Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “Maddy?” he asked, turning to the shadows that hid her.

  She took a step forward, into the pale silvery light that filled the room. “Since we’re the only two on the island, you’d want to hope it’s me.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his voice like gravel. “A robber would be less dangerous than you in my room.”

  With a lazy smile, she crossed to the side of his bed. “Scared of me, Samuel?”

  He watched her warily. “Scared of why you’re here.”

  “I’m here because I want to touch you.” She trailed a finger along his stubbled jaw, down his neck, across his broad shoulder. “I want you to touch me. How is that scary?”

  He didn’t move, didn’t respond to her caress. “It’s all the strings that come attached to the touching.”

  She pulled her tank top over her head and let it fall from her fingers to the floor. “If you’re worried I’ll trap you into marriage, that horse has already bolted.”

  “We’re not married, Maddy. I signed the papers.” But his eyes were hot, and a strong pulse beat at the base of his throat. “We’re now in the process of a divorce.”

  She hooked her thumbs under the sides of her sleeping boxers and slowly, oh, so slowly, eased them down her legs and stepped out of them. “What if we weren’t?”

  “A divorce is for the best.” His chest rose and fell too fast as his gaze followed her actions. “You were right all along. Understanding today how much you want a child brought that home. Divorce is the best for you, for me, and if you’re pregnant, for the baby.”

  Undeterred, she perched on the edge of his bed. “You burned the last three sets of papers. What if we do the same to these? I’m sure I can find a candle around here.”

  A frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “You seriously think our marriage could work this time?”

  “I have hope that I didn’t have before.” She lifted a leg to straddle his lap, leaving only the cotton sheet between them.

  He sucked in a breath between his teeth as she settled. “As I said, this is dangerous. Hope is dangerous.”

  She smiled in contradiction. Hope was a glorious thing. She’d had none about her marriage for so long that even a sliver of it felt wonderful blooming behind her ribs.

  Running a hand over his chest, she rocked gently against him. “You told me when I arrived that we took vows that are forever.”

  “I was wrong,” he said, his voice strained. “You should leave, Maddy.” But his hands moved to rest heavily on her thighs, not holding her in place, but not moving her away either.

  She rocked against him again, then once more, harder, for good measure. “You don’t want to make love to me?”

  He made a choking sound and hit his head back on the headboard. “From the position you’re in, I’m pretty sure you can feel the evidence of how wrong that is.”

  She moved back a little and palmed his erection through the cotton barrier. “You mean this evidence?”

  His hands fisted in the sheets. “Maddy,” he growled in warning.

  Suddenly a twinge of uncertainty emerged, and she stopped. When she’d decided to come into his room, she hadn’t thought it would be this much work to convince him. Maybe it had been a stupid plan….

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why are you fighting yourself so much over this?”

  “I don’t want to lead you on,” he said, his gaze intent, serious.

  Ah. She smiled again. That she could deal with. She was a big girl—she knew that a night in his bed was no commitment to a future together. All that was promised in this bed was the pleasure they could bring each other.

  She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her breasts against his chest, and then whispered in his ear. “What if I said I won’t read anything into this, other than our wanting each other never died?”

  “You said you have hope for us,” he said, his voice no more than a rasp. Then he gripped her shoulders and gently eased her back until she could see his eyes. “For a future.”

  She inclined her head in acknowledgement—she wouldn’t lie about that—but there was so much more and now wasn’t the time. “How about we agree to disagree, just for tonight?”

  He released her shoulders and his palms smoothed down her arms, sending a wave of goose bumps across her skin. “So we make love and you think it’s the start of something?”

  “Yes,” she said, her fingertips tracing a pattern over his abs, allowing herself a moment to luxuriate in the warmth of his skin. “At the same time we make love and you think it’s our last hurrah.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “That doesn’t sound like it would work.”

  “The first part is in common, Samuel.” She kissed him lightly on his jaw. “We make love.” Her lips followed a path to his mouth, and placed a soft kiss there. “Right now, nothing else matters.”

  A shudder ripped through his body, and his eyes opened again. “As long as there’s no confusion. We’re on the same page.”

  “And in the same bed,” she said against his lips.

  Groaning in surrender, he pulled her tight against his body and slid down the sheets, kissing her as he rolled her beneath him. His weight pushed her into the mattress and she reveled in the sensation, wanting everything that was Samuel, and then more again. Her hands roamed his back, fingers digging in, palms massaging, nails scraping, and when he reared back to lean down and take the peak of her breast into the heat of his mouth, she called out his name.

  “Condom,” he said as he wrenched his mouth away seconds—minutes?—later . “There are condoms in the bathroom.” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “One of the assistants ordered them in the monthly delivery from the mainland. Though who she thought I was going to use them with out here is anyone’s guess.”

  Maddy grinned. “I don’t care what she thought. She’s pretty much my favorite person right now.”

  “Hey,” he said, and slid his hand down to the juncture of her thighs.

  She gasped. “Okay, right after the man whose body is making all sorts of promises for the night ahead.”

