A Magical Christmas Present Page 6

  After a lavish dessert of plum pudding served with hard sauce, the guests gathered in the parlor to sing the traditional carols—“The Holly and the Ivy” and “Silent Night”—while Catherine accompanied the hymns on the piano. Soon, Stephen suggested that their hostess play a few waltzes so the guests could dance. As the others looked on raptly, Stephen waltzed Annie about the parlor to the strains of a Chopin waltz. Old Mr. Spencer joined in with his wife, and Jason dutifully asked Harriet.

  Staring at Stephen’s smug smile as he held Annie close and whirled her about, Jason knew that Prescott was deliberately staging a scene, trying to prove a point. Meanwhile, Harriet tried to make pleasant conversation with Jason, but he responded in distracted monosyllables. When the music stopped, he muttered an apology to her, strode up to Annie, and bowed before her.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Annie glanced questioningly at Stephen.

  “By all means,” Stephen muttered less-than-graciously.

  Jason was chuckling as he drew Annie in his arms and swept her about to a Strauss waltz. He felt deeply thrilled to be close to her—to watch the light play over the beautiful honey-brown curls piled on her head, to see her eyes sparkling with gaiety, her pink lips curving with happiness.

  Jason glanced at Stephen, who stood scowling formidably at the side of the room. Teasingly, he confided to Annie, “Stephen was too much of a gentleman to refuse my request, but I’ll bet he would like to call me out about now.”

  She dimpled. “Oh, he will get over it.”

  Jason felt a frown drift in. “I heard the two of you arguing earlier. It was over me, wasn’t it?”

  She shot a furtive glance at Stephen, then murmured, “Please, you must not concern yourself. It will pass.”

  “If I were truly unselfish,” Jason admitted, “I would stop going out with all of you, in deference to Stephen.” In a huskier tone, he finished, “But where you are concerned, my lovely Miss Simmons, I’m afraid I find myself feeling more selfish with each passing day.”

  Seemingly amazed, Annie stared up at him.

  “I was wondering something earlier,” Jason went on.

  “And what is that?”

  He nodded toward Harriet, who was laughing as she sipped eggnog with Oscar. “Do you keep inviting Harriet along for my sake, or to keep Stephen off-guard?”

  She paled. “What do you mean?”

  Jason pulled Annie slightly closer. Inhaling the sweet, feminine scent of her, he stared down into her wide, vibrant eyes. “Do you want Harriet along to distract me, or as a foil to distract Stephen from the fact that I’m interested in you?”

  Appearing flustered, Annie responded, “I—I want Harriet along because she is my friend.”

  Her nearness, even her endearing confusion, were playing havoc with Jason’s senses and his good judgment. Leaning toward Annie’s ear, he whispered, “Do you want Harriet to distract me, Annie?”

  Now she appeared adorably flustered, avoiding his gaze and stammering, “I—I’m not sure.”

  “Or is it you who is in need of a buffer?” he pressed on. “Do you like having your friend along because I make you feel things you’d rather not feel?”

  “Perhaps,” she admitted in a whisper.

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  She glanced up, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think you should marry Stephen.”

  “And why not?”

  “I just don’t think he is right for you. I sense something false about him.”

  She smiled quizzically. “And are you offering an alternative, Mr. Burke?”

  “Jason.”

  “Jason.”

  “Why must there be an alternative?” he argued. “Why should your life revolve around any man?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Mr. Burke, now you are toying with me.”

  “In what way?”

  “You want me to feel things, don’t you?” she challenged passionately. “Feelings for you. But it is a game to you. You are hardly prepared to follow through with any kind of commitment, are you?”

  Jason could only groan. “Annie, I’m sorry. There are complications—problems I can’t tell you about. I don’t know how long I’ll be allowed to stay in England.” With both fervor and uncertainty, he added, “But even if I were prepared to follow through, would you break things off with Stephen?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she admitted honestly.

  “I just don’t want to see you selling yourself short for the sake of your father—or simply to have a home and security.”

