Slater chuckled. Taking her chin firmly in one hand, he turned her to face him. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“I think you’ve been dipping into the punch bowl again,” Lark whispered as her mouth began to water for want of his kiss.
“Maybe,” he mumbled as his head descended to hers. His kiss was light—the way he’d kissed her the first time when he’d gotten the barber shave in town. She hardly knew whether or not it had actually occurred. But by the warm thrill running through her arms and the goose bumps breaking over her body, she knew he had kissed her—a little.
Disappointment immediately enveloped her. She wanted him to kiss her—so desperately wanted him to. Yet she’d known he wouldn’t—not in front of Katherine.
“What in tarnation do you call that, Slater?” Tom exclaimed.
“Well, I’m sure she ain’t all that experienced, little brother,” Slater said, winking at her. “You don’t want me to scare her to death, do ya?”
Lark’s heart still ached. He cared too much for Katherine to kiss Lark in front of her—Lark knew he did. Oh, it was fine to fiddle with Lark here and there—to flirt with the cook when a jovial mood overcame him—but it wasn’t something he wanted his dear Katherine to own a knowledge of.
Lark’s miserable thoughts were interrupted as Tom stood, strode across the room, and pushed Slater’s hand from Lark’s face. She gasped as Tom gathered her into his arms, forced her body to slightly arching backward, and kissed her square on the mouth. It was not a fleeting kiss either. Though Tom’s kiss was not overly forced or impassioned, it was more of a kiss than Slater had taken from her. Furthermore, it did nothing to affect Lark’s senses—other than to startle her. Still, she had the sense that Tom was only taunting his brother. After all, it seemed his favorite pastime—teasing Slater.
Tom released her and straightened his collar. “Now, that is the way to kiss a girl,” Tom taunted Slater, returning to the sofa and depositing himself there once more. He smiled and winked at Lark. Katherine giggled, attempting to stifle evidence of amusement when Slater frowned at her.
“Is that so?” Slater asked. “Well, Tom, to tell you the truth of it…I was only tryin’ to spare you the humiliation of puttin’ you to shame. But since Lark ain’t makin’ much effort to remove herself from where’s she standin’ anyhow…” Lark gasped as Slater bound her in his powerful embrace. “Then let’s quit dancin’ around this and get down to some real kissin’,” he said. He smiled as he gazed at her a moment. “Hold on to your corset strings, baby…’cause I’m about to teach you a lesson for makin’ fun of me.”
Lark had determined to struggle—to put off his advances. After all, what else could she do with Tom and Katherine looking on? What would they think of her if she allowed Slater to kiss her—if she kissed him in return? Yet the moment his mouth captured hers, all her determination toward pretenses of propriety vanished. Slater Evans owned her—owned her heart, her desire, her every breath—and she could not keep from melting against him. He was irresistible! Entirely irresistible! Even for the fact that Tom and Katherine were there, she could not resist him. His kiss was playful one moment, driven and demanding the next. He seemed careless of others being in the room—taking her mouth with his in kisses that would flame scandal were they administered in any more public a venue. He broke the seal of their lips, tasting her upper lip ever so slightly with his tongue as he did so. Lark fought to keep her knees from buckling as her body weakened—tried to catch the breath that had literally been kissed out of her.
Lark blushed as Tom clapped his hands and whistled. “Now there ya go, Slater!” he chuckled. “That’s the way! I knew you still had it in ya.”
“Oh, I gotta lot more’n that in me,” Slater said, reaching out to take Lark’s face between his hands. He smiled, and Lark couldn’t help but smile in return. He meant to kiss her again, and she meant to let him.
“Now, you two, stop that teasing!” Katherine scolded, taking hold of Lark’s arm and pulling her from Slater’s grasp—though his hand caught hold of a loose length of her hair, tugging at it a moment before releasing her entirely. “You just ignore them, sweetie. They don’t have one ounce of good sense between the two of them.”
“Well, we best all turn in,” Tom said, yawning. “No doubt them young-uns will be up before the sun to see what Santy brung ’em.”
Slater nodded. “Yep,” he said. “Good night, Kate.” Lark watched as Slater leaned over and kissed Katherine on the cheek.
