“No more, Livy. I won’t have my wife doing chores in the middle of the night.”
“If she doesn’t, how do you expect to be paid?”
“I don’t. I won’t accept your money.” He stepped back onto his side of the line. “Go back to bed.”
Of course he would accept it. He had to. This marriage was not real and that was how she intended it to stay. In her mind, holding money between them was the very thing that would keep them apart.
“We’ll see about that.” The snappish tone of her voice sounded good and firm.
But she did get back into bed. It was very cold and there was snow between here and the barn.
Kit resumed his place in the chair. He drew up his long legs then tucked the quilt around them.
“I checked on the children before I came up,” he said. “They sure get along fine.”
“Children tend to.” She had noticed the same. Sam had taken quickly to Bentley—the bond growing between them would probably last a lifetime. And Emmie—well, there would be many tears shed when she moved on.
“They don’t look a bit cold, the three of them all cuddled up together with the pups.”
“I’m sure it’s a sweet sight.”
“Yep. There’s nothing like another body for adding warmth.”
“Go to sleep, Kit.”
“Good night, honey.”
Funny how she no longer felt that he was stealing her warmth, but rather smothering her with it.
* * *
Gathered about the Christmas tree, hands linked, the folks of Sweet Bank admired the candlelit wonder.
Sure was a magical sight with all those flames swaying this way and that in the whisper-like breeze. Kit was a newcomer to Sweet Bank, but already he loved the nightly tradition.
The singing hadn’t yet begun so Kit closed his eyes to better listen to the quiet conversations going on about him.
“I’m gonna watch Livy and Kit play checkers,” Sam was saying. “That way when Santa brings me the game I’ll know how to play right off.”
“I already knows how to play with dollies,” Emmie said smugly. With Christmas in two days, he’d better hope that the general store had a doll dressed in pink and that he’d have the time to get to town and pick it up. “What do you want, Bentley, just a fan?”
“From who?” Even with Kit’s eyes closed, he knew that Bentley would be looking at Emmie intently through those black-rimmed glasses of his.
“From me,” Emmie answered.
“I want a hundred hugs.”
“Here’s the first one.” Kit opened his eyes to see Emmie lean sideways and hug the boy.
“Here’s two.” On the other side of Bentley, Sam leaned in.
Right before his eyes was the spirit of Christmas. He was damn sure he was close to letting loose a tear.
He watched other people standing hand in hand.
Good tidings had put a smile on each and every face.
Except Edwina’s. She gazed down at the children with a blank expression. It was as though she was somewhere else in her mind. Perhaps a fancier affair she regretted missing back in Kendrick.
The singing began. Since Livy already knew he’d been an actor and there was no point hiding it anymore, he let his rich voice ring out.
A sudden gust swayed the tree branches but amazingly the candles did not blow out. Hank Runne stooped to grip his pail of water but the wind quit and he began to sing again.
Life was wonderful. Or it would be as soon as he’d convinced Livy of it.
“Hank!” A voice cut the song, stilling the singers. A young woman ran down the middle of the road waving her arms madly. “Doc says the baby’s coming and coming quick!”
Hank bolted, arms and legs pumping. Everyone else trailed after him, laughing and excited.
Chapter Nine
“Is this normal? Does everyone always gather for a birth?” Edwina asked.
Livy was sure that was not the case in every town. Especially in Kendrick.
“Mostly. Mrs. Long’s baby came in ten minutes so we missed that one. But usually here we are, no matter the time of day or night or the weather, praying for a safe birth.”
“The wind is picking up,” Edwina pointed out. “And it’s cold. I think we would be better off praying at home.”
“Look around, cousin. You are the only one frowning. A baby’s coming! What could be more wonderful?”
Edwina wrapped her arms about her middle. “I just thought the parents might like some privacy. I would not have wanted a crowd gathered outside my door when I labored with Bentley.”
“Sweet Bank isn’t like Kendrick. It’s a small place. We’re all family here. And new babies are—”
“I know about babies, Livy.” Her cousin shot a harsh glance at her. “I’ve had one.”
Hurtful silence stretched between her and her cousin. While Livy considered how to respond to that comment, a newborn’s cry cut the night.
Cheers went up. Hats were tossed, each one a wish for a healthy, happy life for the infant. Edwina swiped her sleeve across her eyes.
The new father stepped outside, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s.
“It’s a healthy baby—” All at once Hank’s proud grin faltered. His eyes bulged. “Fire!”
Everyone turned toward the direction he stabbed his finger.
“The Christmas tree!” Edwina shrieked, and was the first to pick up her skirts and run toward the disaster.
Twenty minutes later the folks of Sweet Bank gathered around the steaming ruins of the tree.
“It’ll still be Christmas,” Mildred pointed out.
“Santa’s still coming,” someone reassured a weeping child.
