A Wolfish Tryst
at Christmas
by
Sandra Sookoo
****
Smashword Edition
****
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A WOLFISH TRYST AT CHRISTMAS
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Sandra Sookoo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Twenty or Less Press.
Contact Information:
[email protected]
Visit us at twentyorlesspress.com
Book Cover Design by ZenD
Snow COPYRIGHT Photomorgana / Dreamstime.com
Wolf COPYRIGHT Jens Klingebiel / fotolia.com
Picture of young attractive girl in ball gowns with a fan COPYRIGHT Dmitriy Cherevko / 123rt.com
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
****
Praise for Sandra Sookoo
A Wolfish Scandal
“Reading this very entertaining novella is a wonderful way to wile away an afternoon. In fact, I read it in one sitting, eager to see what happened next. I highly recommend A WOLFISH SCANDAL and look forward to reading more of Ms. Sookoo’s works.”
~Dottie, Romance Junkies
~*~
A Wolfish Scandal
“Lyndal and Grey falling in love was really sweet and romantic. Parts of the story were humorous, and certainly the part with her family was frustrating, sad and sometimes infuriating. I do not want you to get the wrong idea, but I LOVE SANDRA SOOKOO'S work! I also happen to love historical romance and werewolves too! I enjoyed the fact that Franklin seems to have an interest in Hattie (and I'm hoping that might be another story in this series).”
~Teresa, The Romance Studio
~*~
Cairo Nights
“…a fantastic, sexy adventure with just the right mixture of culture and history and proves this author can write for practically any genre.”
~Night Owl Reviews
****
Dedication
To the fans of my “Wolfish” series.
You asked about Blake. In this story, you get a glimpse. Hope you enjoy!
****
Corydon, Indiana, Christmas Eve, 1863
Elizabeth VanHaussen descended the curved staircase of her uncle’s house. Faint minstrel music played by a string quartet drifted to her from the direction of the conservatory. In the foyer below, the double doors at the front entrance opened every now and again as more people arrived. A uniformed butler and maid would scoop up coats, wraps, hats and gloves then direct the guests to enjoy themselves. Happy female chatter swirled, tempered by the tense conversation of the gentleman in a hall off the foyer—even on such a festive occasion, the War Between the States wouldn’t be forgotten. The soft tinkle of tiny silver bells sounded each time party guests went by.
Miniature thirty-four-starred, red-and-white- striped flags decorated pine swags over doorways while glass balls and bells hung from greenery boughs that graced fireplaces and tables scattered throughout the house. Bowls of apples and oranges served as centerpieces. Citrus fruit studded with cloves or decorated with ribbons adorned potted plants.
She adored Christmas. This one would be more special than all the rest, and all because of one guest. Even the war that gripped the nation could not detract from the anticipation climbing her spine.
Uncle James swept into the entryway. A navy dress coat and light blue trousers as well as the crimson sash at his waist set him apart from civilian guests and the Christmas finery. His barrel chest and stalwart stature commanded attention, as did the three lesser officers who trailed in his wake, all talking at once. The buzz in the foyer dropped as attention jumped to the military men, yet Uncle James ignored everyone except her. His sharp gaze met hers and a wide smile split his face, lifting the ends of his mustache.
“Mingle, girl! It’s a party, not a wake.” His booming voice carried across the open space. Several people turned to see whom he addressed. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated from the sudden scrutiny. Her uncle continued on as if he cared not that people looked their way. “Dance as if tonight were the last night of your life. You never know what the future holds, and I didn’t fund this beast so you could watch from the stairs.”
Elizabeth glanced briefly at the few curious guests. A relieved breath escaped her when they turned back to their own conversations. “I intend to try.” When she nodded, he continued on his path, his officers trotting to keep up with his long strides. Soon, he’d join his unit in Louisville, but he’d been adamant about not missing this gathering. And when Major VanHaussen spoke, people listened. Before the end of the war, he’d be a colonel, she had no doubt.
His annual holiday house parties were famous in the area. Bless his heart for throwing it regardless of the domestic difficulties the war had brought. The guests, it seemed, took rationing in stride. It didn’t matter the dresses weren’t in the latest style. Adorned with scraps of leftover lace, beads and other little bits, everyone looked grand. The expressions on their faces showed a certain gratitude to be able to gather together without worry for one night. Elizabeth murmured a quick prayer of thanksgiving for her uncle. He’s such a good man.
Every member of the family was in attendance—with the exception of her two brothers who were God knew where at the moment. Twenty-three and nineteen, they’d both signed on for military duty in the patriotic fervor to defend the Union ideals. From all accounts, the fighting hadn’t claimed them, but then mail was slow and word could have been delayed. She bit her bottom lip. I need to stop worrying about them, but I can’t. At times it was hard being the eldest sibling. She’d always felt the need to mother them.
