by E. E. Burke
“For the love of St. Michael,” she whispered.
“Gordon,” he murmured, “and I’m not a saint.”
Blasphemous sinner. She should’ve heeded the signs, ever since he’d kissed her under the mistletoe. However, this wasn’t flirting or teasing, he was doing his level best to seduce her. She stammered, trying to remind him, to remind herself, they had agreed to be only friends. “You…we…we can’t be…”
When his hands moved upward and into her hair, she somehow found the strength to leap off the stool. She backed away, reaching up with shaking hands to keep her hair from falling. The devil had taken her combs.
He dropped the heavy tortoise shell combs on the counter and advanced toward her, looking every inch the predator she’d once imagined him to be. Beyond the sensual heat in his eyes gleamed another emotion, one that looked like desperation. He held out his arms. “Maggie, why are you resisting what’s between us? I know you feel it. I feel it, too.”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t become your…your concubine, and face myself in the mirror.”
“Concubine? Where do you find these words?” He huffed a soft laugh, sounding incredulous. “You think I’m asking you to be my mistress? I wouldn’t dishonor you, Maggie. Good God, woman, I all but dictated your measurements for that bride advertisement.”
Her resistance wavered.
Sum had her in his arms before she could blink. He must’ve sensed her weakness, and pounced. His mouth silenced her protest.
The moment his lips touched hers, the fire inside reignited. Ablaze, she wound her arms around his neck and she kissed him with all the pent-up longing in her heart. He wanted her, she wanted him, and in this moment, nothing else mattered.
She didn’t fight when he dug his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back so he could trail hot kisses down her neck. He murmured love words mixed with obscene suggestions, but the way he said them didn’t sound repulsive.
He returned to worship her mouth while at the same time moving his hands over her, stroking her back, following the swell of her hips, his every touch taking her to greater heights. “You know we’re meant to be together,” he murmured against her lips.
Yes, she knew they’d fit like puzzle pieces, their bodies and their hearts. That thought triggered an abrupt return to reality. If she gave Sum her heart, it would be the ultimate betrayal of her brother. Torn loyalties would tear her apart.
Squelching her selfishness, she pulled away, and before Sum could stop her, rushed to the counter, scooping her combs into her bag. Springing away from him, she grabbed her cloak. “I have to leave.”
“The hell you will.” Glowing with frustration, he stopped her at the door, dropped to one knee and grasped her free hand. “Marry me.” He didn’t ask. He demanded.
Her head grew light, and she feared she might swoon—for the first time in her life. “Sum, I…I…”
He gazed up with an intensity she’d never seen before. “We get along famously, and I know I could make you happy…if you’d let me.”
His plea tightened a vise around her heart. She tried to find her voice so she could plead with him not to beg for her hand, tell him she wasn’t worth crushing his pride. Her vision blurred as tears gathered along her lower lids. “I’m honored, so very honored, I can’t express how much it means to me. But, I can’t accept.”
His face grew stiff. “Yes, you can. Don’t let anything stand in the way of what you want.”
She couldn’t act that way, and if he could, then maybe they didn’t belong together. The painful realization sent streams coursing down her cheeks. “I could never betray my brother by marrying a man who could put him out of business.”
Sum stood, looming over her. “This isn’t about your brother. Whether or not his business survives isn’t up to you.”
“I’m not talking about his business.” Her voice cracked with emotion. She tried to stop crying, but it was no use, her heart was breaking. “This is about love, loyalty, being part of a family.”
The fierceness in Sum’s expression softened. He cupped her face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “That’s what I’m offering you, a family. You said you were orphaned.”
She clasped his wrists, meaning to pull his hands away, but instead she clung to him. “Orphaned, yes, but I wasn’t alone. My brother took care of me. Didn’t someone take care of you?”
His gaze turned glacial. “No, I took care of myself. My father was too busy chasing his wild ideas. My mother never came out of her self-pity long enough to notice I was around. My brothers died when I was four.”
