A Rose at Midnight

by Jacqueline Navin

  “I?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I fear I have married a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  “A wolf and a tiger and a lamb. Hawking Park is sounding like some sort of zoo.”

  “Ah. The wonders of animal behavior are fascinating. Particularly of interest are their mating rituals. Shall I demonstrate?”

  She pushed at his hard chest. “You really are wicked.”

  “You admit it, then. You see? Now, put those things aside and let me take you upstairs. I shall show you how wicked I can be.”

  She giggled. as his lips brushed against hers. “I have already seen that demonstration, and so I shall allow that you can indeed be quite wicked.”

  “Who’s wicked?” David’s voice cut in. Caroline sprang out of Magnus’ arms and smoothed her skirts. David said, “I do love a good gossip.”

  “How do you like our tree?” Caroline asked, hoping to divert him.

  “Hmm? Oh, it’s fine indeed.” He surveyed the room. “You know, I never come in here anymore.”

  Magnus hid his disappointment at being interrupted. “I was just telling Caroline how Mother always entertained in here. Since she’s been gone, it’s hardly used. I don’t do the sort of entertaining she did, and without all those people to fill it up, it seems rather cold.”

  “Yes,” David agreed. He picked up a Dresden figurine. When Caroline saw the perfectly formed piece of porcelain, she felt a pang of insecurity about her gift. It was nothing so fine as this.

  “All Mother’s treasures,” David mused. He put the figure down and touched a huge leaded crystal bowl. “Do you remember this? When we were boys, we thought it was a birdbath!”

  Magnus stiffened, then turned away. David continued, “I remember the Christmas Mother received it. From that Russian princess or something. Do you remember her, Magnus? God, she was gorgeous.”

  Honing in on the word “Russian,” Caroline instinctively sensed this might be the beautiful Natasha. She looked anxiously at her husband. Magnus waited a moment before turning to glance at the ornate piece of Waterford. “I always hated that thing.”

  David shrugged. “Well, it’s worth a fortune if it’s worth a penny, I’ll say that much. Ah, here is the little shepherdess.” He touched a dainty figurine painted in bold pinks and greens. “I got the thrashing of my life when I set my soldiers around her in a huge battle scene under the grand piano. It was a Helen of Troy kind of thing, and the chaps were there to rescue her. See, she still bears the scars of battle.”

  Caroline moved closer to see the chip in the’ dress. “Your mother must have been furious.”

  “Oh, Mother laughed. She thought me inventive. It was Father who gave me the switch.”

  Having recovered from his momentary descent into irritability, Magnus gave his brother a critical perusal. “Father never laid a hand to you. You were the one he took pride in.”

  “He thrashed me just the same. Said I had to learn to respect Mother’s belongings, that they were precious to her.”

  “How odd,” Magnus commented, “Mother cared nothing for any of these things. It goes to show he never understood her.”

  “Nevertheless, I got my hide tanned.” Swinging to Caroline, David said, “How we must be boring you.”

  Caroline denied it. In fact, she wished they would talk more of the days when their mother entertained. Perhaps she would glean more information about the Russian princess, whom Magnus had loved.

  The growing need to know, accompanied by the pang of pain—a sensation akin to a heavy boulder being placed on her chest—were undeniable signals of a certain undesirable emotion. Despite this abundance of evidence, Caroline flatly refused to admit, even to herself, the unpleasant feeling which accompanied thinking of her husband with another woman was jealousy. Natasha was the one he had called for.

  “Caroline?”

  “Yes? Oh! My goodness, my head was a million miles away.”

  Magnus was looking at her, a warmth in his green eyes. “Considerate of you to leave your body here. It is more than passingly agreeable to my eyes, and since my brother has arrived, I am afraid looking is all I will be able to do.” He had spoken for her ears alone, yet Caroline still blushed and cast a worried look to David. He seemed not to have heard. Magnus said, “David suggested a sleigh ride. Would you like that?”

