The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (7 page)

She gave Shane a sideways glance. “A lot like he is today, actually. Reserved. Determined to do everything on his own. Convinced his opinion is the only right one.”

“Sounds about right.” Josh snorted. “You must've been terrified.”

“Allison isn't terrified of anything.” Shane's sardonic reply evoked laughter from the group.

Her smile felt forced. He clearly didn't know her well. He was the one who'd intimidated her from the start, the one whose good opinion she'd craved.

“My turn.” Crossing her arms, she met Caleb's stare with her own. “I want to hear about Shane the lawman.”

Shane hung his head and groaned. “There's really not much to tell.”

“Stop being so modest.” Josh socked his arm.

“If anyone has a right to boast, it's him,” Jessica said with conviction.

Shane shot Allison a
help me
look. He despised being the center of attention. Not about to miss their recounting of his exploits, she shrugged. Displeasure twisted his mouth.

“Shane's the type of man who'll help anyone without thought to his own personal comfort or safety,” Josh said. “He's got a will of iron and nerves of steel.”

Josh listed the ways Shane had impacted their lives. He'd once hunted and captured a criminal who'd taken Nathan captive. He'd rounded up a gang of outlaws whose female leader had almost killed Caleb and his wife, Rebecca. When a series of crimes had been committed at Quinn's store and Nicole had been attacked, Shane worked with Quinn to bring the perpetrators to justice.

Grant spoke up at the end, his expression one of earnest respect. “Not so long ago, I woke up on Jessica's property with no memory of who I was. Shane could've thrown me in jail that first day. Even after I discovered evidence that pointed to a sordid past, he believed in my innocence. Things could've gone very differently if not for him.”

The adults fell silent. Allison nudged Shane. “Sounds like the contents of an adventure book to me.”

He kicked up a shoulder. “It's my job. I do what's required of my position, the same as any other lawman in this nation is expected to do.”

“Handsome and humble...” Jessica huffed a dramatic sigh. “If only we could convince one of the single ladies around here that he's worth the effort.”

Kate shot Allison a significant look. “What about you, Allison? Are you involved with anyone?”

Her cheeks blazed with heat at the implication. “Not at the moment.”

Nathan elbowed Josh. Someone let loose a low whistle.

“Isn't that convenient. Shane's not courting anyone.”

“When has he ever?” Nathan's young brother-in-law, Will, observed with a hearty laugh.

Shane threw up his hands. “That's enough punishment for one night.”

Threading his fingers through hers, he pushed past Josh, guiding her away from their group.

“You don't have to go,” Caleb called after them. “We'll promise to behave.”

He lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Still, he didn't slow his pace until they'd left his friends behind and were on the opposite side of the church near the cemetery. He dropped her hand the moment they stopped.

“It wasn't that bad, was it?” she said softly.

“They like to harass me sometimes. You presented a perfect opportunity.”

“It's obvious how much they care about you. You're fortunate to have them.”

After witnessing the evidence of their regard for him, she could only be happy to know he wasn't alone.

“I know.” His attention shifted beyond her. “Evening, Ben.”

“Howdy, boss.” The rakish deputy took hold of her hand and, clasping it between his, pressed it to his heart. “You are as radiant as the North Star, Miss Ashworth. You put every other woman here to shame.”

Allison didn't dare risk a glance at Shane. “You are quite inventive with your compliments, Mr. MacGregor.”

“What can I say?” His grin widened. “You inspire me.”

“You can release her hand now,” Shane muttered.

Ben reluctantly did so. “Boss, I know how you feel about these types of shindigs. I don't mind keeping Miss Ashworth company if you'd like to skip out.”

Dejection weighed heavily on her shoulders. Lowering her gaze to the grass beneath her feet, she waited for Shane to agree.

“That's mighty thoughtful of you, but Allie came with me, and I'll see to it that she gets home safe and sound.”

She whipped her head up. In the semidarkness, his profile was impossible to read. He'd called her Allie just once, the day he left Virginia. On the verge of boarding the train, he'd taken her hand and told her to take care of herself.

Ben accepted his refusal with aplomb. “Understood.” His green gaze slid to her. “I'll see you around, Miss Ashworth.”

He sauntered off in the direction of the snack tables.

Shane scrubbed at the day's growth of beard shadowing his jaw. “I didn't think to ask your opinion. If you'd rather pass the time with him, I'll understand.”

“I came here to visit you, Shane.”

