by Fiona Shin
Her lips tilted at one corner, and he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to kiss a woman so badly. Not even with Meredith had he felt like this, like a stalk of wheat caught up in a tornado, the tornado otherwise known as Ivy Stevens from Fisher County. “Didn’t I tell you? I am a learned woman.”
He gritted his teeth against the almost unbearable urge to do just what she had said.
“For the last time,” he managed to say, while she worked the top button out and then moved down to the second one, her brows furrowed slightly in concentration. “I have nothing to give you.”
“And I will tell you for the last time, I want nothing from you,” she replied, voice low and mysterious. Lady Darkness, she was, covered in shadows with eyes of violet and skin the color of the stars. “It’s Christmas Eve, Mr. Whitley. Consider this my…gift.”
His gift.
A Christmas gift.
Given freely.
Herself.
He watched his hand rise, watched it touch her face almost as if he were standing outside of his body, as though someone had taken possession of his limbs and rendered him a mere observer of this act. “I hate Christmas.”
She ducked her head, almost shyly. “I don’t. It gave me you.”
And despite everything, he felt his lips twitch upward. “Am I to be your Christmas present as well, then?”
She traced his smile, her own lips rising at the corners. “A fair exchange, wouldn’t you say?”
Her smile all but undid him, and the ledger fell on the floor, the metal binding scrapping him painfully on one shin. “Not much for you, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said as she set back to working on the buttons of his half opened shirt. “I’m sure I’ll get something out of it as well.”
His body trembled for the wanting, trembled for the warmth she so freely offered and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you sure?”
She reached up then, brushed the hair from his eyes, her hands unwavering, not shaking at all. Resolute. “I have never been so sure in my entire life, Mr. Whitley.”
“Elliot.” His voice was low, hoarse. “Not Mr. Whitley. Just Elliot.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled with those rose--red lips. “Just Elliot. And I am Ivy. Just Ivy.”
And damned if he knew why, but it felt…right.
“Never ‘just’,” he whispered. “Dear, sweet, Ivy. Beautiful Ivy. But never ‘just’ Ivy. Not in a thousand years.”
Her eyes closed in pleasure, like that of a pampered cat. “Elliot.”
Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she stared at him, with an expression much like dismay. “Elliot…”
It nearly scared the hell out of him. “What? What’s wrong?”
And then, just as abruptly, she began to laugh.
Hanging onto his neck, she laughed and laughed until tears ran down her face.
He didn’t understand. Was this how all women were? Meredith’s mood had been deadly mercurial, but she had been a silent, waiting viper. In Ivy, he could sense no artifices, no such facades and he reveled in that knowledge. “Ivy? Ivy, what’s wrong? What’s so funny?”
It took a while for her to quiet some, but finally she managed to stifle her bell--like laughter into mere giggles while swiping at her eyes with a corner of the white apron. “Oh, Elliot. I’d…I’d just thought of something so absurd and for some reason, it just struck me as laughable, that’s all.”
“You certainly did laugh,” he said, somewhat dryly. “What did you find so absurd?”
She laughed a bit under her breath and grabbed his hands, bringing them together under her chin.
“I have never kissed you.”
He blinked.
I have never kissed you.
He blinked again.
Never kissed you…
Her laughter began again. “See? You are surprised. As I am.” She shook her head in wonder. “I hope you will forgive me for saying such, but I feel as though I have been here for a long time. And for us to have never shared a kiss…”
He twined his fingers with hers. “A grave error on my part, I’m afraid to say.”
“An error I hope you will rectify, Elliot?” she asked, brow quirked.
God, but how he loved hearing his name on her tongue. “As you wish.”
He took her mouth with his, tasted the sweetness on her tongue.
Hands tightening on his shirt, she made a small sound and it drove Elliot mad.
He had to have her. Had to feel her warmth sheathing his cock, had to feel her body shudder underneath his as he took what she so freely offered.
She pulled away, just enough to speak, her lips still touching his. “I want to see you. All of you.”
“You’ve taken the words right out of my mouth,” he breathed with a stifled laugh, his heart racing in his chest.
Her hands were steady as she undid the rest of the buttons and slid the shirt off his shoulders. “You’re beautiful.”
He stood there, in front of the fire, feeling as untested as the first time a woman had touched him, and couldn’t help but smile at the frank appraisal she gave him, as though he were some sort of stud horse on auction. “Do you like what you see?”
She bit her full lower lip, putting a hand on her chin. “I think so. But it might be too soon to tell, really.”
Dear god. If she didn’t hurry up and do something, anything, he was going to explode. And that was quite unacceptable. “Well, what do you want me to do?”
“Take it off,” she said baldly, her eyes never leaving his. “Take everything off.”
Her bluntness, instead of offending him, only excited Elliot even more. Even Meredith had never been so commanding. Every other woman he’d been with had been retiring, willing enough, but never willing enough to take the initiative and tell him what they needed, wanted. They left Elliot to guess and until now, he had never known what it would be like to completely lay himself bare.