  She said she would, and went upstairs to put on her woolen pantaloons and a heavy velvet dress. Magnus appeared in the connecting doorway, which stood open as it always did these days. “Come on, do not dally or you will give me ideas.” He had changed into heavy trousers and boots and was just now pulling on a frock coat of gray flannel.

  “Let’s stop in the kitchen and have Mrs. Bronson heat us some chocolate to take with us,” she suggested. It was second nature to take his arm as they descended the stairs.

  “Go and arrange that and I shall see how the hitching of the sleigh is progressing. Meet me in the stables.”

  Without any forethought, Caroline nodded and reached up on tiptoe to drop a quick kiss on his lips. His arm caught her, holding her against him briefly before relaxing. A lazy smile curled his sensuous mouth, and his green eyes were half-hidden under heavy lids. It was a look full of passion, and her insides convulsed in response. “Go ahead,” he urged softly.

  Mrs. Bronson was delighted to provide the hot beverage. “My goodness, yes, of course you need something hot to warm your innards on a day like this. Oh, a sleigh ride’s just the thing, isn’t it? Lovely day for it, and if we get more snowfall, it’ll be as pretty as a picture out in the woods.”

  Caroline thanked her, then took the basket with the tin of chocolate and honey cakes and goodness knew what else stuffed in. “We are not camping for a week!” Caroline laughed.

  Mrs. Bronson smiled broadly, duly complimented for providing such a generous repast. “Men do work up appetites, you know. Can’t have them going hungry.”

  “Mrs. Bronson, that would be impossible with you around. How Magnus and David have not grown fat is an amazement to me.”

  David and Magnus were waiting for her, the sleigh all hitched up and ready to go. “I thought I was going to have to bring a cart,” Caroline said, indicating the heavy basket. Magnus chuckled, taking it from her and loading it in the sleigh. “Mrs. Bronson takes food very seriously,” he explained.

  “Good thing for us,” David said, peeking under the linen napkin. “Honey cakes!”

  They set out, gliding easily over the snow-covered paths that snaked through the hushed woods. Magnus managed the team expertly, bringing them to a frozen lake. David hopped out and began crunching through the snow.

  “Do you want to get out?” Magnus asked.

  “I don’t think skirts are as functional in the snow as trousers,” Caroline answered.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  She was quite warm with her thick cloak and the several rugs Magnus had tucked solicitously around her. Her feet rested on a warming pan. However, she only shrugged, giving him a satisfied look when he sidled closer and put his arm about her shoulders.

  “You are hell-bent on torturing me, aren’t you?” he murmured. His lips pressed light kisses against her forehead. She nuzzled closer. He said”No matter. I shall simply have you make it up to me later.”

  “Pray tell me what it is I am doing that needs making up for?” she asked innocently.

  “Driving me insane with wanting you, that’s what.”

  She smiled a secret smile. “That is certainly unforgivable. How shall I make amends for such a heinous thing? Perhaps I should slowly massage your back until you are quite relaxed, and then I shall remove all of your clothing. Then—”

  “That is quite enough,” he interrupted tightly. She giggled and he laughed with her. Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Remember, my little minx, it works both ways.”

  His breath tickled, and she gasped. He gave a satisfied grunt.

  David returned, saving them both from the temptation to goad their appetites further. C
aroline poured out the chocolate and they sat nibbling honey cakes and drinking as the sun angled low in the sky. Magnus’ eyes on her were like a caress, and Caroline knew she had never felt this warm, this content, this happy in her life.

  They made their way home, David treating them to boldly-voiced renditions of his favorite carols. Even Magnus seemed lighthearted, and Caroline’s spirits soared.

  They arrived home to an early dinner, and Magnus announced he was retiring early. Taking her cue, Caroline offered David an excuse, one which, judging from his tight, barely-controlled smile, he saw for what it was.

  Magnus was waiting for her, already reclining on the bed, propped up on one elbow and legs crossed at the ankles. “Ah, so you have decided to finally put an end to my misery,” he grumbled. Caroline evaded his outstretched hand, reaching out to tumble him back on the bed.

