Six
December in the mountains of North Carolina was a capricious season. It could either be snowy and cold, balmy and sunny, or—as was the case this year—wet and gloomy.
Emma leaned against the windowsill, hands tucked in the pockets of her chenille robe, and watched water droplets track down the glass. Her view of the street below was distorted...like an image in a dream.
For four days she had expected Aidan to return, and for four days she had been disappointed. Now, there was no denying the truth. He was not coming back.
Having Mia show up on her doorstep Sunday evening had been the first sign. Though Emma was delighted to see her friend and little Cora, the fact that Aidan had promised to bring her dinner and then delegated that responsibility suggested he had been caring for Emma only out of a sense of duty.
She was the one who had wishfully attributed his emotions to feelings of affection. Which was ludicrous, really...she fully admitted that. Aidan had good reason to despise her. Only the honor and integrity instilled by Maeve Kavanagh into each and every one of her sons had compelled Aidan to come to Emma’s aid.
Twitching the lace sheers back into place, she contemplated the outfit that lay draped across the red velvet settee. Tonight was the first of Maeve’s holiday events—a fete for Dylan and Mia. Since the wedding plans had been thrown together so quickly, there hadn’t been time for a more traditional bridal shower.
Because Dylan’s home was fully outfitted, particularly with the addition of Mia’s things, tonight’s invitation had requested gifts to one of three charities in lieu of toasters and stemware. Emma had already written a large check and tucked it in her shimmery silver clutch. As a small thank-you gift to Mia and Dylan for their friendship, she had wrapped up a memento—an antique silver picture frame engraved on the lower edge with the words, ’til the end of time...
In her imagination, she saw a young war bride tucking it into her soldier’s pocket as he headed off to the other side of the world. Emma was a romantic. And a proud one. At one time, she had believed that every woman could find her soul mate. Now, older and wiser, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she still hadn’t given up on romance, even if it was mostly for other people.
Quite honestly, she didn’t want to go tonight. Her leg still hurt, though it was much improved, and her head ached if she tried to do too much. But the doctor had cleared her to go back to work.
If she planned to open the shop tomorrow after a several-day absence, she could hardly expect Maeve to understand if Emma cried off tonight’s festivities for health reasons. She was trapped by her affection for Mia and Maeve and the many kindnesses they had shown her as a newcomer to Silver Glen.
On the upside, if Aidan were avoiding her, it would make tonight more tolerable. Maybe they could sit on opposite sides of the room. She didn’t have a problem with that, at all.
She sat down and stroked the fabric of her formal dress. Strapless and Grecian in design, the column of platinum silk was actually quite comfortable. A Christmas gift from her mother, the dress made the most of her height and her pale skin. Instead of washing her out, the color was surprisingly flattering.
Regrettably, because of her painful leg, she would have to forgo her favorite, sparkly three-inch heels. Silver ballet flats would have to do. In the meantime, she would practice not tripping since the skirt was bound to brush the floor.
Mia had insisted on sending a car to pick up Emma at her apartment. Though Emma thought it a wasteful luxury, she had to admit that not having to drive was a relief.
The hours of the afternoon crept by. The cleaning lady came and went, leaving the small rooms spotless. Afterward, Emma took a bath in the old-fashioned claw-footed tub, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as she escaped to a sweeter, less volatile time in her life...
Aidan met her at the library, his hushed greeting drawing disapproving stares. Perhaps because he dragged her against him and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. He was always doing that. The uninhibited American and the repressed Englishwoman.
“Did you get your paper turned in?” she asked, loving the way his eyes ate her up. Aidan made her feel like the world’s sexiest woman. It was heady stuff for a girl who had spent much of her youth as a wallflower. Crooked teeth, a slight stammer and paralyzing shyness had made boarding school a nightmare. At home, things were not much better. The few village children who were her age were either intimidated by her title or openly sullen, resenting the money that made her life easy in their estimation.
Aidan stroked her hair, his eyes lit with humor and lust. “My paper on the wives of Henry the Eighth? Yes. Barely. All I could think about was getting you naked again.”
They had been lovers for a week. Seven glorious days that had changed her life. “Aidan,” she said urgently. “Hush. I don’t want to get tossed out of here.”
“Won’t dear old Daddy take care of any demerits?”
“Don’t joke about that,” she said, shivering as if a ghost had walked over her grave. “He would kill me if he knew that I—”
“Let your virginal self be ravaged?”
Her grin was reluctant. “You are such a scoundrel.”
He slapped a hand over his heart. “Me? You must have me confused with someone else. I’m the man who loves you, body and soul...”
From the living room, she heard the chiming of the hour on her mantel clock. It was five-thirty already. Her pumpkin coach would be arriving in little more than an hour.
Climbing out of the tub, she dried herself with a thick Turkish towel and sat in front of the mirror to twist her hair into a complicated style befitting the dress. When that was done, she applied makeup with a light hand. A bit of blush, a hint of glittery powder at her cleavage. Mascara to darken her too-pale lashes, and finally, a spritz of her favorite perfume and a quick slick of lip gloss.
Hobbling into the bedroom at a much slower pace than usual, she dragged open her lingerie drawer and selected a matching set of silk undies in pale celery green. Since it was too cold and damp to go bare legged, she added a lacy garter belt and cobweb-thin stockings with a naughty seam up the back.
She might be dateless tonight, but that was no reason to let her spirits drag. It was Christmas, damn it. And she intended to squeeze every last bit of ho-ho-ho cheer out of the occasion. Aidan and his judgmental attitude could take a hike to the North Pole and stay there for all she cared.
It was becoming increasingly clear that her move to Silver Glen might have been ill-advised, at least when it came to Aidan. He didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. But fortunately, he would be gone soon—back to the big city where he could wine and dine every woman in Manhattan if he wanted to.