Letters at Christmas (2 page)

Geoffrey had been a vibrant youth, quick with praise or gentle wit. He and Hale had been best friends at school, and Hale owed him more than Geoffrey knew. He’d been invited into Geoffrey’s home on winter holidays, and here he’d come to know and love Sidony. After the death of the siblings’ parents, and Geoffrey had assumed his position as one of the major landowners in England’s Pennine region, something in his friend had changed—not for the better. Hale had continued coming every Christmas, but the connection between Geoffrey and him had never been the same.

“Will you miss your crew?” Sidony asked quietly. Trust her to hit upon the hardest question.

“Yes. Very much.”

The decision to leave them, however, had been easy. Everyone else paled compared to her inquisitive green-brown eyes and the wit behind them. Even Geoffrey, when it came down to it. Years ago, well before Hale left, he’d come to terms with loving his best friend’s sister.

Hale’s father was a Viscount who’d drunk his fortune away. When he lost interest in his long-time mistress—Hale’s mother—she’d become listless, and eventually ill. Only guilt and a latent disgust of his true heir had caused Hale’s father to pay for his bastard son to attend school.

He had been born in sin and lived in squalor. His life had only ever held one thing of value, and that was Sidony. He had found her. He was keeping her.

Unless he had ruined their relationship with his preemptive demands.

“I’m surprised you aren’t interrogating him,” Geoffrey remarked to Sidony, who returned her gaze to her plate. He turned to Hale. “She quizzed me so often about your letter announcing your return that I gave it to her.”

“I did not,” she protested, cheeks turning pink.

Hale’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He had lived on the dregs of hope for so long. Being here with her and watching her reaction to him threatened to overwhelm him. Even seeing that damned cat—black, like his own cat, Bailey, had been. Was that why she had chosen it? No, he was reading too much into her actions.

He shrugged. “There’s not much to say. It’s a busy life. Keeping order onboard. Something always needs tending, or a few crew members have gotten into a fight. Though having an excellent first mate definitely helped matters.”

Sidony’s gaze hit him like a cold sea spray—breathtaking, invigorating. “How did your captaincy come about? I thought you were to be a bursar.”

A bursar. Yes, he supposed so. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had boarded the ship as a representative of the investment company, the businessman. The purse. He was to spend most of his days below deck, keeping the books, wiling away the time. The majority of his task would be conducting trade at the various ports.

“We lost our captain early. The rest of the crew…there were more experienced men, of course.” He laughed shortly. “All of them, actually. But it’s another thing to lead. They aren’t all ambitious, and some of them are but for the wrong reasons. Since I represented the owners and I was willing to step up, it simply happened.”

A neat way of putting the chaos and violence he preferred to forget. After a series of raids, and the unfortunate death of the captain Hale and his fellow investors had employed for the journey, the crew had been decimated and the ship almost destroyed. On the verge of starvation, the men had allowed him to assume leadership despite his youth and lack of experience. Caught between taking orders from a townie and assured death, they’d reluctantly recognized him as their new captain.

No, a bursar rising the ranks was unlikely, and becoming captain almost impossible. But then, the investment company he’d formed with four other men like himself—desperate to improve their lot in life—was hardly conventional. Two noble bastards, the son of a gaming hell owner, and a fourth man with a mysterious past made for unlikely colleagues. They had few funds and even fewer qualifications between them.

The only commodity they had in plentiful supply was ambition—fierce and cold.

That unwavering ambition was the only reason Hale had been able to make captain, the only reason their ship had returned to England in one piece.

“So we are to call you Captain Martin now, are we?” Geoffrey asked, a half-smile on his face.

“Please don’t. Besides, I may give up the position yet.”

“You plan to stay in London?”

“Much of the time, yes,” he admitted, well aware of Sidony’s curious gaze. She was far from indifferent to him and hope sparked anew in his chest. He forced his fists to unclench.

Three days, he told himself firmly. Then she would be his.

For always.

