Snowflakes and Stetsons

by Jillian Hart

  And tomorrow, being Christmas, she would have a day of reprieve before she faced speculative stares and the noticeable absence of that brawny, dark-eyed ex-Ranger in her life—

  Her thoughts exploded and she gasped in surprise when someone pounced from the shadows the moment she opened the back door of the shop. Rosa tried to bite the gloved hand clamped over mouth but her attacker rammed a pistol into the side of her neck, discouraging her from fighting back. She did, however, set her feet—but to no avail—when he pushed her ahead of him to scale the staircase leading to her apartment.

  “Now unlock the door and be quick about it,” he snapped gruffly.

  Rosa opened the door, asking herself what Lucas would do when confronted with this dangerous situation. He would attack, she decided. Hands clenched together, she whirled around to wallop the masked man in the head. While he was dazed momentarily, she launched herself at him to grab his pistol but he clubbed her with it before she could yank it from his grasp.

  Pain exploded in her skull and she wilted onto the floor in an unconscious heap.

  Lucas stood there—as if he’d sprouted roots—for several minutes. What was he supposed to do after Rosa told him that she loved him then stamped off, as if she were ashamed of her feelings and didn’t want him to know?

  Did she really think she was in love with him? Why? What could he possibly give her that she couldn’t purchase for herself? She was an heiress, for goodness sake. And he was…not.

  He glanced around uncomfortably, noting that he was still the center of attention. “Double damn,” he mumbled. Well, he was here. He supposed a glass of punch and a pastry wouldn’t hurt him.

  On his way to the refreshment table, Quin Cahill held out a glass to him and smiled wryly. “Looks like your Christmas goose is cooked, Burnett.”

  Lucas accepted the drink, stared in the direction Rosa had gone then expelled a frustrated sigh.

  “Here’s to friends and family abandoning a man during the holidays and leaving him to deal with the fallout,” Quin toasted.

  Lucas recalled what Rosa had said about the supposed Cahill Curse—whatever the hell it was—and Quin’s family leaving town two years earlier. Sort of like the wealthy heiress—posing as a shopkeeper who made a modest living—shouting at you then darting away from the party and leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

  “Women,” Lucas mumbled then sipped his drink.

  Quin clinked his glass against Lucas’s then downed the punch. His teasing amusement faded and he stared directly at Lucas. “I don’t know what just happened, but she picked you. She rejected everyone else. Figure it out, Burnett.”

  “Even you, Cahill?” Lucas asked.

  “Not me. I’ve been too busy running the 4C by myself to have time for women. Not that I haven’t noticed Rosa. She is an intelligent and exceptionally attractive young woman,” Quin replied. “So…are you going to the service?”

  Lucas glanced skyward, wondering when the Yuletide thunderbolt would strike him down. Then he realized it didn’t matter. All that did matter was that Rosalie Greer had said she was in love with him, whether she wanted to be or not.

  “I’m no expert on women, but you might want to give her time to cool down first,” Quin advised. “Besides, this is a short come-and-go service. You light a candle, say a prayer then the parson wishes you good tidings of comfort and joy on your way out the door.”

  Maybe attending a prayer service was what a man who wasn’t sure who or what he was needed to help him find his way. Also, he could use some divine assistance in formulating the right words to say to Rosa—after she cooled off, of course.

  When Quin lurched around to follow the crowd inside, Lucas fell into step behind him. The citizens of Cahill Crossing might not forgive him for upsetting the Darling of Downtown, but maybe the Great Spirit would.

  Lucas reckoned he would soon find out. Just to be on the safe side he sent a cautious glance skyward, in case of an oncoming thunderbolt.

  When Rosa regained consciousness, she found herself tied to a chair. The velvet ropes from the drapery encircled her wrists. She blinked to clear her fuzzy vision then stared goggle-eyed at the blue-eyed, sandy-blond-haired ghost from eight Christmases past.

  At least she wished Jubal Hawthorne were a figment of her imagination. Unfortunately, he looked very real while he stood over her, wearing expensive clothing that looked as if it had been slept in for two weeks. Apparently, he hadn’t shaved since his eviction, either.

