by Day Leclaire
Chaz struggled to hold onto his temper. Rafe had a regrettable tendency to take charge. Well, he’d let the man run things this time. Since he had the bit between his teeth it would be tough to stop him. But it would only continue until Chaz had what he’d come for. Then their “brotherly” relationship would screech to a halt and they could go back to a more natural mutual antagonism.
After wandering through the museum for a good fifteen minutes, Rafe paused near a huge mosaic. Reaching into his suit jacket, he removed a packet of papers and stared down at them with a dark frown. “Would you mind telling me why you wish to give her this? Is it to drive us apart?”
Chaz took instant umbrage. “Hell, no! Just what kind of man do you think I am?”
“My apologies. But if it isn’t to drive a wedge between the two of us, then why? Why after all these years?”
“Because she needs to know that I did try and find her, that I didn’t just give up on her.”
“Ah. I see. That means she’s told you about her aunt.”
Chaz nodded. “She told me.”
“Did she also tell you about her accident, that she was on her way to the Anniversary Ball—to you—when she crashed?”
Even though he already knew what had happened, hearing it stated so baldly filled Chaz with a helpless rage. He hadn’t been there to protect her. Maybe if he’d tried harder to find her, the accident could have been prevented. “I know about the car wreck and the scars it left behind.”
“And did she also tell you that she bought a ticket to the next Cinderella Ball, the one four years ago?”
Chaz didn’t even try to conceal his astonishment. “I went to that ball. She wasn’t there.”
“That’s because I took her ticket and attended in her place. Ella and I were married that night.”
Chaz balled his hands into fists. “So you kept her from me again.”
“It was wrong of me. I know that.” Rafe lifted silvery-gray eyes, eyes filled with regret. “But consider this. If events had transpired differently, you wouldn’t have Sarita.”
“That’s the only thing that keeps me from knocking your teeth down your throat.”
Rafe wandered further down the corridor. “Then perhaps it isn’t too late to recapture the love you once shared with my sister.”
“It is too late,” Chaz stated coldly. “Far too late.”
“Are you sure that’s not your pride talking?”
Damn the man! “I have no pride where Shayne’s concerned. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. Nor would I give her those papers.”
Rafe shook his head. “No, my friend. There’s something more. Something you haven’t told me. What is it?”
“You really want your pound of flesh, don’t you?” Chaz gritted his teeth. “Fine. You’d have figured it out, eventually. I need what you’re holding, Beaumont. If I don’t give it to her, she’ll leave me.”
To his fury, Rafe actually chuckled. That did it! Brother-in-law or no, this time Chaz was going to beat the living tar out of the man. Before he could do more than cock his fist, Rafe paused in front of the mosaic and inclined his head toward it
“It took her eight years to complete this.”
Chaz glanced at the piece and then took a second look, then a third, stunned by what he saw. His arm sagged to his side. It was him! He stepped back so he could fully appreciate the scope of the piece. In the mosaic, he was climbing a trellis, just as he had all those years ago when he’d first met Shayne, half of him in shadow and half in light. His hand, the one caught in the light, reached toward a woman’s hand—Shayne’s hand. And in the background, the darkness gave way to a rainbow of color. It was truly the most beautiful piece of artwork he’d ever seen. The title of it was, “The Coming of a Forever Love”—the name impacted like a blow to the gut—and the artist was Shayne Beaumont.
Shayne Beaumont McIntyre, he wanted to shout. His wife.
Beside him, Rafe released his breath in a pitying sigh. “My poor sister. You don’t even realize you still love her, do you?” He held out the papers. “If you hurt her, McIntyre, I’ll make you pay.”
Chaz took the packet without a word, barely noticing. Rafe’s departure. You don’t even realize you still love her, do you? He shook his head. No. It wasn’t possible. He hadn’t felt love since... He closed his eyes, his throat moving convulsively. He hadn’t felt love since he’d last held her in his arms. His eyes opened and he stared at the mosaic with desperate hunger. It was in her arms that he’d first found love, too. A forever love. Only he’d been too afraid to admit it.