  “That’s a little better.” He pulled himself away to stand beside the bed. “Hang on while I get those condoms. And keep thinking whatever thoughts are making you look at me like that.”

  Watching his retreating, very fine butt, she had no trouble following his request. When he returned, she welcomed him back onto the sheets beside her, and set about making it a night they’d both remember. Because, no matter what Samuel said, deep down she knew that tonight was the first night of the rest of their lives. They still had their issues, sure, but now she knew they’d move past them. Together.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  December 25

  Samuel woke slowly to the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Given the angle of the light, it had to be past eight o’clock and he couldn’t remember sleeping that late in years. He stretched and snatches of the night before flowed back. Maddy in his doorway. Maddy seducing him. Maddy straddling him. Maddy.

  Suddenly he was fully awake, his heart racing. He sat up, scanning the bed, the room. She was gone. Disappointed, despite knowing it was for the best, he sank back to the sheets. She might have said she had hope for them, but perhaps she’d realized he was right and treated their lovemaking as a last hurrah, the way she’d told him he could.

  A clip-clip of dog toenails along the hallway floor told him that Lochie was on his way. Maddy must have let him out when she left.

  Lochie appeared in the doorway, wriggling with excitement, and made his way over to the side of the bed for a scratch. Samuel was rubbing his dog’s ears when Maddy appeared as well. She’d thrown on a short, silky robe that had been hanging in the main bedroom’s wardrobe, and she was carrying a tray.

  “Merry Christmas, Samuel,” she said brightly.

  Her smile was enough to light up the entire room. Guess she hadn’t changed her mind about what last night meant. One sad, pathetic part of
his heart jumped for joy, but he squashed it. There was no viable future for them, and making love to her had only given her false hope. He’d been right—letting her into his bed last night had been a huge mistake.

  He scowled. “You’ve brought me breakfast in bed?”

  “No, the correct response is “Merry Christmas, Maddy!”, though you should feel free to play with the wording a bit. Maybe, “Merry Christmas, Madelyn” or even something cheesy, like, “Come over here so I can jingle your bells.” Totally up to you.”

  She carefully placed the tray on the rumpled sheets and climbed up on the mattress, sitting across from him.

  “Maddy—”

  “I didn’t know which tea was your favorite, so I’ve just put boiling water in the pot and brought a few containers to choose from. You might want to put the leaves in first thing, while the water is still a good temperature.”

  “Maddy,” he said, his tone grave, “I think we might have a misunderstanding here. The sex, while good,” phenomenal, “didn’t magically fix things between us.”

  “Toast?” she asked, passing him a slice already buttered. He had no choice but to take it from her and he sat, staring at it, confused. He was trying to have a serious conversation while she was serving breakfast as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

  “Maddy, I’m serious. I want this divorce.”

  She finally stopped and looked at him. “You didn’t want it two days ago, back when we were fighting. Now we’re getting along again, you want to split up? That makes no sense.”

  He rubbed at his temples, really not wanting the conversation to head in the direction it was headed. “Two days ago there was no possibility you were pregnant.”

  “Most people would think that’s an even stronger reason to stay together, not a reason to separate,” she pointed out, then took a sip of her coffee.

  “I’m not most people. You know that. I’m the big bad wolf.” Worse than a story book villain, he was a real life monster. His insides writhed as they always did when he let the truth come to the fore of his mind.

  “I know we still have the issue of my possible pregnancy between us, and even if I’m not pregnant, we still don’t agree on future children, but at least now we’re talking. Really talking.” She put her mug down and laid a hand on his forearm. “Telling me about Victoria last night, that meant a lot to me. If we can talk things through, we can survive anything.”

  He shook his head. She only thought that because he hadn’t told her the whole story about Victoria. If he did, she’d be leaving as fast as she could get the helicopter back. She’d never want to see him again, and she’d be right to feel that way.

  He dropped the toast on the tray. “No amount of talking is going to move us through this point. This—” His throat was closing over. He paused and cleared it, trying to get it to loosen enough to speak. His body was fighting against him saying what he needed to. He tried again. “This is a dead end.” He pointed to the clear sky out the window. “The storms have moved on, you can ring Craig and get him to pick you up today.”

  She didn’t follow the line of his finger, barely even seemed to register that he was ending things. She just shrugged one shoulder. “Even if I wanted to leave, I wouldn’t want to disturb Emma and Craig on Christmas Day.”

  “They won’t mind. Emma hates this day as much as I do.” And for almost the same reason.

  “Samuel,” she said, her voice changing to become soft, serious. “I want to apologize for all the times I pushed and goaded you into showing more festive spirit than you wanted to. If I’d known about Victoria, I would have been more sensitive.”

  Hearing his baby sister’s name on Maddy’s lips was like a red hot poker to the chest. He shoved the tray away and swung his legs to plant his feet on the floor, wanting this conversation over. “No apology needed. You didn’t know. Could never have guessed.”

  “But now I know,” she moved a smidgeon closer, “I’d like to do something.”

  Every cell in his body was suddenly excruciatingly alert. “What kind of thing?”

