Christine Merrill – A Yuletide Invitation: The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter (страница 19)
‘For what reason would I wish privacy?’ She sounded confused by the idea. Perhaps even after two months Tremaine was an idle threat to their marriage. She shrugged as though nothing could occur to her, and gave a tired laugh. ‘In any case, what good would it do to lock the door against you? You have the key.’
He held his hands open in front of him. ‘I have all the keys, Elise. I could open the door of any room in which you slept. You must have realised that when you came home. But do you really think me such a villain that I mean to storm into your room without your permission and force myself upon you?’
She caught her breath and her eyes darkened. For a moment his threat held definite appeal.
Then he cleared his throat and continued, ‘Am I really the sort who would take you until you admitted that there was no place in the world that you belonged but in my arms and in my bed?’
She froze for a moment, and then glared at him. ‘No, Harry, you are not. On more careful consideration, I think that I have nothing to worry about. Goodnight.’
And, perhaps it was his imagination, but the way she carried herself could best be described as stomping off to her room. When the door shut, he suspected that the slam could be heard all over the house.
The next morning Harry was up well before dawn, had taken breakfast and dressed in clothes suitable for the weather before going to roust Tremaine. He could not help but smile as he pounded smartly on the door to the poor man’s bedroom. He could hear rustling, stumbling noises, and a low curse before the door in front of him creaked open.
Tremaine stood before him, bleary-eyed and still in his nightshirt. ‘Eh?’
‘Time to get up, old man.’
Tremaine squinted into the hall and croaked, ‘Is there a problem?’
‘No problem at all. Did I forget to tell you last night? So sorry. But you
‘Then come for me in daylight.’
‘No, no. What we are about must be done at dawn. And on the morn of Christmas Eve. There is no better time. Pull on some clothes, man. Warm ones. Your true love is awaiting you in the hall.’
At the mention of Elise Tremaine’s eyes seemed to widen a bit. Then he stared back at Harry, as though trying to gauge his intentions. At last he sighed with resignation, and muttered something that sounded rather like, ‘Damn Rosalind.’ Then he said, ‘A moment.’ And then he shut the door.
‘A moment’ proved to be the better part of a half an hour. Tremaine appeared at the door again, no happier, but reasonably well dressed for Harry’s purposes, in a fine coat of light wool and soft, low shoes. He stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him. It was only then that he noticed the axe in Harry’s hands. ‘What the devil—?’
Harry nudged him with the handle and gave him a mad grin. ‘You’ll see. You’ll see soon enough.’
Tremaine swallowed. ‘That is what I fear.’
‘Downstairs.’ He gestured Tremaine ahead of him, and watched the cautious way the man passed him. There was a tenseness in his shoulders, as though his back was attempting to climb out of his coat while his head was crawling into it. His neck seemed to have disappeared entirely. He did not relax until he saw Elise, pacing on the slate at the foot of the stairs, probably assuming that Harry would not cut him down dead in front of a lady.
‘There you are.’ Elise was trying to display a mixture of irritation and trepidation at what was about to occur, but she could not manage to disguise the same childlike excitement that she had shown whenever they had done this in the past. It made Harry happy to look at her. ‘I was not sure if you would still hold to the practice.’
Harry smiled. ‘Perhaps if you had not come home I might have forgone it. But if you are under this roof then Christmas will be every bit as full as you would wish it to be. And if we are to do it at all, then we must bring Tremaine, so he will know what is to be expected of him next year.’
If she meant to rescue the poor man, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she nodded with approval. ‘Let us go, then.’
‘Go where?’ Tremaine had found his voice at last.
‘Outside, of course. To cut the Yule Log.’
‘Oh, I say. You can’t mean …’
‘A massive oak. I have just the thing picked out.’ He turned back to his wife, ignoring the stricken look on Tremaine’s face. ‘You will approve, I’m sure, Elise. The thing is huge. Sure to burn for days, and with enough wood for two fireplaces.’
‘Really?’ She was smiling at Harry as though he had offered to wrap her in diamonds. Any annoyance at the chill he would take tramping about the grounds in a foot of fresh snow was replaced by the warm glow of her presence.
But the Christmas spirit did not seem to be reaching Tremaine. He grumbled, ‘Surely you have servants to do this?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I could never expect them to do such. It is tradition that we choose one ourselves. Elise is very particular about the choice, and she enjoys the walk. I could not begrudge her the experience.’
Elise looked at Tremaine in disapproval. ‘You are not dressed for the weather.’
‘Here—we can fix that.’ Harry removed his own scarf and wrapped it twice around Tremaine’s neck, pulling until it constricted. ‘There. All better. Let us proceed.’ He opened the front door wide and shepherded them through.
Elise took to it as he had known she would. Though she might claim to adore the city, she needed space and fresh air to keep her happy. She strode out into the morning, with the first glints of sunlight hitting the fresh snow, twirled and looked back at them, her face shining brighter than any star. ‘Isn’t it magnificent?’
Harry nodded in agreement. As he looked at her, he felt his own throat close in a way that had nothing to do with the tightness of a scarf. She was so beautiful standing there, with the dawn touching her blonde hair. And he thought,
He looked around him—anywhere but at Elise. For until he had mastered his emotions he could not bear to look in her face. And he saw she was right: with a fresh coating of snow over everything, and frost and icicles clinging to the trees, it was a most beautiful morning indeed.
Tremaine merely grunted.
‘This way.’ Harry pointed to the left, up a low hill at the side of the house. ‘In the copse of trees where we used to picnic.’ He set off at a brisk pace.
Elise followed him easily in her stout boots and heavy wool skirt. ‘You do not mean to take the tree where we …’ She was remembering their last picnic in the oak grove, and her cheeks were going pink in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
He cleared his throat. ‘Not that one, precisely. But very nearby. This tree is dying, and we will have to take it soon in any case. Why should it not serve a noble purpose?’
Behind them he could hear Tremaine, stumbling and sliding and cursing his way up the hill. He was falling further behind as Elise drew abreast of Harry.
She said softly, ‘I am still amazed that you are willing to do this after what has gone on between us. Although you always complied with my wishes, you complained about the bother of it in years past.’
He appeared pleased, and looked at the ground. ‘Perhaps I did. But I found, though I meant to leave it off, that the habit was ingrained. Although I complained to you, perhaps I enjoyed it more than I knew.’ He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘In future you will have Tremaine to complain over it, when he takes my place. But for myself I mean to spend a quiet hour on a winter morning, watching the sun come up.’
She smiled at him in approval, and then blushed and looked away. He glanced back again, so that she could not see his answering smile, and called, ‘Keep up, Tremaine, or you shall miss the best part.’
The tree he had chosen had been carefully notched by a servant, so that most of the work was done and it would fall correctly. In truth, there was so little left to do that it was fortunate the thing had not fallen on its own in the storm. A few blows of the axe would give the impression to his lady love of manly competence without undue exertion.
He stepped around to the far side and swung the axe into the wood. It struck with a satisfying clunk that made Tremaine flinch. ‘See? We strike thusly.’ Harry swung again, and felt the unaccustomed labour jar the bones of his arms. After several Christmases just like this, at least he was prepared for the shock. It was much better than it had been the first time his wife had suggested the activity. ‘It takes only a few strokes to do the job.’ He smiled at his adversary again. ‘Step away from that side, sir. For the tree is likely to come down when I least expect it.’ He took a short pause, turned so that Elise could not see the expression on his face, and stared at Tremaine, not bothering to smile. ‘I would hate for an accident to befall you.’
Tremaine fairly leapt out of the way, standing safely behind him. The man was terrified of him.