Chapter Two

The stars are guideposts on a well-traveled path, with invisible ruts where our masts scrape the sky. I know you will not read this, but if you’re thinking of me, I hope you’ll look up
.

Through the dessert course, Sidony’s brother cajoled Hale into telling stories of his adventures. He had, it seemed, traveled almost everywhere she had heard of, and many other places she had not. His primary trade route ran down the Barbary Coast, and he’d even gone once to India. The types of shipments varied based on what he could buy at what prices.

“Tea, mostly,” he said. “Sometimes antiques or gunpowder.”

Sidony choked on her soup. She had visions of an entire ship going up in flames, like a large bonfire. “Gunpowder. Isn’t that dangerous?”

Only then did she realize how concerned she appeared. He was kind enough not to mention it.

“The packages are well contained for travel. It’s no more dangerous than other cargo.”

She did not appreciate his overly reasonable tone. The thought of him putting himself in danger made her angry. “But what if pirates knew you had gunpowder. Wouldn’t they be inclined to steal it?”

“Pirates will steal anything if they think they can. Gunpowder would have been the least of my worries. At least then I could blow up the ship before they got it.”

“Blow up the ship. With you
on it
? I hope you’re joking.”

“He could have jumped first,” her brother said, turning to Hale. “Do you remember that time with Livingston and the sheep?” Then her brother laughed.
Laughed
. So did Hale. As if the thought of him being captured by pirates or being blown apart was funny.

Embarrassing tears pricked at her eyes. Blindly, she stood and turned to leave.

“Sidony, wait,” Hale said.

“She’s always been sensitive,” her brother said as she left. Which was incorrect, of course. She was the girl who went hunting with her brother, who eschewed every dance request and still got invited back. She was strong and brave and occasionally foolhardy—but not sensitive.

She had reached the upstairs landing when she heard his footsteps behind her. Boots on the thin carpet could have been her brother, or a footman, but she knew.
Hale.
She sped up, but her desperation to escape was no match for thick skirts and his long stride. He caught her wrist.

“Sidony, please.”

The inflection in his voice pierced her resistance. Pleading.
Begging.
Hale Martin didn’t beg. She stopped fighting. What was happening to her? “I’m sorry I made a scene.”

“No, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have discussed such things at supper.”

She frowned. “I’m not squeamish.”

“I would never say so.”

A reluctant smile curved her lips. “But you’d think it.”

“Well, if you recall the incident at Christmas…what was it, five years ago?”

“I blame the soup. And again tonight. I don’t think it agrees with me.”

He stepped forward. Startled, she moved back until the wall stopped her retreat. He placed a hand just below the curve of her breasts. The heat of his hand spread out from her center. Her eyes widened in alarm…and something more wicked.

His expression darkened. “Will you be all right?” he murmured. “Should we call a doctor?”

He was teasing her! She’d never realized he was made of pure evil. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure. Perhaps I should see you to bed.”

“No, you can’t go in there.” Her voice was breathless.

Suddenly he was gone, leaving only painful air in his wake. But not obedient, oh no. He strode into her bedchamber as though he had every right to enter. She stared at him in shock, and a niggling sense of amusement. Where was her dear brother through all this? She had always appreciated the freedom he gave her, but now it seemed downright reckless. What if Hale meant to ravish her during the supper hour, after all these years? He wouldn’t.

Would he…?

She followed him into the room. He was stroking Poppet’s head. Of course he was. The cat purred loudly and tilted his head obligingly.

Hale looked up. “I thought you hated cats.”

“I do hate cats.” Especially ones receiving his affection.

Since when was she jealous of a cat?

“Why do you have one, then?”

“He just…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Followed me inside one day. They’re like pests. You can’t get rid of them.”

“Then give him to me.”

That stopped her up short. “You would take him?”

“You still refuse to marry me. I’ll be lonely in my big, new house. I could use the company.”

“But what about when you go back to sea?” she said, not subtly interrogating him at all, no sir. “Poppet gets motion sickness.”

