Heather Graham's Christmas Treasures

by Heather Graham

  "I told you who I was!" she cried. Her arms were on him now, hands that grasped his shoulders, bracing against the pain. He could stop, he could pull away. But the damage would be done.

  And she was his wife. They were bound now. And she had assured him that she would do her "wretched" duty.

  He held very still, then moved slowly. So slowly. And he began to feel the subtle change in her body, felt it give, felt it accept. Once again, the force of his desire tore through him. Surged and swept. The scent of her, the feel of her, even the emerald of her eyes, all swept into the force of his need.

  She moved. He had touched something within her. Maybe he hadn't found the deep searing passion within her, but he had touched something. A soft sound escaped her lips. Her body moved beneath his.

  The depth of his own hunger seized him. Shattering, volatile, it tore through him until it burst within him, and swept into her. The aftermath kept shudders raking through him as he eased his weight from her, coming to her side. She tried to pull away from him, choking, embarrassed.

  "No," he told her softly.

  "No, what! I've already fulfilled my bargain."

  "That 'wretched' bargain!" Shane said. Dammit. He wanted to slap her. He knew that he had given her something. "Mrs. MacAuliffe, this has been one night. We've a lifetime ahead of us."

  "But you—"

  "I enjoyed this 'wretched' bit tremendously. Especially since I discovered..."

  "That I wasn't one of Leroux's whores?" she demanded.

  He stared at her; her ebony hair was a wild mane about her fine features. "Yes," he said.

  She tried to pull away. He caught her arm, wishing that he hadn't begun the relationship with so much hostility. What relationship? he asked himself. He barely knew her.

  He had mistrusted her from the beginning.

  Hell, she was still an adventuress.

  Maybe that wasn't so bad. Maybe they were all damaged shells that had once been people.

  If nothing else, he figured, he had a tempting bed partner.

  Fires could build and burn within him again so swiftly...

  He held back, gritting his teeth. He had married her. He was going to make it work.

  "Let's call a truce for Christmas," he said softly.

  "What?"

  "It's Christmas, Kaitlin. The season of good will, peace and all. Let's call a truce. We'll act like man and wife until tomorrow afternoon."

  "Tomorrow afternoon?" Her beautiful green eyes narrowed suspiciously and he laughed.

  "Yes, you'll appreciate this, I believe. I'm going to head back home without you."

  The startled pleasure in her eyes was downright close to insulting.

  "You have to have some clothing made, and New Orleans just might be the right place to have it done. I've got to get back. I've left Francesca, and a very big herd of cattle. You can follow as soon as you've acquired everything that you may need. You might want to look for household items, too. Buy some pots and pans that you might like. And draperies."

  He wasn't sure what impression he had made, allowing her free rein on purchases. She studied him gravely as he spoke, then asked, "Who's Francesca?"

  "My niece. She lives with me. She's almost ten."

  "Oh," she said simply.

  Anger, irrational perhaps, suddenly seized him. He rose over her, straddling her on the bed. "You can bear any hostility toward me that you want, Mrs. MacAuliffe, but don't you ever show it before her! And don't you ever raise a cruel finger to that child, do you understand?"

  Emerald fire lit her eyes. "I shall be entirely grateful for her company over yours!" She stared at him in defiance, and then she seemed to realize his position, and their mutual nakedness. Her lashes lowered. "Honestly. I love children. Will you really leave in the morning?"

  "Yes. It will probably be April before you see me again, by the time you'll be able to travel."

  Her eyes opened wide to his. She nodded gravely. "That will be fine." She could be so damned prim at times. "I shall be very careful with your money," she said.

  "You don't need to be so careful. You need to buy what you want, and what you need. I've managed to become a fairly wealthy man," he said. He thought that her eyes widened again. "The bargain is not such a one-sided one, Mrs. MacAuliffe. I think you'll like your new house. It's very gracious. Like I said, buy anything at all that you want."

  Her eyes met his. "Thank you."

  "Have we a Christmas truce?"

  "Yes." It was barely a whisper.

