Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (57 page)

She leaned her head against the back of the rocking chair, feeling half crazy. She was talking to herself, and thinking of a man who couldn’t be a worse candidate for her affection. It was crazy to think about him.

But she did.

Time passed and the wind kicked up, and still she thought of Boyd.

His charm and wit challenged her to stay alert. But the tender, serious side of Boyd intrigued her and made her want a closer look.

Which image reflected the real man? The impudent rakehell, or the kind and thoughtful gentleman?

A loud banging on the door brought her to her feet with a squeak of fright. She clasped the journal to her pounding heart.

Whoever stood outside pounded again.

Half terrified, she hurried to the foyer and peeked out the small window beside the door.

To her utter shock, Anna—a woman Claire had met briefly while living with Jack in a crude rooming house near the docks—was standing on her porch.

“Dear God...” Claire clutched her reeling stomach, unable to open the door. Anna’s husband was a monster, worse than Jack could have ever been.

“I need a place to stay.” Anna pressed her hand to the glass, desperation in her eyes. “I saw the sign for your boardinghouse in the store window.”

It would cost Claire too much to open the door.

“Larry’s in j-jail,” she said, her chin quivering from the cold. “He doesn’t know I’ve left him.”

The wind howled past the window, whipping Anna’s cape around her, pelting her with snow. Claire’s heart twisted, but she couldn’t move.

“He won’t come here. He doesn’t know we were friends,” Anna said.

They weren’t friends. They’d spoken a few times during the two weeks they’d both lived in the squalid dockside apartments. They had recognized each other as being in the same inescapable situation, but they’d never talked about it.

They had talked about the approaching holidays. When Jack drowned, Anna had expressed her sympathy and her relief that Claire had a place to go.

Now Anna was here seeking refuge, bringing her dangerous life right to Claire’s doorstep.

Anna’s bare palm slid down the window, the hope in her eyes dying as she turned away. She pulled her cloak around her thin body and crossed the porch.

Compassion warred with self-preservation, as Claire watched Anna descend the steps. Where would she go? Where
could
she go? That was the question Claire had faced each time she’d thought about running from Jack.

The answer was the same for Anna. She couldn’t go to her family because it was the first place Larry would look. Even if Claire had been welcome at her father’s house, she wouldn’t have put him in Jack’s destructive path. Jack had been too sly and conniving. He would have found a way to win.

She’d been trapped with no place to go.

Just like Anna.

With a silent curse, Claire wrenched open the door. “Are you hurt, Anna?”

Anna turned toward the house, and her eyes filled with tears. “No. But I can’t go home.”

“Come inside then.”

Anna brushed the tears from her eyes and climbed the steps. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Claire closed the door behind them then slipped the journal into the desk.

“Larry’s in jail for killing a man during a card game. He doesn’t know I’m gone. I haven’t told anyone about you, so he won’t be a danger to us.”

Claire wished she could believe that. Men like Larry had a way of finding their wives.

“I’ll get us some hot tea,” she said, guiding Anna into the parlor. “Make yourself comfortable.”

When she returned, Anna was staring out the window at Boyd’s shimmering snow castle. “How beautiful,” the woman said, her voice filled with awe. “It looks so warm and inviting inside I want to live there.”

Claire felt the same way each time she looked at it. “My neighbor Boyd Grayson built it this evening.”

Anna regarded the castle as if deep in thought. “He’s in love with you,” she finally said.

Claire choked on her tea. Her sinuses burned, and she blinked her eyes to clear her tears.

Anna glanced at the shimmering castle then back at Claire. “He must be.”

“Boyd Grayson doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He’s a rakehell who is trying to manipulate me.”

“Any man who would build a magnificent snow castle and light it with a lantern, meant it as a gift.” She gestured toward the castle. “This was a gift to you. Whatever his motivation, he gave you a part of himself today. You can see it.”

Claire’s stomach plunged and she sank down onto the sofa. What if Anna was right?

He had given her a gift today. He’d taken her to the cemetery to connect with her family then he’d built a fairy tale castle to make her feel less alone. Somehow he’d known that she needed a friend today.

He’d been that friend.

He’d given her a part of himself.