He loved it.
The fire warm along his exposed body, he slowly undid the top button of his trousers and then paused, all too aware of the way Ivy’s eyelashes had fluttered. “Should I stop? You seem a bit…unwell.”
She glared at him. “I should hardly think so!”
Elliot shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Have it your way, then.”
There were plenty of instances where his dalliances enjoyed disrobing themselves and driving him to distraction with their naked body and some rather clever uses of silken shawls and strings of pearls. At that time, he had found it interesting…to say the least.
To be on the other side of the room, or so to speak, was also quite…interesting.
Liberating, in fact.
Exhilarating.
He held his arms out to his sides and turned around slowly, fighting to keep from grinning. He wasn’t very successfully. “Well, here I am, Ivy. Stark naked.”
The fascinated look in her eyes just made him harder.
She saw that, too and a brow rose even higher. “I…can see that.”
“However, there seems to be a grave bit of injustice here,” he continued and took a step forward.
“Is there?” she said, feigning boredom and peering at her fingernails. “And what would this…grave bit of injustice be?”
Ivy was close enough to touch.
Close enough to kiss.
Close enough to run his fingers down the length of her back, undoing each button like a knife through butter. Considering the last time he had fumbled with a woman’s undergarments and ultimately ripped a skirt from seam to seam, Elliot took it as a sign.
A sign that it was right to kiss her.
A sign that it was right to wind his hand through her thick, dark hair and bring her down to the knitted rug in front of the fireplace, the logs crackling, the fire warm and inviting on their bodies.
His lips kissed a trail down her body, between the valley of her breasts, down her gently quivering belly…
; “Don’t stop,” she whispered in a voice sweeter than anything he had ever heard. “Please don’t stop.”
He raised himself up on his elbows and looked up at her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
With a heartfelt groan that just made Elliot’s grin wider, she reached for him.
His cock hovered at the hot, moist apex of her thighs and his grin faded away.
“Do it.” Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink and she brought his head down, met his lips with hers.
Unable to control himself, he surged forward, almost coming right then and there.
She tensed, letting out a small sound of distress.
Damn it!
He should’ve known.
But damn it if she didn’t feel so damn warm, so damn good. “Why didn’t you tell me, you idiot?”
She let out a breath and slid slightly under his hands.
He was in heaven.
He was in hell. “Stop moving, Ivy.”
She did, although it was much too slow for his liking. “I thought…I thought it was enjoyable?”
Enjoyable? What an understatement. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you?” Her eyes widened dramatically. “Tell you what?”
The words stuck in his throat. “That you never…”
His face blazed. Rightfully, the moment he felt the slightest resistance, he should’ve called wolf and made like hell for the next room, no, the next county.
But that was like asking a hungry wolf not to bite a sheep’s leg.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You didn’t think it would matter?” he asked, incredulous. But the body was a treacherous thing and even a tornado couldn’t dislodge him from her. Christ, he was a real bastard. “We have to stop.”
“Don’t,” she said quietly, smoothing a finger down his face. “Don’t stop. This is what I want. Let me do this for you.”
Suddenly, Elliot couldn’t get the image of the proverbial lamb led to the sacrificial altar. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that if you’re just doing this for me.”
She put a finger on his lips, effectively shutting him up. “If you think I’m that much of a martyr, Elliot, then I am sorry to disappoint. I do not consider this a sacrifice.” Her lips curved upward and inwardly, he groaned at the provocative image. “It’s a gift. For us both. Surely, you would not be so impolite as to return one?”
“No.” He moved slowly, the delicious friction and heat making him feel weak. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
She moved against him, a subtle sway of her hips that brought a gasp to his lips. “I don’t care about that. Could you move again? That was rather nice.”
Rather nice?
Encouraging words, if any. “Perhaps I can make this more than just…nice.”
“How promising.” She smiled and drew his head down for a kiss. “Please do.”
And he did, moving inside her, slow but sure, and sweat slicked down his body, glistened on her skin.
Beautiful Ivy.
Wonderful Ivy.
And for the first time in a very long time, the memories of Meredith did not cross his mind as he paid homage to the goddess underneath him.
She cried out, hips pressing against his and Elliot let himself go, drawing her into his arms, his cock spasming in the wake of their lovemaking.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his neck. “Thank you so very much, Elliot.”
He pulled away then, stared down at the woman who made him feel complete, who made him feel like a human again and said the only thing he could think of.
“I love you.”
Her eyes widened. “Elliot.”
Feeling more exultant than he’d ever felt, he pressed his mouth to her temple and felt her arms clasp him to her breasts.
“Marry me,” he said. “I don’t want you to go. Ivy, marry me.”
Her answer was a kiss.
He took it as a yes.
***
God save her, she loved him.
She loved him and the very idea that she could not have him made her chest constrict almost too painfully to bear.
He was still sleeping, his beautiful dark eyes closed in peaceful repose, his lips relaxed into that perpetual half--smile she had began to associate with him.