  "Then lie back, Mrs. MacAuliffe, for I see cold and lonely months ahead for myself—when I have just acquired a wife."

  She swallowed hard. Then she wound her arms around him, and pressed her lips to his.

  In his amazement, he stiffened and pulled back. "Is that for the clothing?" he asked her bitterly. "Or for the house?"

  "Oh!" she cried out, and tried to twist away. "It was for neither! It was for Christmas."

  He was sorry, so sorry. No matter what it had been for, she had made a tentative move in his direction.

  And he did want her. His fascination with her had become something that beat within him, driving him. He wouldn't be able to get her out of his mind once he had left her. Not for a minute. He was sorry for his promise. He couldn't begin to foresee the months ahead without her.

  "Kaitlin!"

  She had rolled to her side beneath him. He caught her shoulder, pulling her back. "Kaitlin, I'm sorry. Come. Come love me for Christmas."

  Those eyes of hers met his. Brilliant, beautiful.

  She made no overtures toward him again, but neither did she fight him.

  Well, she had said that she was determined to do her duty.

  And still...

  He made love to her slowly, completely. And his need for her reached peaks that startled him, they were so strong.

  He touched something in return. Something. He knew that he didn't hurt her, that he gave to her. But she held back. No matter what emotions and feeling escaped her, there was something that she held back.

  Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it would come. Yet it left him with a sense of loss, of deeper hunger.

  He had to have it.

  That would be the future.

  For that early, early Christmas morning, he slept with his new wife in his arms.

  Christmas truce.

  Chapter 3

  Kaitlin didn't arrive at Three Mills until the end of May.

  Shane and Daniel left in time to avoid the most wicked weather of the season. By the time that Kaitlin should have been on her way, the winter had become so harsh that Shane had sent a telegraph advising her to hold off her travel plans for a while.

  Kaitlin had stared at the telegraph for a long time, wondering if he wasn't sorry about the whole thing already. He'd left her on Christmas day.

  It hadn't been that terrible a Christmas. She'd awakened to find him gone from the room, and a box beside her bed. Merry Christmas, the tag read. And inside of it had been a beautiful dress of red velvet and silk, a Christmas dress. There had been a note embedded in the folds, too. The fit may not be perfect, but it will get you through to do your own shopping.

  It had seemed rather difficult to rise and to walk that morning. Her body was sore, but still so warm!

  And just thinking of the night, she could flush so easily. She had told herself that it would be wretched, but that she had resolve, she was strong, she could endure.

  But in the end...

  The night just hadn't seemed so wretched. Maybe there had been Christmas magic around them. Something warm, something very giving. It should have been so horrible.

  It was remarkably pleasant. It made her think of her new husband in an entirely different light. There was something in his touch...

  Whatever it was, one minute it had made her dread to see him again and long to do so the next. For one, their leave taking hadn't been in the least romantic. She had tried to thank him, not so much for the dress, but because he'd given her
a Christmas present. It had seemed like forever since she had received one.

  But by morning, in the light of the day, the gold eyes had seemed shrewd and assessing once again each time they fell her way. "I'd hardly have my wife in rags," he told her bluntly.

  "Nevertheless, thank you," she'd said primly. "I—I don't have a gift for you."

  His smile was wicked, taunting. "Last night was quite a present in itself."

  She turned from him quickly, feeling as if bristles rose at her nape. He knew she'd never been one of Leroux's women. But he still seemed to condemn her for the fact that she was there to begin with.

  She had begun to feel more than anger or fascination toward him. More than the startling electricity that had seemed to surround them last night. He was giving her what she wanted. A home. A family. A different world. And he was a unique man. He was...

  Handsome. Wonderfully strong, powerful. He was built beautifully, tight and lean, with rippling muscles that were whipcord-hard and vibrant. That night, even when he had merely left the room, she had found herself remembering the feel of his arms, the heat of his flesh next to hers, the encompassing breadth of his shoulders. To her amazement, she didn't dread his touch at all anymore. She had slept absurdly sweetly with his sheltering arms around her.