The castle was beautiful and luminous, a gift he’d made just for her.

How shameful that she’d never properly expressed her gratitude, that she had insisted on seeing him in a superficial light. There was much more to this man. He was artistic and giving, a light to those around him.

She definitely owed Boyd a thank you, but his saloon was stripping away her independence dollar by dollar, day by day, boarder by boarder. No matter how charmed she was by his gifts, she couldn’t afford to overlook that.

But she felt torn between her need to thank him and her need to protect herself.

* * *

The walk to his mother’s house was cold, but it gave Boyd time to think about Claire. He shocked her earlier with his bold kiss, but she hadn’t been offended.

She’d liked it.

He’d loved it.

And he was going to kiss her again. Soon.

She would pretend that he’d taken advantage of her, that she was affronted by his forwardness, that she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss. But she’d liked it. He’d kissed enough women to know when they were responding with passion. Claire had definitely responded. And definitely with passion.

The windows of his mother’s house were brightly lit. The house would be filled with food and family and laughter.

He always enjoyed their celebrations, but tonight he felt an odd discomfort about attending.

Was it because Claire was alone?

He should have left Sailor with her instead of at the saloon. Both would have enjoyed the evening more.

Before he could consider turning back, the door opened and Duke stepped outside.

“Leaving already?” Boyd asked.

“Just getting the wine.” Duke reached into the snow bank beside the door and plucked out a gallon jug of white wine. “Rebecca’s in a snit that you’re late.”

“Is she now?” Their seven-year-old niece was all curls and attitude. And absolutely irresistible.

“She’s lecturing Kyle about taking care of Ginger’s litter of kittens.”

“Then I’m going in to watch.”

Duke chuckled and followed him inside.

The parlor was filled with his family, and the house smelled of cinnamon, roast turkey, and plum pudding.

Boyd had spent every Christmas Eve here with his mother and brothers, and eventually with their wives and children. Now Kyle’s mother-in-law Victoria, who’d been widowed two years earlier, brought her suitor Jeb Kane to share the holiday with them. The sounds and smells were so familiar they were etched in Boyd’s brain.

But this year something was missing.

It wasn’t his father’s absence. He’d been missing his father from the moment disease had started to cripple him, and long before it had killed him. This emptiness felt different. It was an ache in the center of his chest that left him longing for something of his own, something to fill the void inside him.

He stepped into the room, hoping to step away from the feeling that haunted him. “Merry Christmas,” he said to everyone then swept his mother into a hug that lifted her off her feet.

She laughed and swatted his shoulder. “Don’t think that will sweeten me up. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been to see me.”

“And I’ve been pining the whole time.”

“The devil you have.” She pushed him away, but her eyes sparkled with love. “You were so busy making eyes at Mrs. Ashier this morning, you nearly ran over me and Rebecca near the Common. Rebecca even shouted at you, but you drove right by us.”

His glance shot across his brothers’ grinning faces. The wretches were savoring every minute of his discomfort. Even Jeb was trying to hide a grin.

Heat ‘burned his neck because he
had
been preoccupied with Claire. While she’d been sitting beside him, he hadn’t cared who was strolling through town. It could have been the Union Army, and he wouldn’t have noticed one of them.

“Rumor has it you’re in love with the pretty widow,” Evelyn said, the mischief in her eyes suggesting she enjoyed watching him squirm as much as his brothers did. Radford’s wife had grown up as Boyd’s neighbor, so the raven-haired beauty was more like a sister than a sister-in-law to him.

Like a true brother, he ignored her and spoke to his mother. “I didn’t see you and Rebecca,” he said, hoping they would all drop the subject.

“You didn’t see me either,” Duke added. “You nearly ran me over on Day Street.”

“The devil I did.”

“If it wasn’t you in that decked out sleigh with the pretty widow then you’ve got a twin in town who can’t manage a pair of horses.”

Boyd scowled at Duke. Brothers could be such a pain in the ass sometimes.

“You and the lovely widow created quite a buzz in the park this morning,” his mother said. “You two made a cozy picture in that fancy sleigh. Are you courting her?”

He was trying to court Claire, but wasn’t about to discuss his situation with his too-eager family. Instead of answering, he winked at Rebecca. “Hey, sprite. I’ve got mistletoe in my pocket. Where’s my kiss?”