  “Still up to your old trick of clobbering people over the head, I see,” Jubal said as he gingerly touched the knot on his temple. “However, tonight isn’t as painful as having a bronze statue slammed into my skull, Rosalie.”

  Anger and frustration consumed Rosa. She itched to get her hands on the despicable man who had so unfortunately influenced her association with men. That is, she amended, until Lucas had come along to dispel her mistrust.

  “I’m in no mood for a stroll down memory lane,” she snapped crossly. “What do you want?” As if she couldn’t guess.

  “Money, of course. Lots of it,” Jubal replied. He looked down his snobbish nose at her apartment. “My my, this is a far cry from the opulent mansion you and your mother sold in Boston.”

  “It suits me perfectly,” she retorted.

  Jubal struck the arrogant pose she remembered so well. “I don’t like roughing it out here in this godforsaken country, as you seem to. Therefore—” he tossed her a devilish grin, a look she well remembered “—if you don’t want your reputation in tatters, after I boast that you and I had a wild affair on Christmas Eve, then give me money to tide me over until I settle in California and Papa can send me funds.”

  Despite the dull throb in her head, she tilted her chin in defiance. “Spread all the gossip you want,” she said indifferently. “There is plenty of scandal swirling about me already tonight. I’m planning to leave town anyway so it matters very little what you add to flying rumors.”

  Jubal’s refined features puckered in a scowl. “Damn it, Rosalie, I need money and I need it now!”

  “Then find a job, you worthless buffoon,” she sniped. “Your father has always bailed you out and made excuses for your reckless behavior. It wouldn’t hurt you to make an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work for once in your life—”

  Her voice dried up when she heard footfalls on the staircase.

  Jubal whirled, his pistol at the ready. “Get rid of your guest,” he demanded in a quiet hiss.

  A light tap resounded against the door and Lucas said, “Rosa, I’d like to talk to you.”

  The desperation in Jubal’s expression alerted Rosa that Lucas was in danger of being shot—before he knew what hit him. The thought of losing Lucas to this disgusting excuse of a human being was unbearable. No matter what happened to her, Lucas was going to be safe, she vowed resolutely.

  “Go away. I have nothing more to say to you,” she shouted harshly. “I mean it. Get out of here!”

  Lucas glanced down at Dog, who had insisted on following him up the steps to Rosa’s apartment instead of remaining outside with Drizzle. When Dog growled and bared his teeth, Lucas knew his own instincts of danger were dead-on. He had heard the sound of fear mingling with anger in Rosa’s upraised voice. Something was definitely wrong and it had nothing to do with their awkward encounter thirty minutes earlier.

  He discreetly turned the doorknob, noting it was unlocked. Good. Breaking through a locked door could cause a crucial delay and every second counted if Rosa faced peril.

  “I have something important to say to you,” he said.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she called back. “Go away!”

  Lucas went in low and fast. Dog was right beside him.

  “Dog!” He snarled the command as he dived at the intruder, taking his storklike legs out from under him.

  With a startled yelp, the man went down in an unceremonious heap. Dog leaped onto Jubal’s chest then clamped his jaws around the wrist
of his gun hand. The man yelped and dropped the pistol before Dog could bite off his hand at the wrist.

  Lucas bounded to his feet to retrieve the pistol. Then he caught sight of Rosa, whose coiffure had come undone, leaving silky silver-blond hair tumbling off the side of her head like a misplaced fountain. She was still in one piece—thank goodness—but she was glaring pitchforks at her assailant. Lucas didn’t have to ask who this dandified bastard was. He knew.

  “Turn me loose and let me at him,” she cried vindictively.

  He complied. A smile pursed his lips when she shot to her feet and stamped off to loom over Jubal—who wasn’t going anywhere since Dog was poised to go for his throat if he made any sudden moves. Lucas knew he wouldn’t have to shout the command to Dog. The dog would act on his own accord, for he had become as protective of Rosa as he was of Lucas.