  But she couldn't let him know. He would think she was a whore and be all the more convinced that she should have stayed with Jack Leroux.

  He could be kind enough. He could also be as hard as rock. She had to be careful, so careful, of what she gave. The war had taken too much from her. She just couldn't be hurt anymore. She wouldn't allow anyone to do so. She would be a good wife—she would just keep a careful distance. She certainly wouldn't fall in love with him.

  And still, that Christmas day, in the hotel suite, was far more than she might have hoped for. Shane ordered up a Christmas goose, and she and he and Daniel sat down to it. And if Shane was quiet, his eyes hard on her the entire meal, Daniel was charming. She laughed and chatted with him throughout, trying to ignore the golden gaze upon her.

  Then it was time for the men to leave. Shane had arranged for Kaitlin's board at the hotel, and she was supplied with steamship passage along the Mississippi, railway tickets once she reached the North, and stage fare from there.

  She didn't think that her new husband was going to kiss her good-bye at all. But he did. Down in the street. He suddenly swept her into his arms, and she was startled by the strength of the fever that encompassed her with his touch. Startled, and frightened. She didn't want to care too much; it was dangerous to do so.

  He set her down, and met her eyes. There was something almost gentle in his for a moment. "I'm sorry that this is your Christmas."

  Her eyes widened. It had, in fact, been a wonderful Christmas. He just didn't know what her past Christmases had been. "It was fine."

  "No tree, no decorations, no reading of Mr. Dickens 'A Christmas Carol' with the family warm by the fire."

  "I... I'd like such a day. Surely."

  "Next Christmas. Next Christmas, I swear. For Francesca. For you."

  Then he was gone, and Kaitlin had been left to wonder after a while if any of it had really happened.

  Then the weather had become so severe, and soon after that she'd received his telegraph warning her not to attempt to travel until some of the snow cleared. Then she began to wonder if he really wanted her to come at all, if he wasn't regretting his rash marriage with all of his heart and mind.

  At the beginning of May, though, she'd received another telegraph. She wasn't sure how he had managed to pack so much anger into so few words. You'd best arrive soon. Then Kaitlin imagined that he was thinking her one of Leroux's women of the very worst kind, the type who would take payment and give nothing in return.

  It made her angry, and it brought chills along her spine. She had to go. They hadn't made so simple a business deal. She was his wife.

  And so she arrived in the spring. The mountains rose majestically, beautifully in the distance, the grass was endlessly green, and the small town was bustling. She had barely emerged from the stage before she saw all this, and more, for there was Shane, waiting on the steps of the Three Mills Travelers' Inn, a young girl before him.

  At first, Shane drew her entire attention. There had been so many endless days and nights when she had both dreaded and anticipated their meeting again.

  He was taller than she had remembered. Leaner, his skin more bronzed.

  But she had remembered his eyes just right. Gold eyes that were touched with the most extraordinary fire.

  She tore her gaze from his and looked at the little girl. Wide, hesitant eyes met hers. Big, beautiful brown eyes. Wary ones. The little girl had a lovely face, her features fine and delicate. Francesca was frightened of meeting her, Kaitlin thought. People hurt people so frequently, and Francesca knew it.

  Kaitlin shivered, remembering her new husband's fierce warning about his niece. He didn't really care what else she did, as long as she was good to Francesca.

  He needn't have warned her about such a thing, she thought indignantly. She'd never hurt the little girl. Never.

  They hadn't stepped toward her. The stationmaster had handed her down from the coach. A sense of panic seized her. He'd been so cold, and then so angry. Was there really any kind of a welcome here for her?

  He had promised her Christmas this year, she thought. Christmas, for her and Francesca.

  She stepped forward, "Well! She's come! She's made it!" a voice called out. And Daniel Newton, leading a tiny and pretty and very pregnant woman on his arm, came bursting out of the hotel doorway. He didn't seem to realize that no one had really greeted anyone else and he left his wife's side to give Kaitlin a warm embrace, swinging her around. "See, she's here, Shane, Francesca. Oh, Kaitlin, this is my wife, Mary. She's been dying to meet you—and she's thrilled to have another woman near! We're quite a ways out from town, by you."