“Good night, darlin’,” Katherine said. She winked at him and added, “You little devil.”
“Good night, Lark,” he said to Lark then. She giggled as he quickly took her by the waist, pulled her flush against his strong body, and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Stop that!” Katherine scolded, slapping him hard on one shoulder. “You’re gonna frighten her away.”
Slater released Lark, and she playfully pushed at his chest.
“Good night, Katie,” Tom said, kissing Katherine’s cheek as Slater winked at Lark and turned toward the stairs.
“And good night to you too, honey,” Tom said, kissing Lark’s cheeks as well. “I apologize for my brother’s bad behavior,” he chuckled. He leaned toward Lark, whispering, “Though I suspect it ain’t been the first time he’s been bad with you.”
Lark blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Tom chuckled and followed his brother upstairs. “There won’t be no red wagon for you this Christmas, Slater Evans,” Tom teased. “You’ve been naughty.”
Lark smiled as she heard Slater chuckle. Then they were gone—the mischievous Evans brothers.
“My goodness!” Katherine exclaimed in a whisper. “Aren’t you the lucky girl? Smooching under the mistletoe with Slater Evans! He certainly was in a playful mood this evenin’.”
Lark blushed. “He’s in a naughty mood, if nothing else.” She shook her head. “I have the most difficult time trying to figure him.”
“I know what you mean,” Katherine began. “When we were younger, I could never tell whether he was teasin’ me or not. Still, I think I have him pretty well figured out by now.” She paused, smiling at Lark for a moment, though the delight in her eyes seemed suddenly dulled by sadness—or regret.
“Do tell me this, Lark,” Katherine whispered, “was it just too wonderful for words?”
“What?” Lark asked, though she well knew what Katherine referred to.
“Slater’s kiss, silly goose! What did you think I meant?”
Lark blushed—though she was likewise awash with a strange sensation of worry. Slater’s kiss was wonderful—just as wonderful as it had been the times before—too wonderful! Yet the fact that Katherine would inquire about it—the fact that it was plain on her face that she wanted to know Slater’s kiss—it frightened Lark in that moment.
Katherine sighed, saying, “He’s never kissed me…not really kissed me…not the way he just kissed you,” she said. “Oh, believe me, I tried and tried to get him to…you know, that Christmas he came home, the same one where he caused such a commotion at the social. But he either didn’t want to…or was too blind to see me throwin’ myself at him. By the time he’d come home again, I was happily married to my Johnny.” She smiled rather wistfully. “But I always wondered though…you know…if kissin’ Slater Evans was as thrillin’ and delicious as I’d imagined it would.”
“I-I’m sure it was,” Lark stammered. Her emotions were miserably conflicting inside her—jealousy, pity, and fear—possessiveness, joy, and confusion.
“You mean you’re sure it is,” Katherine giggled.
Lark smiled and nodded. “Yes…I’m sure it is.”
Katherine sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, and gazed into the fire a moment. “I hope Charlie sleeps through the night,” she said. “He’ll be a bear tomorrow if he doesn’t.” She smiled at Lark and added, “And so will Slater.”
Lark giggled and nodded her agreement.
“
You gonna turn in?” Katherine asked.
“In a minute,” Lark said. “I’ll make sure the candles on the tree stay out…and watch the fire awhile.”
“Well, good night then,” Katherine said, leaning over to kiss Lark on one cheek.
Lark returned the affection, thinking that Christmas brought out the tender, loving feelings in people. “Good night.”
After Katherine had retired to her room, Lark did linger in the parlor. The fire still burned warm and comforting in the hearth, and outside the wind had died to a soft breath instead of a harsh howl.
Lark snuggled down into the large rocking chair and smiled as she gazed at the lovely Christmas tree standing sentinel over the gifts tucked beneath its lowest boughs. What a comforting, secure feeling was there in that moment—in that place.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“What are you doin’ up at this hour?”
Lark was startled to wakefulness to find Slater standing over her, scowling.
“Oh, I-I…” she began. She was chilled and still muzzy.
“Shh. Don’t wake Charlie,” he mumbled. “I ain’t had me a wink of sleep yet tonight…and I sure won’t get one if that little squirmy worm wakes up.”