  “Simply to have a home and security?” Her laugh was incredulous. “But Mr. Burke—”

  “Jason.”

  “Jason.” Earnestly, she said, “My purpose in life has always been to have a home and a husband—and children.”

  Jason stared at her—so determined, so naive, so beautiful. All at once, he desperately wanted to have all those things—with her.

  It was hard for him to speak, but at last he said, “If such is your heart’s desire, then I think you should pursue it. But with a finer man than Stephen.”

  She laughed. “You are saying I am too good for him?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And what of you, Mr. Burke?” All at once, she took the offense, smiling and edging slightly closer to him. “Am I too good for you as well? Will you not be pleased until you see me canonized?”

  Jason broke into a grin. “Miss Simmons—”

  “Annie,” she corrected.

  “Annie, you are teasing me. That can be perilous.”

  “And I would like an answer.”

  As they spoke, Jason had maneuvered Annie out into the hallway. He glanced over their heads and pulled her to a halt, suddenly feeling quite devilish.

  Nodding toward the ceiling, he murmured, “Isn’t this the kissing bunch you once told me about?”

  “Did I?” She stared up at him raptly.

  He lowered his face toward hers and whispered, “What I have in mind for you, Miss Simmons, hardly involves canonization.”

  Jason pulled sweet Annie closer and kissed her. He moaned as the taste of her lips excited him unbearably. He crushed her to him and pressed his tongue hungrily against her wet, warm lips. She opened to him eagerly and Jason reeled with desire. She tasted so delicious, and felt so vital, so soft and warm in his arms. His heart pounded with the need to possess her. He could have devoured her on the spot. He realized she was perfect for him—his old-fashioned lady. He ached to make her his, forever.

  Annie was equally mesmerized by Jason’s kiss. It seemed like forever since he had held her thus, and his male strength, his scent, the heat of his mouth, set her senses aflame. She realized achingly that she had been deluding herself about Stephen. Never had any man excited her as Jason Burke did!

  “What have we here?” demanded an angry voice.

  At the sound of Stephen’s harsh question, Annie and Jason sprang apart like lovers caught in the act. They turned to confront a furious Stephen, a scowling Oscar, and a white-faced Harriet, all of whom now stood beyond them in the hallway.

  Not giving Jason a chance to reply, Stephen stepped forward and grabbed Annie’s arm. “I think it is time for all of us to leave.”

  “But, Stephen,” she protested, glancing helplessly from her fiancé to Jason, “you mustn’t become angry at Jason. The kissing bunch is a Christmas tradition here in England—”

  “That we’ll all doubtless read about in Burke’s article in the Bloomsbury Times tomorrow?” Stephen cut in furiously. He hurled a glare at Jason. “Mr. Burke, I think Miss Simmons has taught you quite enough about Yule customs here in England. Learn whatever else you need to know from someone else besides my fiancée!”

  As Stephen led her off, Annie could not protest further. Jason helped Harriet into her cloak, and the five proceeded back to the Simmons Hotel in tense silence.

  Half an hour later, after Stephen dropped Jason, Annie, a
nd Oscar off at the Simmons Hotel, Annie’s father turned to Jason in the downstairs hallway.

  “Mr. Burke,” he said coldly, “you are no longer welcome to stay at this hotel.”

  Annie was aghast. “Father, how can you say such a thing?”

  But Jason held up a hand. “Annie, it’s all right.” He turned to Oscar. “You are right, sir. I acted out of line tonight, and for that, I must apologize. I have also imposed on your family quite long enough. I will settle up accounts with you in the morning and seek lodgings elsewhere.”

  “Very good,” Oscar said gruffly.

  Meanwhile, Annie threw her father a look of confusion, hurt, and anger, and rushed off up the stairs.

  Jason watched her helplessly, then turned to Oscar, who had also watched his daughter’s flight with an expression of anguish.

  “I didn’t mean anything by my actions, sir,” he reiterated. “I suppose I simply became caught up in the spirit.”