The idea she could no longer see that smile made the corners of her eyes prickle.
I love you.
She stopped a sob before it left her lips, and she clamped a hand to her mouth, just in case.
Marry me.
She could scare believe it. After two years of successfully staving off marriage proposals so romantic, it made all the other girls in her social circle swoon upon hearing the recollection, she had fallen so very deeply for the one man she could not have.
For what had she to offer him?
Ivy, marry me.
And he had meant it. That was the problem.
He who had kept himself behind a wall of ice, who had kept his heart under lock and key until she stumbled into his life.
How could he know if he loved her? What if his feeling was merely exultation at finding that he was a human, not an automaton unable to human emotion? What if he realized, much too late, what a mistake he had made?
In any case, she couldn’t stay.
She pressed a swift kiss to his brow and crept out of the warm bed, taking care not to disturb him.
The storm had stopped; she could hear the sounds of the winter night, the howl of the blizzard having subsided into an empty silence that made her ears ring.
Whispering a note of forgiveness, she slipped a couple of bills from a desk drawer, just enough to get her to the next town, just enough to procure boarding for a couple of days while she tried to secure some sort of employment. Now, it would be easier. She was well--fed, clean, and wearing the clothes he had provided. Due to Mrs. Chang instructions, she was a fair cook. Perhaps she could find employment as a cook at a boarding house…
After a moment, she pulled another bill and folded them into a thin clump.
“I’m a thief,” she whispered. “God forgive me, but I am nothing but a thief.”
She wrote a quick note and slipped it on the top of Elliot’s desk. With luck, he would find it and perhaps…perhaps he would forgive her.
I love you.
The look in his eyes as he whispered those three words…
Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks as she dressed hurriedly, pulling on two thick woolen stockings, as she had no idea how long she would have to wait at the next station for a train. Surely, it would have snowed enough to render delays in the trains. She would have to get to post office, where there would be a carriage, or even a cart that could take her as far as the next station. She couldn’t risk waiting at the station in town…not when she didn’t know when the next train would come through.
Already, she fancied she could hear voices drifting in the air, the sounds of the people who were leaving the assembly hall for their respective homes.
She tied the thick black wool cloak around her neck, pulled the furred hood over her hair and vanished into the night.
Chapter Five
“Mrs. Stevens! Three fried eggs, bacon and toast, please.”
Ivy nodded and began to crack eggs over a thick skillet that was blacker than ink. “Right away, Mrs. Miller.”
“Thank you.” The tall, severely faced matron nodded at her, and then paused at the doorway leading to the dining room. “Incidentally, how are you doing, Mrs. Stevens?”
It had been nearly a week since she arrived in the small town of Saint Charles, just south of Elgin, and she had been incredibly lucky. The first boardinghouse she walked into, she had very nearly been bowled over by an errant woman dressed in heavy black cotton, screaming obscenities Ivy hadn’t even heard drunken brawlers mutter under their breath.
She was helped out, or more precisely, pushed out by
Mrs. Miller along with her rotund husband, a man with a bushy beard and a belly that seemed in grave danger of springing forth and walking about on its own.
“Don’t you ever come back,” Mrs. Miller had said, thick lines bracketing the sides of her thin lips. “You just consider yourself lucky I’m not getting the sheriff involved, Delilah. Stealing from ones employers, the nerve! Why I’ve a mind to pluck every hair from your head!”
Ivy, having seen a great deal more than a screaming woman accused of thievery, slipped past the struggling trio and waited at the front desk.
It was not long until Mrs. Miller situated herself behind the desk, smoothing back loose strands of hair from her pale face. “Will you be wanting a room, ma’am?”
She nodded and Mrs. Miller pulled out a small leather book, all the while muttering under her breath. “Damn fool woman. Don’t know what I’m going to do, full house and not a single person who can cook a blasted egg without burning it to a crisp…”
A job! Ivy tried not to seem too desperate, although it might very well have shown in her eyes as she cleared her throat. “I couldn’t help but notice…”
Mrs. Miller snorted. “I’m sure folks from miles away would’ve noticed that particular, distasteful incident. I do apologize, ma’am.”
Ivy cleared her throat again. “Well, I am newly arrived from Branford, where I worked…as a maid for some time. I am quite a capable cook and am in search of employment in town.”
“You?” The older woman’s eyes sharpened as she looked Ivy up and down. “You’re not with child, are you?”
Ivy felt her heart dip. She hadn’t even thought about that! Surely…not. Best not to think about that now. “N…no. Of course not! I…I am a widow. My name is Ivy Stevens.”
“A widow?” Mrs. Miller let out a huff. “Not with that blush on your face.”
Ivy didn’t know how to remove said blush from her face when it was wholly involuntarily.
“Be that as it may,” continued the proprietor of Miller’s Boardinghouse without missing a breath. “I am indeed looking for a cook. Can you fry an egg without burning the edges?”
Ivy nodded, almost too hopeful to breath. “I can.”