Kiss or Kill Under the Northern Lights

by Susan Johnson

  It was half past ten, and Helen was sitting in the parlor reading the newspaper when Elliott strode in. Brushing white stuff from his coat, he brought the cold with him. Her heart raced at the sight of him. She was glad she wore one of her finest day gowns, fashioned in midnight blue satin and embellished with lace on the collar and cuffs. He looked exhausted from the long hours he’d been working.

  “Oh, it’s snowing!” she exclaimed. She folded the newspaper and set it down on the table beside her.

  He grumbled from the parlor doorway as he removed his overcoat, “Yes, and I hate it.”

  She smiled. “Oh, I remember when you loved it. Remember our snowball fights?”

  He flashed her a grin. “Sure do. I’ll be right back.”

  Soon he returned dressed in black pants that hugged his lean hips and long legs, a white starched shirt and black waistcoat. He’d removed his tie, and his shirt he’d loosened at the neck. He was handsome, strong and virile. All she could think about was how she’d ruined things for herself by refusing to marry him. The lantern’s glow caught the shiny silver chain holding his watch fob stuffed inside his pocket. His eyes twinkled with humor.

  Her gaze followed him to the corner of the parlor, to a fine oak liquor cabinet. He poured two tiny glasses of sherry and returned to her side.

  “Thank you.” She sipped the sweet ruddy liquor.

  They’d fallen into the habit of sharing a cordial the evenings he worked late. He claimed they both needed it to help them sleep. She agreed. The first few nights she’d stayed the night, she had difficulty falling asleep, knowing he was in his room down the opposite end of the hallway from her room. Though unsaid between them, Helen knew their feelings for each other would be kept at bay until George’s debt had been paid.

  He sank down on the divan beside her and tweaked one loose curl hanging over her shoulder. “About those snowball fights, if you’ll remember, I always won.”

  “Not always,” she smoothly replied, thinking it was mostly true. With his graceful athletic build, he was a natural at all endeavors of a physical nature. Suddenly, thoughts of the two of them sharing a bed entered her mind. Physical endeavors, indeed!

  “Mostly,” he replied.

  She laughed. “You cheated often, you know.”

  “Moi?” he asked in mock indignation.

  “Yes, you.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps I was just smarter than the two of you.”

  She raised her brow. “I beg your pardon! Since when does cheating mean one is brilliant?”

  “Intuitive then, not smarter.”

  “Now on that I can agree. You know, have you ever thought about changing occupations?”

  He arched one eyebrow. “To what?”

  “You would make an excellent spy for the government.”

  He chuckled. “Hmm, now that would be an interesting line of work, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask how you came to own a steamboat.”

  “I won it.”

  “Ah, gambling then. You were very lucky,” she said dryly.

  “Yes, but I’ve been reformed, especially now that I see what the habit has done to others. Particularly, you and George.”

  “You mean you don’t gamble any longer?”

  “No, and I’m planning on selling The Lucky Lady soon. I’m away from home too much as it is with The Sentinel and the boys need me.”

  They sat side by side in silence before the small fire Helen had set in the hearth. She felt warm, cozy and drowsy and soon started nodding off. She startled and opened her eyes at the sound of laughter.

  “Come on, sleepyhead,” Elliott said, rising from the divan. “Time for bed for both of us.”

  She gave him an astonished, round-eyed look.

  “Oh, we are a pair, aren’t we?” he said, laughing as he pulled her to her feet. Then he wound his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “I’m glad to see we’re sharing the same thoughts. Soon, Helen, we’ll be together.”

  She set her glass down, her hand shaking. “What?”

  “You know of what I speak, so don’t play coy with me. Once this damned debt between us has ended, I’ll pursue you with a vengeance, you know. And you will marry me.”

  Helen gulped, never having heard him quite so forceful before. Her body tingled at his words.

  “Are you proposing marriage then?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper. Inwardly, she cringed at her daring. How could she even think to ask him such a question?

  “Not yet, but soon. Come. I’ll escort my lady to her boudoir.”

  Outside her door, she leaned against it, tilted her chin up and met his eyes.

  Oh, if he would only kiss her again, as a man kissed the woman he loved! But just small familial pecks had he given her since she’d begun working for him. Again, she found herself thinking about his words, we were meant to be together. She agreed.

  She reached up and stroked a lock of dark hair off his forehead. Reaching out, he wound his fingers around her wrist. His grip moved down to her hand and he threaded his fingers through hers. Helen hugged the door and shivered at the intensity of his gaze. His nostrils flared as he drew closer to her lips, then he closed his eyes. Helen closed hers and hummed a sigh at his lips sealing hers.

  He kissed her with such sweet longing, she couldn’t help but wind her free arm around his neck. She stroked the nape of his neck and returned his kiss. She startled when he swept her up hard against his body, leaving her feet dangling above the floor.

  Gladness soared through her. Tears filled her eyes then as he slowly released her and set her down on her feet. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him when he saluted her, then said a quick ‘good-night’ and strode away. She watched him until he stopped at the end of the hallway; watched him open his door then pause to look back at her. She saw his satisfied smile just before he turned into his room and closed the door behind him.

