by Linda Ladd
"I don't know, Alysson. He seemed very emphatic about taking it outside."
"Then I'll talk to him about it. Maybe I can persuade him to change his mind."
Olivia was not completely convinced, but she tugged on the bellpull to summon a manservant to remove the tree to Katie's room, knowing that if anyone could persuade Donovan to reconsider, it would be Alysson.
Twelve slow, hollow gongs marked the hour of midnight, but Donovan hardly heard them. He sat alone in his study, where he had been since he had arrived earlier in the afternoon. He stared at the fire, fingering the silver inkwell before him as he thought of Alysson. She was probably angry with him. He shut his eyes, listening to sleet beat against the windowpanes. He had ruined Christmas Eve for all of them; he had ruined it for himself. How could Alysson understand? How could Olivia or Katie? He had never told anyone about what had happened.
Anger shook him, deep, bitter, savage. He stood, frustrated, and paced to the windows. He had come home filled with eagerness to see Alysson again, determined to make love to her as he had hungered to do for weeks during her illness. Now he stood alone in the dark, wrestling with old demons.
He pushed back the heavy velvet drape and watched the sleet bounce off the glass. The chill of winter permeated the panes, but he already felt cold inside. Would those days of the war never leave him? Would he never forget?
Tired of his own thoughts, he let the curtain fall and walked through the darkened rooms and up the curving main staircase. He stopped outside Alysson's door, feeling compelled to open it, go to her, and try to explain. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. He strode on to his own bedchamber, slamming the door with every ounce of frustration that filled him.
Alysson started up from where she dozed in a fireside chair to watch Donovan move past her to stoke the logs with jerky, impatient jabs. He was still angry about the tree, she thought, pulling the soft coverlet up to her chin. A faint shiver coursed through her at the thought of facing his wrath; she was still a coward when he looked at her with those blazing black eyes.
Had she done wrong by waiting in his room for him? She had spent hours thinking about what had happened, and she had come to the conclusion that something was dreadfully amiss with him. It had taken her some time to realize it, but now she knew there had been more than anger in his eyes. There had been pain, as if he had seen something awful.
She jumped as Donovan suddenly flung the poker from him, emitting a curse that she had never heard him voice before. She tensed as he turned and saw her, but the initial astonishment on his face dwindled quickly. To her surprise, he came to her, dropping to his knees before her chair and pulling her into his arms.
"Alysson, Alysson,” he muttered huskily, and she put her arms around his neck, instinctively knowing that he needed her; he needed her understanding.
"I love you,” she whispered, and Donovan groaned, his lips seeking hers hungrily. It was a long moment before he let her go again, and she sank back into her chair breathlessly as he moved away to lean against the mantel. Still weak from what his mouth had done to her, she waited as he slumped down in the chair facing her, his eyes intent on the blazing fire.
"I was born the year the war started, Alysson, and it didn't end until I was eight years old,” he said, then stopped as if he found it hard to continue. She waited silently until he began again. “When the redcoats took New York, my father was serving in the army as an officer. Mother was left with the three of us to care for. When I was six, they looted and burned our house."
Alysson's heart went out to him. Wearily he reached up to massage his temple, his chiseled profile in silhouette against the flames.
"The kitchen didn't burn completely, so we lived there, all four of us, crowded into that one room. Olivia was ten, and she helped a lot because Mother was carrying Jeremy then. I was seven, and the oldest boy, so when our food ran out that winter, I was the one who had to go out and try to get handouts from the bloody Tories."
Donovan's hands gripped the arms of his chair, humiliation gripping him even after so many years had passed. Of all the things he had been forced to do during the war, begging for food had been the worst.
"My father managed to get into the city to see us after Jeremy was born, and somehow the British found out. They captured him, then a couple of months later they hanged him."
Alysson could hear the pain in his voice now, and a deep empathy stirred inside her. Never had she dreamed he had endured such suffering as a child, as much suffering as she.
