WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS

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WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS Page 23

by Various


  Chapter Eight

  A Christmas angel walked beside him. Belle Key was his saving grace where December twenty-fifth was concerned.

  As much as he’d been determined to make this the best Christmas ever for his children, he was not sure he knew how to go about it.

  There was baking to do, presents to buy and to wrap, carols to sing, and good cheer to be spread. Oh, and Santa to be watched for.

  On his own, he’d have fumbled it.

  Looking at her, watching her smile, admiring the holly-green sparkle in her eyes, there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her.

  Wanted to, and would.

  To his way of thinking, the courting had begun. Last night he’d touched the lady’s hand, and admittedly left her fair fingers dirty.

  That smudging, though, was proof that he had worked up the nerve and taken the first step.

  Of course he didn’t know what she thought of that. For all he knew, she might not have recognized the friendly gesture as courting.

  Could be she only thought he was grateful that she would help with Christmas. Which he was.

  If he survived the next hour attending church with his children, then the pageant meeting afterward, and if the weather held, he would ask her to go skating at the pond tonight.

  If she accepted, he would be a grateful man.

  He was as nervous as a mouse without a hidey-hole.

  Sitting in a middle pew, he bowed his head but kept one eye open to make sure Jack did not tug the bow tied on the braid of the little girl sitting in front of him.

  What Roy had to offer was not what every woman wanted. Life in a quiet town with four young children might be some women’s nightmare.

  While the preacher led his flock in a prayer asking for peace and goodwill, Roy asked that Belle Annie would not see a future with him as a bad dream.

  With the preaching and the prayers ended, folks came up to thank him for rescuing Miss and Mrs. Key.

  It would be interesting to see what changed when, in fifteen minutes, the meeting began for the pageant.

  He reckoned that he wouldn’t be such a hero then.

  When the service ended, the children went to play in the social room with Grannie Em their appointed guardian.

  Belle stood on the far side of the sanctuary, speaking with Mrs. Farley. Hell’s business if she didn’t look as pretty as a snowflake in her donated dress.

  He worked his way toward her, anxious to offer his arm for the walk to the store.

  Suddenly a large, firm hand latched onto his arm.

  “Just the big brave man I need to escort me down the steps,” Beulah Banks declared. “I can’t imagine why Mrs. Brown thought these shoes would be a fit for me. They are miles too big.”

  Too small more likely, Roy figured. Beulah’s mouth was pinched and she hobbled beside him with a limp.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you saved my life—Roy.”

  “I didn’t.” He glanced back at Belle and Mrs. Farley, who walked behind him. “You were already in the yard when I got there,” he reminded Beulah.

  “Oh, yes, but the sight of you heartened me. Who is to say that I might not have dropped dead of an apoplexy had you not been there.”

  “You seem a sturdy sort, Miss Banks. That sad event was unlikely.”

  “Oh, no, I’m as delicate as a feather.” Miss Banks blinked her eyes, looking like a startled owl. “I’ve been pining for a big strapping man to take care of me.”

  He heard a sound—a snort. He didn’t look behind to see who expressed it, but it would have been Belle or Mrs. Farley.

  “I reckon he’ll come along one day,” he said.

  “I do believe he already—”

  “Look, Beulah! Here we are in front of the store.” Mrs. Farley swept up beside them, took Miss Banks by the arm. “Maybe there will be some smaller shoes for sale.”

  To his great relief, Mrs. Farley escorted her cellmate into the general store.

  The snort came again. This time beside him. He glanced down to see Belle grinning up at him.

  “Will the wedding be before Christmas? Your intended seems in a hurry.”

  The words wedding and Christmas coming from her mouth put a lovely vision in his head—but not of Beulah.

  In his mind’s eye he saw Belle in his bedroom, slowly unfastening the buttons of a satin wedding gown, her gaze on him soft with love.

  “Will you go skating with me tonight? I reckon we’ll need a pleasant hour after facing the pageant dragons.”

  “If you can convince them to sing ‘Silent Night’ in peaceful harmony and drink their Christmas punch without a dash of whiskey, then yes, I’ll go.”

  “I’ll give it my best.” He’d give it more than that. He really did want to be alone with her tonight.

  “Better get inside before your sweetheart misses you.”

  “Keep close, Belle—please.”

  Going inside the store, he spotted ice skates for sale.

  His spirits lifted.

  He’d give a month’s pay for the skates without blinking.

  * * *

  At nine o’clock that night, Roy began to court Belle Annie Key in earnest.

  He carried the shiny new skates over his shoulder while she walked beside him toward the frozen pond.

  Even though he hadn’t convinced the citizens of Pinoakmont to drink Christmas punch without whiskey, they had agreed to a group singing of “Silent Night” and “O Holy Night.”

  Luckily that had been enough to make Belle agree to step out with him.

  “I hope the children don’t wear your grandmother out playing Find the Penny.”