He stared at her for long moments. Holding out his bent arm, he said, “The reverend's getting in position, which means the program is about to start. Let's go and find us a spot.”

About that time, the jangle of cowbells got everyone's attention. The reverend, a silver-haired man clad in a penguin's colors, went to stand near the church steps and waited until the crowd gathered around.

“Friends and neighbors, another year is drawing to a close,” he said. “In this last month of 1886, let us reflect on God's blessings and His greatest gift to mankind, His Son, Jesus Christ.” He gestured to the grouping of statues covered with burlap. “This year, I'm pleased to inform you that we have a new nativity. My thanks goes to Josh O'Malley, who carved each piece with his own two hands.”

The people clapped as the reverend removed the burlap from each statue. Allison was amazed by the craftsmanship and detail of Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus and the animals.

“It's wonderful,” she whispered. “I've never seen the like.”

His face devoid of emotion, he nodded and sipped his cider. “Josh is a skilled carpenter. You'll have to visit his furniture store sometime.”

“I'd like that.”

Candles were handed out to the adults. When they were lit, the reverend's wife led the gathering in the singing of several carols. The flickering lights created a pretty glow in the darkness, and the sound of male and female voices blending together and singing about their Savior sent chills cascading over her skin. This was a humble church in a tiny mountain town, yet she'd never experienced the same awed emotion.

Beside her, Shane was peculiarly silent. His candle aloft, he stared into the distance, his focus far from here. Was he remembering some terrible moment from his past? Another sad, disappointing Christmas?

She touched his sleeve. “I'm ready to leave if you are.”

He angled his head toward her, and it took a second for his gaze to clear. “Are you sure?”

Of course she wanted to stay, but she refused to be selfish when he was unhappy.

“I'm cold. I'd like to go back to the house and relax before a comforting fire.”

Taking her candle, he extinguished them both and, discarding them in a bin, led her past awaiting horses and wagons to where his was parked. As before, he cocooned her in the quilt, his movements efficient and impersonal but wreaking the same effect as the first time. She was so busy seeing to her niece's and nephews' needs that she'd forgotten what it felt like to experience a moment of cossetting herself.

“You were uncomfortable back there,” she ventured. “You don't like when I question you about your past, but you didn't say I couldn't ask about your faith. Has your viewpoint altered since you left Virginia?”

He was quiet a long time. “I want to believe that the God who created all this beauty could love someone with a soul as tarnished as mine. I want to, but...”

“It's hard for you to trust.” Anxious to say the right thing, she said, “No one deserves Christ's love. Or His forgiveness. But because of His compassion and mercy, He extends it to us. It's a free gift. We can't earn it.”

“I've heard these same words many times.” The defeat in his voice disappointed her.

Why can't you accept them as truth?
“I've never stopped praying for you, Shane.”

His gaze swerved to her face, his shock evident. “I don't know what to say except thank you. That you would take the time to pray for me...” He removed his hat and thrust a hand through the blond-brown strands.

“I won't stop.” Her own voice grew thick. “You can count on that.”

Nodding, he didn't utter another word. At the house, he set the brake and, after helping her down, started to climb the steps.

“You're coming inside?” she blurted. “I can stoke the fireplaces without your help.”

He paused with one boot braced against the bottom step. It was impossible to make out his features in the porch shadows. “I thought I'd see to the task. Unless you don't want me to.”

“That depends on your reasons,” she said evenly. “If you're coming in because of some perceived duty, then the answer is no. I don't need to be watched after. If you're coming in because you'd like to share a cup of coffee and my company, then the answer is yes.”

His long-suffering sigh originated deep in his chest, and the tenuous bond born from her confession evaporated.

“I guess I have my answer.” She ascended the steps. “Good night, Sheriff.”

Chapter Seven

“A
llison.”

Still reeling from her revelation that he featured regularly in her prayers, Shane trailed after her. He had to tread carefully because, to him, this entire visit was a necessary but not exactly welcome intrusion into his life. He hadn't invited her here. He definitely hadn't anticipated having to keep up his guard every hour of the day.

“Wait a minute.” He touched her shoulder, and she whirled on him.

“I have to be honest, Shane. I hate that you see me as a burdensome child. Every time you sigh and huff and roll your eyes, I'm tempted to throttle you.”

He stared at her. “I'm sorry.”

He was sorry that he wasn't a different man, one who knew how to trust and love and have normal relationships. He was sorry he hadn't done a better job of hiding his unease around her.