  5

  December 1877

  In two days’ time, George’s indebtedness would be paid in full. The three months had passed more quickly than Elliott had thought it would, especially since all he could think about was wooing Helen. He’d wanted to pursue her ever since the death of his wife, but she wouldn’t see him. George’s gambling addiction had, ironically, brought them together again.

  Elliott had nothing to lose and everything to gain by having Helen in his life again. He guessed, though, once he proposed to her, she’d accept because of the guilt she’d been harboring all these years for not believing he was a man of honor. He didn’t want her guilt, only her love. Hopefully, once they married, she’d come to realize she loved him as much as he loved her. The last thing he wanted was guilt to be the only reason she had for accepting his proposal.

  Elliott and George sat in the library at George’s home, imbibing in brandy and conversation. “It isn’t often I ask you to do something for me, George,” Elliott said, “but I’m asking now. Will you watch the boys, so I can take your sister to the opera and dinner?”

  George groaned. “You know I’d do just about anything for you, but not that. Please not that.”

  “They’re just five-year-old boys.”

  “True, but they’re your boys. I vividly remember you as a boy. Frankly, I don’t think I can handle their…spiritedness.”

  “You’ll do fine. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Narrowing his eyes on his friend, George said, “How?”

  “You may have The Lucky Lady.”

  George started coughing, spraying brandy from his mouth. His eyes watered when he looked at Elliott. “Now you tell me when I’ve already accepted a position at Andrews and Sons Law Firm.”

  Elliott shrugged. “So, you could have both, couldn’t you?”

  George scowled. “No. I promised my sister I’d stay away from that side of life from now on, and I meant it. Thanks anyway.”

  Grinning, Elliott said, “I believe you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?”

&
nbsp; “Absolutely.”

  “I plan on marrying your sister, if she’ll have me.”

  “Well, what a surprise,” George said without an ounce of said emotion. He laughed. “Have you asked her yet? And what do you mean if she’ll have you. Of course she will! Like I said, she’s loved you all this time.”

  Dryly, Elliott said, “You sound so sure of her when I’m not, though I’m beginning to think she still feels some tenderness in her heart for me. I just don’t want her marrying me out of guilt.”

  “Ah,” George said. “I understand, but I don’t think you need to worry about that. I said it before, I’ll say it again, she still loves you.”

  “I pray you’re right.”

  Elliott had been frank with Helen, telling her they were meant to be together in blissful matrimony. He wouldn’t allow her the opportunity to slip away as she’d done all those years ago.

  “It’s a deal,” George said. “But could you have your housekeeper’s daughter stay also? I may need some assistance with the boys.”

  Elliott rose, with a smile. “Certainly.”

  George glared at Elliott’s back as he headed out the door. “Where in hell are you off to in such a hurry?”

  Elliott paused and turned with a gleam in his eye. “To ask your sister if I may call on her.”

  George shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you really don’t have to rush off to do that now. Do you know it’s almost ten? She’s likely to be abed by now.”

  “I’m hoping she’s waiting up for me.”

  “You know,” George said casually, “she’ll say yes.”

  Elliott raised his brow. “You know your sister so well?”

  George nodded. “Like I said, she’s been in love with you for years.”

  Elliott didn’t discount Georgie’s comment. He’d seen the joy in Helen’s eyes several times since she’d come to work for him. Still, he wasn’t ready to accept it—not from anyone but Helen herself. “I wonder about that.”

  “That’s because Helen’s always had that ‘poker face.’ Hell, she should have been the one gambling, not me.”

  Elliott laughed. “You’re probably right.”

  Unfortunately, Helen was abed by the time Elliott arrived home. He vowed the very next day to begin courting her. The following morning, he woke to find the boys up but no sign of Helen. He soon learned from the cook she had a splitting headache and was resting in her bedroom. Elliott decided to spend the day at home with the boys instead of going to work. It had been ages since he’d taken any time off for himself and family. Then he’d be available if the boys needed anything. Who was he kidding? He’d be available if Helen needed anything.

  It wasn’t until late afternoon, when he and the boys came inside after frolicking in the snow, that he saw Helen descending the stairs. She held a hot water bottle against the side of her head. It was only then he recalled how she’d been prone to severe headaches in her youth.

  He removed his coat, hung it in the closet before turning to assist Harry and Tom. She hadn’t noticed them. Once she reached the bottom, she looked up and gasped. “Oh! You are all soaking wet! You must get out of those wet clothes. Go on upstairs and change into dry things before you catch your deaths.”

  “Can we have a fight tomorrow?” Tom asked eagerly, glancing at his father.

  Elliott tousled the boy’s blonde curls and grinned down at him, then at Harry. “Absolutely. I demand an opportunity to win, the sooner the better. Now, go on upstairs.”

  His gaze followed the boys as they ran up the stairs before he met Helen’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “When did you arrive home?” she asked.

  “Last night. I arrived earlier than I’d thought, around ten-thirty or so, but you were already abed.”

  “Yes, my headache had started late afternoon.”