He never knew how long he stood there. A minute. An hour. What finally propelled him into motion was an odd feeling deep in his chest. A...burgeoning. He’d told Shayne that he’d died inside years ago, but that wasn’t true. Instead, those emotions had lain dormant, waiting for the return of spring. And she’d come, wearing a bell-draped mask, a tender smile and velvety eyes filled with a love so generous and so absolute that it brought humbling tears to his eyes.
His jaw worked as he forced himself to face the soul-stripping truth. He loved her. He had the first time he’d set eyes on her over nine years ago and he’d continued to right up until this very second. And he would for the rest of his life. There’d been only one thing that had kept him from admitting it.
Fear. Fear that he’d lose her again at some point in the future. Fear that he couldn’t handle it if anything happened to her. But most of all, fear that she wouldn’t love him as utterly as he loved her. Well, the proof of her enduring love was before his eyes, an eight-year labor of love.
He tucked the packet Rafe had given him into his coat pocket. Well, you love-crazed fool, he muttered to himself, what the hell are you doing sanding here? Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and he had a home and a daughter, a grandmother and a handful of crazy employees to get back to. But most important of all, he had a wife who loved him. A wife he loved with all of his newly discovered heart.
“What’s he doing?” Shayne demanded in an undertone.
Jumbo shook his head morosely. “Doin’ what he always does on Christmas Eve. He’s holed up in there with a bottle and a stack of writing papers.”
“But why?”
“Can’t say, missy. Now why don’t you get along to the kitchen? I’m sure Mojo can find something to keep you busy.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks, Jumbo. I don’t feel like burning anything right now.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be in the mood a little later.”
Staggering her with a gentle pat on the back, Jumbo lumbered on his way. Desperate for something to occupy her, Shayne pretended to buff the mosaic pieces set into the floor along the hall, but really she used it as an excuse to hang around outside Chaz’s office door. After another ten minutes of halfhearted polishing, she glanced around, assuring herself that the corridor remained empty. Then she tiptoed to his door and pressed her ear to the wood. She couldn’t hear a sound. If he sat in there drinking himself into a stupor, he was being darned quiet about it.
“Somethin’ I can help you with, little lady?”
Shayne whipped around, blushing at the amused twinkle in Penny’s eyes. “Oh, no. I was just... Just...”
“Waxing the door with your ear?”
She sighed. “Something like that.”
“Well, then. Carry on. But you should know.” The laughter died from Penny’s eyes. “He won’t be out until morning. Never is.”
“Oh.”
Shayne gave the door a final forlorn look before slipping away to her bedroom. She had a few lastminute presents to wrap, even though Christmas promised to be decidedly strange this year. Still, she couldn’t allow Sarita to be affected. She just hoped a box brimming with hair ribbons and combs and barrettes would be enough. And then there was her gift for Chaz. She sniffed, distressed to find herself in tears yet again.
Topping the small box with a colorful bow, she pushed it aside. Dam it all! Curling up on the bed, she allo
wed herself a good cry, hoping to get it out of her system. She was being foolish, she knew that. But tomorrow would mark the end of any chance to win Chaz’s love. Once he opened her gift, her dreams for being loved for herself would end.
Surely that deserved a few tears, didn’t it?
“Keep your voices down, dammit!”
“You try and wrestle a tree this big into a room half its size and see if you don’t give a yelp or two,” Penny complained.
Chaz gave the base of the tree a tremendous shove, sending his foreman tumbling into his office. “If you wake up my daughter or my wife, yelping is the least you’ll be doing.”
“Where do you want it, boss man?” Mojo asked.
“By the window.” Shayne had haunted that spot for the past week. “Is the tree stand ready?”
“I’ve got it.” Jumbo got down on his hands and knees. “Bring ’er on over. That’s right. Stand her on up. No, no! More to the left. Forward. Now toward the back.”
