Gifts of Love

by Lisa Kleypas

  Over the river and through the wood,

  To grandfather’s house we go;

  The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh,

  Through the white and drifted snow…

  Observing Hale and Prudence together, Laura decided her brother was truly smitten with her. She glanced at Jason to see if he had noticed Hale’s unusual behavior. Jason read her thoughts exactly. He bent his head and whispered to her. “I expect your father would approve of a match between the Prescotts and the Warrens.”

  “Not entirely,” she whispered back. “The Warrens are rich in respectability but poor in common sense. Their family fortune has shrunk to almost nothing. And Father has always wished for Hale to marry a girl with an impressive dowry.”

  “Hale could try working.” They were both aware that Hale’s position at a Boston bank was little more than a sham, designed to protect the Prescotts’ interests. The genteel occupation was common among young men of Hale’s position in society. It would have been slightly vulgar for him to be seen actively working to accumulate wealth, as if he were one of the immigrant nouveaus.

  “A Prescott?” she asked doubtfully.

  Jason grinned. “Not easy to imagine, I’ll admit.”

  Hale interrupted them indignantly. “Here now, what are you two whispering about? I feel my ears burning!”

  Before Laura could reply, the line of sleighs came to a stop. Jason half-rose from the seat and stared far ahead of them, using a gloved hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the snow. “Looks like a tree limb blocking the path,” he said, jumping down. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “I’ll lend a hand,” Hale said, and leapt after him.

  Laura and Prudence were left with the curious, excited children. Wilfred, Sophia’s small and bespectacled ten-year-old son, gazed at the inviting drifts of snow. “Aunt Laura, can I get out? Just for a minute?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said cautiously. “I’m certain we’ll be under way at any moment.”

  “Just for a minute,” Wilfred wheedled, and Millicent took up the plea.

  “Aunt Laura, can I go with him? Please, Aunt Laura—”

  “I don’t think—” Laura began, and Wilfred interrupted.

  “Why, the others are all getting out!” the boy said hotly. “And they’re…why, they’re throwing snow b—”

  Prudence shrieked as a soft white clump of snow flew past her ear. Suddenly the air was filled with happy shrieks and pelting snowballs. Wilfred leapt out of the sleigh and scampered to a nearby tree, scooping up a handful of fluffy snow on the way.

  Laura set Millicent aside and stumbled after the boy. “Wilfred! Children, all of you behave! There is no—” She ducked with a gasp as a snowball came flying toward her and landed on the ground behind her. “Who threw that?” she demanded, trying to sound authoritative. The scene was chaos, men and women ducking and throwing, children screaming with delight.

  Laura burst into laughter, running as fast as she was able to the protection of her own tree. Leaning against it, she tore off her mittens and began packing her own snowball. She felt like a little girl again, free and uninhibited.

  Jason made his way back to the last sleigh, keeping his head low. The vehicle was empty. He looked around quickly, wondering where the hell his wife had gone. It was certain that she was not participating in this free-for-all—she was probably hiding somewhere until it was over.

  “Look here, Moran!” Hale’s voice came from far ahead of him, and Jason turned quickly enough to evade a hurtling snowball. Jason returned the fire, hitting Hale squarely in the chest. Hale clutched the white splotch of snow on his coat and keeled over clownishly, causing a multitude of children to yelp happily and fall on top of him.

  Jason chuckled and began to stride toward the squirming pile of youngsters. Suddenly he felt a solid thump between his shoulder blades. Spinning around in surprise, he saw the flap of a black cloak from behind a tree. His eyebrows drew together. Laura? No, his timid, docile wife would not have dared. Another snowball hurtled toward him, and he avoided it deftly, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. He saw a pair of discarded mittens on the ground. “Laura?” he said, perplexed.

  His wife peeked at him from behind the tree, the plume on her hat dancing. Her eyes sparkled with merriment, but there was also an alert quality in her expression. It was clear that she had no idea if he would lose his temper or not.