  “I believe I made it quite clear, my lord husband, exactly how I intended to make up to you my thoughtlessness in stirring your desire—as unwitting as it was, I maintain—and I intend to do it just as I described.”

  Magnus grinned, watching under hooded eyes as she undressed him, cooperating fully when she rolled him onto his stomach and began to gently knead his muscles.

  “If you think this is easing my discomfort, you are mistaken,” he muttered after a while. His voice belied the complaint, for it was low and almost slurred from deep relaxation.

  “Do pardon me,” Caroline replied. She tugged at his side, indicating he was to roll over. Touching him had heated her blood. When he stretched out on his back, she smiled at his ready state. Slowly, she undressed for him, forbidding him one touch until she was as naked as he, but she lost control of their play the minute she stretched out onto his waiting body. He tossed her on her back, and took over from there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caroline withdrew the letter from her mother and stared at it. For the thousandth time, she wondered what Magnus would say if she told him about James’ illness and asked him for the money they needed for the sanatorium fees. And for the thousandth time, she dismissed the thought. As much as she longed to be truthful, she could never tell her husband that she had deceived him. She could not risk his rejection. Not for James’ sake, nor her own.

  Thus, the problem of how to get the money was uppermost in her mind as she descended to the breakfast table. She had suffered more than a few attacks of guilt for having sold the diamond necklace. It had been done in a fit of pique. Feeling no such emotion now, she didn’t know how she could bring herself to do what she had been thinking of to cure her need.

  “Good morning.” Magnus’ voice and eyes were welcoming. David waved his fork at her in greeting, his mouth too full of kippers to speak.

  “Yes, good morning,” she said. Trying to act casual under Magnus’s scrutiny had never been easy, but after last night, the heavy weight of his gaze nearly reduced her to a blushing mess.

  Thankfully, David had swallowed, and he launched himself into the conversation. The mood lightened as Caroline selected toast and scrambled eggs from the chafing dishes and settled at the table.

  The men adjourned to discuss business. Caroline rose and squared her shoulders. Before she could change her mind, she went into the salon.

  The Dresden lady and the china shepherdess were in their place. The Waterford bowl, however, was not.

  She frowned, remembering Magnus saying he hated it. Perhaps he had removed it. It was not important, however, since it was too large for her purposes. She could hardly pilfer such an unwieldy thing.

  She picked up the Dresden lady and carried it to her room.

  Once in her chamber, she shoved the expensive statue under her bed and dashed off a quick note to Mr. Peterson, the man to whom she had sold the diamond choker. It read: If you were pleased with the jewelry, I have another object which may interest you. She included a proposed meeting date and sealed it, giving it to a footman to post.

  She sat for a long time, feeling wretched. Her mood worsened when the thought occurred to her of what Magnus would do if he ever found out she was stealing from him.

  Christmas Eve was begun by the assembling of the staff. Magnus dispensed the envelopes to each one, taking time to mention a few words of appreciation for their good service. He had never given it much thought before, but his staff was loyal and efficient, and deserved to be told so. Judging by their faces, they were quite surprised to hear him expressing such sentiments. Once again, he was struck with what a thoughtless idiot he had always been.

  Arthur took the envelope stoically, and the words Magnus uttered in a voice perilously close to breaking caused him only to frown and nod. Mrs. Gervis blinked rapidly and inclined her head. When given her envelope, and a heartfelt statement of gratitude for her cooking, Mrs. Bronson’s lips trembled and she sniffed loudly several times. When it was done, Magnus felt a sense of satisfaction at having settled his accounts—in more than just monetary ways—with these people who had been with him for years. He would probably not see another Christmas, and it was good to have said something of what they had meant to him—things he hardly realized himself until he heard his own voice speaking the words.

  When the staff was dismissed, David, Caroline and Magnus retired to the salon where the candles on the tree had been lit. It was almost cozy. Magnus reflected, sitting back with unaccustomed contentment as David went to the pianoforte and struck up a tune. Beside him, Caroline sat comfortably at ease, a half smile of pleasure playing on her lips and a faraway look in her eyes as they listened to David playing “Adeste Fideles.” As if called by his thoughts, she looked over and her smile deepened. A small, thrilling tremor ran up into his chest. Who would have thought a rake like himself would find such simple pleasure in a girl’s smile?

