A Christmas Affair (22 page)

Amanda was so shocked at his teasing banter that she could think of no reply. She stared at him, her velvet-brown eyes wide, and then she started laughing. “Wretch!” she said, giving his arm a friendly punch with her gloved fist. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“I greatly fear that I do, hoyden,” he shot back, his grin widening. “I vow, I have never met anyone so independent, or who possessed such little regard for the proprieties.”

“And I have never met anyone who was so insufferably high in the instep,” she replied in much the same spirit. “It is no wonder we are so often at daggers drawn.”

“That is so,” he agreed and was surprisingly content with the knowledge. They soon fell into a companionable silence, each enjoying the quiet beauty of the day. Although the sky was still overcast, the sun could occasionally be glimpsed, and its soft rays set the ice and snow to sparkling like diamond dust. Justin fell to daydreaming, quietly comparing this Christmas season to last year’s.

He had been on the Peninsula, shivering in the mud and the rain along with his men. Victory had never seemed so distant, and he’d found himself wondering if he would ever know anything but death and war. Had anyone told him then that next Christmas would find him in England, betrothed and about to take on a huge family, he would have thought them quite mad. Yet, here he was. The realization made him shake his head in wonder at the vagaries of fate.

Amanda was also lost in memory of other Christmases. After her parents’ death, she and Daniel had always picked out the tree together. Last year had been the first time she’d had to do so alone, and this year she was accompanied by Justin. How odd life could be, she mused with a sad smile, reaching up to brush back a strand of hair that the wind had blown across her face. It made her wonder what next Christmas would have in store for her.

They reached the small farm where they would be purchasing the tree in less than half an hour’s time. The farm’s hold
ings included some fine woods not enclosed by the local squire, and after paying what seemed to Amanda an exorbitant price, they began hiking through the deep snow to reach the stand of firs the taciturn farmer had indicated with a wave of his grubby hand.

“It is because you are with me,” she grumbled, hitching up the voluminous folds of her heavy cloak as she floundered through a snowbank. “He would never have charged me half so much if he hadn’t spotted those gold fobs of yours.”

“You should have bargained with him,” he answered cheerfully, his breath coming out in cloudy puffs as he shot her a teasing glance over his shoulder. “Now, stop complaining, and let us get your tree and be on our way. ’Tis damnably cold out here.”

Amanda muttered a few choice words beneath her breath, her eyes resting on Justin’s back with evil intent as they continued their trek. The thought of planting a snowball directly between those broad shoulderblades was almost irresistible, but she managed to control her impulses. But one of these days. . . . Her lips curled in delight at the thought.

“So this is a
tannenbaum,
” Justin said, arching his eyebrows as he glanced from Amanda to the drooping fir she had selected from the other trees standing like sullen sentinels in the deep snow. “You’ll forgive me if I fail to be impressed. Wouldn’t it be kinder to leave the poor thing here?”

“Fie, sir, have you no imagination?” Amanda laughed, leaning forward to brush handfuls of snow from the heavily laden branches. “Only picture how it will look sparkling with decorations and blazing with the light of dozens of candles. It is a sight you’ll not soon forget.”

“To be sure, the spectacle of a burning bush in one’s parlor is certain to leave a lasting impression,” he replied wryly, trying and failing to conjure up an image to match her colorful description. “Which reminds me; just how safe is this tradi
tion of yours? Trees and open flames would seem a dangerous mix.”

“Considering my family has observed this custom for the past fifty years with but one serious incident, I am sure you need not fear for your safety,” she said, shaking her head at his stolid practicality.

“One?”

“The twins.”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “Well, now that I have been reassured . . . somewhat, I suppose we had best be at it.” He took out the small hatchet the farmer had given him and waved her back. “Stand aside, ma’am, this is men’s work.”

Amanda gave him an indignant scowl. “What do you mean men’s work?” she demanded, whirling around to face him. “I have often chopped down our trees! Surely you don’t think me
that
helpless!”

He sent her a look that spoke volumes. “I think, Amanda, that you are a lady, and as a gentleman I am not about to let you exert yourself while I am here. Now, please stand aside so that I can chop down this blasted tree before we both freeze to death.”