She began to dig in her reticule, her frustration evident. He pulled the key from his pocket and held it up.

“Looking for this?”

When she went to snatch it from him, he held it out of reach. “For the record, I don't see you as a burdensome child.”

“Oh?” Her chin jerked up, her hair gleaming in the night. “How
do
you see me, Shane?”

He strove for a rare moment of honesty between them. The fact that she couldn't see his face helped. “As an intelligent, caring, gorgeous woman who makes me wish I was a better man.”

The admission hung between them. She didn't move or speak. He heard her swallow, noticed her moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, could almost see her mind working to process the information.

Reminded of that charged moment in the churchyard and the weakening of his resolve, he sought refuge from the longing invading every part of him. One innocent touch from her was all it would take for him to succumb to the lies and haul her in his arms for a kiss that would likely tilt the world on end. His soul was like a parched desert that wouldn't be able to stop from soaking up every single drop of rain offered. If he unleashed this flood of attraction building between them, he feared he'd never surface again.

Because of his unsteady fingers, it took several attempts to unlock the door. Shoving it open, he strode to the fireplace. She entered at a more sedate pace, taking her time removing her cape and gloves. She crossed the living room and stopped behind him.

Please don't question me on this. Please.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

The tension between his shoulders blades eased. “Sure.”

The flames were licking at the logs by the time she returned. He replaced the poker in its slot and accepted the mug she held out.

He forced himself to meet her gaze. “You aren't having any?”

“It's too late in the evening for me.”

He half twisted toward the mantel, touching a finger to patterned paper pinwheel stars perched there. “This was the project you thought I could help with?”

She clasped her hands together in front of her. “It's not difficult to do. Requires more patience than skill.”

There were six on the mantel, all done in shades of white, green and red. She'd hung more between the stair rail rungs.

Her features softened into a fond smile. “I placed those there so they'd be on the children's level.”

“Tell me about them.”

She crossed her arms. “They're a lively lot, especially the boys. Danny's seven and a miniature of his father in both looks and personality.” She chuckled, no doubt picturing them in her mind's eye. “Five-year-old Peter is a firecracker but he's always eager for a hug. Lydia's four. She's the most mischievous of them all.”

“Let me guess, she has George wrapped around her finger.”

“Without a doubt. And then there's George Jr. He's an easygoing child. He loves to snuggle and is generous with his kisses. Since he's only just turned two, he prefers to spend most of his time with Clarissa.”

Unsurprisingly, she spoke of the children with great affection. “You adore them.”

“I do. I've been there for each birth and watched them grow and flourish into little people with their own unique personalities.”

“You should have a brood of your own.”

The words cost him. He could easily picture her with a babe in her arms and one bouncing on her knee. Her children would never question whether or not they were loved.

Her smile turned wistful. “I'd like that very much.”

“Does Trevor like kids?”

“I—I haven't thought to ask.” She bit her bottom lip.

Wishing the question unsaid, he set his mug on the coffee table and plucked a pinecone from a bowl full of them. “What's this?”

“My meager attempt at decoration. I gathered them from the yard. If the weather's nice enough tomorrow, I plan to search for ivy or other greenery to spruce up the space.”

Shane bit back a sigh. Pacing to the far corner beside the window, he said, “This would be a good spot for a tree.”

Her brow furrowed. “A tree?”

“You said the children will be disappointed without one. We'll go in the morning.”

“You're serious? You're going to take me to cut down a Christmas tree?”

“Yes.”

“And you're going to help me set it up? Maybe even place a few ornaments on the branches?”

He found it impossible to say no in the face of her obvious delight. “If I must.”

With a little squeal, she launched herself at him, her arms going around his neck. Stunned, he registered several things at once—the fruity fragrance clinging to her hair, the curve of her cheek pressed against his neck, her breath tickling the skin above his collar. The need to return her hug, to hold her close, surged within him. She was incredibly soft and warm and sweetly alluring. It took immense effort to keep his arms at his sides.

Belatedly noticing his lack of response, Allison removed herself from his person and took great care in rearranging her skirts, her chin tipped to the floor. “What time shall I be ready?”

“Ten o'clock. Dress warmly.”

His heart was out of rhythm and thumping erratically against his chest. Hopefully that was her last spontaneous show of affection. Testing the boundaries of his willpower wouldn't benefit either of them.

* * *

She shouldn't have hugged him.

