A Wolfish Tryst at Christmas

A Wolfish Tryst

at Christmas

by

Sandra Sookoo

****

Smashword Edition

****

This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales, is entirely
coincidental.

A WOLFISH TRYST AT
CHRISTMAS

COPYRIGHT 2012 by Sandra
Sookoo

All rights reserved. No part
of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission of the author or Twenty or Less
Press.

Contact
Information:

[email protected]

Visit us at
twentyorlesspress.com

Book Cover Design by
ZenD

Snow COPYRIGHT Photomorgana
/ Dreamstime.com

Wolf COPYRIGHT Jens
Klingebiel / fotolia.com

Picture of young attractive
girl in ball gowns with a fan COPYRIGHT Dmitriy Cherevko /
123rt.com

Smashwords
Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for
your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it
was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.

****

Praise for Sandra
Sookoo

A Wolfish
Scandal

“
Reading this very
entertaining novella is a wonderful way to wile away an afternoon.
In fact, I read it in one sitting, eager to see what happened next.
I highly recommend A WOLFISH SCANDAL and look forward to reading
more of Ms. Sookoo’s works.”

~Dottie, Romance Junkies

~*~

A Wolfish
Scandal

“
Lyndal and Grey falling
in love was really sweet and romantic. Parts of the story were
humorous, and certainly the part with her family was frustrating,
sad and sometimes infuriating. I do not want you to get the wrong
idea, but I LOVE SANDRA SOOKOO'S work! I also happen to love
historical romance and werewolves too! I enjoyed the fact that
Franklin seems to have an interest in Hattie (and I'm hoping that
might be another story in this series).
”

~Teresa, The Romance Studio

~*~

Cairo Nights

“…
a fantastic, sexy
adventure with just the right mixture of culture and history and
proves this author can write for practically any genre.”

~Night Owl Reviews

****

Dedication

To the fans of my “Wolfish”
series.

You asked about Blake. In this story,
you get a glimpse. Hope you enjoy!

****

Corydon, Indiana,
Christmas Eve, 1863

Elizabeth VanHaussen descended the
curved staircase of her uncle’s house. Faint minstrel music played
by a string quartet drifted to her from the direction of the
conservatory. In the foyer below, the double doors at the front
entrance opened every now and again as more people arrived. A
uniformed butler and maid would scoop up coats, wraps, hats and
gloves then direct the guests to enjoy themselves. Happy female
chatter swirled, tempered by the tense conversation of the
gentleman in a hall off the foyer—even on such a festive occasion,
the War Between the States wouldn’t be forgotten. The soft tinkle
of tiny silver bells sounded each time party guests went
by.

Miniature thirty-four-starred,
red-and-white- striped flags decorated pine swags over doorways
while glass balls and bells hung from greenery boughs that graced
fireplaces and tables scattered throughout the house. Bowls of
apples and oranges served as centerpieces. Citrus fruit studded
with cloves or decorated with ribbons adorned potted
plants.

She adored Christmas. This one would
be more special than all the rest, and all because of one guest.
Even the war that gripped the nation could not detract from the
anticipation climbing her spine.

Uncle James swept into the entryway. A
navy dress coat and light blue trousers as well as the crimson sash
at his waist set him apart from civilian guests and the Christmas
finery. His barrel chest and stalwart stature commanded attention,
as did the three lesser officers who trailed in his wake, all
talking at once. The buzz in the foyer dropped as attention jumped
to the military men, yet Uncle James ignored everyone except her.
His sharp gaze met hers and a wide smile split his face, lifting
the ends of his mustache.

“
Mingle, girl! It’s a
party, not a wake.” His booming voice carried across the open
space. Several people turned to see whom he addressed. Elizabeth’s
cheeks heated from the sudden scrutiny. Her uncle continued on as
if he cared not that people looked their way. “Dance as if tonight
were the last night of your life. You never know what the future
holds, and I didn’t fund this beast so you could watch from the
stairs.”

Elizabeth glanced briefly at the few
curious guests. A relieved breath escaped her when they turned back
to their own conversations. “I intend to try.” When she nodded, he
continued on his path, his officers trotting to keep up with his
long strides. Soon, he’d join his unit in Louisville, but he’d been
adamant about not missing this gathering. And when Major VanHaussen
spoke, people listened. Before the end of the war, he’d be a
colonel, she had no doubt.

His annual holiday house
parties were famous in the area. Bless his heart for throwing it
regardless of the domestic difficulties the war had brought. The
guests, it seemed, took rationing in stride. It didn’t matter the
dresses weren’t in the latest style. Adorned with scraps of
leftover lace, beads and other little bits, everyone looked grand.
The expressions on their faces showed a certain gratitude to be
able to gather together without worry for one night. Elizabeth
murmured a quick prayer of thanksgiving for her uncle.
He’s such a good man.

