Merry Christmas, My Love

Love, Mama

Priscilla sighed and refolded the letter. It had been bad enough spending Thanksgiving without her loud, boisterous family, but a Christmas alone was downright depressing. She couldn’t even count on Mitch and Ian this time because once she made him understand she wasn’t going to marry him, he might never set foot in her house again.

She bit off the thread from the angel’s gown she’d finished sewing then shook it out. Two more to go, and then the costumes would be finished.

What would life be like if she married Mitch? Certainly their bedroom life would be interesting and rewarding. Just thinking back on their night together, and what they’d done and how he’d made her feel, had her squirming in her seat.

She would also be a mother to Ian, a boy of whom she was certainly very fond. She shook her head. Right now there was no reason for her to consider marriage. She’d seen enough good, solid marriages in her family to know love must be the foundation. Neither one of them expressed any sort of caring for the other. Had their time together only been about passion?

An hour later her growling stomach reminded her it was well past time for supper. She cut a few slices of leftover meatloaf and made a sandwich, and washed it down with a cup of coffee.

Once cleaned up from supper, restlessness overcame her and she wandered around the house, dragging her fingertips over the furniture, going from room to room, unsure why the house seemed so lonely. Perhaps the letter from home had unsettled her. She picked up a copy of A Romance of Wastdale by A.E.W. Mason that she’d started a few days earlier. With not much enthusiasm, she continued where she’d left off and found herself reading the same paragraph four times.

She tossed the book aside and sighed, wanting to sleep so Sunday would come sooner and she’d see Mitch again, but knowing she was much too restless for slumber. The man had her going in circles. Priscilla had been raised by God-fearing people who didn’t approve of sex outside of marriage. Why she’d found it so easy to give herself to Mitch could only be answered in one way.

She had very strong feelings for him.

If he hadn’t issued such a haphazard proposal she might have thought he held feelings for her, as well. But his autocratic demand that she marry him because it was the right thing to do and they had no choice, had her bristling and her stubborn side rearing its head. No one would tell her she had to do something.

She headed to the kitchen and warmed up some milk. Maybe she should get a cat. That would keep her from noticing how quiet her house was. Yes, in the morning she would ask at church if anyone had a cat she could adopt. Something warm to hold onto. Something she could rub her cheek against, feel the strength and hardness of its muscled chest. The crinkly hairs that her fingers could run through. The heat that came from its body to cover hers and press her into the mattress, to take her lips…

Good God, she‘d switched from a soft fuzzy cat to the man she was trying desperately to put from her mind. Downing the last of the milk, she put the glass in the sink and headed to the bedroom. The fire was almost out in the potbelly stove, leaving the room with a chill. Since she knew sleep wasn’t going to come for a while, a trip out to the shed to get more wood was definitely in order.

Colorado air was certainly much sharper and clearer than Oklahoma air. Now that she’d gotten used to it, her body was comfortable with the cooler temperatures. She tugged the back door closed behind her. The light from the half-moon cast the yard in shadows. As she pulled the collar up on her coat, she tilted her head back and admired the stars. The sky was brilliant with sparkling little diamonds

Picking up the lantern she’d brought from the house, she carefully made her way down the steps. Her boots crunched the packed snow underneath her feet, echoing in the silence. She held the lantern high, the circle of light leading her to the wood shed. Setting the lantern down, she collected two logs that would do her for the night and the next morning.

She fumbled to tuck them securely into her arm and picked the lantern back up. She turned toward the house and screamed.

Chapter 10

Mitch checked his pocket watch for the tenth time that evening. Nine o’clock. He was jumpy as a whore in church. Ian had retired to bed an hour ago, his reading light still glowing from underneath his bedroom door.

Nothing held his interest long enough to keep Priscilla out of his mind. And that was how the woman had him feeling. Out of his mind. He still didn’t understand why she’d refused to marry him. Marriage certainly wasn’t something he was hankering to do, yet he was willing to make the sacrifice.

Maybe Priscilla wanted more than a sacrifice.

In retrospect, he could have asked her in a nicer way. Women liked flowery words, courting, little gifts of candy and trinkets. Things like that. And what had he done? He’d ordered her to the altar and then acted even more the bully when she’d refused.

His mind made up, he opened Ian’s door. His son was fast asleep, propped up on pillows, his book lying in his lap. A rush of love came over him as he studied the little boy who was no longer little, who stood on the cusp of manhood. He removed the book and closed it, making sure he tucked the bookmark in the proper place. Giving him a light kiss on his forehead, he eased him down and pulled the covers up to his neck. Dousing the oil lamp, he left the room.

He grabbed his coat from the coat tree by the door. He buttoned it up against the cold, pulled on a hat and gloves, then wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck. After checking his coat pocket to make sure his gun was handy, he pulled the front door closed.

Even though it would be a good twenty minute walk to Priscilla’s house, he preferred the hike to saddling up his horse again. And the time spent getting there would give him time to go over what he needed to say.

The more he thought about marriage to Priscilla, the more he liked the idea. They could even have children. If her father was good enough to become a U.S. senator after his questionable beginning in life, there wasn’t any reason for him to feel Priscilla was above him. So far she’d shown herself to be smart, strong, resilient, and even—he had to admit to himself—unlikely to run back home.

This time when he proposed, he had to make it sound like a request, not an order. A thought flitted through his mind that brought him up short.

Love.

Women liked to hear words of love. Did he love Priscilla?

He sure as hell desired her. Just the thought of all those cold Colorado nights cuddled up under the covers, finding new places on her body that made her burn, warmed him up considerably. Enough to have him loosening his scarf.

Even if he didn’t love her, his feelings were strong enough that they could easily turn into love. A life with a woman in it was something he’d never thought he’d have again. He and Polly had been so young, they could very well have been merely infatuated with each other. With her dying so young, he would never know.

What he did know was his feelings for Priscilla were those of a man for a woman, not a boy for a girl. He hurried his steps as he grew closer to the schoolhouse. Now that he’d decided how to go about this, he was anxious to see her. Ask for her hand in marriage in a proper way.