Lark smiled and rose as she studied him—studied the top of his ever-gaping underwear, the wool socks on his feet.
“I don’t know how you keep from catching cold,” she whispered.
Slater smiled, “Well, I’m in a hurry…and keep yer eyes away from my hind end. These are the drawers you still need to mend.”
“Well, why are you wearing them then?” Lark asked, averting her gaze to the ceiling.
“Well, I wasn’t expectin’ to play Santy Claus with a whole room full of folks, now was I?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I just fell asleep,” Lark told him. “I’ll leave you to playing Santa Claus.” She stood up from the rocking chair, covering her mouth as a yawn escaped her.
2
“Wait,” Slater whispered, taking hold of her arm as she started to leave the room. “Ain’t you gonna stay and help me? It’d go a might faster with two of us.”
Lark was delighted—not only by his rather vulnerable appearance but by the conspiratorial excitement sparkling in his dark eyes. “What shall I do?” she asked, making sure to look directly at his face—just in case he turned around unexpectedly.
“You can start fillin’ them stockin’s,” he said, handing her an old flour sack. Lark peered into the sack to see it contained nuts, hard candy, and several oranges.
“Oranges?” she exclaimed.
“Hush,” he said, clamping a hand over her mouth. He smiled, however. “Santy went to a lot of trouble to get them oranges. Do you think the kids will be surprised?”
“Oh yes!” Lark giggled. “Entirely.”
Lark went about filling the stockings with the sweets and treats from the sack Slater had provided. She found the task to be one of the most wonderful delights of her life—kept imagining how excited the children would be when they found the oranges tucked in the toe of the stockings they’d left for Santa to fill.
When she’d finished with the stockings, she watched as Slater positioned a pretty china doll near Lizzy’s stocking. He laid Johnny’s stocking on a new saddle he’d carried down from upstairs, and she helped him set up four rows of wooden soldiers for Charlie.
“Whenever did you find the time to get out in these storms and purchase these things?” she asked in a whisper as Slater pulled several brown paper-wrapped gifts from a burlap bag and placed them under the tree with the others already waiting there.
“I didn’t,” he said. He smiled at her. “Santy left ’em for me.”
Oh, he was divine—adorable—delicious—utterly irresistible! Lark loved the delight twinkling in his eyes—loved the fact that he was padding around in his stocking feet and underwear, preparing a glorious Christmas morning for the children. She loved him—so desperately loved him—and her heart ached even as it swelled with joy.
“Dang! It’s colder than…it’s mighty cold down here,” he grumbled when he’d finished laying out his treasures. “I’m goin’ back to bed. You can stay here and freeze yer britches off if you want to, but I’m turnin’ in…for good.”
“Me too,” Lark said, stealing one last glance at the treasures Slater had placed near the hearth and tree.
“Now, cover yer eyes, baby,” he whispered. “I’m goin’ up.” He smiled and leveled an index finger at her. “And no peekin’.”
Lark put her hands over her eyes, giggled, and resisted the urge to peek through her fingers as she heard Slater hurry up the stairs.
Once inside her room, she lit her lamp and knelt before the trunk at the foot of her bed. Raising the lid, she slipped a hand between the tattered clothes she’d taken from her carpetbag and placed inside. Carefully, she removed the photograph she’d hidden there—held it nearer the lamp, smiling as she studied it.
“Merry Christmas, Mama,” she whispered as she caressed the sweet face in the photograph. “I miss you.”
She replaced the photograph, closed the lid to the trunk, and began to unbutton the buttons at the back of her collar. A smile touched her lips as she thought of her reoccurring dream of Slater—of his fumbling with the buttons at her neck. Perhaps she would have the dream again tonight. What more perfect gift could she ask for than to dream of Slater all Christmas Eve? She bit her lip, her arms and legs erupting with goose bumps as she lingered on the memory of Slater capturing her beneath the mistletoe. It had been a wonderful Christmas Eve—the most wonderful she had ever known!
“Miss Lark, Miss Lark! Wake up! It’s Christmas morning!”