Chaz gritted his teeth. “Jumbo, if you don’t get the trunk into the stand in the next three seconds, I’m gonna stick you in that thing and hang ornaments from your ears!”
“There he goes with those ears again. Somehow, Jumbo, I don’t think it’s your ears he’s gonna decorate.”
Penny hooted. “You got that right.”
“What part of ‘be quiet’ don’t you three understand?” Chaz demanded, heaving the tree into position.
“Still can’t believe you’re sober enough to put up a tree, boss. What happened to your date with Jack Daniels?”
“JD and I have had a parting of the ways.”
Penny grimaced. “I knew marriage would ruin you.”
Chaz just grinned. “And you were right.” He stood back and eyed the tree. It wasn’t too crooked. Maybe if he lopped off a few branches nobody would notice the slight starboard list. “Thanks for your help. I’ll take it from here.”
“You don’t want us to help put silly little doodads on it?” Penny grumbled.
It didn’t take any thought at all. Chaz shook his head decisively. “Nope. That’s my job.” Actually, it was more than that. “It’s my pleasure.”
Shayne awoke early the next morning and rolled over, knowing before she even looked that she wouldn’t find her husband beside her. Quietly, she left the bed and pulled on a robe. She needed to talk to him before anyone else in the household stirred. It was Christmas morning and she had to find a way to make him understand the importance of the day to a small child, something she’d obviously failed to do so far.
She slipped through the silent house, heading straight for Chaz’s office. The door stood ajar and she gave it a little push. Hovering there, she could only stand and stare. Her husband was sprawled on the floor, sound asleep. At the sound of her gasp, he pried open an eye, wincing at the bright sunlight filtering into the room. He muttered something beneath his breath, something she tactfully pretended not to hear.
“Oh, Chaz,” she murmured. “What have you done to yourself?”
“’Mornin’, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”
She blinked, not quite certain she’d heard him right. “You know what day it is?”
“Of course I know.” His eyes were red-rimmed, but alert, his smile as devastating as ever. If he’d indulged last night, it had been with something other than a bottle of bourbon. “Don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—” She walked further into the office and then she saw it. A huge tree filled one entire end of the room. She stared at it in disbelief. “That...that looks like a Christmas tree.”
Chaz folded his arms behind his head, still sprawled on the floor. “Naw. That can’t be. I don’t do Christmas, remember?”
She took a step closer and fingered one of the needled branches. “It feels like a Christmas tree,” she said unevenly.
His brow wrinkled into a frown. “Well, I’ll be. Now isn’t that the strangest thing.”
She released the branch and it swayed ever so slightly. An excited chorus of silver-toned bells filled the air, ringing out a happy greeting. They were the bells from her mask, she realized, tears flooding her eyes. He’d strung them, one by one, on the tree. “It—” She swallowed and tried again. “It even sounds like a Christmas tree.”
“Well, heck. Then it must be one. Don’t know how the silly thing found its way in. Guess I’ll have to drag it on out of here before anyone sees it.”
The tears that had become such a natural part of her day overflowed her eyes. “You even decorated it.”
In addition to the bells, he’d taken green and red ribbons—the colors made her cry all the harder—and tied them on the ends of each branch. The fact that the bows were a bit lopsided and imperfectly tied endeared them to her all the more.
“Honey?” He sat up. “You aren’t crying, are you?”
“No,” she sobbed. “I’m not.”
He was on his feet in a flash. Crossing to her side in two swift strides, he pulled her into his arms. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. I did this to make you happy. Not to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” she wailed.
“You sure sound upset.” He bent at the knees so their height matched and peered at her face. “And if all that stuff comin’ out of your eyes is any indication, you look upset, too.”
“Don’t you know anything?” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips to his chest. “This is my happy face.”
