“No. Go on home before the storm gets too bad.”
“If you are sure,” said Bertram, waffling at the doorway.
“Yes, yes, go on now. Enjoy your time with your family.”
“I am sure the Misses will have my head if I am not home in time for …” he trailed off.
Devlin sensed his distress. “It is all right Bertram. You have a family to attend to, now go on. I will see you in a few days.”
“A few days…Sir…” His eyes widened expectantly. “Won’t you be in need my assistance tomorrow? You have guests coming.”
Devlin chuckled. “I think I can manage.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Bertram gushed excitedly. “I will see you in a few days.”
“Oh and Bertram,” Devlin called after him.
“Sir?” said Bertram, turning in the doorway.
“You will be paid as well, so do not worry about that, all right.”
“Sir, that is too much,” he choked, his eyes misting. “You do not have to do that.”
“Do not be ridiculous. You deserve it.” Devlin felt his chest swell. “Now go on, before the storm gets too bad, and give my best to your family.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Bertram beamed brightly.
“Merry Christmas,” Devlin said, smiling warmly.
“Merry Christmas to you as well, Sir,” he said, smiling widely and then rushed from the room.
Once the front door slammed shut, Devlin walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. Reaching up he loosened his cravat. He gaze slid back to the tree. The furry branches were bare of adornments but to him it still looked like a mighty fine tree. Yes, a mighty fine tree, indeed.
The Past – Scotland, McGregor Lands
“Oh, why did I have to give them back?” complained Judith Alexandra Beauchamp, pouting like a child.
“Lass, you, and I both know it was the right thing to do,” said Kinsley McGregor, sitting in front of the fire, warming his hands.
“Well, can I keep them if she doesn’t want them back?”
“I doubt she will send them back, lass.”
Judith climbed on his lap and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Well, there are such things as miracles, especially Christmas miracles…” she said, running her hands over his chest. She knew miracles did indeed happen. She was looking into the green eyes of her own.
Chapter Three: The Present, New York City
“On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me… three French hens”
Sadie held a hot cup of tea, staring down at the ancient box that looked like it just might disintegrate in front of her eyes. After she came home, she had showered and changed into her comfy pajamas. Then after a mini crying jag, she had gotten a bite to eat.
Stacks of taped up boxes surrounded her. She wished she hadn’t given her sofa to Jeb, as well as some of her kitchen stuff she didn’t think she would need after she moved.
Byron had hated her stuff, which was an eclectic mishmash of everything she loved. He said her apartment looked like a garage sale, which was true enough she supposed, since she had gotten just about everything she owned from them. Her gaze slid to the box again. She was putting off opening the box as long as possible so she could hold onto the giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach of not knowing for longer and it was something to look forward to. Kind of like when she bought a scratch off. She would envision herself with the winning ticket, planning all the ways she would spend all the money, which to her was half the fun. Then she would dig out her lucky coin and scratch away, only to find that once again she had wasted yet another dollar on a pipe dream. Much like the way she wasted the last two years of her life with Byron, the prig. She hoped he got herpes, or at the very least, a wart or two… it would serve him right. Tears filled her eyes again, blurring her vision.
“Dang it!” she sniffed, wiping her tears. “I am not going to cry…again.” He wasn’t worth it, but that still didn’t stop the flow of tears from filling her eyes once more. She kept envisioning Byron’s face, well…that wasn’t completely true, she kept envisioning Bryon having sex with someone that wasn’t her. “Arrgh!” she coughed, groaned, feeling like she was going to be sick. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she managed to keep her leftover dinner down.
Taking a reviving breath, she scuffed across the wood floors of her apartment to the box again. “Well, Mrs. Flint, what did you get me?” Reaching forward she lifted the lid off the box and moved the tissue paper out of the way. Inside was something red and velvet. “What the heck?”
Her door buzzed. “Dang it.” With one last look at her gift she made her way to the door, scuffing her feet the entire way. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.”
“Byron?” Great. She inflated her cheeks, holding air inside until she felt like they would pop.
“Who else, Sadie,” he deadpanned through the door.
Releasing the air, she deflated her cheeks. He should have said Asshole, and then she would have known exactly who he was. “What do you want?”
“Let me in,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
“What for?” she yelled. Her heart pounded erratically and she felt like crying again.
“Come on, Sadie, please.”
Counting backward from ten she tried to garner some courage to face him. She didn’t want to see him, especially now. Yanking her hair out of her messy bun, she ran over to the mirror. Her face was blotchy from crying and her mascara was smeared around her eyes like a raccoon. She looked like crap. Perfect.
With her shoulders slumped in defeat, she went back to the door and looked through the peephole. Her breath caught like it always did when she looked at him. His dark hair perfectly mussed, and he was dressed in a down vest, with a hoodie and scarf wrapped around his neck…he looked like an ad for J. Crew.
Bang. Bang. Bang. He pounded on the door. “Come on Sadie, I got someplace to be.”