Hale’s wry look said he saw her ill-disguised curiosity. “I’m not planning on going back to sea. Now that the company is well-established, I’ve sold some of my shares. I’ll still work with them as an advisor and investor. By the way, how do you know Poppet gets motion sickness?”

“He always cries in the carriage whenever we go to town for the season. It’s very annoying.”

“Why not just leave him here? I’m sure Cook would be happy to keep him.”

She wasn’t prepared to answer that. She went to the window and fiddled with the lock. No more acrobatics for Poppet.

Hale’s presence stirred the air behind her. She stared straight ahead at the frost-covered panes. His breath ruffled her hair.

“Were you looking for me?” he whispered. “You knew I’d arrive today. Is that why the window was open?”

An embarrassed flush heated her skin. She felt too exposed, like a raw nerve. Still, there was one advantage to being found out. She didn’t have to hide any longer. Turning, she faced him.

He bent his head to her.
He was going to kiss her
. She should turn away. She should tell him no. His lips met hers directly, and she moaned. She truly moaned, aloud. He could
hear
her, and instead of dying of mortification, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He made a sound of surprise before holding her more closely. His hand slipped to the small of her back and pulled her against him. His other hand fanned along her jaw, holding her steady as he kissed her. She needed his guidance because her body had lost all sense and reason. Her limbs trembled, her heart raced.

“Hale?”

“Jesus, I missed you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She pulled back. “You didn’t write. You promised to write to me. Every single day, you said.” She let sarcasm color her voice. “You could have skipped a few days. That would have been fine.”

“I wrote.”

“No letters. Not even one.” She laughed hollowly. “You said you loved me, Hale, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to write one letter.”

“I did… Damn it.” He ran a hand through his hair.

She waited for him to explain what he meant. A lump lodged in her throat when he said nothing. He’d forgotten about her, and now he was lying to her. For what purpose? So he could win a bet? Because he’d gotten tired of traveling the world and could now settle for poor little Sidony?

“Get out,” she said evenly.

“Sidony.”

She turned her back. Let him leave. He had before. She heard his heavy sigh, then his quiet footsteps left the room.
Don’t leave,
she thought, too late.

I missed you
, he’d said. Well, nowhere near as much as she’d missed him. She’d thought about him. She’d
dreamed
about him. But not a single promised letter ever arrived. And she’d had no way of writing to him.

The rest of the night found her in her room. She heard laughter from downstairs as Hale reminisced with her brother. Geoffrey would not be so happy to see his old friend if he knew what she and Hale had once shared. And she had no intention of telling her brother. Ever. There would be no reason for him to know. She would never marry Hale. She’d reconciled herself to that fact years ago.

So why did the thought make her feel hollow inside, as if she’d lost some vital part of herself?

Her parents had left her, too. Even before their untimely death of malaria in Borneo, her parents were the most stylish and continental couple. Her friends at school would ask her about their travels, and Sidony would tell them stories of delight and heroism. She would tell them lies, because it was easier than explaining that she hadn’t seen her parents in years.

Her brother had assumed the parental responsibilities early on. When she was sent to the headmistress’s office, it was Geoffrey they notified. Though, even he had left in his own way. After their parents died, he’d turned distant, aloof. Myopic. Which was how she’d managed to carry on a romance right under his nose. Hale was the first person who had seen her and really, truly, gave a damn.

It had been addictive. It had been seductive. But she was older now, wiser. Wasn’t she? Time would tell. Three days, apparently. Three days was reckless, and, she had to admit, somewhat exciting. She fell asleep with a rueful smile gracing her lips.

He did know how to get her attention.

…

Sidony was in the stables. Nighttime blurred the edges of the loft but she smelled the sweetness of the hay. The ladder creaked under Hale’s weight. He’d come to her. No preamble this time, and she didn’t require any. He pressed his face against hers and breathed in deep. She kissed the side of his cheek. He turned his head to catch her lips. They kissed as if they had forever, an eternity contained within a single night. His palm felt hot through the thin fabric of her nightgown. He lifted the material, seeking, searching, and she shivered.

