Emilie's Christmas Love

by James Lavene

  He saw the children, waiting patiently, angelic looks on their clean faces. He found Joda, dressed resplendently in gold and red, sipping hot punch, and ignoring him. Then he saw Emilie, peeking out from behind the big tree.

  Scathing words had already formed on his lips. They were blistering words that were going to flay the skin from her delicate back.

  When she stepped forward into the dim light and smiled at him tremulously, whatever he'd been going to say fled his mind. All he could think about was how beautiful she looked.

  She looked like a queen in her dark velvet. Her eyes were very green, more worried than usual. Her hands fluttered like white ghosts from her side to her mouth—that ripe pink mouth that promised more riches than she had stored in her bank.

  For a long moment, he lost the sense of anyone else being around them. It was as though time was suspended. The world had narrowed down to only the two of them. He could see more than her beauty and the slender line of her body. Her soul shone out and around her, like a glow that rivaled the fairy lights on the walls.

  Emilie felt herself drawn to him as his gaze persisted on her. Nothing else mattered in that moment. He was tall and dark, wearing a creamy cable sweater and black slacks. He could have been wearing anything. They could have been anywhere.

  She took a step forward, feeling compelled by the strength and power of his gaze that both excited and filled her. She stretched out her arms without hesitation. She didn't look away from his face. She wasn't aware of anything except that he wanted her, that he needed her.

  Nick took her hands and looked down at her. Her lips were slightly parted. He wanted to crush her mouth beneath his and feel her gentle strength in his arms. He wanted to slowly peel that long lovely gown from her body. He wanted to watch her eyes darken with passion and need.

  Instead, he closed his hands around her smaller, cooler fingers. He wondered as he saw their slightness, how they could hold so much magic, and so much power.

  "I feel like I should have worn my armor," he said, smiling at her. "You look like a medieval princess."

  She pulled her gaze from his and stared instead at their hands joined in front of her. "A hungry medieval princess. Waiting for her handsome escort."

  "Hungry, my princess?" he queried in a deep whisper that reached her ears only. A wicked, dark brow arched over one eye. He bent his head and kissed her hand. His mouth lingered over the soft scent of roses that caressed it. "I can only tantalize myself with wondering what would appease your appetite."

  Emilie felt a flush steal up her face and throat. Her heart beat doubled over their play and her knees were shaking. Like a white-hot arrow, the feeling from his mouth on her hand shot straight through her. Desire, which had only whispered to her before, engulfed her.

  "Can we eat now?" Adam questioned, squirming. “I don’t like this sweater.”

  Suspended time became the continuous playing of the trio in the alcove. Amber tripped over to Joda with a chuckle, and looked at the food.

  "I think we're all hungry. If the two of you are finished . . .?" Joda picked up the toddler. “Perhaps we can eat, non?”

  "If this is your idea of snacks," Nick told Emilie, "from now on, you get the tree stand and I get the food. At least the worst that could happen then is you get a gold and diamond-encrusted tree stand, handmade from a jeweler in Saudi Arabia."

  "You mean going to get it in my private jet?" she questioned as they moved towards the long table loaded with food.

  He cast a jaundiced look at her. "Do you have a private jet?"

  She looked back at him. "Yes. But I don't use it very often, if that makes you feel better."

  "Much better," he muttered, picking up a china plate and putting food on it for Adam.

  Emilie made a plate for Amber. Joda sat at the white linen-covered table with the child, talking to her and trying to distract her until the food arrived.

  Despite the quantity of food and the wonderful aromas emanating from it, Emilie had no appetite. She watched the children eat, but pushed food around on her own plate. How could she eat with the sensation Nick had caused in her?

  "Not hungry after all?" Joda asked, nudging her as she filled her plate again.

  "No. I guess not."

  "At least not for food, eh, petite?"

  "Can I go back for more?" Adam asked. "I want some more of those brown things and that sauce."