  “And in setting Prescott in his place after he insulted you at dinner?” Oscar finished with biting cynicism. “He was right, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Oscar regarded Jason with contempt. “You would never make my daughter a proper husband. You are an American upstart, a drifter. Stephen is a successful haberdasher, and well-established in this community.”

  “And you think he is what Annie needs?”

  “Yes! Leave my daughter alone! You have taken advantage of her kindnesses quite long enough. Stephen Prescott is the right man for her.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning, feeling dispirited, Jason packed his few meager belongings, settled up his account with Annie’s father, and then left the Simmons Hotel. He let a room at a boarding house near St. James. He did not see Annie for several days, and he felt at something of a loss regarding her. He still very much wanted to protect her, but he did not want to cause her pain, or especially, to provoke an alienation between her and her father. Oscar Simmons obviously remained convinced that Stephen was the right man for Annie.

  Jason sensed disaster hovering closer to Annie with each day that passed. He agonized about how he might help her in the scant days remaining before tragedy would surely strike her. Worse yet, he continued to experience the nagging fear that he might be snatched away from his new existence on Christmas Eve—and what would happen to Annie if he couldn’t alter her destiny before then?

  Then surprisingly, on a morning a week before Christmas, Annie appeared at the newspaper office. He glanced up to see her standing in front of his desk, dressed in a cloak, bonnet, and muffler, with her cheeks bright pink from the cold.

  The sight of her filled him with both joy and relief. He stood and smiled. “Why, Annie. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Are you doing well, Jason?” she asked awkwardly.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “We haven’t seen much of you since you moved out of the hotel.”

  He sighed. “Annie, you know how it has been with your father and Stephen.”

  “Are you getting settled in your new surroundings?”

  “Yes—I like my room in the boarding house near St. James. I have a nice view of Westminster Abbey.” Catching her dismayed expression, he quickly added, “Still, it is not the same as the Simmons Hotel.”

  She smiled. “Jason, I’ve come by to invite you to go on an excursion with me, my father, and Stephen tomorrow.”

  “Annie…” Helplessly, he shook his head. “I can’t be responsible for causing any more bad feelings.”

  “But you must come along this time!” she protested. “You see, our friends the Youngbloods have invited us to a gathering at their farmhouse in the country. In her note, Mrs. Youngblood specifically urged us to bring you along as well. This would be the perfect opportunity for you to do research on how an English country Christmas is celebrated. Not only that, but Father has hired a sleigh and coachman for the occasion. It’s a fairly long drive, so we’ll be gone from before noon until the wee hours of the morning.”

  Jason felt very tempted, but he was also feeling skeptical. “What about your father and Stephen? What are their feelings on this?”

  She lifted her chin. “They have both consented to your coming along.”

  Jason was astounded. “They have? But why?”

  Annie glanced away, avoiding his probing gaze.

  “Annie?” He grinned. “What did you do—apply the thumbscrews?”

  She giggled, then flashed him a conspiratorial smile. “Really, Jason, such extreme measures were hardly necessary. I know Father feels badly for so precipitously banning you from the hotel following Cousin Catherine’s dinner party, and I think I have managed to convince Stephen that he, too, overreacted to our kiss that night.”

  “You have?”

  She flashed him a near-impish smirk. “And besides, I warned both Father and Stephen that I would not attend the Youngbloods’ gathering unless you were included.”

  “Annie! You didn’t!”

  “I did,” she admitted unrepentantly. “When I pointed out to them both that it would be the height of ill manners to exclude you when you could write about the occasion in the Bloomsbury Times, they both finally relented.”

  Jason shook his head. “My, you are determined. And count on a British gentleman ultimately to bow to good manners in all things.” Rather hesitantly, he added, “What about Harriet?”

  Annie sighed. “I invited her as well, but she claims to have a touch of the ague. However, I suspect that in reality—”

  “Yes?”

  She regarded him with mingled sadness and longing. “That Harriet is quite taken with you, Jason, and that she misinterpreted what she saw beneath the kissing bunch.”