Every word fell like a hammer blow to her heart. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault, and I didn’t tell you that to gain your pity. Not sure why I blurted it out. Maybe because you keep talking about family as if everyone has one.”
She had grown up painfully aware that not one everyone had a family. Her brother had been the only family she had for years, and she didn’t remember much about their lives beforehand. Except, she knew they’d been loved. Sum hadn’t even had that much. No wonder he grasped at affection and held onto it so tightly. He was afraid to let go, fearful no one would be there for him. This painful letting go, it was her fault. She’d let him believe she could be his family.
“Please forgive me,” she whispered.
His angry frown turned to one of unhappy confusion. His hands fell away from her face. Then he dug a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and offered it to her. “Here, I always carry a clean one in case I happen across a crying woman.”
“Thank you.” She dried her eyes. He’d offered her far more than a handkerchief, but that was all she could accept. However, she owed him more than gratitude. She owed him honesty.
“I wish things could be different, with all my heart I do. But David would never do anything to hurt me, and he knows I would never betray him, and it would be a terrible betrayal if I married you. It’s bad enough we’ve become friends.”
“Our friendship is bad? So you’ll end that, too?” The hurt in Sum’s eyes sent pain knifing through her. Couldn’t he understand she had no choice except to cut the ties?
She gathered her cloak around her, and with it her resolve. “You must see, we can’t be friends anymore. Not now. We can’t be anything to each other.”
He opened the door, his movements jerky, and when he turned to her, his gaze had hardened. “Good night, Maggie. I’ll see you the day of the parade.”
Chapter 7
Snow fell early on the day of the parade. A soft white blanket covered the streets and sidewalks and collected in canopies and on tree branches. Come noon, the festivities would commence, with or without clear skies. Life went on, regardless of storms.
Maggie stood in her brother’s store next to a Christmas tree he’d put on display and stared across the street. Sum wouldn’t open his store for another hour. He and David both opened at eight, and, until recently, had closed at exactly the same time. They offered many of the same goods, priced them similarly. There was no need for two stores. One would fold, eventually. Regardless of which one failed, her heart would break.
She held the handkerchief he’d given her to her face, inhaling the clean smell of soap along with a faint masculine scent. A fierce yearning wrung her heart. She’d never meant to hurt Gordon Sumner. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, either. But she’d done both, and now she didn’t know what to do. The only thing she could do was to go on as if nothing had changed, even if everything had changed.
At a noise behind her, she tucked the hankie beneath the hem of her sleeve and turned.
Her niece had entered the store from the back. She held her little brother’s hand, steadying the toddler as he walked. Fannie’s crimson velvet dress featured a frilly apron. Patrick’s outfit with its wide lace collar made him look like a miniature Little Lord Fauntleroy, the character from one of Victoria’s favorite books.
Maggie put on
a delighted face. She wouldn’t ruin this day for the children by focusing on her misery. “Oh my, look at the two of you. You’re all ready for the parade.”
Patrick babbled something incomprehensible.
Fannie gaped at her. “You look just like Mrs. Claus, Aunt Maggie.”
She meant the image Sum had suggested over dinner one night when he’d told the children a story about Santa and his missus. There were no pictures Maggie knew of that showed a Mrs. Claus. Sum had also dictated the dress design, which had turned out beautifully. She would thank him when she saw him later this morning. She dreaded the moment as much as she longed for it.
Maggie smiled and curtseyed, holding out a berry red skirt to reveal gold and white petticoats. The sleeves and collar were trimmed with lace, as was the bonnet. “Why, I am Mrs. Claus. Who’s Aunt Maggie?”
Fannie giggled.
Patrick teetered as he struck out on his own. Maggie scooped him into her arms and gave him a kiss on his pudgy cheek. He patted her hair, and powder filled the air.
“Your hair is dusty,” Fannie pointed out.
