My Valentine

by Sheridon Smythe

  Horrified, she froze as snatches of memories came back to her. Christian, asking her about the will, and if Callie had left her anything; Christian, suggesting she use her ‘nest egg’ to pay for the pearls she'd lost; Christian, getting angry when she mentioned the valentine because he didn't know the rubies were attached to the valentine—

  With a sharp intake of breath, Rosalyn focused on the blurred features of her Mr. Brown, now Christian Garret. A liar and a thief. A callous seducer. A talented breaker of hearts. “You took Miss Howland's pearls!"

  Expressionless, he nodded, his black curls gleaming in the lamplight. Whatever secrets he possessed were hidden beneath lowered lids.

  Rosalyn tore her gaze away, sharp, painful regret making her chest ache. The tears began to build, but she was determined this man would never again see her cry.

  Most unfortunately, she could do nothing about the hoarse whisper that emerged because of the tears she held inside. “Y-you planned the entire thing, didn't you? You hoped I would come to you when I couldn't find the pearls, and by suggesting I repay Miss Howland with my ‘nest egg', I would tell you about the rubies."

  His silence confirmed the accuracy of her guess. Damn him! Damn him to Hell and back, he'd put her and Miss Howland through the horror of believing the pearls gone! In a furious, choked whisper, she continued to lay the puzzle out piece by piece. Later she would lash herself for her stupidity in not seeing through his tricks. “When I didn't mention the rubies, you sent Willis to return them as if they had been lost, when you actually took them while pretending—” Oh, it hurt! “—pretending to—to—"

  "I wasn't pretending.” A muscle ticked visibly in his jaw.

  Rosalyn laughed, and to her immense satisfaction, the scornful sound brought a flush to his neck and face. Good! But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. “How far were you planning to take it? Until I finally buckled under your cold-blooded seduction and you had your fun?” She had to know, even if his answer killed her. The way her heart felt right now, she thought it just might.

  Christian rose and went to stand before the warm stove as if her words chilled him. Rosalyn didn't think for a moment that she held such power, but she could dream.

  The deep glow in his eyes warned her to guard her heart. Rosalyn grabbed her cup and curled her fingers around the handle, ready to throw it at him.

  "There wasn't anything cold-blooded about my wanting you. I care about you, Rosalyn."

  He cared about her? She gave a disbelieving laugh. If this was the way Christian Garret cared about people, then she would decline, thank you very much. “Hogwash, Mr. Garret."

  He crossed his arms and her eyes dipped as his shirt tightened across his chest with the movement. Her fingers had caressed that hard wall, felt the muscles bunch beneath her hands ... Angry with her helpless attraction, she focused her gaze on the intricate carvings of Callie's china cabinet instead.

  "It's the truth."

  Rosalyn steeled herself, refusing to listen to the low, persuasive sound of his voice as he attempted to lure her into his web again. No, it wouldn't work. She knew the truth now. It was all just a game to Christian Garret, and she was the puppet. What a great entertainment she must have been! The sting of humiliation would be slow to fade.

  She had one more question—no—three. After that, she would tell Mr. Garret-Brown to go straight to Hell. “Why is this necklace so important to you? After all these years it's been in Callie's possession ... why this major undertaking to get it back now?” And why me? she thought, but didn't ask. Had Callie mentioned in her letters to him she planned to leave the necklace—valentine—to her? But no, because surely Callie would have also have mentioned the necklace had been dismantled, and now the heirloom graced a valentine. Besides, Rosalyn had taken the dictation herself and would have remembered.

  Christian raked his hand through his hair, frowning as if he wasn't certain of the answer himself. Rosalyn hardened her heart as he said, “It belongs to my grandmother. She wants it back."

  Rosalyn lifted a sardonic brow. “She wants it back.” Understandable, actually.

  If it were true. She didn't believe it was. What she believed was Christian Garret was a greedy man, and although she suspected he possessed more money than he could spend in his lifetime, he was like a child who hoarded his candy.

  Someday, he'd eat it all and make himself sick. She hoped. Now on to her next vital question, although she suspected she already knew the answer. “You think I have the necklace."

  He straightened away from the stove and shoved his hands in his pockets. His look challenged her. “It wasn't here, and it wasn't with Mr. Toombs."