“The wonder of Christmas was never in the tree, anyway,” added the preacher. “We are still bound in joy by the love the day represents.”
“But it was a beautiful tree—and Livy hasn’t read the last part of the story.” The voice, coming from the back of the crowd was sniffling.
“I know how you all loved your tree,” Edwina said. “And it was a lovely thing, but there is a new baby—a Christmas baby. You ought to take heart in that.”
“I wonder if it’s a girl or a boy,” Livy said, puzzled by Edwina’s sudden change in attitude.
“It doesn’t matter.” Edwina caught Bentley’s hand, clearly ready to go home. “It’s healthy and loved by both its parents.”
* * *
No one had much to say on the way home from town. Gloom had them wrapped in its narrow-sighted arms. The Christmas tree was gone, and for now, so was the joy of the holiday.
Kit had tried to comfort them with a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” but it only made everyone sniffle, beginning with Edwina then on down to Livy and the children.
Upon entering the house, he hadn’t bothered to light a fire in the hearth. All anyone wanted was the comfort of their beds.
The puppies, bounding with joy over their humans’ homecoming, only accentuated the sadness.
“I don’t know why Edwina even came,” Livy declared, sitting on the middle of her mattress with her blue flowered robe tucked about her. “She does not seem a bit happy.”
“No one does,” he pointed out, whisking off his shirt then trying to get comfortable on an uncomfortable chair. “Seems to me there’s plenty to be happy about, though. The baby got here safe and there was nothing but the tree burned.”
Kit James had a good deal to be joyful about. It would take more than a ruined Christmas tradition to change that.
He was a happily married man, looking forward to convincing his wife that she was happy about it, too. Several images of the way to show her popped into his mind.
Too bad she was frowning so. He doubted she wou
ld welcome a proper courting at this moment.
“Only the tree! Why, it’s what we love most about the celebrations.”
“Christmas is about more than sparkling decorations.” He stood up because his legs were cramping. Leaning against the window frame, he watched tree branches whip madly in the wind.
“Naturally, we all know that.” She was silent for a moment, simply staring at him. “I suppose it will just take a bit for us to accept things.”
“How long will it take for you to accept me, Livy?” A branch ripped off a nearby tree. It slammed against the side of the house, missing the bedroom window by inches.
“I won’t accept you.”
In three long strides, he crossed the damned green line in the carpet and sat down on her bed.
“I know you want to.” He captured a strand of her hair before she could tuck it into the braid she was weaving. He rubbed it between his thumb and finger. It might be the single softest substance he had ever touched. “But I hurt your pride, honey, so you won’t let yourself have what you really want.”
“I don’t want to be seduced by a smooth-tongued actor.” She yanked her hair away from him, scooted closer to the wall. “Who are you even right now? Some character from a part you’ve played?”
“It’s just me—Kit.” He stretched across the bed. “You are a beautiful woman, Livy.”
He touched her hand. Drew it away from the braid she was yanking tight. Like waves of brown silk, it came undone. The strands shifted between his fingers until it was a glimmering web in his palm.
Lifting the mass, he rubbed it against his cheek. It smelled like the cinnamon cookies she had baked earlier in the day.
She closed her eyes, sighed.
There wasn’t much distance between them, only a few inches of rumpled bed. He leaned against her shoulder, kissed the top of her head, nuzzled down her temple then along her cheek with soft kisses.
“I’m the man you married, the man who loves you.”
“What character recited that line?” she murmured, but she turned her face toward him when she did.
He inhaled the scent of her, leaned in for a kiss.
“How many actresses did you use it on?”
“This is only me, Livy, saying it only to you.”
“That can’t be true. I won’t believe it.”
So close, the heat of her lips scorched his heart. He would make her believe it—he had to.
Livy arched away from him, scrambling off the bed.
“I have something for you—just as soon as you get on your own side of the line.” She pointed at the faded slice of color on the rug.
He was not giving up on his wooing, but it was going to take some time, possibly more time than he had.
“Here you are—this is your pay for last week’s work.” She reached across the line, waving money at him.
“I’m not taking money from my wife.” He couldn’t—it would be wrong.
“Very well, then.” She set the short stack of bills on the carpet, directly on the line.
With a grunt, he backed into the chair and drew up his legs. Cold air seeped through the glass. Beyond it, the howling, whistling wind was bound to keep him awake all night.
* * *
Livy opened her eyes the next morning to find Kit gone and the money still on the carpet.
Blamed man.
She went to the window and looked out. A lamp glowed in the barn window. Smoke curled out of the stove flue. He must be in there doing her work, earning money that he would refuse to take from her.
While she dressed she recited his shortcomings, all the reasons she could not possibly accept their marriage.
Too bad he hadn’t been a blacksmith, who would be reliably soot stained, or a baker who would always smell like yeast.
One never knew from moment to moment who an actor was.