  He was well aware he was slipping into the very territory he had been determined to avoid from the beginning. He was becoming far too fond of his wife. Yet, he hardly cared. He, who had guarded his heart so jealously since that long-ago day when an overblown countess had shattered his tender innocence, was finding married life to be infinitely diverting.

  As David played, Magnus’s eyes traveled around the room. It was as if it had come to life again. The only difference between this year and last was Caroline. And that ridiculous giant fir propped near the fireplace, ablaze and glittering with a myriad of lights so that it looked bedecked with diamonds.

  Which reminded him. Frowning, he touched Caroline’s shoulder. “You have not worn the necklace I gave you. I thought for certain you would do so for Christmas.”

  Her lashes descended to shield the violet depths. “I forgot. I’m not used to having jewelry.”

  The sound of voices interrupted them. The village carolers had arrived. Arthur swung open the front door and the snow-flecked group gathered in the great hall. They sang “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” and “Silent Night,” then everyone went into the salon where Mrs. Bronson’s holiday wassail was waiting.

  On other years, Magnus had stood off, much as his father used to do, and watched the proceedings in a detached manner. Tonight, however, he found himself laughing and conversing with the rowdy crowd, realizing for the first time how delightfully eccentric they were.

  When they left, he pulled Caroline aside and said, “I have a gift for you.”

  “Oh, I have something for you as well.”

  He pulled a small package out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You were supposed to hang it on the tree,” she chided. Reaching into the feathery needles, she withdrew a gaily wrapped package for him.

  “You first,” he said.

  She opened the box. Inside was perfume, an expensive blend of spice and flowers, in a long; elegant atomizer. Attached to the bottle was a satin ribbon which was knotted around a ring. Caroline’s eyes widened and her hands stilled. Magnus untied the ribbon and slipped it on her finger.

  It was a wide filigreed gold band studded with a stunning array of tiny sapphires and diamonds. “It’s so beautiful!” she gasped. “I
s it another of your mother’s?”

  “No, I had this one made just for you. Blue is your color, but these paltry chips of stone cannot hold a candle to your eyes.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “Since when is your tongue so glib?” The eyes he had just praised danced, entrancing him. “Thank you, Magnus. Now open yours. I am afraid it is nothing so grand as these.”

  He complied, amused at the skitter of anticipation in his breast. The mere fact of her making the selection made the unknown object in his hands exciting.

  It was a box with a beautifully carved tiger prowling across the lid, and he smiled. The tiger. She had told him he reminded her of one, and so the trinket held a special meaning. The miniature animal was stunningly crafted, its feline beauty shown to full advantage.

  Caroline said, “I don’t even know if you have need of anything like it. It is more a decoration than functional, I suppose, but you could use it to keep your shirt studs in.”

  “Cara,” he said, “I like it very much. It is a very thoughtful gift, more so than mine.” There was a hardness in his throat he could not swallow away. “The tiger, eh? Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

  “Really? You like it?”

  “Yes, of course I do, you silly thing. Ah, look! Here we are under the mistletoe and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

  She gave him a haughty look. “You have not kissed me, either.”

  “Shall we compromise?” he offered, yanking her to him. She laughed, a flash of white teeth showing before his eyes closed and his mouth moved over hers. She always tasted delicious, like some feast out of a mythological fantasy where the more one consumes, the more one craves.

  David, with his usual absence of tact, interrupted them. “Mistletoe?” he said, angling a critical glance up at the sprigs hung overhead. Reaching for Caroline, he threw a mischievous grin at Magnus. “May I?”

  Magnus endured seeing his brother give his wife a chaste peck, marveling how that innocent kiss could make his insides burn with possessiveness. He was seized by an insane notion that perhaps David would marry Caroline after he was dead, and it made him want to roar with impotent rage.