Chapter Eight
Steady snow greeted Bethany and the dawn on Christmas Eve morning. Her first instinct was to check on the children, but when she turned over and encountered Blake's twinkling brown eyes, her cheeks heated as remembrance sank in.
He'd said he was an elf and made the ceiling sparkle with magical stars. Glancing up, a fog of disappointment settled in her chest. She didn't see them any longer. Had it been a dream? Had she imagined the whole incident? When she sought out his humor-filled gaze, she knew she hadn't pulled those things from her tired brain.
He truly possessed supernatural power. It didn't bother her as much as she thought. In fact, it made him mysterious and she wanted to know more—all of his secrets, hopes and fears.
Every time she'd awoken during the night, she felt his strong arms around her, keeping her safe and blocking out things that could go bump in the darkness. Not once did he press his advantage or make her redeem her side of their agreement. In fact, if she did attempt to pull away, he protested in his sleep and held her close.
Somewhere along the way, the tenderness that seemed inherent to his nature had crept into her heart—into her soul—and she knew her plan to leave in two days was in danger of collapsing, especially in light of his pretty words of the night before.
She refused to think of it. For the moment, she intended to enjoy this day of preparation for the celebration tomorrow. Only then would she worry about the rest of her life.
"Good morning." Blake gave her a smile that could melt the snow outside. "How did you sleep?"
"Very well, thank you." With him, the normal worries that always chased away her slumber never occurred. "You?" She kept the quilt tucked around her shoulders. The air was chilly, but he was warm and she gave into the temptation to stay in bed.
"The same." He brushed a tendril of hair from her face. "You do not find my revelation abhorrent in the cold light of day?"
"Not at all, though I would like to witness a repeat of your magic."
"Ah, that can be arranged."
Bethany didn't protest when he leaned over her and covered her mouth with his. She'd wanted nothing more than to feel his kiss since the one they'd shared before the fire. It seemed like a lifetime ago. This embrace was different. It didn't flirt or tease. This kiss asked permission for something she barely understood, but was inevitable in its evolution.
Soft and hard at the same time, he angled his mouth over hers, moved slowly from corner to corner exploring the surface, leaving warmth in its wake. When he sucked at her bottom lip, she gasped at the ticklish, erotic sensations. In that moment, he slid inside and touched his tongue to hers.
Bewildered by the newness of the kiss, she mimicked his actions and soon silky strokes led to curious explorations that brought boldness and heat to the embrace. She skimmed her hands over his naked chest to lock behind his neck and bring him closer and still she returned his kisses as if she'd been created to do just that.
With him alone.
She enjoyed the feel of his weight pressing her body into the mattress; the scrape of his stubble against her neck when he dipped his head to places kisses there. Tremors of need danced over her skin as his touch awakened something dormant deep inside. Bethany grasped his shoulders, broad and strong beneath her fingertips, then smoothed her palms over his hardened torso, warm and sprinkled with dark hair that begged for her attention.
He was beautiful. So much so, that she wanted to tell him. "You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen." She held him away in order to see his expression.
Frissons of shock shot down her spine when she spied his ears. Now with points at the top, the restructured appendages gave his passion-hazed expression a tinge of naughtiness that sent a flurry of butterflies through her stomach. "Your ears."
His eyes took on a shadow of self-conscious fear. "Please, do not look if they disgust you. I try my best to keep them hidden, but in times of great emotion or stress, they insist on making their presence known."
When he would have turned away, she kept his face steady with a palm on his cheek. "There is no need for shame." Quickly, and before she could lose her nerve, she touched a fingertip to an exquisitely shaped ear, smiling as he shuddered. "I think they are as unique and beautiful as you."
His rumble of relieved laughter reverberated in her chest. "Dear, sweet Bethany, men are not beautiful, not even elves, especially when women like you will outshine them at every turn."
"You jest." She tried to squirm out of his embrace which had changed its intensity. "I am ordinary." She swallowed as another thought swam into her consciousness. "You are obligated to tell me that because you are paying to be with me." Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. "I do not want your pity." She wished he desired to be with her out of affection instead of their financial arrangement.
Where was the miracle she fervently hoped for?
The teasing smile left his lips and some of the joking light went out of his eyes. "I speak the truth." He held her gaze with nothing but seriousness and concern. "I cautioned you to forget our arrangement. Once again, I apologize for insulting you in that way. Had I been thinking rationally, I would never have done it, but once I saw you, kissed you in that alley, I lost my mind." He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. "You are a very attractive woman, Bethany. You need to believe in your own self-worth. Have faith in me when I say you drive me to distraction."
"Do you…" Her cheeks heated from embarrassment or attraction, she couldn't determine, didn't care. The longer he looked into her eyes, the warmer she became. "Do you desire me?"
"What do you think?" He caressed his hands over her body. Gooseflesh covered her skin from the contact. "I have never known such perfect confusion before."
When he brushed his fingers over her breasts to tease her nipples, they pebbled under his touch. She gasped. Spirals of pleasure filled her stomach. She shifted and Blake lowered his mouth to one of the buds, taunting it through the thin fabric of her nightgown. "Blake." Vaguely aware he had slid a hand beneath the hem, stroking the skin of her hip, she arched her back to give him greater access. A mysterious wetness grew between her thighs and a faint, tiny pulse started deep inside.