  “How dare you come here asking for money, Jubal Hawthorne,” Rosa shouted. “I don’t care if it is Christmas Eve. I am not showing you the slightest generosity because you are a heartless libertine and you don’t deserve it!”

  Lucas bit back another grin when he realized Rosa was emulating the intimidating stance he used when confronting outlaws. He listened to her rake Jubal over live coals for a few minutes then he swooped in to hoist the haggard-looking dandy to his feet.

  “I’ll stuff Jubal in jail,” he declared as he quick-marched him across the room. He halted by the door then glanced back at Rosa. “You okay?”

  She blew out an agitated breath then nodded. More strands of hair tumbled from her lopsided coiffure. “Okay enough. Get the bastard out of my sight before I decide to shoot him full of buckshot.”

  After Lucas and Dog had hauled Jubal down the steps Rosa kerplopped on the sofa. She inhaled a half dozen cathartic breaths and regathered her frazzled composure. She had a slight headache but otherwise she was all right. No thanks to Jubal, damn his worthless hide.

  She checked the clock on the mantel then rose to heat coffee. She consumed two full cups, hoping to warm herself from inside out before she ventured into the cold to deliver her gifts. After she bundled up in several layers of clothing, she opened the door—and lo and behold, her dark angel stood before her.

  No doubt, Lucas had returned from incarcerating Jubal, giving himself extra time to formulate his speech so he could let her down gently—it being Christmas Eve and all.

  “Jubal is resting uncomfortably in his cell, I hope?” she asked.

  “Yes, but he had an accident on his way to jail.”

  “Oh?” She arched her brow and stared curiously at Lucas. “What happened? Did he try to escape you?”

  “No, he rammed his face into my fist three times,” Lucas informed her. “He has a black eye, a bloody nose and a split lip.”

  Rosa met his dark gaze, wanting to throw herself into his arms but managing to restrain herself. She doubted she would be welcomed after she had blurted out the confession Lucas didn’t want to hear.

  “Thank you for doing what I wanted to do to Jubal but lacked the strength and skill for,” she murmured.

  “It was my pleasure.” He shifted from one booted foot to the other then stared at the air over her right shoulder. “And Rosa…?”

  She knew what was coming: the “I’m trying to let you down gently” speech. She couldn’t deal with that. Not yet. It was too soon after her ordeal with Jubal and her public humiliation that had likely become the talk of the town at the fellowship social. Not to mention that Lucas didn’t love her back. It was killing her, bit by excruciating bit.

  “How was the service?” she asked, trying to stall so she could collect her rattled composure to face inevitable rejection.

  “It was good…I stashed my wagon for transporting toys out back…I love you, Rosalie,” he blurted out in the same breath.

  Her mind whirled when he leapfrogged from one topic to the next, and then left her speechless with his unexpected confession.

  Rosa regained her mental balance then narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t have to say that. You just feel sorry for me because Jubal showed up after I made a fool of myself at the church social.”

  “Sorry is the very last thing I feel for you,” he insisted as he invited himself inside then closed the door behind him. “I told everyone that I was coming over here to apologize for what I said to upset you that sent you running home.”

  He was assuming the blame to salvage her pride? She wanted to hug the stuffing out of him for that.

  “Then I told them I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  “You told them what?” she croaked, frog-eyed.

  “You heard me, blondie. And don’t feed me any more of that nonsense about being too old and too headstrong,” he said as he unfastened her coat and tossed it aside. “And don’t bother telling me that just because we…you know…that I’m under no obligation.” He unbuttoned her second jacket and sent it flying in the same direction as the first. “You made me realize how empty my life has become. I brought you to my cabin and now I don’t like being there because you aren’t in it with me.”

  Her jaw sagged and her blue-violet eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “Do you mean that, Lucas? I want the truth…and nothing but from you.”

  He unfastened the men’s trousers and long underwear she had pulled over two layers of pantaloons. He smiled in masculine satisfaction when she stood before him in a lacy chemise that barely covered her upper thighs. “Damn, Rosalie, you are so beautiful you take my breath away.”