  "Naturally," Mary said, extending her hand, smiling warmly. "Your husband gave us our property. It adjoins yours."

  Kaitlin shook Mary's hand. "I'm truly delighted," she said. Then she turned to Francesca. "And I am truly delighted to meet you, too, Francesca."

  The little girl blushed pink. She was pleased. "Thank you," she said softly.

  "Well, come on, come on!" Daniel said. "Let's go inside and have something to eat. It's been an awfully long trip for Kaitlin. And we've got well over an hour's ride back home tonight, too!"

  Daniel led the way with Mary, slipping his arm through Francesca's to urge her along.

  Kaitlin felt as if a cold wind touched her. She met Shane's gaze again. She tried to smile. "You haven't greeted me yet, Shane." Her stomach was pitching. She felt as if her words sounded hollow. "Aren't you—aren't you glad that I've come?"

  "Oh, indeed, I'm very glad that you've come. And don't worry. I'll greet you at home, Kaitlin."

  Sizzles touched her spine. He took her elbow, and they followed behind the others.

  They'd come into Three Mills with a big wagon, knowing that Kaitlin would be bringing goods from New Orleans. And she had a number of trunks with her, filled mostly with household goods. She had tried to go very sparingly on buying personal items. Shane eyed all the packages and trunks as they stowed them, but he didn't say a word to her then.

  The trip out to his house was not so bad, or at least it wouldn't have been if Kaitlin hadn't been so nervous about going home with Shane. To distract herself, she thought about her other companions. Mary was a sweet, wonderful woman, one who really seemed to belong with Daniel, they were both so friendly and lighthearted. And Francesca...

  Francesca watched her. Much like her uncle did.

  The home that Shane brought her to might have been in the wilderness, but it was beautiful. It was a large, sprawling, two-story house that had been whitewashed and trimmed in a deep forest green to match the surrounding foliage. Her eyes were on it from the minute the wagon came to a halt. Her eyes remained on it when he lifted he
r down from the wagon.

  "Did I keep my side of a bargain?" he asked softly.

  "Yes," she replied.

  "Then you keep yours," he told her.

  Again, her stomach catapulted. She escaped his hold and turned to the little girl. "Francesca, would you show me the house, please?"

  Blushing again, Francesca stepped forward. Tentatively, she took Kaitlin's hand. And then she led her in.

  Inside, the house was beautiful too. There was a huge parlor, and an indoor kitchen and a wonderful large dining room. Up the stairs there were four bedrooms. "Here is mine," Francesca told her proudly, leading her into the first. And she should have been proud. There was a beautiful white knit comforter on the bed, which was covered with a fairy-tale canopy. Her furniture was painted white, and all in all Kaitlin couldn't imagine a more perfect room for a little girl.

  "It's lovely," she said, smiling.

  Francesca's lower lip quivered. "It is, isn't it? It's the first bedroom that I've ever had all to myself."

  Kaitlin came down on her knees before her. "This house is really the first that I've ever had," she told her.

  Francesca hesitated, then put her arms around Kaitlin and hugged her tight. Kaitlin held her, and gently smoothed her hair.

  At length Francesca pulled away. "Come on, let me show you your room!"

  "My room?"

  "Well, yours and Shane's!"

  Yes, hers and Shane's. She followed Francesca down the hallway, and found her room. Most of her bags were already there. Shane and Daniel and Shane's foreman, Chancey, had already been bringing things up.

  Shane's room, she thought. It was a masculine room. The furniture was all deep mahogany, untouched by doilies or dust ruffles of any kind. The two armoires in it were large and heavy. The room wasn't that big. There were two more rooms down the hall... She met his eyes.

  He must have been reading her mind. He smiled, and slowly shook his head.

  She tore her gaze from his, her thoughts scattered. Daniel and Mary were still there. Chancey was a fine man with a warm handshake. She had already made friends with Francesca. There was a festive mood about the place. She had her own home. Her very own home. She was going to ignore Shane, and enjoy the celebration.