Her Mistletoe Husband

by Renee Roszel

  Lucy smiled. “Whatever you say.” She glanced back at her knitting, and took a stitch before she added, “It’s just that you and he are so much alike. You’re both ex-lawyers and you’re both feisty.”

  “Feisty?”

  Lucy giggled. “Helen told me how he practically dragged you out of the dining room the other morning.” She slanted her older sister a suspicious look. “What did he want so urgently, anyway, a review of his bill?”

  Elissa swallowed. “It wasn’t sexual, if that’s what you think.” She shook her head at Lucy. “When will you and Helen get it through your heads that I’m not cut out for marriage. I’m argumentative. I’m bullheaded and stubborn...” She stopped, frowned. “Or is bullheaded the same thing as stubborn?”

  “On you? I’d have to say no,” came a masculine voice from the parlor entrance. “The bullheaded Elissa is more painful.”

  Both women looked up to see Alex framed in the doorway. He grinned, slipping out of his ski parka and tossing it on a straight-back chair beside the parlor entrance. Elissa watched him, taking in his wide shoulders and the attractive ruddiness of his cheeks, suggesting that he’d walked from the mansion through the woods. His black hair was mussed by the capricious breeze, giving him a country-boy appeal. Dragging her glance away, she checked her watch, feigning boredom. Though she was far from preoccupied with the time, her brain caught the fact that it was five o’clock. Damien and Jack should be back soon.

  Just then Helen appeared by his side and Lucy said, “Okay, sister dear, this is your chance to kiss Alex. We expect a full report, don’t we Lis?”

  Elissa had no idea why Lucy’s question embarrassed her. She didn’t care if Alex kissed every woman, dog, cat, frog and squirrel in Branson and all of their reports were printed in the newspaper. So why did she feel strangely warm and fluttery at the idea of his kiss? Turning abruptly to thumb through her ledger, she muttered, “Whatever.”

  “Ah, Helen,” Alex said with humor in his tone. “A fantasy come true. However, we must do this fast before jealous husbands show up.”

  “Too late,” Damien called from the front door. “The jealous husbands have arrived.”

  Alex laughed. “Helen it looks like tradition will have to be served with minimal lust.”

  Helen giggled. “I’ll try to control myself.”

  “I can’t promise the same thing. I’m a wild man when faced with a beautiful woman,” Alex teased. “How about a nice, safe handshake?”

  “Probably wise,” Damien agreed, laughter in his tone.

  Helen laughed. “Don’t be silly, Alex. We’re under the mistletoe. Tradition requires a kiss.”

  “She has a point, Damien,” Alex said with a chuckle.

  For the next couple of seconds there was no sound, and Elissa pictured Alex taking Helen into his arms. She shook off the image, and concentrated on the figures in her ledger before her. Then she concentrated on them again, battling back visions of Alex crushing Helen against him, devouring her lips in a passionate kiss.

  “I give that forehead kiss a perfect ten, Alex. You’ve done that before, you suave thing.”

  “I don’t want to brag, but yours is not the first forehead I’ve kissed,” he joked.

  “Spare me glimpses into your sinful past,” Helen teased, “I might swoon.”

  “No swooning allowed until I’ve had my turn,” came Jack’s voice. “Helen, let’s have that forehead.”

  Helen laughed outright this time. “Oh, no, you don’t. The forehead is officially Alex’s. You can have a cheek—either one. Your choice.”

  “I had no idea I married such a flirt,” Damien interjected, a smile in his voice.

  Elissa looked up for this one, watching Jack hug his sister-in-law, as they exchanged cheek kisses. Helen gave him an extra hug of sisterly affection. “I don’t know a better cheek-kisser in the entire world, Jack.”

  With a wink, he stepped back. “My past is every bit as sinful as Alex’s.”

  Helen grinned. “Don’t I know it, seeing as I’ve slept with you.”

  “That’s true. Your past is pretty darned sinful, too.” Motioning for her husband to come over, he added, “Okay, Damien, your turn. Let’s see what she lets you kiss.”

  “Back up a second.” Alex broke in, sounding stunned. “You slept with Jack?”

  Damien nudged his arm. “Luckily I’m openminded.”