"Mother died that same winter, of pneumonia, and after that Olivia and I took care of the little ones. I worked for people, cleaning stables and running errands, doing whatever I could. One night, just before Christmas, I was passing the place where the Hessians were quartered. They were the German mercenaries who came over to fight against us. It was snowing, but I saw something in their camp, glowing in the darkness, and I went toward it. I had never before seen a tree with candles on it."
Alysson finally began to understand, and her heart wrenched for that little boy standing in the snow.
"They didn't notice me at first because they were drinking. I guess they were homesick. Finally one of them saw me standing there and grabbed the food I was taking home. When I fought for it, he hit me with his fist.” He touched the scar on his eye. “That's where I got this, from his ring. Every time I look at it in a mirror, I see that man again, with his long black beard, pointed cap, and angry blue eyes. I hate him now as much as I did then."
Alysson could not bear it, and she went to him, kneeling between his legs, cupping his cheeks with her palms. Her eyes were dark green pools of compassion, her voice as tortured as his.
"I am so sorry that you had to suffer like that,” she whispered. “You were so little and alone."
Donovan looked at her, then drew her slender body close, holding her tightly, needing her in that moment as he had never needed anyone before.
"Love me,” he whispered against her temple. “Forget all that I've done to you, and love me."
She answered with her lips, eagerly seeking his mouth, wanting to show him how very much she did love him. Their lips melded together, and she felt the urgency in him. His need for her filled her with pleasure. She pushed against him, and when he released her, she backed away, taking his hand to draw him to the rug before the fire.
The glimmer of the flames bathed them in a warm golden light, and Alysson smiled, her eyes shining with desire and love and her growing need to feel his strong arms around her. She held him in the spell of her eyes, slowly untying the sash of her robe. The soft silk slid away from her with the barest whisper of sound, and her fingers went to the silken frogs at her shoulders. Her gown slipped away from her body, and Donovan's eyes fell upon the vision revealed to him, the smooth perfumed white skin that he had ached to touch for so long.
His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, but Alysson swept them away, releasing his buttons one by one, then pushing the linen shirt off his wide brown shoulders. She leaned forward, tasting the smooth, tanned flesh of his shoulder, then tracing her lips downward over the molded contours of his chest.
He groaned, and Alysson sat back, watching as he removed the rest of his clothes, thinking he was the most magnificent specimen of manliness ever created. Then he was on his knees before her, one sinewy arm encircling her slender waist, pulling her tightly to him, crushing her soft breasts against the crisp black hair on his chest as he lowered her backward to the soft carpet.
She gasped in pleasure as he came down on her, the strong, muscular, manly heat of him taking her breath.
His eyes delved into hers, then his gaze moved to wander over the flawless, satiny skin of her brow and cheeks, then to the softness of her lips before he dipped his dark head to touch her mouth with infinite tenderness.
"You are everything to me,” he murmured hoarsely. “Everything,"
Alysson moaned with pleasure at his words, arching her neck as he pressed warm lips along
the graceful, slender curve. His hands left her hair to lace with her slender fingers, holding them in gentle captivity on either side of her head. She closed her eyes, moistening dry lips as his mouth wandered lower over the soft curve of her breast to tease the deep curve of her waist. She writhed against his hold, and he released her hands so that she could encircle his neck as he came back to take her lips again.
She pressed up against him, her palms sliding down the broad, rippling muscles of his back to pull his lean hips into the softness of her body, crying out as they came together. His arms tightened as they began to move together, the thudding tempo of his heart against her breasts, his ragged, hoarse breathing next to her ear. No longer able to think of anything but the blood racing in her veins and the joy in her heart, she abandoned herself to the exquisite sensations he brought to her. She shivered beneath him, climbing with him to the moment they sought, the moment of blinding brilliance, crying out in love and joy and exquisite rapture as they became one person, one entity, one all-encompassing love, now and always.