“Sidony?”

Startled, she jerked back. She swallowed hard as the shadows of her bedchamber came into focus. Had she been dreaming? Yes, she must have been, but Hale wasn’t a dream. He was right there, standing beside the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Her words slurred together, one foot still in the dream world.

“Visiting you, as always.”

She scooted up against the headboard. “That was before.”

“I figure we should spend the nights together as we used to. To make the wager fair.”

She groaned. The horrible wager. “I’m not going to do anything with you.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll just lie next to you.”

He climbed into bed. And true to his word, lay down next to her without touching. How disappointing.

He turned to face her, his head resting on the pillow beside hers. “Tell me how you’ve been,” he murmured. “I want to hear everything.”

Then you should have written me,
she wanted to say. But that would be unkind. They’d already established the facts. He’d made promises as a young man before going off to make his fortune. It would be cruel to hold him to them. She was doing him a favor by not marrying him, really. So why did it feel like a mistake? His presence beside her had comforted her so many nights. It comforted her now.

“I had three seasons,” she offered slowly. They both knew it was only supposed to be one. One season for her, one year of sailing for him.
I’ll be home by next Christmas
, he had said, and she’d cried all winter when he hadn’t come. Even the lack of promised letters hadn’t broken her faith, but his absence had done so.

His eyes now were solemn, painted silver-black with moonlight. “Were they everything you’d hoped?”

The seasons, he meant. She thought back, and whispered it all to him. Dresses and balls and dance cards. Trips to the theatre and exhibitions. A particularly memorable opera where the prima argued with her paramour in the audience. Yes, it had all been diverting and pretty—and so lonely. Though she left the last part out of her whispered confidences.

Before they’d become lovers, they’d been friends. And now, they were nothing. Supposedly nothing. And yet here he was in her bed, holding her hand.

“What about you?” she inquired. “Was seafaring everything you had dreamed?”

“Everything and more.”

She allowed the wry note, the intriguing hint of regret in his voice to float away on the cool night air. Whatever had made him jaded—a swordfight with pirates, an exotic love affair, changeling prices for tea exports—he had clearly come out of it stronger, richer, better. He had no need of her, which was why she would never accept his proposal. Back then, he had worshipped her. Which was as it should have been, considering how much she’d exalted him. Now she was but an afterthought, a backhanded proposal.

And if she said yes? He would stash her in some over-architectured, under-gardened townhouse in London. Only take her out when he wanted to play, as if she was some pet, like one of his cats only without claws.

No.

They lay in silence, neither willing to share the shadows of their time apart. Once, nothing had been secret between them, nothing sacred. Now they were strangers.

But she hadn’t let go of his hand. His fingers slid through hers with startling familiarity. Her mind made all sorts of claims about this intruder in her bedroom, but her fingertips—they knew him by touch. Bunched skin on his knuckles, and smooth, short-cropped nails. Coarse hair on the back of his hand that had appeared one day in their youth, as if by magic. That was the back of his hand, the known, well-mapped terrain. His palm was a different story, one of adventure and hardship, of darkness and secrets. Calluses had formed over calluses, her explorations told her. Mountains of thick skin, formed to protect him. Valleys in a man too young to wrinkle—it was experience that had aged him more than the years.

While she explored him, he explored her right back. Hands only. His thumb fanned the delta between her forefinger and thumb. Back and forth; she knew he’d found the scar.

His fingers tightened on her briefly before relaxing. “What did this?”

“A cat,” she admitted. “The dislike seems to be mutual.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, it was a boating party. Only I hadn’t read it right in the invitation. I thought it was a picnic. So I arrived with a large basket filled with cold salads and Poppet.”

He tensed beside her, but she couldn’t credit that he was really worried. Like him, whatever social trials she had faced in the interim, she had clearly come out just fine. Aside from tree climbing mishaps.