“Dusty?” Maggie captured Patrick’s hand before he could ruin her coiffeur. “My hair is gray, dear. I’m not a spring chicken.”
“Kee,” Patrick said.
“She’s not a kitty, either,” Fannie replied. She seemed to have a fine grasp on Patrick’s unique language, even if his logic didn’t make sense. “When will Santa Claus be here?”
“Not until ten,” her father replied. David passed by the potbellied stove without stopping to add fuel. Sum always made sure his store remained toasty.
“Why don’t you add a bit more wood?” Maggie suggested. “Make it warmer. The air is very chilly, and I’m sure the children are cold.”
David returned to the stove and adjusted the dampers. “Feels the same as it always does. No one’s complained.” He didn’t add, except you.
Maggie secured Patrick’s little coat, battling a surprising surge of resentment with a good dose of reason. It wasn’t so cold the children would get ill. David made sure of that. He was just thrifty. Sum’s extravagance with fuel could be a sign that he was wasteful. Except, he hadn’t wasted a single moment of time they’d been together. He’d filled every minute with wonderful memories.
She set Patrick down, not wanting the children to see her tears. “Here, Fannie. Can you take him before he pats all the powder out of my hair? It’s making my eyes water.”
“Yes, Aunt Maggie. I mean, Mrs. Claus.”
David held out a handful of peppermint candies. “We finished putting the bags of candy together. I saved some extra peppermints for you.”
“You smell of peppermint…I love peppermint.”
Maggie caught a sharp breath as Sum’s voice slipped into her thoughts. The tears started up again. Alarmed, she spun around and made for the front door. “No, thank you. I’d rather you save it for the children.” Her voice came out wobbly, but at least she didn’t break down. “I should see if Santa’s sleigh has arrived yet.”
Before she reached the knob, her brother’s hand fell on her shoulder. “The door is still locked. It’s not even eight.”
She bit her lip. Shuddered. Teetered on the edge of control.
“Fannie, take Patrick with you and go find your mother.” David’s voice resonated in the quiet store. After a moment, he put both hands on Maggie’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “The children are gone,” he said softly.
She turned into his arms, fighting tears. “I’m sorry. I’ve been very emotional of late. I…I’m worried about collecting enough gifts for the orphans. It would be terrible if some of them were left out.”
He patted her back in a big brotherly fashion. “They won’t be. I spoke with the other merchants, and they’ve promised to cover any shortfall. You won’t have to depend on Sumner. He’s made promises he can’t deliver on, I suspect.”
She stiffened at her brother’s critical tone. “Mr. Sumner will do his part, I’m sure.”
“Maggie…” David spoke her name low and urgent. “Tell me what happened between you and Sumner the other night. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? What did he do to you?”
She drew back, under better control now, and met her brother’s worried gaze. “If you must know, he proposed.”
“He what?” David’s angry reaction was to be expected.
“Don’t get upset. I turned him down.” Maggie swallowed the thickness in her throat. She couldn’t let on that she was heartbroken, or give any sign of regretting her decision.
“Why did you turn Mr. Sumner down?” Victoria’s question came from the back of the store.
David turned abruptly. “Why wouldn’t she turn him down? He’s an unprincipled rascal.”
Sum wasn’t a rascal, most of the time, and he had a deep core of honor, despite a few questionable practices, such as kissing her in public.
Before she could speak, Victoria replied. “I didn’t ask your opinion of him, David. I want to hear what Maggie thinks. She’s spent quite a lot of time with him lately.”
“Only because he tricked her into being part of the parade,” her husband shot back.
“From what I heard, she volunteered.”
“Are you defending Sumner?”
Oh dear, David hadn’t frowned like that at Victoria since she’d forgiven him for being a nincompoop and put him out of his misery by marrying him.
“I’m not defending anyone, except Maggie.” Victoria planted her hands on her hips. She took that position when she was put out, or prepared to go to war.