She pressed a hand to her cheek, rapidly blinking to keep tears at bay. It wouldn’t do to indulge in girlish vapors, especially now, when everyone she knew tried to be so strong—and she was well past the age of being girlish. Twenty-five and living during war time meant finding maturity and making decisions outside of selfish considerations. Her family wasn’t the only one who lent loved ones to the war effort. Hers wouldn’t be the only one to potentially lose them either.
Elizabeth straightened her posture and descended another few steps. How did Blake Harrison’s family handle his absence? From his letters she knew he had one brother and one sister. The brother—Alexander—had also gone off to war, but the sister—Caroline—he’d left behind. Did Caroline worry about her brothers like Elizabeth did George and Gregory?
Elizabeth had no idea, though she knew her worry had expanded to include Blake. Having him so far away tore her up inside. She prayed daily that he was safe and would come back to her in one piece. Yet—her stomach quivered—feelings that had been cultivated while exchanging letters with the man couldn’t possibly be enough to hope a lifetime might be in the offing, could it?
Her heartbeat quickened as her gloved hand skimmed the polished banister. Would he be here? Surely if her uncle was able to take a few days off, Blake could too. Tingles of excitement wove through her body.
A year ago, she hadn’t known he existed. Then one letter written to a distant cousin went awry. Blake had intercepted it and wrote back explaining the errant post. She’d never looked back. She’d written him every week, wondering if he received the missives, but continuing in case he did and counted on them. Elizabeth had anticipated his responses as well, to the point that it became something of a joke in town. On mail days, she’d gotten into the habit of waiting outside the post office for the stage to arrive—so many times the rotation of drivers now knew her by name.
After months of letters, a deep friendship had sprung up, a friendship that had rapidly deepened into something dear and abiding. The last letter she’d had from him indicated he’d try everything in his power to gain leave from his unit. Yet that had been weeks ago, and plans in wartime often went awry.
Living and breathing and conducting life as if it were normal couldn’t be separated from the war no matter how much she wished it. Her stomach clenched. She paused on the staircase while her two younger sisters pelted past, excitement flushing their cheeks and evident in their exuberant chatter about what cakes and cookies would be on the dessert tables. She smiled as their blonde curls, so much like her own, bounced. “Careful, girls.” What would their future hold if the war didn’t end soon?
The disturbed air from the opening front door rushed over her bared chest and shoulders, prompting a shiver, but she didn’t want to go upstairs for a shawl. She might miss Blake’s arrival. Stupid war that keeps folks separated longer than they ought to be.
She refused to let the state of the Union color this night. Elizabeth tucked an escaped tendril of hair back into its upsweep then gathered a handful of dark green-colored silk. Would Blake admire the dress she’d selected? While visiting on furlough six months ago, he’d let it slip in passing how much this color complimented her skin.
Of course he wouldn’t say, even if he did come. How selfish was it that she thought on Blake and whether he would attend a holiday party when he was needed in many other places much more important? Yet couldn’t there be an allowance for enjoyment too?
The ivory underskirt embroidered with pink rosebuds and green leaves would show to perfection as she made short work of the rest of the stairs. At least that’s what her sisters had assured when they’d dressed earlier. Too bad the one person she wanted to impress wasn’t yet there to see her descend.
When she reached the ground level the crush of party-goers swallowed her, and Elizabeth’s world became the brush of hooped skirts, the rustle of fabrics, candlelight twinkling off brass buttons on military uniforms, and the scents of overheated bodies, powder, perfume, Christmas greenery and pomade. She traversed the room with the tide of people. It deposited her in a drawing room that had been transformed into a ballroom. A quadrille was just setting up, and not wishing to participate, she wandered the perimeter of the room. She nodded to acquaintances, grinned at a few older women who glared at the younger set, and waved to one of her sisters as the dance began.
The music seeped into her bloodstream, and Elizabeth tapped a foot in time to the bouncy military-inspired tune. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Despite everything currently happening in the divided nation, she was grateful for her life and the opportunity to know Blake.
Stealing a peek at a silver carriage clock resting on a fireplace mantle, she sighed. Two hours until midnight. Two hours until she needed to be in the gazebo on the far side of the property to meet Blake, at least that’s where she’d told him she’d be in her last letter. Would he show for a Christmas miracle?
****
Blake Harrison entered the bustling house with a stream of other guests. While he handed over his greatcoat, hat and gloves, he swept his gaze over the immediate area. He tempered the excitement churning his stomach. She wouldn’t be greeting guests since this wasn’t her house, but where was she?
Elizabeth had promised she’d be in attendance. Since he was on a tight time schedule, but still wanted to see her, he’d agreed to come—though merriment was the furthest thing from his mind. Of course, he was early for the private meeting time she’d designate, but he hadn’t been able to wait a minute longer to see her. He’d ridden neck-or-nothing, and the vague ache in his bones testified to that fact. At least his appearance would be a surprise, and one of the precious few he had to give her.