Alysson left the bedchamber the next morning feeling deliriously happy. She had awakened to find Donovan already gone, and she was eager to see him again. They had made love early that morning when she had awakened the first time to find his warm lips nuzzling a path along her bare shoulder. They had snuggled together beneath the covers, entwined against the chill morning air. More than anything, she hoped she had conceived again from the closeness they had shared. So much understanding, so much intimacy had been shared that a child would be a lasting, precious reminder of the night she would never stop cherishing.
She moved quickly along the upper hall, peering over the gleaming banister to the hall below. Voices and laughter drifted up to her, and she shivered all over with good feelings as she inhaled the mouth-watering aroma of roast turkey mingled with the holiday fragrances of pine and cedar. She lifted her skirt and hurried down the steps with joy in her heart, but as she rounded the curve of the banister, she drew up in surprise at the scene below.
Donovan stood near the tall front doors, overseeing the raising of a twenty-foot Christmas tree in the middle of the hall. He saw her at once, for he had been watching for her, and as he gave a sheepish grin, Alysson's heart swelled to bursting. She was deeply touched by the gesture he was making to all of them. She basked in the warmth of his black eyes as he left the half dozen menservants laboring with the huge tree and came to the base of the steps to wait for her. Katie, however, who was watching with Olivia on the bottom step, arrived at Alysson's side first.
"Uncle Donovan's changed his mind, Aly! I knew he would! I knew it! And he told me he would help us decorate it, too! Isn't it grand!"
"Yes, sweetheart, it's more than grand, it's wonderful!” Alysson returned, but her smiling eyes were on the tall dark man awaiting her below. It was he who she really thought was wonderful.
As she reached the third step from the floor, he took both her hands and pulled her close giving her a kiss that instantly created a shocked silence throughout the large hall. As the kiss stretched out for an embarrassing length of time, a chorus of giggles and whispers erupted from a group of girlish maids stringing ribbons through cookies.
When Donovan finally decided to release his wife, a hot flush had crept up her neck, and worse than that, she found herself most assuredly aroused from his tight embrace and searching lips. Even so, it was with extreme reluctance that she allowed Katie to pull her away to inspect the finished ornaments. She met Olivia's pleased smile with one of her own, knowing this would be a Christmas none of them would ever, ever forget.
The air of excitement permeating the house intensified as short white tapers were tied to the spreading branches, transforming the gigantic fir tree into an enchanting vision reflected four times over in the gold mirrors adorning the hall. Alysson reveled in Donovan's affectionate attention, pressing herself eagerly to his side when he put his arm around her waist and drew her close. She grew trembly and breathless when he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her palm, the look in his dark eyes so intense that delicious tinglings jolted through her body, making her long for the hour when they would retire alone to their dark, draped bed upstairs.
As night fell and the candles sent out a golden glow in all the windows, they feasted around the glowing tree at tables set up for the MacBride servants and their families. Alysson acted as mistress of Wildwood for the first time, beneath her husband's attentive eyes. She was amazed by the staggering amount of food served by smiling maids to everyone present.
The meal began with a large tureen of plum potage placed at one end of each table and another of creamy oyster soup at the other. This course was accompanied by dishes of catfish curry and broiled eels. When they were removed and the first lace tablecloth lifted from the table, the maids brought platters filled with roast turkey, duck, and beef, as well as a large mincemeat pie, surrounded by smaller serving dishes of potatoes mashed with onions, turnip puree flavored with veal glazing, and countless other delicious foods.
Alysson could eat little of the bountiful fare, her appetite still poor from her illness, but those around her sampled each dish with unabashed fervor. When the last course was finished, all the platters were removed, as well as another tablecloth of fine white linen, and the fine wines that had been served throughout the meal were replaced by a selection of properly aged port and Madeira.
As two elegant, multitiered epergnes laden with sweetmeats, jellies, and preserved fruits were placed on the sideboard, all eyes were drawn to the hall where Stephens carried the blazing Christmas pudding, wreathed in mistletoe and held high in all its brandy-blazing glory.
