A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 4)

by Caroline Lee

  He couldn’t wait.

  “Oh!” She’d pulled to a stop in front of a big store, with huge glass windows on either side of a grand entrance. Nate was used to seeing stores like this in Cheyenne, where they displayed goods in big windows to draw buyers’ attention, but this was something else entirely. The windows stood twice as high as him, and there were garlands and glittery balls and snowflakes cut from something sparkly hanging throughout. The magnificent red ball gown on display had caught Wendy’s eye, and he watched the way her eyes lingered on the impractical lace and flounces.

  He wondered how well she could see it, without her spectacles, but decided that he’d teased her enough that evening. “You’d look nice in that.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. It’s completely impractical.” Exactly what he’d been thinking. “Especially back home.” She sighed. “But it certainly is lovely, isn’t it?”

  He had to admit that she was right. “You’re right, though. It wouldn’t really work for the ranch. Maybe in Cheyenne… It’s a big city now, you know. Lots of parties, and… uh… ladies’ teas and whatnot.” She looked at him with a raised brow. “You could probably find someplace to wear something like that.”

  A laugh, the kind he’d come to cherish over the last few hours. “You really have no idea about women’s fashion, do you?”

  “None at all. I just want you to move closer to home. I’d tell you anything…” Damn. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to bring up her coming back to Cheyenne, and here he was, blabbing about it all over the street.

  But her smile was accepting, and a little sad, when she pulled him on. “No, if I moved back home, I wouldn’t want to live in the city, any more than you would.”

  “Why not? You and Serena always said that you wanted to move someplace refined, civilized.”

  “Maybe. Things change. People change.”

  Yeah. Obviously they did. What the hell was she hiding from him?

  “Oh, look!” Her excitement seemed a bit too forced to be real, but he allowed her to drag him towards another store window. There was a bunch of kids in front of this one, their noses pressed to the glass. It wasn’t hard to see why; inside were dozens of mechanical soldiers and trains and wooden horses. They were arrayed across a red dais, with an effigy of St. Nicholas overseeing them.

  “Do you remember that first Christmas together, Nate? How you’d never heard of St. Nicholas, and I read you the poem?”

  Squeezing her hand, he told her the truth. “I remember every single thing about that Christmas.” It had been the start of beautiful traditions that more than made up for his lack as a kid. Not that his brother hadn’t tried, but they hadn’t had time for frivolity. And before he met Ash, he’d never had the chance to wish for toys or sweets, like these kids or Noah and Pete. Back then, if someone had told him about the Christmas tradition of getting gifts, he would have wished for a decent meal or a break from the beatings. In fact, when Ash had taken him in, he thought all of his wishes had come true.

  Now, this Christmas, he had only one wish. And she was standing right beside him.

  Wendy was smiling, fondly now. “That was our first real Christmas since the Great Fire, you know. Molly worked so hard to make it special.”

  “She strung cranberries and popcorn into garlands and taught me and Ash how to decorate a tree with ‘em. Ash was terrible at it—remember, he had a broken arm that year? I thought that those things were a waste of good food, but it sure was pretty.”

  “I remember that we’d known you two such a short time, but when Christmas arrived, you suddenly became family.” Her arm was linked through his again, and she squeezed it against her. “I knew even then that you were something special, Nate.”

  “Wendy, I…” He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he’d always loved her. That more than anything he regretted letting her go off without telling her so. That he’d wanted to kiss her since almost the day he’d met her, but had been utterly content with just being her best friend for so long.

  But instead he cleared his throat and forced a smile. “…I should get you back, before we both freeze.” She looked confused and a little let-down. Had she guessed what he hadn’t said?

  The walk down Park to Pratte to the Blakelys’ home was quick. He marched her right up to the porch, and liked the way she turned to him expectantly. He smiled. “What?”

  “Listen, Nate, I’ve been dreading another kiss from you all night. If you’re going to do it, please go ahead and get it over with.”

  He raised a brow. “’Dreading it’?”