  “I doubt it,” she said, gazing into the windows of the closed shops that they passed by. She must be thinking of all she had lost and all she needed to replace.

  The pretty blue bonnet she had just paused to admire would make a nice Christmas gift.

  Or not.

  Given the brief time he’d known her, the gift might not be appropriate.

  “If anything, they are good for Grannie.” She slid her gaze away from the berry-bedecked bonnet to look at him. “Her eyes seem brighter—she smiles more often these days. I’m sure it has to do with the children. She always wanted a house full of babies, but all she got was my mother and that was late in life, and then me.”

  He’d like to say that the same was true for him—that since he met her, he smiled for no particular reason. Emotionally, life had been dim for a very long time. Now, light was creeping in.

  As much as he wanted to tell her so, he knew it was too soon for such declarations.

  “Your grandmother is good for them, too.” That declaration was as easy to speak out loud as it was true.

  Moments later the pond came into view, its glassy surface reflecting the bright globe of the moon.

  As he’d hoped, no one else had ventured out on this cold, breezy night.

  Conditions were right for a kiss under the stars—he hoped.

  He had a feeling—a good one—that once he tasted her lips, life would never be the same.

  Roy led Belle to one of the benches surrounding the pond. Tree branches scraped against each other. At this time of night the park was isolated, the setting intimate.

  He placed the lantern he carried on the ice. It cast a soft yellow glow over the glossy surface.

  Sitting, he took off his boots and put on the new skates. Beside him, Belle did the same, tugging and pulling the stiff new leather over her stockings.

  “Here, let me help.”

  He knelt in front of her, yanking the laces. His shoulder brushed her knee. She shifted away from him, but not at once.

  “For a man, you’re skilled at tying bows.”
r />   “I practice by candlelight. Wouldn’t want my girls to be embarrassed in front of their friends who have mothers to do it.” He gave a final tug on the double fancy bow he fashioned on Belle’s skate, then nodded in satisfaction. “Thanks for coming out, even though I didn’t get my way with the spirits.”

  “The truth is, it was a trying meeting—a trying week. I need this respite as much as you do. I’m beginning to wonder if we can pull this pageant off peacefully.”

  Her smile down at him was warm, her lips as pretty as sugarplums. He could taste the sweetness, even without an actual kiss.

  “Would you like to skate now? Or just take a minute to sit here, feel the peace and quiet?”

  “Isn’t there something so beautiful about snow and moonlight? Let’s sit awhile and breathe it all in.”

  He rose from his crouch then sat down beside her, closer than a casual friend would sit—but not as close as a lover.

  “You are a good father, Roy.”

  He hadn’t always been, not like some men were, but he was trying his best to change that.

  “There’s a lot to learn. Every day I wake up and find something I’m still doing wrong.” He let out a long breath, watched the vapor curl away into the dark. “But the truth is, I love every minute with my children. I never knew I was missing out on so much.”

  Reaching over, he took her gloved hand in his and held it. When she didn’t snatch it away, he squeezed her fingers.

  Her smile at him was one of the loveliest and most welcome things he had ever seen.

  “Tell me about you and your grannie. What exactly is your connection to Pinoakmont?”

  For a second she glanced down and away, but her smile held.

  “I’m here because of Grannie.” Her fingers clenched but he wasn’t sure she was aware of it.

  “Does she have a connection with the town because of the man? This isn’t a place folks just come to.”

  “No, the man is something of a dream. Pinoakmont is as far as we could go with the money I had.” He felt she was telling the truth—but not completely.

  A dog barked in the distance; an owl hooted.

  The secret she kept moved behind her eyes. He saw it in the shadow dimming her expression.

  “What is it that’s troubling you, Belle? Maybe I can help.”

  “I’m sure you—” All of a sudden, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “The truth is, ever since Grannie Em’s stepson sold her house and ran off with her money, we don’t have much. We move from one boardinghouse to another making do with what I earn by mending and sewing.”

  A ghost of the man he had been urged him to leap onto the nearest horse and chase the criminal down.

  “I’ll wire a friend. Maybe if we catch him, some of your grandmother’s property can be recovered.”

  “He’s already in prison.” She gave him an odd look, one that made him think he ought to know that already. “Of course, everything is still gone so it’s only a slight comfort to know he’s getting his due.”

  “How quick are you with a needle? The girls need new dresses for the pageant.” They didn’t, but something pretty would make them happy and give Belle some income.

  “I’ll need to make the manger baby. And I was working on something for Beulah that burned up. But I’d rather sew dresses for Lorraine and Delanie.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Now that he thought about it, seeing his babies’ eyes light up when they put on their new dresses would cheer his own heart.

  “You’d appreciate it even more if you knew that the gown I was working on for Beulah was meant to turn your head. She does have her cap set on you.”