  When he drew her lush body against his aching flesh, he felt as if he had found his place in the world. Wherever this spirited beauty was, that’s where he belonged.

  “Marry me, Rosalie,” he whispered before he kissed her with all the love and affection that gurgled up from his heart and soul. “If you want to live here then we will. If you can be satisfied on my ranch then we’ll stay there. Whatever you want—”

  She pressed her forefinger to his lips and smiled radiantly at him. “I wouldn’t marry anyone but you, and you can stop talking now, Lucas.” She looped her arms around his neck and rubbed provocatively against him until he groaned in tormented pleasure.

  “Whatever you say, love…” His voice trailed off when she unbuttoned his coat and shirt and splayed her hands over his chest, leaving his heartbeat hammering wildly beneath her roving fingertips.

  She made undressing him a session in erotic torture—and Lucas loved every moment of it. Ex-warrior and ex-Ranger though he was, he fell back on her bed without putting up the slightest resistance. She teased him and tantalized him until he begged her to end the sweet torment of having her so close yet so maddeningly far away.

  Lucas swore the top of his head was about to blow off when her moist lips and fingertips glided over his throbbing flesh. And then she sank down exactly upon him and every unfulfilled hope and impossible dream—that had seemed so far beyond his reach—crystallized around him. He knew he had found his soul mate…and she had silver-blond hair, the most incredible violet eyes and the most beguiling smile imaginable.

  “I love you, Lucas,” she whispered as she came apart in his arms and he shuddered helplessly against her.

  Deliriously happy, he grinned into her angelic face then wrapped a ringlet of her silky hair around his finger to tow her down to his gentle kiss. “I’m hoping you’ll invite me back to your apartment after we deliver the toys and gifts and spread the holiday cheer.”

  She nuzzled her forehead against his. “Or perhaps we could go to your cabin. I have a secret fantasy of tumbling around on that buffalo-skin blanket in front of the hearth.”

  “Whatever you wish,” he granted without the slightest hesitation.

  “You are what I wish,” she murmured as she squirmed suggestively above him. “That and perhaps a few children of our own one day.”

  “Can’t think of anything I’d like better myself, as long as I’m spending all the days of my life with you,” he rumbled softly. “I need you as I need nothing and no one else,
Rosa.”

  Passion flared up to warm the cold winter night and Lucas and Rosa gave themselves up, body, heart and soul, to the love that bound them together forevermore…

  It was considerably later, while the children of Cahill Crossing were snuggled beneath the blankets on their beds, that Rosa and Lucas made their secret deliveries to the right and wrong sides of the tracks. They even left a little something special for Quin Cahill, who was all alone on Christmas.

  And not a soul in town figured out the identity of their mysterious Saint Nicholas.

  A MAGICAL GIFT AT CHRISTMAS

  Cheryl St.John

  Dear Reader,

  I’m always delighted to participate in Harlequin Historical’s Christmas anthologies. I hear from so many of you who look forward to them every year. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the season, we all need to make time for ourselves, and what better way than to escape into the pages of a holiday adventure?

  I had always wanted to write a story that revolved around a train, so when I started planning this tale, I was quick to leap to the idea of a train robbery. A U.S. Marshal and a pampered society girl seemed a fun pairing. Jonah is all about duty, a loner who trusts in the power of his convictions. Meredith is a headstrong individualist, who dreams of a grand and perfect love. The only thing she fears is discovering that her life—and her plans—are somehow deficient. It was a lot of fun to throw the two of them together and watch love bloom.

  I hope you enjoy this holiday break and lose yourself in the pages of these stories.

  Wishing you a Christmas filled with the best gift of all—love!

  Cheryl St.John

  A Magical Gift at Christmas is lovingly dedicated to my family, who bring me much joy, and of whom I am exceedingly proud:

  Jay, Mike, Jennifer, Zach, Jaden, Brad, LeighAnn, Erin, Ryan, Adam, Eric, Jared, Jessica, Alexis, Jared II, Kristin, Elijah and Elliana. I love you.