Maggie groaned. Pitting her brother and sister-in-law against each other was exactly what she did not want to do. She stepped between them with a confession. “Yes, I have been spending time with Mr. Sumner, and we…we’ve become friends.”
In spite of what she’d told him, she still considered him her friend. When—or if—he got around to forgiving her, he might consider her a friend as well. She hoped they could go back to being friendly acquaintances, if she could bear seeing him without bursting into tears.
“He’s not a rascal, David. He’s a very nice man. But, he’s not the right man for me.”
Her brother gave a satisfied nod. “There you go. She’s told you what she thinks.”
Victoria dropped her battle stance. “If you don’t return Mr. Sumner’s affections, then you did the right thing by ending it.” She didn’t sound as if she believed this to be the case.
“No, I can’t return his affections…” Spinning the truth out of joint turned out to be more difficult than Maggie expected. The truth, however, was too frightening to consider. She couldn’t be in love with a man she barely knew, not even if he did make her heart race.
Victoria had entered the store, trailed by the children. Fannie peered from around her back. Patrick had dropped to his knees to examine something on the floor and almost had it in his mouth when his mother scooped him up. She tugged a length of string out of his chubby fist and took him to David. “He’s developed an appetite for anything that might choke him. Will you watch him while I help Maggie fix her hair?”
That was secret code for “let’s have a talk.”
“The store opens soon. Don’t be bending Maggie’s ear for too long.”
Apparently, David had cracked the code.
He took Patrick into his arms and ruffled his son’s hair.
Maggie’s breath caught at the tender gesture. She couldn’t help thinking about how much she’d love to have a little boy with flaming hair and crystal blue eyes.
“Fannie?” Victoria held up the string. “The cats might enjoy this.”
“I’ll take it to them.” Fannie wound the string around her finger and pattered back to the storeroom where the two cats prowled when they weren’t curled up by the stove.
“Will you come upstairs with me for a minute?” Victoria asked. “We won’t be long. Patrick messed up your hair. I’ll fix it.”
Maggie knew her sister-in-law was too
tactful to challenge her decision or outright tell her what she should do, something her older brother considered his prerogative. Victoria expressed her concern in a less direct manner. Nevertheless, Maggie didn’t want to talk about Sum.
“My hair is fine.” Maggie checked the watch pinned to her bodice. “It’s almost time to go.”
Victoria conceded with a dignified nod. “Are you ready, then?”
No, she wasn’t ready to face Sum. Her heart was too raw, her emotions too close to the surface. She felt like a snowflake in a blizzard. It terrified her to think she couldn’t stop what had been put into motion when she’d walked into Sumner’s store to ask for his assistance.
David carried his son to the front door and unlocked it. “Let’s take a peek outside and see if we spy any reindeer.”
Patrick squirmed to the get down. His eyes were on the shiny ornaments that dangled from a Christmas tree forming the centerpiece of a window display. Rather than risk disaster, David lifted the child to his shoulders. Patrick grabbed his father’s hair and rocked excitedly on his favorite perch. He yanked so hard that David took told of his hands.
“You’re his favorite horse,” Maggie quipped.
David bounced, giving his son a gleeful ride, although he wasn’t smiling. “You’re wise to stay away from Sumner. He’s vain and self-centered. Not a man you can depend on.”
Maggie’s temper flared into a full-fledged blaze. She faced her brother with her hands on her hips, in battle position. “Why do you feel the need to criticize him? He’s done nothing worse than move in across the street and open a shop. There’s no law that says he can’t do that.”
Her brother gaped at her as if a holly bush had suddenly sprouted from her head.
She was just getting started. She’d not allow David to make Sum out to be a scoundrel because he wasn’t a scoundrel.
“He runs a successful business. Even you have learned from watching him.” She raised her hands to gesture to the interior of the store, which had over the past two years been expanded and improved with new lighting, wider aisles and prices clearly marked on merchandise. “One could say you took his best ideas, benefited from his knowledge.”