  Joda chuckled richly. "The child has excellent taste. The truffles are wonderful tonight."

  Truffles? Nick looked at the truffles on his plate and swallowed hard on the piece in his mouth. It wouldn't do to get used to eating that way. It wouldn't be wise to get used to the taste of something so far beyond his touch.

  The taste and texture of Emilie remained on his lips, despite the excellent wine and the delicious food. All that seemed to matter to him was that he wanted to touch her again. It burned within him until it threatened to consume everything else. He found himself plotting ways he could manage it without causing suspicion.

  When Adam and Amber were done eating, Emilie turned to Adam and handed him his battered flute case. "You know Aunt Joda didn't hear your Christmas concert at the school. Do you think you could play something with these other musicians?"

  Adam's eyes grew wide. "Do you think they'd let me?"

  "I think so," Emile said. "Tell that man right over there what you want to play and he'll tell you how you can do it."

  They arranged their chairs to face the musicians. Nick claimed a spot beside Emilie. Aunt Joda and Amber sat on the other side.

  Adam spoke with the violin player that Emilie had pointed out to him. Adam smiled at Emilie and his uncle. He took up his flute to play 'Silent Night' with the backing of his new musician friends.

  Nick looked at Emilie’s hand where it lay on the velvet in her lap. He spread his hand slowly over hers, entwining their fingers, hoping the craving to touch her would be satisfied.

  Emilie's hand squeezed his gently.

  He closed his eyes as the sweet music wafted around them in the elegant foyer. Desire was like the music surging through him. He realized that just holding Emilie’s hand wasn’t enough—and it terrified him.

  Chapter Twelve

  They had to decorate the top of the tree from the stairs. The tree spiraled up until Emilie wondered if it would touch the ceiling, but there was room for the huge silver star she'd bought. Nick held Amber up to put the star on the top. They all applauded when it was finished.

  Adam and Nick put on the multitude of colorful twinkling lights. There were still ten boxes remaining when they decided that the tree couldn't hold anymore.

  "I told you that you bought too much," Aunt Joda told Emilie, but it was said with a smile and a misting of her old eyes.

  Emilie hugged her. "Then we'll just have to put them up outside on some of the other trees."

  "Outside?" Joda demanded. "Isn't that a little undignified? We are Ferriers!"

  "Who cares?" Emilie grinned crazily. "Do we want to have dignity or pretty lights?"

  "Pretty lights!" Adam said loudly. "Can we put on the ornaments now?"

  Emilie nodded. ""Let's get them, Jake."

  There were more plastic ornaments than Amber was able to put on the tree. She turned her tired head into Aunt Joda's chest and fell promptly asleep. Nick offered to take her upstairs to her bed but Joda sat watching them decorate the tree, rocking her gently in her arms.

  "I think there's too many ornaments too," Adam decided. "We need another tree."

  The caterers and the trio were packing up to leave. Emilie thanked them all and gave them each a generous tip and received thanks and many Merry Christmases.

  "I think you're right," she agreed with Adam, looking at the huge tree. "We'll have to find someone who needs some ornaments for their tree."

  "You mean somebody who's not rich like you?" the boy asked with a grin.

  "I mean somebody who needs ornaments," she replied. "I don't care if they're rich or not."


  "Nobody's as rich as you, Emilie," Adam hooted. "You must have more money than the bank!"

  Emilie frowned. "Let's pick up this mess and get Amber up to bed."

  "Can I stay up?" Adam asked.

  "What do you think?" Nick asked shortly.

  "I think I should get to stay up and look at the tree all night."

  "Wrong answer!" Nick picked him up and threw him across his shoulder. "Tomorrow's another day."

  They’d cleaned up the paper and boxes from ornaments and lights. The caterers had cleaned up everything else. A useful service, Nick decided. Bring in the food, clean up the mess. He wished they'd come and live at his house!

  He tucked Amber and Adam into bed. Amber didn't even wake up when he put her in the crib. He kissed her forehead and put her turtle down next to her.