She wanted to feel his body against hers, but had no idea how to articulate such a longing without seeming naive to his obvious experience. It was overwhelming to think she craved the intimacy they’d previously settled a monetary amount on. He made her feel cherished. Wanted.
It humbled and empowered her all at once.
With a sigh and daring she couldn't explain, Bethany swept his fingers aside and began to unlace the ribbons that held her nightgown closed. "I want to—"
Knocking at the door interrupted her speech. Her gaze met his in the semi-gloom and the raw desire she in him increased her own need. She wished whomever was at the door would go away.
They did not and the knocking continued, a bit louder this time.
"Mr. Wenchal?" Sarah's muffled voice sounded from the hall. "Do you know where Aunt Bethany is? John found the chocolate cake and now he has made quite a mess in the kitchen."
Bethany pressed a hand to her lips to stifle her laughter. It nearly escaped when Blake wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over until she was sprawled on top of him. She couldn't escape noticing his eagerness to proceed with the intimacy as his erection pressed against her stomach while she struggled to right herself.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Sarah. Please go downstairs and monitor your brother until your aunt can join you."
"Thank you, Mr. Wenchal."
He grinned and gripped her hips. "What are we going to do about John? He is quite the troublemaker."
"He is young yet and very curious. Not to mention Christmas is tomorrow. To a boy his age, this is the hardest time of the year to behave." Sadness crept in to steal her previous joy. Christmas tomorrow. The day her self-imposed deadline would be met. She scrambled from the bed and stood on unsteady feet. "I need to dress for the
day. There is baking to do and the children have a few projects to finish."
"Bethany, wait." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Blake, I have a mountain of chores before this evening." The pointy ears really did give him a perpetual mischievous air even John couldn't rival. Oddly enough, it deepened the arousal he started within her. "You will find a tree for tonight?" The dark mat of hair covering his chest captured her attention. She desperately wanted to run her fingers through it and follow the thin ribbon over his abdomen to see where it led. The urge to throw herself into his arms grew. She had to resist. If she could distance herself from him, it wouldn't hurt so much when she left.
Oh, how she wanted to stay, but what kind of woman would she be to take advantage?
He frowned. "I will let you go this time, but things are not finished between us. Before the bells of Christmas ring, you and I will be one. I know you can feel what destiny has made for us."
How could he be so certain? How could she not?
With a shiver, Bethany fled his room and raced across the hall, shutting the door behind her. No matter what she felt for him, the need to protect the children and lead an independent life burned strong. She wasn't naive enough to think love could be nurtured in the handful of days she'd spent with him no matter the overwhelming connection they shared.
Already, being here had cost Blake his friendship with that nasty Andrew. What did his fellow banking professionals think of him harboring a destitute woman under his roof for God knows what purpose? Not to mention his abnormality. Where would she fit into that lifestyle? Compared to him, she was boring and uninspired.
Forcing tears away, drew off the nightgown and slipped a warm, green wool skirt over her lacy drawers. After that, she struggled into a matching camisole, then shoved her arms into the sleeves of an ivory blouse with ruffles on the chest. A brave, smiling face was needed for the children's sake. Later, after they'd landed at their next destination, she could give into tears for the loss of the one thing she'd ever wanted.
Love.
It simply wasn't possible in such a short time. Life wasn't a fairy story, but still there was the unexplained tug on her heart every time she thought of Blake. They belonged together. Could she accept it at face value and be happy?
The answer would not come clearly. She hoped she would have enough courage to ask him once more for the money he offered, even though she still hadn't given him her body. A heavy sigh slipped from her lips as she pinned up her hair. At least not yet, though she nearly abandoned her reservations not ten minutes ago.
But, oh, how she wanted to know what love making felt like! With Blake, she knew it would be wonderful. How could it not?
He had only to look at her, kiss her lips again and she would surrender everything to him.
What of her future once that occurred? If she never saw him again, could she go on? What of the children who were already fond of him? How could she break their little hearts?
Ignoring her swirling thoughts, she opened the door and marched down the stairs. Work first, dissolve into tears during the wee hours of the night and cling to the hope that Christmas would indeed bring a much needed miracle.
* * * *
Blake's attempt to concentrate on his newspaper resulted in reading the same paragraph four times. Memories from the morning arose to torment him until all he could think about was tumbling Bethany into his bed and making love to her until the bells of Christmas rang.
Never had the prospect of the holiday seemed more warm and thrilling.
A woman who could tempt his taste buds with her cooking and tempt his body with her curves. There was nothing better in life.
Now, the enticing aromas floating from the kitchen caused his mouth to water and battled for dominance in his brain. Beef brisket with mashed potatoes and Bethany had made gingerbread cake for desert. His stomach grumbled. It was agony, waiting and smelling the wonderful food while she teased him in that damn fool frilly apron.
Would she consent to wear that for him and nothing else? He groaned and shifted in his chair.