  Helen made a face at her husband. “Oh, sure.” She smiled at Alex. “I was five years old and afraid of thunder. He was fifteen and called me a scaredy-cat pest”

  “Oh.” Alex shrugged and put his hands into his pockets, his grin crooked. “For a minute, there, I thought I’d stumbled into some depraved den of iniquity.”

  Damien hauled his wife into his arms. “I’ll see what I can do to arrange that.” His voice was husky and meaningful.

  “Damien!” Helen squealed with mock consternation. “We’re doing cheeks and foreheads!”

  “We’ll get to those later, sweetheart,” Damien mumbled, kissing her with great singleness of mind. Elissa could almost feel the passion they shared, and experienced a surge of envy so strong she was ashamed of herself.

  Both Helen and Lucy had quieter, gentler natures than she. Any man who might fall in love with her had his work cut out for him. He’d have to be turned on by a stubborn, smart-mouth who had to beat every opponent into dust. In all her thirty years there hadn’t been that many takers, once the awful truth of her personality had come to light. It was odd how men tended not to date a woman who whipped their backsides in law school and who could argue them into mush in the courtroom, and who-face it—even, on a couple of recent occasions, kicked them when they exasperated her beyond words.

  “Oh, get a room, you two,” Jack admonished with a laugh.

  “Luckily they have one,” Lucy added.

  When the hot kiss finally ended, Damien and Helen stared at each other. Their breathing was heavy, and Helen’s cheeks were pink. It was clear something had begun beneath that mistletoe that wasn’t over solely because the kiss had ended.

  Elissa shook her head at them. “If you two have something pressing to do, we’ll watch the girls.”

  Damien flashed her a grateful look, and without a word, took his wife’s hand, leading her toward the stairs.

  “Whew.” Jack shook his head, looking amused. “It’s just a guess, but I think she liked his kiss best.” Walking into the parlor, Jack settled on the sofa beside his wife. When he looked at her, his expression was dear. “How are you feeling, Luce?”

  She lay her knitting aside and placed a hand on his thigh. Elissa noticed that he covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. She fought back a tear. Love was everywhere in her inn these days. You could cut it like butter. The joy her sisters had found was glorious, filling their lives, making them whole. She struggled not to be jealous of their good fortune.

  She tried to be philosophical, reminding herself that some people were meant to be part of a couple, and some weren’t. She simply wasn’t. She supposed she would have to satisfy herself with mothering them all. That was something, at least, and a role she found gratifying. “Look, you two,” she said as gaily as she could, “if you have business elsewhere, I’m perfectly capable of watching the girls for Helen and Damien.”

  They turned from gazing into each other’s eyes and beamed at Elissa. “We’re fine,” Lucy said. “Besides, we wanted to tell you something—offcially.”

  “About you being pregnant?” Her smile refreshed itself with the reminder. She noticed that Alex was coming into the room and taking a seat on a chair opposite her, before the fire. She avoided looking at him or acknowledging his presence. “I guessed it when you and Jack ran out on breakfast that first morning—and all the oatmeal you’ve been not eating.” She reached over and touched her sister’s hand. “When’s the precious bundle due?”

  “Independence Day,” Jack said. “Talk about timing.”

  Elissa clapped her hands together. “It’s a sign.
Another president in the family.” She cast a loving glance at little Elissa Gillian, who was chewing on the foot of her “Feed-and-Wet Frieda” doll. “Of course Gilly will have to be elected to a full two terms, first, but after that, we’ll get Baby Gallagher into office.” She closed her eyes in feigned rapture. “Of course, I will be secretary of state during both of their terms of office.”

  “You’ll be in a home with a lot of people who think they’re Napoleon,” Jack laughed.

  Elissa eyed him with pretended affront. “Jack Gallagher, do not rain on my presidential parade. I know leadership potential when I see it.” She waved a hand at Gilly, gnawing on the doll’s leg. “That young lady has presidential timber written all over her.”

  “She looks more like she has cannibalistic timber to me,” Alex interjected.

  Elissa looked at him, her features stiffening. “That’s not amusing.”