  With an effort Jason cleared the astonishment from his face. He felt a smile twitching at his mouth. “So you want to play…” He reached down to scoop up a handful of snow and began to stalk her.

  Understanding what he intended, Laura shrieked and fled, gasping with laughter. “No, Jason! Remember, I’m your wife!”

  Her skirts slowed her down, but she darted among the trees, venturing deeper into the woods. Hastily she flung clumps of snow behind her. She felt a small thwack on her posterior. His aim was deadly. “I surrender!” she called out, her voice quivering with laughter. “Jason, I surrender wholeheartedly!”

  But Jason was nowhere to be seen. “Where are you?” she called, turning in circles. “I admit defeat!” She packed a snowball together as quickly as possible, in case he refused to be a gracious victor. “Jason?” There was a crunch of ice behind her. Whirling around, she saw Jason just before he pounced on her. She gave a short scream and tried to hit him with the snow, only to send them both falling to the plush white-blanketed ground.

  Jason twisted to cushion the fall with his own body, then rolled over, pressing Laura into the snow. His husky laughter mingled with her giggles, and he raised himself on his elbows to stare into her face. “Surrendering wholeheartedly,” he said, “means laying down your weapons.”

  “I didn’t have a white flag to wave.”

  “Your aim is good,” he said.

  “You make a large target.”

  He grinned and picked up a large fistful of snow, brandishing it threateningly.

  “I’ve already surrendered!” she squeaked, covering her face with her wet hands.

  He dropped the snow and pulled her hands away, keeping hold of her wrists.

  Her smile faded as she stared at his dark face and felt the weight of him between her thighs. He stopped smiling at the same instant, his gaze falling to her lips. She remembered the way he had kissed her in the breakfast room—the hot, wet interior of his mouth, the urgent hardness of his body. He was going to kiss her again…

  “Has the tree limb been taken care of?” she asked.

  “Yes. We should be leaving soon.” Jason drank in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her half-closed eyes, the crystal-white puffs of her breath in the air. He wanted to take her right here, in the cold and the snow, wanted to sink into her slim, exquisite body and feel her mouth open and sweet underneath his.

  He loosened his gloves finger by finger and pulled them off. With one fingertip he stroked a damp tendril of hair off her forehead. “Are you cold?” he murmured.

  She shook her head blindly. The cloak kept her insulated from the dampness of the snow, and the length of her body pressed to his felt as if it was glowing with heat. His fingertips moved over the sides of her face like points of fire, trailing to her jaw and tilting her chin up. His breath was like steam against her skin.

  She lifted her icy-wet fingers to his face, timidly exploring the line of his cheekbones, the tips of his slanting eyebrows. His head angled over hers, and his lips nudged hers in a velvet-soft kiss. With a small sound of pleasure, she slid her arms around his neck, and then the glittering white world around them seemed to fade away. He brushed another savoring kiss over her mouth, and then another, until her lips parted and she unconsciously pulled at his neck to bring his mouth harder against hers.

  He gave it to her as strongly as she wanted it, allowing his hunger to dictate the movements of his lips, his tongue. Her slim fingers combed through his midnight-black hair and kneaded the back of his neck. Deliberately he tightened his knees on her t
highs, and she arched into his body with astonishing fervor. The fact that she was responding to him at last made him as shaky as a boy with his first woman. The frightening truth was that he needed her as he had never needed anyone. She was his, and she alone could take away the loneliness and nameless hunger he had felt ever since he could remember. She was his, and he wanted her to acknowledge it with her body and her heart.

  “Laura,” he said, burying his mouth in her neck. “Laura—”

  Hale’s drawling voice was a shock to both of them. “You two are the most disgraceful pair of chaperones I’ve ever seen.”

  Laura started at the intrusion. Her eyes flew open and she tried to struggle wildly to a sitting position. The skirts and petticoats tangled around her legs, weighting her down.

  “Easy—it’s only Hale,” Jason said, filling his lungs with a deep breath of cold air.