When he heard a sympathetic rumble from John's stomach, Blake put down his paper. "It is feeling very hungry in here, isn't it?"
John looked up from his drawing book. "My tummy wants to eat right now." His little lips pushed into a frown. "Mr. Wenchal, why do girls know how to cook so good and I cannot?"
"I think it is most likely a case of wanting to make their family happy. Perhaps it is because they know we will ooh and ah over the marvelous dishes and that, in turn, makes them happy." Blake listened to the feminine voices in his kitchen and grinned. "Our ladies worked hard on that meal. Be sure to thank them properly and finish every crumb."
"Yes, sir." John continued to regard him with a thoughtful light in his blue eyes. "Mr. Wenchal, will we stay here always?" He inched across the rug on his knees. "Are we a family now?"
How to answer? He looked at the boy and his heart constricted. A family. Wasn't that the reason he made the ridiculous offer to Bethany? To have someone to spend the holiday with? The children had been an added bonus and one that he wouldn't trade for anything. Christmas was tomorrow. Would she insist on leaving? Did he want her to?
"Do you think we are a family, John?" Suddenly, he needed to believe with a child-like faith that they could be exactly that. He wanted everything a family represented. Fatherhood, being a husband. Love.
The little boy's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "My heart feels happy."
"Mine, too." Blake figured it was as good an answer as any. "John?" One thing preyed on his mind. "Do you think I am odd because I am an elf?"
John got to his feet, stood before Blake's chair, and laid a hand on his knee. "Mr. Wenchal, it is a good idea to have an elf in the family. Santa's sure to visit. I think it's the best thing." His eyes twinkled with inherent mischief. " Now can I see your ears?" The last was said on a whine.
"Not at the moment, my boy. Perhaps, if you are very lucky and still awake at midnight, you might see them." He winked, feeling lighthearted with a hope he hadn't known for years. "Let's go help our womenfolk."
Later, they created paper chains and decorated hard-baked gingerbread men. Sarah cut black-and-white pictures of poinsettias from a few of Mrs. Abermarle's catalogues. While Blake and John were occupied with playing a rousing game of marbles, Bethany and Sarah worked at stringing beads and cranberries or created snowflakes from folding stationery and cutting intricate designs into the paper.
Never had a more industrious crew been found outside the Northern Realms.
As the night shadows grew long and the children's yawns came with more frequency, Blake gave an exaggerated stretch and met Bethany's twinkling gaze across the room. "I think certain little ones should tuck themselves into bed or else how can Santa possibly visit? He is very shy and if he comes and sees people about, he may be scared away."
Sarah glanced up from her handiwork. "What if I asked Santa for something that will not fit under a Christmas tree? Will he still bring it?"
"Well, I hope it is not too big to fit in his sleigh." In spite of everything he had tried over the past week to bring smiles and happiness to the girl, she looked at him with foreboding and sadness. What would it take for her to stop worrying and simply spend this time in her life as a carefree child?
What could he give her to make her believe in the love and magic of the season?
"Mr. Wenchal, have you ever hoped for something so much that you wanted it above all things? Have you wished for something so hard that you would gladly give up everything you owned in order to secure it?"
God, yes. In fact, he struggled with that very dilemma right now.
He shivered. It was almost as if she were wiser than her years. "I suppose, but you need to decide for yourself if what you want will make you happy only for a moment or for a lifetime." He removed his spectacles and thought of the china doll he had tucked away in his workshop. He saw it in the window of a toy store a c
ouple of days before and knew she would love it.
At this point, he wasn't certain. What the hell could the girl need that she was willing to forego any other presents for?
She nodded. "This will make me very happy indeed."
"Then do not lose hope, angel. This is a time of miracles, after all."
He wished he believed as hard as Sarah did. Even beyond making Bethany his, he wanted to keep them together long after the holiday.
How would it be possible? In such a short time, he had come to care for all three as if they were his alone. It would be too cruel if fate were to take them from him now that he had learned his lesson. They deserved a touch of happiness every day.
He warranted it as well.
Bethany stood. She sent a silent question across the room to him with the stubborn look he knew too well. When he shrugged, she smiled. "To bed. The sooner you sleep the sooner Christmas morning will arrive."
"Goodnight, Mr. Wenchal." With a wave, John pelted up the stairs and the toes of his loose socks flapped around his feet.
Sarah said her goodnights and followed at a slower pace.
"As soon as they are somewhat settled, I will return to help you with the final preparations." Bethany gave him a grin that radiated confidence. "I always loved Christmas Eve. Growing up, my sister and I could never be sure what our parents did so mysteriously once we were behind closed doors, but those wonders were forgotten when we awoke on Christmas morning to find the tree decorated and our stockings filled."
"I hope tomorrow brings you that same sort of happiness." Blake retrieved his spectacles, rose and crossed the room to her. "Take as long as you need. I will be in my workshop." He needed to put the final additions on the toys and pack them in crates for distribution later that evening. With a sigh, he watched as she climbed the stairs. "Thank you."
She turned midway up. "For what? Invading your house, disrupting your quiet?"
Disenchanted Christmas Page 9