He moved through the laughing, conversing crowd. The aromas of rich foods set his stomach to growling. It’d been much too long since he’d had a proper meal, let alone a sugary treat. Military food was far from appetizing and rationing prevented an abundance of desserts. Yet his hunger for nourishment would wait.
His heightened wolfish senses increased the emotions swirling within him—excitement, anxiety and desire. How long had it been since he’d shifted into the animal? Definitely since the last full moon, but he tamped down on the impulse. He wasn’t there to run with abandon as the beast. Elizabeth superseded everything else. He could indulge his animal before he rode on to Indianapolis.
He’d spent the morning doing last minute errands for his commanding officer as payment for being away for the night. Then, not stopping until he’d reached the property, he’d ridden a horse for the better part of two hours—thanks to the continuing state of disrepair of the Corydon train depot. It’d be a while before the town could return the buildings to rights after the mess General Morgan had made of it, but Blake would gladly travel by horseback for far longer to spend a few hours with the woman he loved.
His heart squeezed. Yes, he’d admit it. He was hopelessly in love with Elizabeth.
“Captain Harrison, you managed the time away!” Major VanHaussen’s voice reverberated through the gathering.
Blake whirled, his thoughts evaporating. “I did.” Elizabeth’s uncle strode across the floor, seemingly unaware of the people forced to scatter from his path. “Major VanHaussen, how nice to see you.” He extended his hand then gritted his teeth as the man’s enthusiastic grip crushed his fingers together.
“Call me James, and make yourself at home.” The major released Blake’s hand. “Some of the enlisted fellows as well as the officers are playing cards in the back parlor. You’re welcome to join us.” He winked. “Only room in the house where a man can smoke and converse freely, away from the female influence.”
“I might make an appearance a bit later. Thanks for the offer, though, if it’s all the same to you, I intend to speak with Elizabeth straightaway.” He strained his ears for the gentle sound of her voice. “My appearance tonight will be a surprise to her since I never had a chance to confirm I would be in attendance.”
“Do as you wish, my boy. She speaks highly of you, and from the snippets of your letters she reads us, I have a feeling we might be seeing more of you as soon as the war ends.”
“That you may, sir.” Blake wasn’t so sure the war would end any time soon though. He’d already been enlisted a few years. Each side had very specific reasons for the conflict, and some had personal views that split their families apart above the national fractures. Until America came to a resolve or compromise, his civilian life was forfeit to the military.
“Oh, and sir, could you drop these in the post for me?” He pulled three envelopes from an inside pocket of his jacket. “They’re for my parents and sister back in Atlanta. I won’t be near a drop off point once I leave here. Just want to let them know I’m still alive. My sister Caroline is a champion worrier.”
“I’d be honored.” The older man snagged the correspondence and pocketed it. “I’m surprised you got the time off, boy. Your superiors are in a mad rush to get things finished.”
A wry grin stretched Blake’s lips. “It’s not exactly a pleasure visit, sir. After tonight, my orders are to ride north to the nearest town then hop the train to Indianapolis and check in for a prisoner exchange two days from now at Camp Morton. I’ll be putting a group of thirty Rebs on the march down to Knoxville to spring thirty of ours.” War was a dangerous business, but a nec
essary evil at times, and if his orders were to take thirty of the enemy in hand, so be it. “And having the depot here out of commission means longer travel times.”
“I hope you’re not going it alone. Some of those gray coats have talked about taking an officer hostage in retaliation.”
“That won’t happen. Never fear.” Blake chuckled. If any of the prisoners became unruly, Blake could easily overpower them thanks to his wolfish strength.
“I admire your confidence, young man.” The major rocked back on his heels. “They know our hands are tied. We have no real power to detain them longer.”
“I don’t expect many men like being cooped up in a prison camp. It wears on the mind after a while. But all the same, I’ll be given a small contingent when I get to Camp Morton.” He moved his gaze from the major to sweep the area once more. Every part of him tensed to see Elizabeth, to hear her voice. Precious time ticked by as he conversed with her uncle, time he could be with her.
“Well, I can see you’re preoccupied.” Major VanHaussen clapped a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “We’ll speak later. Go find your woman. The last I saw her, she was in the drawing room.” He winked. “Make the moments together count. War’s tough enough without saying your peace to the folks you care about.”
“That it is.” He nodded to the older man then set off, navigating through the talking, laughing crowd toward the drawing room.
At the doorway, he paused, and his heart stuttered. She stood with her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Elizabeth. After months away from anything that reminded him of home, a glimpse of her put him immediately in the mindset of easy summer days drinking lemonade and balmy evenings full of fireflies. Remarkable really, since she’d always called Indiana home and he had Atlanta in his heart.
A Wolfish Tryst at Christmas Page 1