  He’d noticed that she'd started dropping it more often on the floor and ignoring it altogether. Maybe she was finally getting over her parents' death. Maybe she was going to be all right.

  He'd worried so much in the past year that the two children might never really recover from their ordeal. Emilie had changed all that. Adam was doing better since he'd been placed in her class at school. Amber seemed to be less scared and nervous since they'd come to stay in her house.

  Nick went in the bedroom with every intention of telling Adam a story to help the boy wind down a little and go to sleep. Adam was already asleep in his clothes, sprawled out on the bed. He took off Adam’s clothes and pushed him into his pajamas. He pulled the blanket up on him and sat beside him on the bed, thoughtfully looking at him.

  Was it all Emilie? Or was it just the right time for the children to recover? He would probably never know the answer to that question.

  He’d insisted on complete anonymity during Amber’s adoption proceedings. Her adoptive parents had insisted he would have no future contact with them or Amber once it was over.

  Nick understood how they felt. It might be hard for Amber to settle in with her new family if he was constantly popping in and out of her life. Maybe they were right.

  He only knew how difficult it was going to be living without them. Adam and Amber deserved wonderful lives with loving parents, something Nick knew he could never provide. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done to give them up. Those little faces were so like Renee's. Looking into their eyes was like seeing her again.

  At first it had been painful. Now, it was like a living memory of his sister, a memorial to her that shone at him every time they looked at him and smiled her smile.

  He'd given his word, he reminded himself. He couldn't provide them with that stable life two parents could give them. He knew that from losing his own father. A child needed two parents. Amber and Adam needed a real family around them.

  As for Emilie—he was sure they were a whim in her life. She was rich. She loved children, and obviously liked to help hard luck cases. There wasn't anything more to it.

  He wanted to think there was more, as much as he would’ve liked to keep Renee's children. The reality was that both of those dreams were illusions. He needed to keep reminding himself of that until the holidays were over. Then he and Adam would be back in their own home, and Amber was gone.

  He went back downstairs to see if Emilie needed any more help cleaning up. The lights were off in the foyer, but the gorgeous tree lit the darkness softly. He saw no sign of Emilie or Joda in the kitchen. He assumed they must have gone to bed, until he saw the light in the library.

  Nick glanced into the room quickly. He only wanted to assure himself that she didn't need him before he went upstairs to his room. It wasn't a good idea for them to spend a lot of time together anyway. All of his good intentions, all of his promises that he wasn't going to get involved with Emilie, meant nothing when he looked at her.

  When had he become so weak?

  Emilie was standing in front of the fireplace where a warm fire burned crisply in the huge old hearth. There was no other light. The firelight played on her hair and skin with a golden hand.

  He realized then that he loved her. He’d lost control of himself and the situation the first time he’d seen her, standing in the crowded bar on the Interstate. It had all been downhill from there.

  "Nick!" She caught sight of him the corner of her eye. "I'm about to open a bottle of my grandfather's brandy. It's a Christmas tradition. Will you join me?"

  When she turned to face him, he started to tell her that he was going up to bed. A hundred reasons why he shouldn’t stay sprang into his mind. Tomorrow was going to be a long day at the garage. He wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want to intrude on another Ferrier tradition.

  The protest never made it from his brain to his lips.

  "That sounds good." Nick was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with the master planner in his brain. Maybe he was having some sort of melt-down. Or he was about to have a stroke. Nothing else could account for the effect Emilie’s dreamy eyes had on him.

  Emilie held her hands together nervously in front of her as she walked to the old sideboard and took out a dusty bottle and two glasses.

  "Where's Joda?" He took the glasses from her as she sat beside him on the sofa. "I can't believe that this isn't the sort of tradition she gets into."

  "Normally, that would be true," Emilie responded with a smile. "Tonight she meets with her sisterhood. I'm surprised she stayed with us all that time putting up the tree. Usually I don't see her at all during her meeting night."