After everyone had tasted their fill of the delicious sweets, baskets of holiday food and special gifts chosen by Olivia were given to each servant. Alysson watched silently, never so proud as when she raised her heavy crystal goblet to toast her handsome husband as master of the house.
Afterward, the servants cleared the tables, then drifted away to spend Christmas night in their own fashion. Alysson sat on a small settee with Katie as the family gathered in the parlor. Alysson was smiling at Donovan as he came over to her.
"I suppose Katie's waited long enough for her present,” he said, his statement eliciting a hearty nod of agreement from the excited little girl. “All right then, close your eyes. You too, English."
"Me?” Alysson said in surprise, then obeyed, wondering what on earth he had in mind as she clasped Katie's hand. A few moments later, they were given permission to look, and did so eagerly, to find two large wicker hampers in front of them. They both looked at Donovan expectantly, then at Olivia, who stood just behind him. Donovan grinned.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Open them."
Alysson leaned forward and lifted the hinged lid to find a tiny white spaniel puppy curled in the bottom, fast asleep.
"Shylock,” she murmured, unexpected tears burning her eyes. Katie, on the other hand, squealed with delight as her own spaniel puppy, as black as night, wriggled out of the hamper and onto her lap. She hugged the furry warmth to her, laughing as the puppy licked her nose with its wet pink tongue.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Uncle Donovan, I love him!"
The look in Alysson's glorious green eyes was nothing less than dazzling, and all that Donovan needed. Other gifts were exchanged, but both Donovan and Alysson were glad when the hour grew late. They left the parlor hand in hand, and it was not long after that Alysson sat upon their bed, waiting as Donovan moved around the room, extinguishing the candles.
The little puppy was curled in her lap, and Alysson looked down as his rough little tongue licked her fingers. The sight of him brought back a bittersweet pang as she remembered the night she and Freddie had begged Mathilde to let them keep the first Shylock after they had found him wandering half-starved upon the cliffs.
"What is it, love?” Donovan said, his weight dipping the bed as he sat down beside her. Alysson smiled as he lifted her chin with one finger. “You looked
so sad for a moment."
"I was thinking of Freddie and Mathilde."
Donovan looked at her a moment, then picked up the puppy and lowered him into the basket beside the bed. He took Alysson in his arms then, holding her close as he drew the covers over them.
"Tell me about them. You never have."
"They helped me take care of my mother. They were the only good thing in my life until I met you."
Donovan lifted her hand and kissed it. “What happened to them?"
"My father cast them out when he took me to London to meet you."
"Where did they go?” he asked gently, lifting a silky golden lock and caressing it between his thumb and forefinger.
"To their relatives in Standington, I think, but I worry that they may not be well and safe."
"I am sure they are, sweet, but would you feel better if we were to send a letter there inquiring after them?"
Alysson's eyes lit up with eagerness. “Oh, yes, could we, Donovan?"
Donovan smiled. “I'll see to it tomorrow."
Alysson smiled, reaching up to touch his chin, her eyes revealing all she felt in her heart.
"I'll never forget today,” she whispered. “It was the best day of my life, and you gave it to me.” Her eyes searched his. “Especially the tree for Katie, because I know it must have hurt you to do it."
Donovan propped his head on his palm, looking down into her face, framed by the satin pillows. He fingered a thick curl lying across her naked collarbone, his dark eyes at peace.
"You helped rid me of that memory last night, my love. Forever, I think. Now such trees as that one downstairs will only bring to mind last night, when I felt you willing and eager in my arms. I will think of the look in your eyes on the staircase this morning and Katie's happy laugh when she first saw the tree in the hall."
Alysson put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. As soon as his lips touched hers, so warm and seeking and gentle, she forgot about trees and puppies, and even Freddie and Mathilde. The snow continued to fall silently in drifts against the windowpanes, while she soared to shuddering heights with her beloved husband, experiencing once again a sweet ecstasy that left her weak and sated and totally, endlessly, wonderfully content.