Even if it meant more questions from police and even local media, Emilia would have much rather have heard Cyrus was behind bars again rather than repeatedly seeing his picture and the number for the tip hotline on the television.
“Local authorities are following every tip they receive,” Frankford said with a sigh. “And with a reward on the line—”
Rubbing at the soreness between his brows, Kasper’s eyes wandered from her back to Tut. “Every imbecile within five hundred miles will be calling in.”
Frankford nodded and bit into a sugar cookie, another one of Emilia’s attempts to distract herself.
Emilia sighed and stirred her tea. To her, it seemed better to stare out the window than to comment on her feelings in the matter.
Chapter 10
Luckily, the next day was uneventful, marked by little more than the opening of far too many presents and kissing. Between the tearing of shiny wrapping paper, Emilia all but forced Kasper to eat a few bites of scrambled eggs and toast—a command he was glad to adhere to if she would open the remainder of her gifts.
“Okay, okay.” She giggled at his stern looks and gentle nagging. “Um, I’ll open that square one there?”
He pointed to the mass of boxes under the tree. Though why she insisted on having all of the presents there, Kasper was still unsure. “This one?”
Nodding excitedly, she held out her hands and waited patiently. It was at this juncture he was glad he had not taken one of the painkiller prescribed to him by Dr. Taylor. If he had, Kasper may not have been able to enjoy the look on Emilia’s face when she unveiled the small bottle of Eau d’Hadrien Eau de Parfum—a scent worth over five-hundred dollars an ounce that she had fallen in love with in Paris.
Laughing wildly, she flung herself into his arms.
“You’re crazy!” she said, giggling still. “This stuff costs a fortune.”
“Since we may not be able to return to Europe for some time, I thought you’d appreciate it.” Happy to see her content, Kasper found himself chuckling. “Besides, considering your choice of occupation, you will need something to mask those wretched odors.”
“Ha ha.” She slapped him playfully as she pulled away. “Okay, now you open a present.”
Kasper sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. If Emilia saw how poorly he pretended not to be excited she did not mention it. The truth of it was, during all of the years he had lived in America, Kasper had not experienced the commercialism of the holiday season. In their prior Christmas together he had refused to accept gifts from her and she to receive them. Likewise, Kasper was fortunate enough to have the advantage of buying something for himself when he wanted. Now he had to confess there was something extraordinary about being given presents from the one you loved—a reminder that someone loved you at all.
At first, Kasper was confused by the Tiffany & Company box and glanced up at Emilia before looking back to it. What possible piece of jewelry could she offer him? Was the box a front to something else?
She rolled her eyes at his hesitation, practically bouncing off the edge of the sofa arm with excitement. “Open it already!”
Kasper did her bidding, surprised beyond words to see a stainless steel watch with a black dial. Obviously Swiss made, it had a bold, clean design with a Roman numeral face. It was as if Kasper had picked it out himself.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he said, trying not to get choked up. “Very much.”
“Don’t answer before you look at the back.” Emilia smiled nervously as she slid off the sofa arm and moved closer to him. “I had it engraved.”
With deliberate slowness, Kasper removed the watch from its box and turned the timepiece over. In a simple but small font, the word Lifetimes shone against the silver surface.
His brow wrinkled with confusion. “Because each day with me feels like a lifetime?”
“Something like that.” She laughed, leaning to kiss the top of his head. “But really because a single lifetime with you could never be enough.”
After the revelation of a 1st edition of Jane Eyre, driving gloves for his “new” hands, a record of Bruckner’s completed symphonies, an antique pair of emerald earrings, and more treats than Tut could possibly eat in his short lifetime, Emilia and Kasper gathered around the Christmas tree and what fire remained in the hearth. Somewhere in the background, The Nutcracker played, its pleasant harmony echoing throughout the manor. With her head resting in his lap, Emilia munched on cranberry bread and laughed. Every so often when she offered a bite to Kasper he obliged, not willing to risk doing anything that would make her smile fade. He was willing to acknowledge the additional entertainment that lay in watching Tut as he tried to open the remainder of his presents—unaware, it seemed, that he had no thumbs.
“I don’t know why you insisted on wrapping those,” he said.
She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “Are you actually smiling?”
“Yes, I’ll admit it is quite amusing. Still,” he said as he chuckled, “I do not understand spoiling the dog—
or myself for that matter.”