Rebecca’s face filled with joy, and she leapt off Kyle’s lap.

“Did Mrs. Ashier like our sleigh?”

He groaned. “She loved it, Sprite.”

“Why didn’t you wave to me?” she demanded, her bottom lip full of attitude.

“Because I didn’t see you.” He swept her up in a twirling hug that made her squeal with laughter—and made his head spin. “Why are you picking on Uncle Kyle?” he asked, swinging the attention to his deserving brother. Let Kyle squirm a bit.

“He’s gonna give Ginger’s kittens away.”

“Is that so?”

Rebecca nodded. “Aunt Amelia says she won’t let him.”

Boyd slanted a your-turn-to-squirm look at Kyle. “Looks like you’re outnumbered.”

He shrugged. “I plan to change that by giving away a few kittens.”

Amelia wrinkled her nose at Kyle. “Would you want someone to give our baby away?”

“I might consider it if he doesn’t start sleeping at night.”

“You would not,” she said with a laugh that flushed her cheeks and made Kyle grin.

“Ginger had five kittens,” Rebecca said, tugging on Boyd’s black bow tie. “She has two boys and three girls.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Want one?”

“No thanks,” Boyd said, but then he thought of Claire. “But I might know someone who does.”

“Ask if they want five.”

Amelia nudged Kyle in the ribs.

He grunted and chuckled. “All right. We’ll keep one.”

“Where’s your mistletoe?” Rebecca asked.

Boyd pulled it out of his pocket, held it above his niece’s head, and gave her a loud smack on her cheek. She giggled and he growled against her neck, making her squeal and squirm out of his arms. Laughing, he tucked the mistletoe back into his pocket and glanced down at his nephew, who was soaking something with drool. “What’s William trying to eat?”

Rebecca squatted beside her brother. “His shoe,” she said then giggled when her mother wrinkled her nose and removed the leather boot from William’s mouth.

Radford wasn’t concerned at all that his son was eating his shoe. Neither was Boyd. They had pilfered potatoes and rhubarb from their gardens and fruit from their orchards, scrubbed them clean on their dirty trousers, and they’d survived.

Boyd played with William until his giggles caused hiccups; then he introduced himself to his newest nephew, Marshall, who promptly spit up on the sleeve of Boyd’s suit jacket. Rebecca climbed onto his lap and instigated a tickling match.

At last he sank into a chair, into the warm, welcoming bosom of his family, feeling at home... and yet, not at home.

The joking and light banter between them was the same, but something inside him was different this year.

The thought gnawed at him throughout the evening, distracting him by turns, poking him incessantly until finally, he wandered into the kitchen to snatch a second helping of pie. He reached for a plate, but ended up admiring the oak pie safe his father had made for his mother before Boyd was born. Boyd trailed his finger over a cluster of rosettes carved in the center of the safe door. Even his father’s early work had the mark of a master craftsman.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” his mother said, entering the kitchen.

“Everything Dad made was beautiful.”

“It certainly was,” She stopped beside Boyd, but instead of cutting the pie, she stroked her hand over his back, a loving gesture she’d performed too many times to count, “What’s bothering you?”

Years of experience had taught him not to try to skirt the question, His mother always knew when he was carrying a heartache or a problem, whether it was a lost puppy or a hurt ego.

“Guess I’m missing Dad more than usual this year.”

“Me too,” she admitted with the same deep sadness in her voice Boyd felt in his chest,

He looked down at his mother, the most loving, stable person in his life. She had loved him through his childish rages and shenanigans. She had comforted him a thousand times. She’d buried her disappointment when he left the mill and became a saloon keeper. He’d had many lovers, and though his mother had cautioned against it, she’d never manipulated his conscience to direct his decisions. She’d forgiven him everything, and loved him despite his many faults and failings. She’d even stood up against her fellow church members and refused to march against his saloon.

He’d taken it all for granted.

Regret welled up inside him as he pulled her into a hug. He kissed the top of her head, which barely reached his chin. “I’m sorry I’ve asked so much of you, Mother. I haven’t meant to be selfish, but I know I have been.”