Every member of the family
was in attendance—with the exception of her two brothers who were
God knew where at the moment. Twenty-three and nineteen, they’d
both signed on for military duty in the patriotic fervor to defend
the Union ideals. From all accounts, the fighting hadn’t claimed
them, but then mail was slow and word could have been delayed. She
bit her bottom lip.
I need to stop
worrying about them, but I can’t.
At times
it was hard being the eldest sibling. She’d always felt the need to
mother them.

She pressed a hand to her cheek,
rapidly blinking to keep tears at bay. It wouldn’t do to indulge in
girlish vapors, especially now, when everyone she knew tried to be
so strong—and she was well past the age of being girlish.
Twenty-five and living during war time meant finding maturity and
making decisions outside of selfish considerations. Her family
wasn’t the only one who lent loved ones to the war effort. Hers
wouldn’t be the only one to potentially lose them
either.

Elizabeth straightened her posture and
descended another few steps. How did Blake Harrison’s family handle
his absence? From his letters she knew he had one brother and one
sister. The brother—Alexander—had also gone off to war, but the
sister—Caroline—he’d left behind. Did Caroline worry about her
brothers like Elizabeth did George and Gregory?

Elizabeth had no idea, though she knew
her worry had expanded to include Blake. Having him so far away
tore her up inside. She prayed daily that he was safe and would
come back to her in one piece. Yet—her stomach quivered—feelings
that had been cultivated while exchanging letters with the man
couldn’t possibly be enough to hope a lifetime might be in the
offing, could it?

Her heartbeat quickened as her gloved
hand skimmed the polished banister. Would he be here? Surely if her
uncle was able to take a few days off, Blake could too. Tingles of
excitement wove through her body.

A year ago, she hadn’t known he
existed. Then one letter written to a distant cousin went awry.
Blake had intercepted it and wrote back explaining the errant post.
She’d never looked back. She’d written him every week, wondering if
he received the missives, but continuing in case he did and counted
on them. Elizabeth had anticipated his responses as well, to the
point that it became something of a joke in town. On mail days,
she’d gotten into the habit of waiting outside the post office for
the stage to arrive—so many times the rotation of drivers now knew
her by name.

After months of letters, a deep
friendship had sprung up, a friendship that had rapidly deepened
into something dear and abiding. The last letter she’d had from him
indicated he’d try everything in his power to gain leave from his
unit. Yet that had been weeks ago, and plans in wartime often went
awry.

Living and breathing and conducting
life as if it were normal couldn’t be separated from the war no
matter how much she wished it. Her stomach clenched. She paused on
the staircase while her two younger sisters pelted past, excitement
flushing their cheeks and evident in their exuberant chatter about
what cakes and cookies would be on the dessert tables. She smiled
as their blonde curls, so much like her own, bounced. “Careful,
girls.” What would their future hold if the war didn’t end
soon?

The disturbed air from the
opening front door rushed over her bared chest and shoulders,
prompting a shiver, but she didn’t want to go upstairs for a shawl.
She might miss Blake’s arrival.
Stupid war
that keeps folks separated longer than they ought to be.

She refused to let the state of the
Union color this night. Elizabeth tucked an escaped tendril of hair
back into its upsweep then gathered a handful of dark green-colored
silk. Would Blake admire the dress she’d selected? While visiting
on furlough six months ago, he’d let it slip in passing how much
this color complimented her skin.

Of course he wouldn’t say, even if he
did come. How selfish was it that she thought on Blake and whether
he would attend a holiday party when he was needed in many other
places much more important? Yet couldn’t there be an allowance for
enjoyment too?

The ivory underskirt embroidered with
pink rosebuds and green leaves would show to perfection as she made
short work of the rest of the stairs. At least that’s what her
sisters had assured when they’d dressed earlier. Too bad the one
person she wanted to impress wasn’t yet there to see her
descend.

When she reached the ground level the
crush of party-goers swallowed her, and Elizabeth’s world became
the brush of hooped skirts, the rustle of fabrics, candlelight
twinkling off brass buttons on military uniforms, and the scents of
overheated bodies, powder, perfume, Christmas greenery and pomade.
She traversed the room with the tide of people. It deposited her in
a drawing room that had been transformed into a ballroom. A
quadrille was just setting up, and not wishing to participate, she
wandered the perimeter of the room. She nodded to acquaintances,
grinned at a few older women who glared at the younger set, and
waved to one of her sisters as the dance began.

The music seeped into her bloodstream,
and Elizabeth tapped a foot in time to the bouncy military-inspired
tune. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Despite
everything currently happening in the divided nation, she was
grateful for her life and the opportunity to know Blake.

Stealing a peek at a silver carriage
clock resting on a fireplace mantle, she sighed. Two hours until
midnight. Two hours until she needed to be in the gazebo on the far
side of the property to meet Blake, at least that’s where she’d
told him she’d be in her last letter. Would he show for a Christmas
miracle?