  Gilly yawned, tossing down her doll. Pushing up, she toddled over to Alex and without preamble slid a knee onto the seat, grabbed a wad of Alex’s sweater, and heaved herself into his lap. Before he could react, she’d plopped her head on his chest. With a handful of cashmere gathered into one little fist, she poked her thumb into her mouth.

  “Apparently Madam President is going to take a nap,” Jack said through a chuckle.

  Elissa watched Alex’s flummoxed expression as his personal space was invaded by an alien being. He was plainly troubled, but no more so than she. A stab of envy went through her at the sight of her little Gilly snuggling on his lap. It was clear he didn’t want the child. Why had her beloved little namesake chosen her arch enemy’s lap over her own?

  “What do I do?” Alex asked in a whisper as though afraid if he moved the coiled little creature on his belly would strike.

  “Don’t worry,” Jack whispered. “I felt that way the first time I held one of the girls. You get used to it. It’s nice, really. Having somebody so tiny and helpless trust you like that.” He squeezed Lucy’s hand again, glancing her way. “I can’t wait for our own.”

  Jack’s reminder that they’d been talking about Lucy’s pregnancy brought another question to Elissa’s mind. “Does Helen know?”

  Lucy laughed. “Oh, yes. After Alex dragged—” She paused and pursed her lips. “I mean, after you and Alex left the table that morning, Helen ran upstairs after me. There wasn’t much point in putting off telling her the truth, I couldn’t hide my being sick.”

  Elissa was sorry she’d been so preoccupied with her own troubles that she’d neglected to confirm the wonderful news before now. She tried to smile. “Well, it’s the greatest Christmas gift you could give me—ugh!” She was suddenly the recipient of a second little body, lumbering into her lap. Big gray eyes gazed up into her own.

  “Auntie Lissi?” Glory asked, looking serious.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Gotta go potty.”

  “Ah,” She took Glory’s hands and helped her to the floor. “Well, honey-button, let’s go.”

  As she swept by Alex with her niece in tow, he whispered, “What do I do if this one has to go?”

  She eyed him with disdain. “Dial Emergency 911.”

  When Elissa and Glory returned to the parlor, Lucy and Jack were gathering up a limp little Gilly from Alex’s lap.

  “What’s going on?” Elissa asked.

  “We decided to take a walk with the twins,” Lucy said. “I don’t think Helen wants Gilly taking a nap now and then staying up until all hours.”

  Elissa nodded. “Good thinking.” She bent to talk to Glory. “Honey, you and Auntie Lucy and Uncle Jack are going for a walk. Will you bring me back some pinecones for a centerpiece?”

  Glory’s expressive little face screwed up. “Piecone?”

  Lucy took her hand. “Sure, sweetie. You have them at mommy’s and daddy’s house. I’ll show you what they are, to remind you. We’ll get a sack in the kitchen.”

  “Their coats are in the closet under the stairs.”

  “Check,” Jack called as he left the parlor, hoisting Gilly in an arm. “Come on Gilly, wake up.”

  “Juice?” Gilly asked sleepily, rubbing an eye with a chubby fist.

  “Sure we’ll get some juice. After we walk.”

  Elissa noticed movement outside the parlor window, and was happy to see the mail truck lumbering along the road. She watched as it stopped at their box. “Finally,” she mumbled. “The mail’s getting later and later.”

  “It’s Christmas,” Alex said, still sitting in the easy chair beside the fireplace.

  She jerked to look at him, having momentarily been able to put his existence from her mind. “Wow, there’s news,” she said sarcastically, spinning toward the door. “Christmas—a busy time for the post office. Who would have thought?”

  “Use my jacket if you want,” he called.

  She realized it was stupid to go out with the temperature below freezing, so she spun back. Stiff-jawed, she muttered, “Thank you,” grabbing up the ski parka.

  He nodded, then turned to stare into the fire.

  She slipped into his coat. It was huge, but warm. And it held his tobacco-cedar scent She snuggled deep into the collar when the cold wind hit her face, inhaling him with a combination of regret and guilty pleasure. He smelled good for a sleazy, property-stealing rat.

  Though it was rapidly growing dark, the sunset was fiery and breathtaking. She inhaled the cold evening air—and Alex’s scent—and found herself smiling. She decided the smile was for the crisp, fresh air and the striking sunset, and that was all.