  “Your arrival has caused any amount of upheaval in my otherwise boring day-to-day life. Just when I thought I had everything figured out, you showed up. And just when I thought that we could go back to being friends, you kissed me.”

  “’Dreading It’?” He was teasing her now; he could tell when a woman he kissed enjoyed it, and she’d definitely enjoyed it.

  “Yes. And… possibly… looking forward to it. So, please. Just…” She took a step closer, and made an exasperated little noise. “Oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself.”

  She kissed him. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. He smiled under her lips, felt her smile back, and that was when he stopped thinking.

  Somehow, standing in the shadows of a snow-covered porch, the moon bright overhead and the building climbing up to the stars all around him, Nate was perfectly at ease. He was a stranger in a strange place, but he had Wendy.

  And Good Lord, did he have her. He let her kiss him, and liked the way she tried to take charge, even if it was obvious she didn’t quite know how to do that.

  She gave a sexy little moan of frustration, and he was lost. Wrapping his arms around her, he took over the kiss, and she gladly melted against him. He taught her how to nip and suck, how to change pressure, how to make love with her lips.

  She was a fast learner.

  He slanted his lips across hers, placing small kisses at the corner of her mouth, before moving down her neck. She groaned and tilted her head back, giving him better access to that little sensitive spot at the base of her neck, and he almost came undone then. God Almighty, but she was sexy. Was it just because he’d wanted her for so long? No, a blind man could see the sensuality she tried to keep hidden behind her strict academic façade.

  Her arms fell from around his neck, until she was clutching his shoulders. “Nate,” she gasped, and he liked the way how desperate she sounded. Like she needed something only he could give her.

  He was the one to groan this time, and moved his lips back to hers. He supported her with one arm, and reached up to gently caress her with the other. His hand dropped to her breast, bundled beneath layers of thick wool, satin and cotton. But he imagined that he could feel the nipple harden, and from her immediate reaction, he wasn’t too far off. She seemed to jump under his ministrations, giving another little desperate moan, and pressed her body against his. He was in real danger of losing his control, right here on her employers’ porch.

  A noise from the front door interrupted them, and Nate had the sense to be thankful for it. Somehow, he lost all of his restraint around her.

  It was Martin, pulling open the front door to find the two of them locked in what was definitely a passionate embrace on the front porch. Nate saw the older man’s eyes go wide, and then soften into pity, a moment before he heard a strange voice say “Well? What’s the problem? Let me out.”

  “Oh no,” Wendy breathed against his neck, “Steven.”

  Wasn’t Steven the name of the Blakely sibling that she’d mentioned in her last letter to him? The one that she thought she could be friends with? Then Martin was pushed out of the way, and the haughtily sneering man who bore so much resemblance to Mrs. Blakely that he had to be her son peer stopped short at seeing the couple on his parents’ porch.

  “Well, well.” Nate’s eyes narrowed at the other man’s amused tone. “What ha
ve we here? Entertaining vagrants now, Wendy?”

  Nate felt her stiffen in his arms, and he slowly released her, trying to keep his hands from fisting. He liked the way she didn’t look flustered, and met Steven’s gaze with aplomb, as if she’d done nothing wrong. They hadn’t, of course, but he admired her composure.

  “This is my close friend from Cheyenne, Steven. He’s come to visit.”

  “He’s doing more than ‘visiting’, I can see.” Nate wanted to wipe that smirk from the man’s pale face, but he tried to follow Wendy’s calm example. “In fact, he looks like a very close friend indeed. When he leaves, do let me know if you need another… ‘friend’ to take his place.”

  Wendy gasped at the insinuation. Nate was already moving towards the blonde man when she grabbed his hand. He rocked to a stop, wanting with all of his heart to put his fist through that sneering smile. All of the passion and frustration Wendy’s kiss had kindled in him was now directed towards violence.

  Steven could tell he’d made an enemy, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Did he think his wealth would protect him, then? “Oh, where are my manners? Do come in.” He backed out of the way, sweeping his arm aside as if inviting them both in.