  Ah, not exactly an accusation, she thought with rising fury. But it was—indirectly—just that. “You think I stole the rubies?"

  "Do you know where they are?” he countered, his eyes narrowing in a way that should have frightened her, but didn't.

  She thought quickly, starting as she realized she'd been so excited over finding the pearls, she'd forgotten to take the ruby valentine back to her room. In fact, she could honestly say she didn't know where they were at this moment.

  Pleased with her smart thinking, she feigned a casual shrug. “Actually, I can't say that I do.” And it was true. Silently, she prayed Miss Howland or the housekeeper had noticed the valentine in the parlor, and had put it back in her room.

  Her answer obviously didn't satisfy Christian. “Are you saying you don't have them?"

  Now he was going for her throat, Rosalyn thought, coming slowly to her feet. She lifted her chin and fought for composure, determined to leave with her dignity intact. “I don't have them.” An indirect lie. “Has it occurred to you, Mr. Garret-Brown, that Callie might have given the rubies to someone she loved? That she might have wanted someone to have them—someone other than yourself?"

  He caught her arm as she tried to make her exit, ruining her parting shot. The pointed glance she gave his hand went unnoticed.

  "Someone like you?"

  She stiffened and attempted to distract him with the last question she intended to ever ask him. “Why didn't you answer her letters? Didn't you care she was dying?"

  He flinched, but didn't loosen his hold on her arm. “I didn't get her letters."

  This time Rosalyn didn't have to force a laugh. “Liar!"

  He jerked her against him. Their breaths mingled, their lips mere inches apart. Rosalyn lowered her lashes, refusing to let him see she might be just a tad frightened. The trembling she could do nothing about. Neither could she erase the memory of what happened between them upstairs a short time ago, as her body clearly and embarrassingly reminded her. How could she be so aware of him, and scared of him at the same time?

  "I'm not lying, Rosalyn.” Tipping her chin, he forced her to look at him. She did so against her better judgment. “And I wasn't lying about caring about you, or wanting you. Give me the necklace so I can give it back to its rightful owner ... and come to New York with me.” He closed in on her mouth, letting his lips hover so close she felt an involuntary puckering of her own.

  Rosalyn swallowed a whimper. If only she had never met him! Then she wouldn't be having this unfair battle with her body. Yet she did have control over her mind, didn't she? She put it to the test, using every ounce of willpower she possessed to pull her face away from the sensual line of his mouth. Her gaze collided with his, his earnest, burning expression shocking her despite her efforts to resist his influence.

  She licked her dry lips, knowing she shouldn't ask but doing so nonetheless. “Why—why would I go to New York with you?"

  He smiled for the first time since coming downstairs, a slow, bewitching smile. “To be with me, of course."

  "Of course.” As in, marriage? Rosalyn didn't think so. “Just like that? Leave my job, abandon my plans for the future and run off to New York with you?” And give him Callie's ruby valentine? Ha! When pigs fly. When horses crowed. When—

  "I'll take care of you. You'll never have to
work again."

  Oh, he was so confident she would jump at the opportunity to become his kept woman! Rosalyn's desire cooled abruptly and the comfort of rage returned. Thank God. She welcomed it with open arms—it numbed the pain from her shattering heart, and kept her from making a fool of herself.

  With a strong tug, she dislodged his hand, flashing him an incredulous look he couldn't mistake. “You, Christian Garret-Brown, can take your rubies, and your grandmother, and this house—” Callie was gone, anyway “and your offer, and go straight to Hell."

  * * * *

  "Rosy, I found—"

  "Not now, Alice.” Rosalyn brushed by the young shop clerk, intent on reaching her room before she burst into tears. She'd barely held them in check during the ride home.

  "But Rosy—"

  Rosalyn hated to be rude, but she honestly needed to reach her room before she ran into Miss Howland. Ignoring the younger girl, she raced upstairs and flung her bedroom door open.

  Alice was right behind her, following her into the room. “Rosalyn, what's the matter?"

  It was too late. Rosalyn couldn't hold the tears back a moment longer, and now Alice would wonder and ask a hundred questions. Sobbing, she fell onto the bed and buried her face into the pillow, pretending she was alone. Like she wished she was.