She stepped back with a loud sniff, her displeasure growing at the short work he made of cutting down the tree. Insufferable beast, she thought, her eyes flicking from his unprotected back to the snow piled at her feet. Without pausing to consider her actions, she bent and scooped up a handful of snow packing it into a tight ball. Taking careful aim she sent her missile hurtling toward her target.

     
Whup!

The snowball hit with unexpected force, causing Justin to stagger as he dropped the hatchet. He spun around, glancing about for his assailant, and took another snowball directly in the face. Seeing Amanda taking aim for a third shot, he hunched his shoulders and rushed toward her, a wicked grin making his intentions all too obvious.

At the sight of her victim turned aggressor, Amanda
dropped her snowball, a shriek of laughter bursting from her lips as she turned to flee. She didn’t make it very far before Justin brought her down with a tackle.

“Monster!” she cried, laughing as she fought to free herself from beneath his oppressive weight. “Let me up!”

“So that you can ambush me again? I think not, ma’am” he replied, barely winded as he grinned down at her. “A soldier must guard his flank, you know.”

“Well, it’s no less than you deserve,” Amanda informed him, still giggling. “Hinting that I am such a milk and water miss that I can’t be trusted to chop down a simple tree! Now, kindly let me up; this ground is cold.”

“Is it?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Perhaps that is something you should have considered before attacking me. Did you not think I would retaliate?” And he settled his weight more evenly over her, his strong thighs brushing against hers as he pressed her deeper into the snow.

Amanda’s smile vanished at the intimate touch. She was suddenly aware of Justin in a way that made the blood run wild in her veins. She could smell the spicy scent of the cologne he favored and feel the warmth of his hard body seeping into hers. A strange hunger stole over her, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth seeking hers in an urgent kiss. In the next moment she was struggling frantically.

“Let me up! Curse you, Justin, let me up this minute!”

Justin moved away at once, a deep flush of horror mixed with shameful desire coloring his dark cheeks. He turned away, grateful his thick greatcoat hid the physical evidence of his reaction to Amanda. My God, what sort of rutting beast was he, he wondered, fighting for control. One moment he’d been playing with Amanda as if the pair of them were no more than schoolchildren, and in a heartbeat he was lusting after her like a stag in heat.

He heard the snow crunching as Amanda rose to her feet, and he closed his eyes, steeling himself to hear her angry accu
sations.

“I suppose we should be on our way,” Amanda said, amazed she could sound so calm when she was silently dying of anguish. “The others will be wondering what has become of us.”

Justin stiffened, scarcely believing the evidence of his own ears. He would have sworn he’d seen the flash of feminine awareness in the midnight depths of Amanda’s eyes, and he couldn’t understand how she could be so calm now. Surely she wasn’t such an innocent that she didn’t know what had just passed between them, he thought, risking a quick glance at her stiff features.

“Yes, it is late,” he agreed, unable to detect anything other than embarrassment on her averted face. He supposed he should be grateful it was not disgust he saw there; his actions had hardly been those of a gentleman. He bent down and picked up the five-foot tree as if it were no more than a shrub. “Let’s go,” he said, his deep voice husky with unslaked passion and regret.

“Excuse me, Miss Amelia,” Linsley paused at the door to the schoolroom, his lined face set with worry. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you. In private,” he added, casting a significant look at the younger members of the family.

Amelia glanced at once toward the twins, relieved to see them so engrossed in their Christmas project that she felt she wouldn’t be risking catastrophe by leaving them unattended for a moment. Belinda was sitting quietly beside her, painstakingly stitching some handkerchiefs for presents, and she knew she could be trusted to behave. “Of course, Linsley,” she said, setting her own needlework aside as she rose to her feet and followed the elderly butler out into the hallway.

“You’ll forgive me for taking you away from the children,” he began, all but wringing his hands, “but there is a visitor downstairs, and he refuses to leave until he has spoken with
you.”

Amelia’s heart gave a convulsive leap . “Who-who is it?” she stammered, her cheeks paling and flushing by turns.