  Nate would have rather tangled with a mountain lion than shared a space with this viper who seemed to take pleasure in causing hurt. But Wendy had to enter that house—in fact, she was already stepping towards the door with her head held high—and he’d be damned if he was going to let her go alone. Still holding her hand, he followed, helping her over the threshold. He could feel her vibrating beside him, but didn’t know if it was from fear or anger.

  Martin carefully shut the door behind them, but didn’t leave. Instead the older man stood at a sort of attention, occasionally flicking concerned glances Wendy’s way. Nate was glad she had at least one ally in his house.

  “Nate,” Her voice was strained, but he thought she was doing an admirable job of containing her emotion, “This is Steven Blakely, Jeremy’s brother. He lives in Salt Lake City now. Steven, this is Nathanial Barker, whose brother is married to my sister.”

  Neither man acknowledged the other with as much as a nod. Why was Steven being so… so mean to Wendy? Nate knew why he’d hated the other man immediately, but why was Steven sneering at him like he was a piece of trash? Was it just that he just as bigoted as his mother?

  “Jeremy told me you were coming today. I confess I’d forgotten.” Nate could tell that the other man didn’t appreciate being forgotten, and Steven turned his caustic expression back to Wendy. “But I can see that you’re heading out.” Indeed, the other man was dressed in what looked like a tuxedo under his great coat, complete with white cravat, top hat, and cane. Apparently when he came home to visit he really lived it up. “And we don’t want to delay you. Please feel free to come visit your brother after his lessons tomorrow.” Nate watched the muscle in her jaw jump. “I’ll be sure to leave you two alone.”

  “And why would you do that, Wendy? When you know that you’re the one I’d be there to see?”

  “You and your family give Jeremy far less credit than he deserves. He is a smart boy who will one day—”

  “Yes, yes,” Steven waved his hand theatrically, “we’ve all heard your little crusade on behalf of my invalid baby brother.” He took a step closer to her, and lowered his chin in what he probably thought was a seductive manner, all but ignoring the way she still gripped Nate’s hand. “But he’s got nothing to interest a man like me, a man with needs and… desires. You, on the other hand, interest me very much, as you may recall.” The way his gaze lewdly raked her body left his intent perfectly clear.

  Wendy gasped, and Nate couldn’t stand idle any longer. He pulled her back, placing himself between her and Steven. He opened his mouth to give this jackass a talking-to, but felt her tug on his arm first. “Just let it go, Nate.”

  “Absolutely not.” He turned back to Steven, making sure his fury was evident. “If this son-of-a-bitch—” Steven inhaled sharply at the fully intended insult, “thinks he can make lewd comments about you just because he’s rich, he’s got another thing coming.” It had been a long time since his anger had boiled over like this. He wanted to smash Steven’s face in, and was just barely containing himself for Wendy’s sake.

  “Please don’t let him push you.”

  “Push me? The man just insinuated you—”

  Steven interrupted, his voice laced with disdain. “Who’s insinuating, boy?” The term was a calculated insult that made even Martin gasp. “Although I can’t imagine why I need to defend myself to someone like you. Why in the world would you deign to be seen with a savage, Wendy, when you could have had me?”

  Nate growled then, low in his throat. “You want ‘savage’, mister? I’ll give you savage.”

  “Nate, please…”

  “What is going on here?” Mrs. Blakely’s imperious voice rang out from the upstairs landing, but Nate didn’t bother to glance her way. “Steven, I thought you’d left. Whatever are you doing—Miss Murray! Is that your Indian?”

  “Mrs. Blakely—”

  Steven interrupted Wendy. “Don’t worry, mother. I was just tossing him out.” Nate growled again, unable to help himself, and shook off Wendy’s restraining hand. “Although I wonder if I should toss Miss Murray out as well, for keeping such company…?”

  Even after all these years, Wendy knew him well. Her sharp command broke through the red rage that urged him to leap on this bastard, to tear him apart. “Nathanial Barker! Don’t you dare lower yourself to his level!”

  Steven took immediate umbrage. “My level?”

  “He needs to be taught a lesson, Wendy.”