Anger swirled in her belly. “Then go.”
“I need to ask you something first…okay.”
What did he want to ask her? Ohmigod…her heart thumped faster. Was he going to beg for her forgiveness? Propose to her again? Was he going to surprise her with a gift or flowers and tell her he couldn’t live without her in his life? She bet he was he crying, even now.
Leaning against the door she put her eye to the peephole again and then dropped back down. “No flowers and no present and he sure as heck wasn’t crying, actually he looked aggravated.” Her conjured illusion quickly deteriorated. Grabbing a box of Kleenex off the counter she ran back to the mirror and tried to make herself at least look a little better. She wiped under her eyes with a Kleenex. When that didn’t work, she wet it with her tongue and wiped again. This time most of her mascara came off under her eyes. Now she didn’t look much better but at least she didn’t look like a demented raccoon.
Thump. “Come on, Sadie!”
Asshole! “Fine!” She marched over to the door and undid the deadbolt and lock. She yanked the door open. “What?”
“Damn!” He dashed his hand through his hair. “What took you so long?”
“What do you want?” She hugged her stomach, trying to appear like she wasn’t the least bit fazed. It wasn’t working to well. Her heart thumped even faster.
“Listen, this won’t take long. May I come in?” he asked but instead of waiting for her response, he stepped through the door.
She backed up. “What?”
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“And,” she prompted when he didn’t say anything more. He was too busy looking at all of her boxes stacked everywhere.
“Damn.” He shook his head. “I forgot how much shit you have.”
“What’s your point Byron?” She crossed her arms.
“I guess I don’t have one, really,” he said. “It was just a comment.”
“Well if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you kept t
hem to yourself.” She wanted to say she would have appreciated it more if he kept his dick in his pants.
“Fair enough,” he said and glanced at his watch, shifting awkwardly.
“Byron, why are you looking at your watch?” It was the watch she given him last Christmas and she had spent her most of her savings on. Byron wanted only the best. Her eyes widened and her chest tightened. How didn’t she see before…Ohmigod! She wasn’t the best.
“I have someplace to be,” he said, casting his eyes at the snow-covered tops of his boots.
He didn’t even wipe his feet. That should have been her first clue that he was an asshole…but no, she had been mesmerized by his boyish, modelesque good looks. It would seem that was her first mistake in a long line of mistakes.
His phone made a bleating sound. “I got to get this.” He turned away toward the door. “Hey,” he said. “I am.” He gave her a wary glance. Was that sadness or guilt she saw in his eyes? “Me too, I’ll be right down.” He ended the call.
It was definitely guilt. Her blood began to boil.
“Anyway, like I said, I gotta go but I wanted to ask you something.”
Her chest tightened. “Yeah, and what might that be?”
“I know we were…”
“Going to get married…” she finished his sentence.
“Yeah, about that…”Again, he darted his eyes away from her, to the floor.
“Jesus, Byron, just spit it out.” She couldn’t take a moment more of his half-started sentences or the waiting. She hated waiting for anything.
“I’m going to need my ring back.”
“What?” she gasped. Her breath rushed from her chest. She felt like he had just kicked her in the stomach. She hugged her midsection tighter. “You drove out in a near blizzard to get the ring you gave me back?” She widened her eyes in disbelief. “Have I got that right?”
“Well, yeah, but Sadie, I can explain.”
“Please do tell, Byron,” she snapped. “How did your dick find its way into someone else?” her voice shook.
He frowned and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Sadie, calm down,” he said. “You’re starting to hyperventilate again.”
Her eyes boggled. She couldn’t breathe.
“There is no reason we can’t be adults about this,” he said.
“Adults!” she yelled. She had it. “You …you…oh…” She was so mad she couldn’t even speak.
“I don’t have time for your theatrics right now,” he exhaled. “Bethany is waiting for me in the car.”
Her mouth fell open stupidly.
“Sadie…”
“You brought that…that… whore….here?” She stomped her foot.
“She is not a whore.” His face turned red.
“Really?” she said. “Do tell Byron, how is she not a whore?”
“I am going to marry her.”
“You’re what?” She gaped in shock.
“That is why I am here.”
“To tell me you are marrying…” She started to gag.
“For God’s sake Sadie, grow up.”
She swallowed back, her dinner. “Grow up?” she choked, balling her hands into fists. “That’s classic, Byron.” She shoved her hands through her hair about to lose it.
“I have to go…” He stepped back, looking worried.
“What’s the matter Byron, will your whore be upset?” she snapped.
“I told you she is not a whore.” His face turned redder if that was possible. “I love her and she is perfect… for me.”
Traitor tears slipped from her eyes, and she dashed them away. “You…you…love her…?” Her face felt like molten fire.
“See Sadie, this shit you pull is why I can’t be with you.” He waved his hand toward her.
She clenched her hands. “What are you saying?”
“You get all worked up over the dumbest shit.” He shook his head.