She had learned that hard lesson from Frank Gordon. Until the day he ran off, she had believed him to be the best of men. One who put her first in his life.
Coming downstairs to prepare breakfast, her thoughts were consumed with how close she had come to kissing Kit in bed last night. Within an inch—a breath—she’d almost made a rash decision. One she would not be able to come back from.
Her only hope was that since Edwina had arrived early, she would depart early and she could send Kit away sooner.
Life here in Sweet Bank must seem primitive to her cousin. No doubt she was counting the minutes until she could go home.
After rounding the hallway and coming into the kitchen, Livy stopped short.
“Edwina?” Her cousin had an apron tied around her middle. She gazed in confusion at the eggs and flour she had set on the counter. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast before I go to town with your husband.”
“Why?” This was a side of her cousin she hadn’t seen. Certainly in her own home the only reason Edwina ever went into the kitchen was to instruct the help on what to prepare for dinner.
“There aren’t nearly enough gifts for the children.” She pounded her fist on the counter, glaring at the eggs. “If there is one thing I know, it’s shopping.”
“Were you trying to make breakfast?”
“Why would I be doing that?”
“Eggs, flour?”
“Good morning, ladies.” Kit came in from outside through the kitchen door, allowing a gust of frigid air to blow in with him.
He nodded at Edwina.
Before Livy had time to turn away, he crossed the room and kissed her.
It was a brief, husbandly greeting given for the sake of Edwina, but still—she wanted to slap him. Or throw herself against him and make it the kiss she wanted in the darkest part of her being.
Since she could do neither of those things, she smiled and wished him a good morning.
“Since you are here to fix breakfast, Livy, I’ll tend to the children.” Edwina removed the apron and set it on the counter. “And the dogs.”
As soon as her cousin’s footsteps could no longer be heard clicking down the hallway, Livy grabbed a spatula, waving it furiously at Kit.
“Don’t you kiss me again you—you—”
“Husband?”
He grinned at her and she stuffed down the urge to grin back. It seemed a very natural way to respond.
“It’s a fine way to start the morning.”
“It would be if we were really married.”
“Preacher says we are.”
Words! She wagged her fingers at him. “No ring! I had to tell my cousin I took it off because of the painting.”
“If you weigh a circle of gold against the fact that we’ve shared a bedroom for two nights now, a ring doesn’t mean so much.”
“It does to me. I would never consider myself married without one.”
“Got any coffee?”
Apparently, Kit James could change the conversation as easily as an actor could change personas.
“No.” Blame it, she could change a conversation as well as anyone. “There was something odd about my cousin this morning.”
“Last night, as well.”
Kit sat down at the table, inviting himself into her space even without the excuse of coffee.
She sat across from him because she liked looking at him. She should be honest enough to admit that, even without wishing to remain married to him.
“She thinks we don’t have enough gifts for the children.”
“I do need a doll with pink clothes. But for Edwina, it probably makes her feel at home to buy things. I reckon she’ll be welcome at the general store.”
“Maybe, but I’ll be relieved when she goes home.”
“Too much acting the part of someone you aren’t—having
all the town involved in the deception, too?”
Clearly, he was trying to point out that they were both actors.
“Don’t try and compare my little deception to yours.”
“Because yours is bigger.” He folded his fingers together on the table, arching his brows at her. “At least when I’m playing a part everyone knows it.”
“I didn’t know it.”
“No, and I’m truly sorry for that. But, Livy, I’m not sorry for the way things turned out.”
She stood up, pretty darn sure steam was whistling from her ears.
“I’ll be relieved for her to go home so that I don’t have to pretend to be your wife any longer.”
Coming slowly to his feet, he rounded the table. She backed toward the wall and he stalked her.
Like a predator.
Her heart beat madly. Her palms grew sweaty. In the eyes of the law, the man was her husband. He could carry her upstairs and do whatever he wanted to her, and—and all it would do was make her insides melt in a delicious way.
She meant to push him away but somehow her arms looped around his neck instead. His hair slid through her fingers like a whisper.
“Who’s acting now, Livy?”
He kissed her, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into his embrace, into his life. But how could she? He was no better than Frank.
Oh, drat it! To be fair, he was far better than Frank, but still, he had tricked her into a situation not of her choosing.
And just maybe, between the two of them she was the worse deceiver, accused an unwelcome voice in her mind.
“I love you, Livy. What do I have to do to convince you of it? We could be a happy family. I’m offering you my life, my future. Won’t you take it?”
“When you came here you claimed you could do anything, fix anything. I believed that. I staked Sam’s future on it.” He did have the good grace to glance away and look ashamed. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so if you can restore the town tree, maybe I will believe in you, in miracles, because that is what it will take.”
She was being unfair. The logical side of her knew it—but the other side? It whispered for the miracle.
He shook his head looking discouraged, and something inside her wept.
Western Christmas Brides Page 25