  “Miss Murray!” He could see Mrs. Blakely sweeping down the stairs behind her son. “What is going—”

  “Nate, he’s trying to provoke you,” Wendy interrupted, “Just ignore him.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh yes, Nate,” Steven’s falsetto was mocking, “do listen to your whore.”

  Time stopped. Nate vaguely heard the sharp gasps from Wendy, Martin, and Mrs. Blakey, but he couldn’t see anything beyond the scum in front of him. Everything else faded into the distance, and in a sharp, factual way, he knew that he was going to badly hurt this man. For calling Wendy—the woman he loved—a whore.

  Eyes narrowing, Nate’s voice was deceptively calm when he asked, “You got any special rules to fighting in this city, Mr. Blakely? Meeting at high noon in the street? Or can I just go at you right now?”

  “Miss Murray—”

  This time it was Martin who interrupted the old woman. “I believe, sir, that pistols at dawn, while antiquated, is still the accepted response to a challenge.”

  Steven scoffed, a measure of doubt beginning to enter his expression. “Don’t be silly. I’m not going to duel—”

  “Good. Works for me, too.” Nate hit him hard, with a right and an uppercut that knocked the other man back. He felt that hatchet-like nose break under his fist, and grinned.

  Mrs. Blakely was screaming, and he could hear Wendy giving orders to Martin, when Steven pulled himself erect with the bannister and launched himself at Nate. He let the bastard get in two punches—both to the gut, and both ineffectual—before Nate dove back in enthusiastically. He hit Steven on the cheek, and then the jaw again, four times, five times, pushing him back.

  The dandy had obviously learned to box in a ring someplace; Nate had learned on the streets as a kid. He wasn’t ‘boxing’…he was fighting. Where he’d learned to fight, men did it to survive, not for points on a board.

  Steven didn’t stand a chance.

  When the red haze cleared, Nate was standing over Steven, who was huddled on the floor at the base of the stairs. That pitiful excuse for a man was bleeding all over his mother’s rug, and she was having some sort of fit half-way up the stairs.

  Not even breathing heavily, he turned to Wendy and was surprised by her expression. The blood had drained from her face, and she was starin
g at Steven’s crumbled body. When she turned those deep blue eyes on him, he saw accusation and despair on her face. Dear God, was she blaming him? Was she sorry he stood up for her, defended her? The idea that she disapproved of his actions hit him in the gut, harder than any blows Steven might have landed.

  “Wendy?” His whisper startled her, and when he put one hand out to her, she shied away. It was only then that Nate realized the backs of his knuckles were bloody, to match Steven’s face.

  Mrs. Blakely had subsided into a cold silence, and only then spoke. Her voice was strained, but Nate couldn’t tell if it was from her screaming, or if she was livid. Probably both. “Martin, go into the street and flag down a constable. Have this savage forcibly ejected from our house.”

  Nate smiled grimly, and nodded to her. “Don’t bother Martin, I’m leaving.” He stepped over Steven—who was moaning now—and retrieved his hat from where it had fallen. His anger was still simmering now, despite Wendy’s disapproval. “I need to scrub the stink of this place off of me anyhow.”

  The older woman didn’t seem to hear, or care. “And you, Miss Murray. You are responsible for bringing this thing into our home. I cannot believe that I allowed you such freedom, such responsibility. You are obviously tainted by marriage, and are no longer welcome here. Hopefully your influence on Jeremy can be eradicated by another tutor before he leaves for school.”

  Wendy looked ready to faint; her face was even paler, and her hands were gripped before her. But even as he watched, she drew herself up as if a stick had been inserted down her spine, and her chin rose. Before she could say anything in response, though, Nate spoke in her defense.

  “Don’t be stupid, Mrs. Blakely.” He tried not to let his anger seep through into his words, but it was hard. She was shooting herself in her own foot to dismiss Wendy because of his actions. “I’m the one you’ve got a complaint with, and I’m leaving. I’ll even leave Steven my address, so he can come find me if he wants to continue this. But don’t let Wendy go because you’re mad at me.”