“Well, I do.” Emilia reached up and poked him in the chest. “Besides, I like spoiling the people and animals I love.”
“Speaking of gifts…” He leaned down low enough to catch the smell of her hair. “I have one more for you.”
The piece of bread nearly fell from her hand. “You’re joking, right? You did way too much already and you know it.”
“You’re not the only one who enjoys spoiling. Anyway.” He chuckled playfully and ran his hand over a childhood scar on her knee. “This gift is more for me.”
She lifted her head up, clearly curious over the change in his tone. “Oh?”
“It is in that hideous stocking of yours. At least I hope it’s yours…” Kasper looked over his shoulder as he trailed off. “Mr. Rivas might be rather offended.”
Giggling madly, she handed him the remaining slice of bread and flung herself up from the sofa. Never in her life had she received so many gifts. They were unnecessary and lavish, but if Kasper continued on in this fashion, she may very well have become one of the pampered members of the upper-class she used to resent.
She shook her head and ran to the stocking anyway.
The rectangular box was indeed in her stocking. Wrapped in light pink paper, hardly larger than her hand, Emilia had difficulty guessing from the outward appearance what it may be. Clearly it was something special, a gift slightly more significant than the others, or he would have given it to her earlier with the rest of them.
“What is it?” She shook the box, but the lack of sound gave nothing away.
Though it appeared to hurt his recent incisions, Kasper smiled. “Open it and find out.”
Needing no more permission, Emilia tore through the paper like a happy child, more excited about the look of joy on Kasper’s face than what may have laid inside the box. Once she gently lifted the lid, however, her face fell with surprise. Inside laid a dark green babydoll with white faux fur along the bust, the mesh material leaving nothing to the imagination. Kasper wanted to see her in this? It hardly seemed like him at all. He had, after all, spent the first half his life living in a culture where women’s bodies were only seen by their husbands, and even then only for reproducing.
She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t let those thoughts get to her. Not when the day had been going so well. Instead, Emilia allowed herself to explore the material of the strange garment, her nails brushing over the faux fur. If Kasper wanted something like this then what else might he want in the future? She smiled and blushed all at once. Clearly she had underestimated his appetite.
“It matches the emeralds.”
“You noticed.” He nodded, but shifted as if uncomfortable. “Once more I am relieved to see you remain able to identify your colors.”
“I do like it.” She glared at him. “I know you’re only belittling me because you’re nervous I won’t like it.”
“Dear God,” he said with a sigh. “I am that easy to read?”
Closing the box, Emilia walked back to him and planted a light kiss just outside of the bandages on his face. Though they had been told he was out of danger from immediate infection, Emilia knew neither of them could be careful enough. He did not express it directly, yet she knew he missed the feel of her lips against his face—another temporary sacrifice he was making to appear normal.
“Easy? No,” she said, returning to the sofa. “But I know you, remember? And I adore the fact that I’m one of the few who do.”
“You do?” he asked. “Truly? Because even if these surgeries are successful I doubt I’ll ever be the social butterfly you are.”
Careful not to put too much pressure near his face, Emilia wrapped her arms about his neck. “Of course I do. My feelings for you are unconditional. No matter what kind of tacky lingerie you buy for me.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Because I want you to go put it on for me.”
***
When she emerged it was all he could do not to jump at her right then and there. A vision in green and red, curious of the blush that had already spread, he adored how shy she was at times though he had seen every inch of her body. Hiding her face behind her hair, she bit her lower lip and made a mediocre attempt to pull down the bottom edge of the babydoll.
“So?” She dug her bare toes into the carpet and looked down. “What do you think?”
He looked her up and down before lifting his hand, gesturing for her to come forward. “Come here,” he demanded. The aggression in his voice was unmistakable, and Emilia did as he said, though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked. So when she was finally close enough to touch, Kasper reached out for her, making her gasp as he pulled her to his lap.
She laughed as she struggled to regain her balance. “I take it I have your approval then?”
Kasper’s only response was to run his hand down her back and around her ribcage. Still frustrated that she couldn’t kiss him the way she wanted, Emilia made the best of the situation by bending forward to kiss a line down Kasper’s neck into the curve of his shoulder as she worked to undo the buttons of his shirt. Aware of it or not, this forced her lower back to arch considerably—giving him an ideal view of her displayed backside.