  “Is it any better?” he asked.

  “A bit. It should be gone by tonight.” She gave him a wry smile. “Don’t you look cheery this morning?”

  He drew closer. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

  “Why, Thursday, isn’t it?”

  Elliott laughed. “It is. And George’s debt will be paid in full.”

  “Oh! So soon? How time flies, doesn’t it?”

  Elliott heard the sadness in her voice and smiled. Good. To his mind, her sadness meant she didn’t want to leave him. “Surprisingly, it has,” he said, “But that’s because our time together has been so enjoyable, don’t you agree?”

  She nodded, and he caught the faint blush on her cheeks. His heart soared at the look in her eyes, one that appeared to say, Yes, I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you, Elliott.

  “I believe I’d told you of my intentions, once the debt was no longer between us. I’ve come-a-courtin’,” he said. “How would you like to see Don Giovanni at the Regency Opera House with me on Saturday night?”

  “Oh! That sounds wonderful, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “Why not?” He frowned.

  “What about the boys? Who will watch them?”

  “I’ve made arrangements.”

  “You have?”

  He nodded. “George has agreed to sit with them.”

  Helen smiled. “You’re joking, of course.”

  “Not at all.”

  She started laughing.

  “So, let me in on the joke,” he said.

  “George! Can you just see Harry and Tom with him? He’s such a softy, they’ll take great advantage of him, I’m afraid.”

  “He voiced his insecurity to me, so I told him we’d have my housekeeper’s daughter stay as well.”

  “No! You won’t call Mary.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “I believe George is long overdue to have a taste of what he was like as a child.”

  He grinned. “Excellent point.”

  After their third outing, Elliott decided it was time to propose marriage. As Helen took a seat on the divan in her parlor, Elliott poured them each a sherry. He sank down beside her, tossed one arm over the sofa back and leaned comfortably against her side. She snuggled beside him and they drank in companionable silence, watching the licking flames of the fire on the hearth he’d set upon their arrival home.

  He gave Helen a sideways look as he set his glass down on the table at his elbow. He leaned forward, folded his hands, and stared into the fire as he tried formulating the flowery words of a marriage proposal.

  Helen, mercifully, put him out of his misery. “Just say it,” she cried.

  Elliott heard the vehement tone in her voice and smiled wryly. “I love how you’ve always been so pragmatic. I adore how you don’t expect all of the fancy words so many women do.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps, when I was younger, it was important. But I’m twenty-eight, Elliott, not twenty. Please, if you don’t say the words, I’m very much afraid I’ll embarrass myself and say them first.”

  He slid off the divan, then sank to one knee facing her. Her eyes rounded in surprise. “You didn’t think I had it in me anymore, did you?” he drawled, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “It’s not necessary for you to—”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and he groaned when one slid from the corner and down her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

  Obviously, it was the wrong thing to say for she sobbed in earnest now, covering her face with her hands. He kneeled there before her, feeling humbled, possessive. Feeling everything for this woman he loved for much of his life. He held her hands, stroked them, kissed them, waiting for her tears to subside. When they did, she astonished him as only Helen could. She slid off the divan and went down on both knees alongside him, her eyes shining bright, her hands clutching his.

  He released one of her hands and dug in his waistcoat pocket. “Take this ring as a sign of my love and devotion. It represents the circle of unending love I’ve always felt for you.” He slid the exquisite, perfectly round diamond on her finger then kissed her hand. She sniffled, and he dragged his gaze to
hers.

  “Please don’t cry, darling. Just say yes,” he said on a groan.

  “If a woman can’t cry after receiving the most exquisite marriage proposal of her life, when can she?”

  Helen threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Laughing, he wound his arms around her waist, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. Life couldn’t be more perfect at this moment—with one exception. Saying the words between them and receiving God’s blessing.

  “I take it you accept?” he said, leaning back from her and gazing lovingly into her eyes.

  “Yes!”

  6

  January 1878

  Helen and Elliott’s wedding day arrived amidst the biggest snowstorm Missouri had seen in years. When Helen stared out a window of a private room in St. Matthew’s church, she realized she felt happy but calm and controlled—more than ready to marry the man she’d loved since her youth.

  She looked down at her full-skirted satin taupe-colored gown, embellished with matching seed pearls and lace and sighed. Never had she owned anything so beautiful and she wished she could wear it again but knew she wouldn’t. This was the one and only time she planned on marrying.

  Glancing at the handsome clock on the wall, she noted the time, twelve noon, then heard the church bells ring. Holding her head high, she plucked up her skirts and made her way to the church doorway where her friend, Renee, stood waiting for her, dressed in a cream-colored bridesmaid gown, her hands holding a small bouquet and a larger one, for Helen. Renee handed the bride her bouquet, then positioned herself behind Helen.

  Her brother George stepped up to her side with a wide grin on his lips. When the music began, they made their way down the aisle, Renee following them past the pews decorated in flowers and lace. Helen’s eyes were riveted on Elliott. He waited for her at the front of the church, his hands folded behind his back, his legs spread wide in a solid stance, his eyes focused only on hers.