He smiled at that, his tension slowly easing. “Now there’s a scary thought.” And then he kissed her, kissed her with a passion she couldn’t mistake. It was a touch that spoke of love and forever and permanence and commitment, words that were once forbidden, but now seemed imperative. “Merry Christmas, wife.”
It took Shayne several minutes to recover, her lids lifting reluctantly. “I don’t understand a bit of this. You put up a tree and decorated it.”
“So I did.”
“You must have worked on it all night.”
“Just about.”
She could scarcely take it in. “But... why?”
“Because I was wrong. Dead wrong. You and Sarita deserve a proper Christmas.”
“You even have presents.” She was dreaming, she had to be. But it appeared real, beautifully, incredibly real.
“They’re nothing much.” The wicked light that appeared in his eyes instantly alerted her.
“What have you done?”
“Now, honey. If I told, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
Before she could ask any more questions, they heard the patter of feet outside the door. A moment later, Sarita burst into the room. Spying the tree and presents, she released a squeal of delight and threw herself into her father’s arms. Chaz closed his eyes, clutching her close, the expression on his face almost painful to witness.
Then he tossed her into the air, laughing at her helpless giggles. “Merry Christmas, princess.”
Mojo and Jumbo plowed through the doorway next, with Penny and Dona Isabella not far behind. “Check the tree! Not bad, boss man.”
The next few hours were the most pleasurable Shayne could remember in a very long time. After changing and grabbing a quick breakfast, everyone gathered in Chaz’s office to open presents. It was that day that Sarita solidified her relationship with her new parents, racing back and forth between Shayne and Chaz, dispensing hugs and kisses with such utter generosity that if Shayne hadn’t already fallen in love with her brand-new daughter, she’d have tumbled head over heels that day. And Chaz’s expression was filled with such an abiding joy that tears were never far from the surface.
Doña Isabella and Chaz’s men were also the recipient of Sarita’s affections as she darted from one to the other as they each opened their presents. She oohed and aahed over everything, no matter how ridiculous, from the meat cleaver for Mojo, “since he has a tendency to throw his away,” to the first-class clipboard that turned Jumbo pale with fright. Chaz didn’t spare any of his employees from his warped sense of humor. For
Penny, he’d wrapped up a huge box of matchsticks and a deck of marked playing cards. “So you can win a few.” And when Shayne dared to scold him, he’d simply laughed and whispered that he’d also put a fat bonus in their paychecks, a surprise they’d appreciate far more than any other gift he could have chosen.
He’d kept his present for Doña Isabella more serious, giving her a beautiful quilted dressing gown and cozy slippers. Shayne had drawn a sketch of the mosaic patio she’d build for Isabella come spring. And Sarita took one look at the fancy new dollhouse her daddy had brought back from San Francisco and disappeared into the corner, happily playing. She only emerged on those occasions she wanted her new “momma” to change her hair ribbons, rhapsodizing over the many choices.
At long last, Chaz drew Shayne away from the others, a small, flat box in his hand. “I’d rather do this next part in private,” he said.
She glanced around the room. Everyone was preoccupied and wouldn’t miss her if she slipped off with Chaz for a while. Tucking her hand into his, she drew him toward their bedroom. “Is this private enough?” she asked.
His smile felt as tender and loving as a kiss. “This is perfect.”
“So who goes first?”
“Open mine.” He handed her the box.
She could see a hint of uncertainty dimming the blue of his eyes and lines of tension bracketing his mouth. He didn’t know how she’d react to his gift, she realized. She stared at the box for a long moment before she carefully unwrapped it. Removing the lid, she found a stack of letters.
Her brow furrowing, she lifted out the first one. Her name was scrawled across the envelope and it had been sent care of the Montagues. And then she saw the date. Christmas Eve, nine years ago. Slowly she turned over the envelope. It was sealed.
“Open it,” he said.
Without a word she removed the letter and read it. And then she reached for the next, dated Christmas Eve, a year later. And then the next, until she’d read his testament to a decade of enduring love.