Smiling long past the point of pain, Kasper cupped his hands over her breasts, his fingers in addition to the new material of the lingerie having a fantastic reaction on her hard nipples. Meanwhile, Emilia was careful as she worked her hands under the waistline of his pants, her mouth anything but gentle as their tongues tangled. Kasper felt himself melt away like wax in heat as she ran her fingernails over his manhood, and he returned the act in kind by harshly grabbing her backside.
They conducted themselves in a continued fashion while the snow fell softly outside, touching and enjoying as much of each other as they could. By the time Emilia reached a climax of her own, Kasper’s glowing sense of pride was the last conscious thing she was aware of before collapsing on top of him.
Kasper breathed deep and stroked her still trembling thighs. “I believe I may come to like this Christmas of yours after all.”
Chapter 11
She was still asleep when she heard them arguing, the soft sounds of male voices becoming gradually louder as she tossed and turned. For a few minutes Emilia tried to sleep, to submit herself back to the pleasant, full sleep that the indulgent holiday had given her. She smiled and buried her face in a pillow, hating that she couldn’t enjoy the memory for a little longer.
“Outrageous!” Emilia looked up from the pillow and pulled herself out of bed. Sure enough, Kasper’s expletive was followed by more insults and the sound of things clattering to the ground. By the time she stretched and put on a shirt, the mumbled voices of Aasif, Mrs. Levkin, and Frankford were also ringing in loud and clear. Hopefully, Emilia thought, they could calm Kasper down, convince him that the private security company taking off the week between Christmas and the New Year was not the greatest display of incompetence in the world.
Looking for more clothes, Emilia was about to intervene when her cell phone beeped with the harmony she had specifically assigned to Claudette. Grateful for a genuine excuse to avoid the argument going on down the hall, Emilia reached for the phone and unplugged it from the charger.
“Hey, hey,” she said.
“Ugh,” Claudette responded. “What are the symptoms of a tryptophan overdose?”
Laughing, Emilia laid back on the bed, stretching to get comfortable again. “Too much turkey?”
“I kept telling myself just one more bite, just one more bite.’”
“I know how you feel,” Emilia replied. “Over the last two days I’ve practically eaten a loaf of cranberry soda bread all by myself.”
“I take it you had a good holiday then?”
“The best.” Emilia smiled and glanced in the corner where the remains of the torn babydoll remained. “You?”
“Nice,” Claudette replied. “Quiet with a minimal amount of drama. Matt loved the comic books I got him. Your oth
er half?”
“He was…” Emilia paused, deciding her words carefully, “very grateful. What did Matt end up getting you?”
“This gorgeous bar table.”
“Oh?” Emilia responded with enthusiasm before rolling to the other side of the bed. As much as she enjoyed chatting with Claudette, the arguing down the hall was getting louder by the minute, making it extremely difficult to concentrate.
“Yeah, he stained it himself and—well, anyway, that’s sort of why I called.”
“Yeah?” Emilia switched her phone to her other ear and put a pillow over her head. “What’s up?”
Claudette sighed. “I hate to be one of those last minute jerk-offs who does this sort of stuff, but now that our house is almost livable, Matt and I were going to have a housewarming thing—”
Emilia cut her off at the pass. “That,” Emilia emphasized, “is a fantastic idea.”
“Good, because we’re keeping it small and doing it on New Year’s.”
“As in at the end of this week?” Emilia asked. “That is last minute.”
“Yeah,” Claudette said with a sigh. “But like I said, it’s going to be small, mostly his family and some of my closer friends.”
As a door slammed just down the hallway, Emilia heard Kasper call someone the Farsi equivalent of worthless. She rolled her eyes and threw the pillow across the room.
“No,” Emilia said. “I think the timing is pretty perfect. In a couple of days, Kasper and I will need to get out of this house.”
After a quick shower and putting on something far more appropriate than what she was wearing the night before, Emilia joined the arguing group in the living room, not surprised but disappointed to see how the disagreement had migrated downstairs. Smiling, Emilia sat on the sofa next to Mrs. Levkin and sighed. Apparently the continued debate over their safety would not wait until the New Year.
Adapting Desires (Endangered Heart Series Book 3) Page 12