  As far as caps being set went—his was set on Belle. It might be unwise to feel so drawn to Belle, given that he barely knew her. But that was why he’d invited her here tonight—to change that. To see if just maybe she felt the draw for him that he felt for her.

  He lifted her hand, kissed the fingertips of her glove. As kisses went, that wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Just as soon as the moment felt right he would taste her star-dappled lips.

  “Let’s skate,” he said, then stood to offer his arm.

  Chapter Nine

  Belle glanced up into the invitation of Roy’s whiskey-brown eyes. What would it have been like to actually feel the warmth of his lips on her fingers, flesh to flesh?

  She considered the gloved hand he offered.

  Conflicting emotions lined up inside of her like combatants on a battlefield.

  The warriors on one side waved spears and swords, demanding justice for the wrong he’d done—but on the other side—well, her heart was all but laying itself on the ground in surrender.

  Roy was ready to move on with his life—he considered doing it with her. She knew this as much as she knew her heart was beating triple time.

  It was why they were here at the pond, to see if something would grow between them.

  No, that was not quite right. Something was growing and had been since the beginning. Tonight was to see if the seed could be nurtured.

  The bond that was budding between them had the possibility of developing and blooming into something beautiful.

  If she would let it.

  What if she forgot about the ring? What if she pretended that they had just happened to meet like a man and woman would—casually, by chance and not deceit.

  A vision teased her mind. She was the happy mother of half a dozen sweet children, in a home of her own where she and Grannie were forever safe. No more moving on, wondering if the next boardinghouse would be warm or drafty. Or if it would burn down because of a careless smoker.

  The problem with this vision was that her grandmother might not be there to enjoy it. Could Grannie really know she was going to die? Probably not, but a broken heart could cause loss of appetite, loss of life’s joy. That would be devastating for someone her age.

  “I’d like to skate,” she answered after a pause.

  Impossible imaginings and out-of-control emotions swirled inside her like madly flying snowflakes. Hopefully, exercise would soothe her.

  She gave him her hand and was struck by his warmth. Not physical warmth, of course; two pairs of wool gloves prevented that. But from the speculation in his gaze, the masculine tug of his smile—understanding what he wanted from her—she was well aware of the heat building inside him.

  Did he recognize that an answering steam was simmering within her?

  If he didn’t, he would in a moment. Before a blush could give her away, she snatched her hand out of his.

  In the end, there was nothing she wanted more than to glide round and round on the pond, pretending that nothing existed beyond the ice scraping under her skates and the cold breeze brushing past her face.

  There was absolutely nothing she wanted more in the world—except, maybe, to respond to the seductive invitation radiating from the man gliding along beside her.

  There was no ring, no theft of it and no resisting where her heart was leading.

  For now she would put away her suspicion of Roy and learn who he was at heart. Discover if Grannie had the right of it and perhaps he did deserve forgiveness if he asked for it.

  Glancing sidelong at his profile, so handsome in the cold moonlight, she saw a man who had known grief. One who had given up the career he was devoted to for the sake of his children. He was a man doing his best to provide a life for those he loved.

  In that, he was not so different than she was. He would do anything for his children just as she would do anything for her grandmother.

  “This is so very peaceful,” she murmured. “I could go on all night without stopping.”

  “Do you like me, Belle?”

  “Of course.” More than was wise. “You carried me and Grannie out of the fire
. We are forever grateful for that.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Any lawman would have done the same. Do you like me—as a man?”

  “I like you.” Blamed if she didn’t feel fondness embedding its tender little roots into her heart.

  Maybe she shouldn’t, but she offered her hand. When he took it, the joining of their fingers felt—right. Almost as though it was fate between their palms and not wool.

  What a silly, fanciful thought.

  All of a sudden the pace Roy set slowed. He twirled her about, then drew her against his chest.

  She felt the quick thump of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath as it fogged between his mouth and hers.

  Her inner warriors rattled their spears and swords in warning, but in the end, they tossed their weapons down.

  When he kissed her, she surrendered.

  * * *

  Coming down the parlor stairs and seeing Belle Annie Key sitting beside his hearth, her head bent over her sewing, Roy knew two things.

  She belonged there.

  And he was going to marry her.

  Logic told him he ought to take this romance more slowly. But logic and his heart were not telling him the same thing, and his heart was speaking louder.

  The most urgent question was, did she want the same thing he did? Was she even close to feeling for him what was growing in his heart for her?

  Having the woman he was courting living under his roof ought to give him some advantage. Sometimes he thought it did, but once in a while he caught her staring at him in a way that did not make him feel encouraged.

  It had been more than twenty-four hours since he’d kissed her.

  Hell’s business, calling what happened between them a kiss was like calling a shooting star a candle flame.

  Lips had met, been warm and exciting. But souls had soared as well, met someplace out of body—and bonded.

  To see her going about her business today, he wondered if it had ever happened. She was cordial, attentive to the children and caring of her grandmother, but she had distanced herself from him.

 

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