  "Oh, Rosy! What on earth is wrong? Is—is it your Mr. Brown?"

  Rosalyn felt the bed sag as Alice sat down and patted her shoulder. Surprisingly, the shop clerk kept silent as she made a clumsy attempt to console her. When Rosalyn's sobs subsided to hiccups and shudders, she raised her wet face. “Mr. Brown? Ha! He isn't Mr. Brown at all, Alice.” A moment of confused silence followed her statement. Rosalyn wasn't surprised when Alice voiced her bewilderment.

  "Not Mr. Brown? What do you mean, Rosy?” She was looking at her as if she doubted her sanity, and Rosalyn didn't blame her. She, too, doubted her sanity, not to mention her sensibility, integrity, morality....

  She sat up abruptly, accepting the folded hanky Alice pressed into her hand. With a long, shuddering sigh, she wiped her face. Her voice wobbled. “I mean he lied to me. He's not Chris Brown, he's Christian Garret.” She nodded when Alice gasped her shock. Everyone in the workshop knew how Rosalyn felt about Christian Garret. They also knew why. “Yes, I felt the same way when I found out.” Only worse, much worse.

  "But—but why did he pretend to be someone else?"

  Oh, he had his devious reasons! “Because he thought I stole Callie's ruby necklace—"

  "But Callie didn't have a ruby necklace. The rubies are pasted to a valentine!"

  "Christian Garret doesn't know that.” Rosalyn blew her nose, so miserable she just wanted to crawl beneath the covers and die. “He claims the necklace was stolen from his grandmother, by his very own father."

  "The late Mr. Garret? Callie's husband?” Alice squeaked.

  "Yes."

  "But surely, he's not saying Callie knew about the theft."

  Rosalyn gently corrected her. “We don't know it was a theft, Alice. How can I believe someone who lies as often as he breathes?” Her nasty slur made her feel a tiny bit better. “Assuming his father really did steal the ruby necklace, Callie wouldn't have known about it."

  Just as she hadn't known her precious husband was not a widower, but a divorced man! If—if indeed, that bit of sordid information were true, also.

  Alice absorbed her words, biting her lip thoughtfully. “So, what do you do now? I take it he's claiming a right to the rubies, no matter what fashion they're in. You say he doesn't know about Callie's husband using the rubies to make a valentine for Callie?"

  Rosalyn shook her head.

  "Well, then. Tell him you don't have the necklace. You wouldn't be lying, you know."

  "I already did.” When Alice grinned, Rosalyn hastened on. “But I can't keep them. I only told him I didn't have them because I was furious about his duplicity. If he's telling the truth, then they really weren't Henry's to give to Callie, nor Callie's to give to me."

  "If, he's telling the truth,” Alice emphasized, sounding no more convinced than Rosalyn. “Blackguard. Seems you were right about Christian Garret, Rosy. At first I thought you were being a little harsh about a man you'd never met, but from now on I'll certainly trust your good judgment."

  Rosalyn was glad someone did, because she would never again trust her own. Her earlier humiliation returned as she thought about his proposition. Go with him to New York—Ha! She wouldn't go to church with him. They would probably wind up kissing on the back pew! Tears filled her eyes, and she didn't know whether they were tears of self-pity, or tears of anger.

  A little of both, she thought.

  "What will you do now?” Alice asked. She squared her jaw and folded her arms across her flat bosom. “If it were me, I wouldn't give him the time of day—much less the rubies. Callie gave them to you in good faith, and she's had possession of the rubies all those years. Seems to me if they belonged to his grandmother, he would have taken them before now."

  She couldn't have known Rosalyn had asked that very question of Christian. “He says he couldn't be so monstrous."

  Alice snorted. “Ha! I know you didn't believe that. Neither do I, and I don't know the man as well as you do."

  She had no idea just how well she did know Chris Br—Christian Garret, Rosalyn thought, her face growing warm. Thank God she'd found out before it was too late. Alice appeared to read her mind.

  "I know you think I'm young and irrational, Rosy, but broken hearts do mend, you know. Just give it time and Chris—Christian will soon be a distant, unpleasant memory."