  “I was thinking that we could include Victoria into our Christmas days from now on. Maybe say a prayer for her in the mornings, or even bring a photo of her out and have it on the mantle.”

  No. Blackness closed in on him. His whole life had been about burying the entire sordid mess, of trying to forget, yet knowing he’d never be able to. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, couldn’t breathe. The only time he hadn’t felt like a monster was when he was with Maddy, when he saw himself through her eyes. And now she wanted to bring those memories more clearly into his life.

  He tried to tell her to stop, but his body wasn’t obeying his commands anymore.

  “Also,” she continued, oblivious to him drowning, drowning, “if I am pregnant, and it’s a girl, I thought we could name her Victoria.”

  The blackness that had been crowding him reached in and swallowed his heart. He leapt from the bed, panting, every muscle tense, ready to run. He couldn’t be around babies because they reminded him of his little sister, and now Maddy wanted to make the situation worse by naming their potential baby after her?

  “No,” he croaked out.

  Maddy’s eyes were wide as she looked at him, frown lines crossed her forehead. “Samuel?”

  “No,” he said, this time more strongly.

  “You don’t want to name our baby after Victoria?” she said soothingly, clearly confused by his reaction. “That’s okay. That’s completely fine.”

  But it wasn’t fine, and she wasn’t understanding what he was trying to say. The blood rushed through his veins so fast he could practically feel it under his skin, and it burned.

  “I don’t want to name our baby after Victoria.” He heard his voice rising, but was powerless to control it. “I don’t want there to be a baby. And I don’t want to be constantly reminded of Victoria.”

  She leaned back a little, her eyes confused. “Okay,” she said, visibly regrouping, then reached a hand out to him, placating him. “But, just tell me why, because none of this is making sense.”

  “Because I’m the one who killed Victoria,” he said before he could stop himself.

  Her face went white with horror, horror of him, at what he’d done, and all the fight left him in a rush. He slumped down the wall to the floor and dropped his hands into his face to hide the monster within, but knowing it was too late.

  Too late.

  Maddy knew.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maddy lifted a trembling hand to her lips. It wasn’t true. If she knew one thing in her life, it was that her husband wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t harm anyone.

  “Samuel, what are you talking about?”

  Slowly, he stood, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “It doesn’t matter. How about—”

  “Stop,” she said, and reached for his hand. He let her take it, but it sat limply in hers. “You’ve told me that much. You need to tell me the rest.”

  A deep breath seemed to rattle his entire body. “I suppose you’re right.” He glanced around the sunlit room, then down at his naked body. “Not here. Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

  Maddy chewed on her bottom lip, considering. She wanted to sit tight and demand answers now—he was open to her in this moment and she was reluctant to surrender that. On the other hand, she couldn’t begin to imagine how hard talking about this was for him, and her role should be to make it as easy for him as she could.

  Torn, she sought his troubled gaze. “If I respect your needs and give you time to get dressed, will you still be willing to share what happened?”

  “I promise,” he said, his voice grave.

  She rose, and cupped a hand to the side of his face. “I’ll be there when you’re ready.” Then she took the tray and left. Samuel still hadn’t moved and it took all her willpower to make her legs walk down the hall, leaving him.

  Ten minutes later, she’d found another outfit fr
om the wardrobe in their old room, made a pot of the tea Samuel had been drinking the first day she arrived, and was waiting in the living room for him. Practically holding her breath in the hope he was coming, that he hadn’t changed his mind and reverted to the old Samuel.

  She’d only taken a few sips from her steaming mug before he walked in, hands deep in his jeans pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched, Lochie at his heels.

  “Samuel—” she began, but he held up a hand.

  “If I’m going to get through this, you’ll have to let me just speak.”

  She nodded and handed him the cup of tea she’d made for him. He took it, and sat in the armchair beside hers. Not meeting her gaze, he wrapped his hands around the cup, but he didn’t drink.

  “My family….” He muttered an oath under his breath and shook his head. Maddy waited.

  “Emma and I adored Victoria,” he said, his voice rough. “But our parents were never good with children. They were happiest when Emma and I were playing quietly in our rooms. They gave us the best of everything—TVs in our bedrooms, a wall of movies to choose from, every toy a child could want—then pretty much left us to fend for ourselves. They entertained a lot, and when they had friends over for dinner, Emma and I were to stay at the other end of the house. It was probably for the best.” He gave a cynical shrug. “They spent most of those dinners rolling drunk.”

  Maddy sipped her coffee. She’d never warmed to his parents, and known they were aloof to their kids, but she hadn’t realized quite how bad things were when Samuel was little.

  He drew in a shuddering breath, focused on the full cup in his hands. “They had a live-in nanny for Victoria, so she wasn’t much trouble to them at all. The nanny was nice enough, but Emma and I weren’t her responsibility, so she didn’t spend much time with us.”

  “Who looked after you and Emma?” Her skin prickled, nervous for him even though it had happened years ago.

  “We looked after each other.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a sad imitation of a smile, but his eyes were bleak. “Of course, there’s a reason children shouldn’t raise themselves—we both had our fair share of broken bones, burns, and minor injuries. But we didn’t know any other way.”