“Captain Maxfield.” Linsley’s words confirmed her deepest fear . . . and her most secret hope. “He doesn’t appear to be foxed, but I have never seen him in such a state. Should I have the footmen show him out?” He cast her a worried look.

“No!” Her command was instinctive. “No,” she repeated more softly. “I . . . I will see him. Please ask him to wait for me in the library.”

“Very well, Miss Amelia, I will tell him at once,” he said, relieved the awkward matter had been taken out of his hands. He disliked the notion of throwing out the young soldier—whom he’d known since the lad was in short pants — but neither had he wished to anger the colonel. This way, should there be any fuss, he would be innocent of any wrongdoing. Pleased with the clever way he’d managed things, he hurried off to obey Miss Amelia’s instructions.

Amelia rushed into her room and changed from her comfortable day dress into one of her newer gowns of mulberry velvet, accented at the throat and cuffs with falls of cream-colored lace. She paused long enough to thread a ribbon of the same color through her thick hair, and then rushed down to where Charles was waiting.

“Amelia.” He stumbled to his feet, his gray eyes devouring her as she walked hesitantly toward him. “How-how are you feeling?” And then he blushed for his foolish question.

The sight of the uncomfortable flush staining his cheeks made Amelia’s heart swell with love. How much more she preferred Charles’ uncertainty to Justin’s wealth of self-assurance, she thought her eyes filling with tears. Charles was more like her, shy and somewhat hesitant, while Justin always seemed to know precisely what he was about. Charles would always understand her reluctance to put herself forward, but she doubted Justin ever would. She shook her head at the traitorous direction of her thoughts and settled quickly onto one
of the striped chairs set before the fireplace.

“I am well, Charles, thank you” she said, praying for the strength to get through his visit without crumbling. “You have just missed Amanda. She and-and Justin have gone to fetch our tree.”

“I know,” Charles replied, awkwardly returning to his chair,“ Linsley told me. I rather got the impression he didn’t approve of my being here without your
fiancé
being present.”

Amelia flinched at the inflection in his voice. “Yes, well—”

“Blast it, Amelia, how could you have done it?” He was on his feet again, his hands balled into fists as he loomed over her. “If you were in such dire financial straits, why didn’t you come to me? How could you sell yourself to a-a stranger?”

“You know why!” she cried brokenly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gazed up into his face. “Amanda told me she’d written you. . . .”

“Oh, yes, she wrote to me.” Charles made a heroic effort to regain mastery over his emotions. “She told me all about Colonel Stockton’s offer of a marriage of convenience and that you felt you must accept. But that still doesn’t explain
why.
I thought you loved me!”

“I did! I do!” She rose to her feet, her hands held out in supplication. “Oh, Charles, don’t you see? There was nothing else to be done! Daniel was dead and Aunt Elizabeth was about to evict us from our home. How could I secure my own happiness at the expense of my family’s future?”

Charles turned away, mentally calling himself a brute for the tears in Amelia’s beautiful eyes. He laid his arms on the oak mantlepiece, staring down into the flames with unseeing eyes. “I know, I know,” he said, his voice ragged. “You are so good, so loving; you would never put your happiness before another’s. It is just that I love you so much, and the thought of you as another man’s wife is killing me.”

“It is the same with me,” she said, coming up behind him and laying a gentle hand on his arm. “But there is nothing else to be done.”

“Could Amanda not marry him?” Charles didn’t trust himself to turn around. “They are more of an age, anyway.”

“Yes, but much too alike in temperament, I think. They are forever quarrelling.”

A rueful smile relaxed the lines of anguish bracketing Charles’ mouth. “Aye, I can see how that might be,” he agreed softly. “Amanda can be as stubborn as the devil, and Colonel Stockton is not one to show any quarter. It would make for a most uncomfortable marriage.”

“That is what she said when she cried off,” Amelia said, happy that he seemed to be accepting her marriage. “She said they would never suit.”

“When-when is the marriage to be?” Charles’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the mantle.

“Shortly after we arrive in London,” she replied with all the enthusiasm of one discussing her funeral arrangements. “Justin is handling the matter for us. He has a Special License, and says we will be married from St. George’s.”