  "What kind of sisterhood?" Nick queried, making conversation.

  Emilie struggled with the cork on the old bottle. "They're harmless. They dance around and drink herbal tea, and sometimes, they pray to the moon."

  Nick took the bottle from her wordlessly to tackle the reluctant cork as he handed her the glasses. "Amber really likes her."

  "Amber likes everyone."

  “True.” Nick got the cork out of the bottle and sniffed the heady brew inside of it. "Whew! Your grandfather made this stuff?"

  Emilie held the big balloon glasses while Nick poured the dark brown liquid. "He was a dedicated, part-time vintner and moonshiner," she explained. "He wanted Ferrier to be a famous name on bottles around the world. He wasn't willing to put the time or effort into the process though."

  "It must be nice to be rich." Nick saluted her with his glass then tasted the brandy. It was like honey going across his tongue and down his throat. Then it became fire in his belly. "What a kick!"

  Emilie coughed delicately and her eyes watered. She waved away his help. "I'm fine," she spluttered. "Grandfather was good at what he did."

  Nick had to agree. "What year was this made?"

  Emilie peered at the bottle. "It looks like 1922."

  Nick took another sip and nodded, feeling warmth creep up from his toes. "That must’ve been a very good year."

  "Every year was a good year for my grandfather. He loved life."

  She sipped at her own brandy, wishing it would give her the courage to say what was on her mind. She was so afraid that he would simply reject her proposal out of hand. Once the words were out, she couldn’t recall them.

  "More?" she asked him when his glass was empty.

  "No, thanks. I think that's about all the holiday cheer I can handle at one time."

  "Oh." She put down the bottle. "Do you have to go out again tonight?"

  "Not unless there's an emergency." He sat back against the warm velvet of the roomy sofa and looked at her closely. The light from the fire caught in red and gold strands in her hair. His hand ached to touch it.

  She was nervous about something. It was amazing how well he knew her already. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. She drank the rest of her brandy, glanced at him, and smiled. Her breasts rose and fell at the edge of the scooped neckline. Her hands betrayed her agitation, moving her glass and the bottle restlessly on the table.

  "Emilie?" He stopped her frantic repositioning. "Is there something you wante
d to say to me?"

  She smiled again, opened her mouth, and closed it. She licked her lips then looked away.

  Was she . . . it was too incredible for him to consider . . . was she trying to seduce him?

  His body grew taut and hot at the thought. It was his turn to shift restlessly and glance away from her, not quite sure what to do with his hands.

  The firelight. Her dress. The brandy. Her evident unease. With any other woman, he’d know for certain.

  She’d invited him into the darkened room. They were alone. She was wondering if he was going to have to go out again that night.

  It wouldn't take much, he considered honestly, laughing at his own weakness. He wanted her all the time anyway.

  If she wasn't trying to seduce him, what else could it be?

  "Nick." Her voice trembled a little. "I was wondering—"

  "Shh." He leaned forward and put a gentle finger on her lips. "You don't have to explain."

  He was very close to her. She could see the tiny laugh lines that fanned out from his eyes and the small quirk in the left corner of his lip. He was very dark in the dim light. His back was against the fire. She knew that it illuminated her face.

  She could have planned that better, she realized. Strategically, she should have been able to see his face to gauge for reaction when she told him her plans for the children.

  His finger was deftly tracing the curved line of her lips. She shivered and his mouth touched hers.

  "I want to explain," she managed in a soft rush of breath. She was afraid that another touch from him might make her forget or forsake her purpose. She had to be strong.

  "I'm listening." He bent his head and kissed her ear.

  "It's just that…" She bit her lip on a low moan as she felt his mouth on her neck, pushing her back against the heavily padded sofa arm. "I've been looking f-for s-someone."

  "Someone?" He slid one finger around the neck of her dress until the firelight gleamed on her bare shoulder. He moved his mouth across that white expanse, using his tongue to taste its cool sweetness.