  “Don’t let him tease,” she whispered, clutching the front of his coat. “Not about this.”

  “No,” Jason said soothingly. “I’ll kill him if he tries.” He stood up and reached down for her. She took his hands and allowed him to pull her upright. Then she was utterly still, her crimson face averted as he reached around her to brush the snow from her cloak.

  Hale regarded them both with a self-satisfied smile. His mustache twitched like a cat’s whiskers. “A nice respectable married couple,” he continued mischievously, “should be doing their utmost to preserve order and propriety, and instead I find you here rolling in the snow like some—”

  “Enough, Hale,” Jason said curtly.

  He looked surprised. “Why, Laura, you aren’t embarrassed, are you? I’m your brother, and besides—”

  “Hale,” Jason said in a voice of warning, and even Laura felt her spine tingle at the sound of it.

  Hale sobered immediately. “The others are climbing back into the sleighs. I came to find you before your absence became widely noticed.”

  Jason regarded him sardonically. “Thanks.”

  “No thanks necessary,” Hale said, and gestured for them to accompany him. “I’ll go back with you.”

  “No.” Jason shook his head, pulling Laura’s unresisting form closer to his. “Go on ahead. We’ll be there soon.”

  “Don’t take long.” Hale looked at Jason over Laura’s head, gave him a brilliant smile, and raised his hand in the gesture of a victorious prizefighter.

  Jason scowled at him and pointed threateningly toward the sleighs. Hale left with all due haste.

  Laura, who had missed the exchange, wedged her arms against Jason’s chest to keep from being too close to him. She couldn’t think when she was near him. He straightened her hat and pulled out the broken red plume, handing it to her apologetically. She accepted the bedraggled feather and looked at Jason with dismay.

  “I’ve never seen such a blush,” he said huskily, and hugged her to him.

  Her arms crept around his back. “Shouldn’t I blush?” she asked, her voice muffled in the front of his coat.

  “Not with me.” He kissed her forehead, and she shivered at the masculine scrape of his jaw.

  Laura could not fathom the reason for his sudden tenderness. Perhaps he had decided to play some sort of game with her. “Jason,” she said bravely, “things cannot change between us, not in the course of a few days.”

  “Yes, they can.” His thumb stroked the side of her neck, lingering at her pulse. “For the past two months I’ve let my pride stand in the way of what I really wanted. That’s going to change. We know as little about each other as we did on our wedding day. And that”—he kissed the side of her throat—“is damn well going to change.”

  Laura was silent and troubled, wanting suddenly to cry. It was all happening too fast. How could she give herself to him when she knew all too well that he could turn cruel in one capricious moment?

  Jason read her expression and experienced the taste of bitter regret. She was so young, and he had hurt her in ways he had not understood until now. “I won’t hurt you, Laura,” he said quietly. “Not anymore. And I’ll have your trust no matter what it takes.”

  The evening was filled with games, amusing stories, and music at the piano. After dinner the guests gathered in the parlor, which originally had been two smaller rooms which Sophia had converted into one large one. Laura sat with Sophia and a group of married women while they laughed and discussed the latest happenings in Boston. The unmarried girls had formed their own group a short distance away, while the men congregated around the fireplace or puffed on cigars in Judge Marsh’s smoking room down the hall.

  Laura could not keep her eyes from her husband. As usual, Jason was dominating the group in his own charismatic way. What he lacked in sophistication he made up for with the spark of irreverence that was quintessentially Irish. Jason never seemed to be bored except when confronted by a particularly starchy Bostonian, and then he was capable of saying or doing something just outrageous enough to make everyone laugh. Because he made no pretenses about his background, no one guessed at his sensitivity about it. He was fully aware that there were many who enjoyed the appearance of friendship with him, but few who would have tolerated the idea of him marrying into their families.