  He felt a stab of regret. “Oh, Annie. I’ve been meaning to send her a note of apology.” He reached out to stroke her soft cheek. “But was it a misinterpretation on Harriet’s part, or did she simply view the truth, and find that too painful?”

  Annie glanced away, obviously acutely discomfited.

  “I’m sorry,” Jason hastily added. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that…” His voice trailed off as he stared at her wistfully. “I really can’t offer Harriet any encouragement.”

  “Oh, Jason,” Annie whispered, staring at him with equal yearning. Before he could comment further, she added quickly, “Will you come with us tomorrow?”

  He frowned. “You are very kind-hearted, but I fear my being along will cast a pall over the entire occasion.”

  “Nonsense,” Annie said briskly. She regarded him with touching tenderness. “Besides, I’ve missed you.”

  Jason felt bittersweet emotion twisting his own heart, and could not contain the fervency of his reply. “Oh, Annie. I’ve missed you, too.”

  The visit to the Youngbloods’ farm did turn out to be a strained occasion in many ways. The sleigh ride saw the group divided into separate camps—Jason seated on one side, with Stephen, Oscar, and Annie on the other. Their journey passed mostly in silence.

  Jason did enjoy the sights and sounds of the sleigh ride—the cold wind and the flakes of snow in his face, the jingling of the horse’s harnesses and the sounds of the coachman’s shouts to the team as they glided over the Great West Road toward Chiswick. The countryside was a fairyland—trees swathed with snow and dripping with icicles, farmhouses winking with warm, welcoming lights in their windows, smoke curling from their chimneys.

  The Youngblood farmstead was equally picturesque. The roofs of the farmhouse, as well as the barn, well house, dairy, and dovecote, were caked with snow. The paths, corrals, and fields lay blanketed in deep drifts.

  Jason and the others stamped their feet against the cold as they made their way to the door of the Tudor cottage with its high-pitched roof.

  A smiling John Youngblood, with pipe in hand, greeted them and beckoned them inside. “Come in out of the cold, all of you.”

  Jason was amazed by the rustic farmhouse, with its soaring sawn ti
mber roof, puncheon floor, and rustic country furnishings. The large main room swarmed with people, and the scene was one of near-chaotic revelry. John and Emma Youngblood had six children ranging in age from two to twelve, and the couple had also invited over friends from neighboring farms. At least a dozen youngsters scurried about, laughing and shouting, half of them playing a wild game of hoop-and-hide, while the others were chasing down a quartet of frisky kittens that bounded about everywhere, knocking over baskets of fruit, climbing the pants legs of guests, and chewing on the furniture. The smell of baking bread curled out from the bake oven, mingling with the aromas of spiced ham, sweet potatoes, steaming cabbage, and stewing pears that drifted out from the kitchen. On the open hearth, a crane supported a stock pot, steaming with mutton stew, and a whistling tea kettle.

  Annie made a point of introducing Jason to everyone and explaining about the series of articles he was writing. A couple of the farmers really warmed to the subject, spinning yarns of Christmas memories from their childhood. Jason noted that Stephen made a point of trying to keep Annie out of reach of his American rival as much as possible. He also noticed Prescott drinking generous portions of the apple cider one of the farmers had brought along.

  Dinner was a sumptuous feast. The adults were served at the large table before the blazing fire, while the children sat near the hearth with plates in their laps. Jason found the ham wonderfully spiced and flavored with oranges, the sweet potatoes delectable with their brandy glaze, the cabbage delicious with its tang of apples and thyme. The conversation was lively, especially when Oscar Simmons informed the others of the rumors of the pending resignation of the earl of Derby’s ministry. There was much speculation regarding what coalition the queen might now form to run the country. Then the discussion turned more provincial, with the farmers voicing their hopes for an early spring, while the children down on the hearth whispered excitedly about the coming of Father Christmas. The kittens, meanwhile, were also feasting, having found their way back to their basket on the hearth, and to their mother’s milk.