  Oh, how she hoped this was true. “Thank you, Alice, for being such a good friend.” Rosalyn hesitated, wondering how to put the words delicately to spare Alice's feelings.

  Before she could speak, Alice said, “I won't say a word, I promise. This will be our little secret.” Alice looked comical in her seriousness. “And if I were you, I wouldn't give those jewels up unless Christian Blackheart could produce proof of ownership. I may be young, but I know there's normally some kind of documentation on something that valuable, isn't there?"

  Rosalyn shrugged. She didn't know. “Maybe. I hope you believe I'm not a thief, Alice."

  "Oh, nonsense! As if anyone would accuse our very own Cupid!"

  They hugged, Rosalyn suffering pangs of guilt for her past impatience with Alice. Seems there was more to the girl than a flapping mouth and a mischievous nature. She was very lucky to have such a friend, and doubly glad Alice had persisted in following her upstairs. Although still battered and bruised emotionally, she no longer wanted to crawl beneath the covers and die.

  If she had a wish, she would wish that Christian Garret didn't exist at all, and that Chris Brown did.

  * * * *

  "Can you see him? Has he looked at mine yet?” Someone whispered behind her.

  Rosalyn frowned, following Southworth Howland's progress as his daughter pushed the wheel chair around the worktable. The elected judge lifted his hand when the chair stopped in front of a valentine, then lowered it to signal Miss Howland to move on to the next valentine.

  "Rosy! If you're not going to tell us, then move!"

  "Shush!” Rosalyn commanded, ignoring the jostling of the girls behind her. Miss Howland had instructed them to wait in the shop—not at the doorway, but curiosity had overcome them all after fifteen minutes. Rosalyn was certain Miss Howland knew they were there, but the kind soul chose to ignore them.

  An unseen hand yanked at her hair. “Ouch!” Turning, Rosalyn glowered at her friends. “Whoever did that—I hope their chamber pot develops a leak!” she hissed.

  Several of the ladies smothered helpless giggles. Wynette, who stood directly behind Rosalyn, looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. Rosalyn arched a suspicious brow. “Wynette, did you pull my hair?"

  Wynette looked insulted. “I did not! What's he doing, anyway? Has he gotten to mine yet? Did he look at yours? Which one is he looking at now?” She tried t
o peer over Rosalyn's shoulder, but since she was at least a foot shorter than Rosalyn, the task was impossible.

  "He's looked at mine, he hasn't gotten to yours yet—isn't it on the end? And right now he's—” she squinted, “looking at Penny Pillnot's now, I think."

  "Oh, the love knot! Wasn't that ingenious of her?” Wynette sounded wistful. “I couldn't think of anything original on such short notice. I'm accustomed to Miss Howland doing the designing, and me, I just glue the roses and such on!"

  Rosalyn nodded absently, her eyes on the stoop-shouldered man in the wheel chair. His expression was one of intense concentration as he studied the valentine on the table. At Miss Howland's urging, each girl had named their valentine, writing the title on a square piece of paper and placing it at the head of the card. This would make it easier for Mr. Howland to name the winner, since they weren't allowed to put their name to the card.

  For her winter wonderland creation, Rosalyn had chosen the title, Simple Pleasures. What could be more pleasurable than staring into a loved one's eyes as the world outside became a glittering, frosted wonderland? Rosalyn blinked at the confounded moisture in her eyes, thinking of Christian Garret and his dream-shattering ability.

  Her drawing was one fantasy she didn't think she would ever experience.

  "Rosy?"

  She snapped out of her depressing thoughts. “What?” she whispered without turning around. Somehow, Alice had managed to push her way through the crowd of anxious workers. No mean feat, since they had all drawn broom straws to see who would be at the head of the line.

  "Is he—"

  "No, he hasn't looked at your valentine yet, Alice. Don't worry, you did fine.” She had helped Alice with the design, but not with the decorating. For someone who never worked on the valentines themselves, Rosalyn had been impressed with Alice's talent.

  Another ten minutes of back-jostling waiting before Miss Howland wheeled her father to the head of the table, signaling the end of the judging. Their employer waved them forward and Rosalyn found herself swept into the room by the eager workers.