Lark rather unwillingly pulled herself from her romantic dreams of Slater and into full consciousness. Again she heard a knock on her bedroom door.
“Miss Lark, it’s Lizzy! Come have Christmas with us!” Lizzy called from beyond it.
The door opened, and Katherine peeped in. “Gracious, Lark! How are you managin’ to sleep with all this noise? The children are ready to beat each other up to get to their gifts!”
2
Lark sat up in her bed, quickly gathering her hair and twining it into a loose braid. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I guess I was just sleeping so soundly.”
“Just throw a shawl over yourself like I did, sweetie,” Katherine giggled. “Christmas mornin’ isn’t a time to worry about modesty…not with children in the house.”
Lark smiled and climbed out of bed. Snatching her shawl from a hook on the wall, she followed Katherine.
“Well, it’s about time,” Tom greeted as she and Katherine entered the parlor. He sat on the sofa, hair tousled, wearing only his underwear and a pair of socks. “Must’ve been a dang good dream to keep you in bed this long,” he teased.
“Mornin’,” Slater mumbled. Charlie was leading Slater by the hand, tugging mercilessly on him as if Slater were a barge and Charlie a tugboat struggling to bring him upriver.
Katherine clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as Slater reached around with his free hand to secure the trapdoor on his underwear.
“Don’t you have a decent pair of drawers, Slater?” Tom asked. “It’s Christmas, for Pete’s sake.”
“I’ll pin it here in a minute,” Slater mumbled, collapsing onto the sofa next to Tom.
Slater frowned at Lark when he saw her studying him with amusement plain on her face. “What’re you grinnin’ at, baby?” he asked. “I can see clean through that there nightgown you’re wearing.”
Lark gasped and looked down at her nightdress. She’d been sure it was a heavy fabric when she’d purchased it. Slater’s chuckle and Katherine’s scolding index finger told her he was only teasing her, however. She smiled as she watched him run his fingers through his hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in the exact manner she’d seen Charlie do.
The children had discovered their stockings and gifts from Santa. Lark was delighted by the way Slater and Tom watched th
em—chuckling and elbowing one another with pride in having made the children so happy. Katherine was near to weeping. No doubt Slater and Tom’s efforts had thoroughly touched her heart. Lark put an arm around her shoulders, and Katherine smiled gratefully at her.
Lark went to the tree. Taking a small package wrapped in brown paper from beneath it, she handed it to Katherine. “It’s not much, Katie,” she said. “Just a little something to let you know that I care for you…and that I’m glad you’re here.”
“Oh, Lark!” Katherine exclaimed. “How thoughtful! You didn’t have to do this.”
Lark smiled, however, as Katherine carefully untied the ribbon securing the paper. “Oh!” she gasped as she studied the dainty gloves. “Oh, Lark! They’re lovely. Oh, they’re lovely!’
Lark was relieved that her gift of the white crocheted gloves seemed to please Katherine. They’d taken so many hours—so many late hours sitting by dim lamplight to manage. Yet Katherine’s reaction encouraged Lark.
Lizzy squealed as she found the package Lark had left beneath the tree for her. “Oh, Miss Lark!” the little girl chirped, removing the small crocheted gloves from her own gift-wrappings. “Oh, they’re just like Mama’s! Oh, they’re so pretty. I never ever had anything so pretty!” Throwing her tiny arms around Lark’s neck, Lizzy hugged her, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” Lark giggled, delighted with Lizzy’s reaction to her gift as well. Lark smiled with reassured contentment. She’d been so worried everyone would think her gifts insignificant or silly.
“Is there one for me?” Johnny asked, rather tentatively.
“Of course,” Lark told him. She reached beneath the tree and found her gift for Johnny. “Here…though I’m worried as to whether or not you’ll like it.”
“If it’s from you, I know I’ll like it,” Johnny said.
“Now there ya go,” Tom said from the sofa.
Lark looked over to see the two underwear-clad men nodding. Slater looked to Tom and said, “That boy’s even smarter than he looks.” Tom nodded again and chuckled. Slater changed the tone of his voice and, imitating Johnny, said, “If it’s from you, I know I’ll like it.”
Weathered Too Young Page 20