  She had a feeling the walk Lucy and Jack and the twins were taking out back in the woods would be short. But it would certainly wake up Gilly. The cold air was exhilarating.

  Thumbing through the mail on her way back to the house, she saw it and staggered to a halt. This is what she had feared. Another smudged envelope with the same irregular scrawl. Her name, her address, in that heavy-handed brown ink. Just like the first letter.

  Her hands began to tremble, and she dropped half the mail. Envelopes began to blow around the yard, but she hardly saw it, didn’t care. “Oh...” she cried, her voice a quivery whisper. “Oh, no.” Tearing the thing open, she forced herself to read the coarse scribble.

  Don’t have you too happy a christmas, missy. I’m watching yu and I’m going to have my rivenge. You don’t got no chance to excape. See yu real soon, missy. But yu won’t see me coming.

  Of course it wasn’t signed. She didn’t expect it to be. She scanned the postmark. Kissie, Missouri, a small town not far away. The other had been postmarked from Hollister, another nearby town. Maybe this creep had been lurking in the woods that night she’d hidden in the D’Amour mansion, after all. Maybe somebody really was stalking her. He could have put the board in the road with the nails in it just so she would have her flat tire right there. Just so that he—

  “Elissa, what’s wrong?” came a concerned voice, not far away. “From the window I saw you turn as white as a shee.”

  She shot a gaze at the tall man standing there coatless, watching her closely. For several seconds she was too affected to move, captured against her will by his arresting presence. For the blink of an eye, the crimson flame of the sunset gave him a radiant halo and he looked too perfect to be mortal. A thickness came to her throat, cutting off her ability to speak.

  “Elissa?” he repeated softly, as though afraid she might panic and scream if he spoke too loudly. “What is it?”

  Pulled from her trance, she didn’t say anything—had no intention of involving him in her private life. She shook her head emphatically, hoping this letter would give police the clue they needed to find this lowlife before he decided to do something besides write letters. “It’s nothing,” she muttered. Angered that Alex had been watching from the window, butting in to something that wasn’t his business, she spun away, fumbling along the ground for the wind-tossed mail. “Are you going to help or just stand there cross-examining me?”

  She heard his gutt
ural curse, then watched out of the comer of her eye as he moved off to chase envelopes along the side of the house. By the time he was back with the mail, she had her story worked out.

  “Sick friend,” she mumbled, stuffing the offending envelope into her suit jacket pocket. “It’s sad to be in hospital during Christmas.”

  He handed her the rest of her mail, his expression skeptical. “You’re a lousy liar, Miss Crosby.”

  That did it! She thrust out her chin, hoping her quarrelsome bravado would be enough to get him to back off. “And you’re a nosy trespasser who needs to learn to mind his own business.”

  “Is it from your lawyer friend? Is it the proof of my ownership?”

  She glared at him for another second, then stomped by. “Right. The whole world revolves around you and your business!” As an afterthought, she shrugged out of his coat and turned back to toss it at him. He snagged it as it sailed toward his face, his frown more concerned than angry. “Egotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel, you know!” she shouted.

  “Whatever the hell that means,” he grumbled.

  Quivery with rage, and the nagging torment of the sinister letters, she sprinted away.

  Did Alex D’Amour own her inn? Was she going to lose everything? And if there really was a nutcase out there bent on some crazy revenge, did that mean she might lose her life, too?

  She swallowed hard around the lump of dread blocking her throat.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IN THE dead of night, during the wee hours of Christmas day, Elissa was awakened by a sound. She lay motionless in her bed, listening. What was it? Scratching? No. It sounded more like something scraping against wood. She heard it again and bolted upright, her adrenaline pumping blood through her veins as if it were a freight train running through a tunnel. Her ears roared with the unfamiliar noise and her heart nearly leapt from her chest. Someone was trying to break into the narrow basement window above her bed.

  With a cry, she sprang from the covers and vaulted toward her door, dragging blankets and sheets as she fled. Banging the door shut behind her, she sprinted toward the stairs in the total darkness, only to smash into a solid object that shouldn’t have been there. She shrieked, positive a gang of thugs had invaded the place, bent on heaven only knew what horrible crimes.