“The dumbest shit,” she repeated, not believing the conversation they were having. Again, she felt like her breath was ripped from her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to take a breath but it was caught behind the lump in her throat. Now, she was starting to hyperventilate.
“Just give me back my ring, so I can go.”
Sadie didn’t know how she managed it but somehow she stood straighter, pressing back her shoulders. Air found its way back into her lungs. Reaching down she jerked the ring off her finger. Her fingers tightened around it. She wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp on the ring the same way he had just callously stomped all over her poor broken heart. “Here,” she said her voice cold. “Take it.”
Byron looked over his shoulder toward the door.
By the look on his face, Sadie wondered if he was calculating his odds of getting out of her apartment in one piece. “What’s the matter Byron,” she taunted. “If you want it, come and get it.” She held out her hand, her palm facing up, the ring in the center—her ring.
“You know what…” He shook his head in apparent disgust. “Just keep it if it means so much to you. I am sure Bethany wants her own ring anyway.”
Sadie laughed suddenly. “You were going to give her my ring?” She laughed harder.
“Yeah, so what?” he said, looking bewildered by the concept.
“And she was okay with that?” Another peel of laughter escaped.
“Have a nice life…I guess.” He turned towards the door.
“Byron,” she called, her laughter evaporating suddenly. “Here…” She held out the ring.
“Are you messing with me?” he asked. “Trying to get me to stay, because if you are…”
“Oh please, get over yourself, would you.”
His eyes widened.
“I don’t need you Byron. I will be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Well forgive me for being a little surprised to learn on Christmas eve that the man I thought loved me and wanted to marry me, decided to not only cheat on me but dump me for another girl, and then has the audacity to ask me for the ring back we picked out together.” Her rant deflated suddenly like a popped balloon. “And you didn’t even say you were sorry.”
“I am… sorry… I hurt you.”
“You don’t look sorry.”
“Well... I didn’t know…I mean… I didn’t see it like that.”
“You always did have tunnel vision.” She took a reviving breath.
His brow creased. “Tunnel vision?” he asked.
“Yeah, you see only what you want to see. So I guess in retrospect you did me a favor, Byron.”
“I did you a favor?” He looked confused.
“Yeah, you did.” She gave him a half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Here,” she said and held out the ring, again.
This time he took it and shoved it into his pocket. He stepped out in the hall and turned back towards her. “You don’t have to answer but I’m curious.”
“What are you curious about?” She felt numb.
“How did I do you a favor?”
“Because I deserve better than you,” she said. “That’s why.” She slammed the door in his face before he had a chance to reply.
Chapter Four: The Past, Hawthorne Manor
“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…four calling birds.”
Devlin tossed another log on the fire. He had everything set up for his guest’s arrival tomorrow. In the kitchen, he had a box of confections from his cook tucked away and now all he needed was to set them on a nice platter the following day. He even had Cook show him how to make hot chocolate, before she left. And if she thought the request odd, she thankfully didn’t show it. He even found a few gifts to give out to everyone and had them wrapped under the tree. For Katherine, he had to get a little creative though, because he told her he had made her gift.
Now he had nothing to occupy his time and he wasn’t even sleepy. So instead of retiring to his room, he made a drink and was no
w enjoying looking at his tree in the firelight. Katherine and Bertram were right. Having a tree was nice.
Normally, Christmas was just another day to him, but there was one day that had stood out from the rest. His mind strayed back…
“Devlin,” called Isabelle, her voice sounded far away. “My love, open your eyes,” she cooed sweetly.
Devlin snuggled down deeper into the blankets. It was one of those mornings, with the snowfall and chill in the air that was perfect for sleeping in. “I am sleeping, wife.”
“No you are not,” she laughed, sounding like a young girl. “You just answered me.”
He cracked an eye open. “I was sleeping.”
“Do you not know what today is?”
“Yes, it is a good day to sleep.” He rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets.
She let out an exaggerated sigh. Her skirts made the softest rustling sound on the carpet as she walked over and opened the drapes. The bright morning sun spilled into the room. “Come on, get up. I have a surprise for you,” she singsonged.
“What kind of surprise.” Devlin expected she wanted him to do his husbandly duties to her person. The woman was insatiable. Not that he minded, really.
“If you do not rouse yourself from the bed you will never know,” she teased.
“Fine,” he breathed and sat up. The cool air hit him, making him want to crawl back into bed.
“Here,” she said, holding out his robe.
Reluctantly he took it and slid his arms into the fine fabric. “I am awake, now where is my surprise?”
“Devlin,” she laughed. “You have to get out of bed.”
He stood. “I am officially out of bed, now where is my surprise, wife?” He lifted his brow teasingly.
“You are insufferable.”
He shrugged, not one to argue the truth. He was insufferable and many other things too. “I think you knew that when you married me.” He waggled his brows.
“Stop that.” Her face colored. “Now, put on your slippers and come on.”
A Victorian Christmas Page 3