  Toward the end of the evening Laura noticed that Jason had become quieter than usual, his gaze frequently diverted toward her. She could feel him staring at her, and when she looked back there was an intent gleam in his eyes that made her flustered. She nervously declined when Sophia pushed her to play the piano, but her older sister was insistent.

  “Do play something for us, Laura. Something lively.”

  “I can’t. I’m sadly out of practice,” Laura said.

  “But why? You used to play all the time before…” Sophia stopped, but Laura knew she had been about to say before you married Jason.

  Laura stiffened as she felt Jason’s hand at her back. “Play something,” he said quietly.

  She felt a spark of indignation at what sounded very much like an order. She knew that Jason liked to show off his accomplished wife—he wanted her to play for the same reason he dressed her in fine clothes and jewels. Well, if he was determined to put her on display, he could share the limelight!

  She turned her head to regard him challengingly. “If you turn the pages for me.”

  His dark gaze did not waver from hers. “All right.”

  “Splendid,” Sophia exclaimed, rifling through pieces of music to find what she wanted. “It’s a pity you cannot play, Jason, otherwise I would choose something you could do together. I suspect you never had the patience for lessons, hmmm?”

  He smiled. He did not point out that pianos and music lessons had not been a great concern for a family that had scratched and clawed for every penny. “Page-turning is one of my more underappreciated talents,” he said, guiding his wife to the piano bench and helping her sit. He arranged the music in front of her. “Now, Laura,” he said silkily, and she knew he was enjoying her annoyance, “when it is time for me to turn, just nod your head.”

  She glared at him discreetly. “I’d rather kick your leg.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “You’re full of surprises today,” he said. “I’m beginning to wonder if my Irish temper hasn’t rubbed off on you.”

  She began to enjoy being pert with him. “My temper is entirely my own.”

  “I didn’t know Bostonians had tempers.”

  “They do,” she said crisply. “The slow-burning kind.”

  “Better to let out their anger at once and have done with it.”

  “I doubt you’d enjoy having a wife who gave vent to explosions of temper whenever she felt inclined.”

  “You’re wrong,” Jason said, resting his weight on one leg and draping his forearm on the piano. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead as he stared down at her. “I’d enjoy having her very much.”

  Laura’s cheeks turned apple-red. She touched her fingers to the keys and tried desperately to remember how to play. There was no possibi
lity of getting through the piece without making countless blunders. Not when he was near—not when he was in the same room with her.

  But somehow her hands moved, recalling the sprightly melody with ease, and she did not falter. His lean fingers turned the pages at just the right pace. And all the time she was so terribly aware of him. When he leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed hers, she felt an unfamiliar ache in her breasts.

  She finished the piece with a short sigh of relief and graciously accepted compliments from Sophia and the others. Jason helped her up, his hand strong at her elbow, and someone else took her place at the piano.

  “Well done,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Laura wished he would take his hand from her arm. She could not help remembering what had happened earlier today, the weight of his body pressing hers into the snow, his demanding mouth teaching her things she had been innocent of.

  “Why don’t you play for me at home?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t wish to,” she said bluntly.

  He scowled, drawing her to the side, away from the others’ observation. “Why the hell not?”

  “Jason, your language—”

  “Tell me why not.”

  Recklessly she cast aside her fear of his temper and told him. “Because I would not like having to perform at your command, whenever you wish to be entertained, or whenever we have guests you wish me to play for like some…. some trained monkey!”

  “Dammit, Laura,” he said softly, “I won’t be blamed for depriving you of something you enjoy. If you don’t feel like playing when I want you to, tell me to go to hell.”

  In spite of their quiet tones, the tension between them was perfectly apparent. Laura sensed the glances being directed their way, and she straightened her spine until it resembled a fireplace poker. “I won’t be drawn into public arguments with you,” she whispered sharply. “That may be done where you come from, but it’s not done in Boston society!”

  “It’s done all the time in the North End,” Jason said, relaxing a little, sliding his hands into his pockets. “And my grandparents thrived on it in County Wexford. Perhaps we should give it a try once in a while.”