Every time the memory of how he'd borne her enthusiastic thank-you came to mind, she cringed with embarrassment. Riding on horseback alongside him through the mountainous terrain, all she had to do to be reminded of her foolhardy behavior was look over at his rock-hard jaw, sculpted, stern mouth and the rigid line of his broad shoulders.

He'd been quieter than usual this morning, and it was her fault.

“I stopped by the post office on my way to your place,” he said, shifting in the saddle. “Still no word from George.”

“When it comes to work, he can be single-minded. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgets to contact us and simply shows up here unannounced.”

Shane's lips pressed more tightly together.

“You're awfully serious today,” she said. “Something particular on your mind?”

Framed by the overcast day and cream-colored Stetson, his eyes looked bluer than usual. “Seems I have something of a mystery on my hands.”

“Oh?”

“I believe we may have a drifter problem. There's evidence someone has been spending nights in Mr. Warring's livery. This morning, Quinn got a delivery from a neighboring city. While he and the driver went inside to settle up, someone stole a box of oranges.”

“A costly loss. Do you have any clues as to who it might've been?”

“None. When Quinn discovered it missing, he searched the riverside and discovered a pile of orange rinds. The culprit is headed for a massive stomachache if he eats them all in one sitting. Ben's doing the rounds today on the lookout for suspicious strangers.”

“Were there any nonfood items taken?”

“I know what you're thinking,” he said evenly. “Need doesn't make it okay to steal.”

“Hunger can be a powerful motivation.” Despite her thick green cloak, woolen scarf and fur-lined gloves, she was cold. The mountain air chilled her exposed skin. “What if he doesn't have a proper winter coat? No home to lodge in? If it's this cold during the day, wouldn't anyone caught out in the elements overnight be in danger of freezing to death?”

“Unfortunately, the danger is very real.”

“What will you do if you catch him?”

He leveled his gaze at her. “My job.”

“You'd put him in jail?”

“I don't always like what I'm required by law to do, but sometimes I don't have a choice. The best I could do is appeal to the business owners affected and ask for leniency. If they agreed, I'd be able to let him off with a warning.”

Allison fell silent as she contemplated the difficulties of his position. Her horse navigated the increasingly hilly terrain. She had to concentrate on balancing atop his broad back.

Shane's mount pulled a little in front of hers. Shane twisted to look at her over his shoulder. “In these parts, it's common knowledge that the church is willing to help those who've fallen on hard times. My hunch is that this person is living on the wrong side of the law and doesn't want to draw attention to himself.”

“Still, it's difficult to think of someone suffering like that. I've never had to go hungry, so I don't know what it's like.”

“I do.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “When you're that hungry, your world narrows and finding food is all you can think about.”

Her horror must've shown on her face, because he turned away. Her fingers clenched on the saddle horn as a particular memory reasserted itself. The first night Shane joined them for dinner, his eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of the luxurious seven-course meal. Even so, he'd limited himself to scant proportions. Her father had encouraged him to help himself to as much food as he'd like, but he'd declined. It had taken months for Shane to relax enough to eat a healthy amount.

“How often did you go without?”

“It was an ongoing problem. Sometimes, I'd resort to stealing, just like our drifter.”

Allison knew better than to express her dismay. Thankfully, he was sitting forward in the saddle and couldn't see her reaction. “Did you ever get caught?”

“Once. When I was ten, the owner of the diner around the corner found me sneaking out the kitchen door that exited onto the back alleyway. I had a chicken leg and a roll. He marched me straight to jail.” He looked back, saw her sagging jaw and smirked. “Don't feel too bad. The sheriff fed me a fine meal that evening.”

“You were a child!”

“I broke the law.”

“How long?”

“Was I in jail?” He shrugged. “Just the one night. The owner's wife found out what happened and insisted her husband show me mercy. Not only that, she made sure I had one hot meal a day for the remainder of the time I lived in that neighborhood.”

“I don't envy you your job,” she confessed, having trouble absorbing these rare revelations about his past. “Those instances when those who deserve punishment are the same ones in desperate need of help must wear on your soul.”

“It doesn't happen as often as you might think. When we find our drifter, I'll check if he's wanted by local or federal authorities. If not, I'll make it my priority to get him the assistance he needs.”

“I hope you find him soon.” Before he dies from exposure.

“Me, too.” Thumbing up his hat's brim, he tilted his head back to study the low, grayish-white clouds. “Looks like snow.”

“The temperature has dropped significantly since last evening.”

She'd woken to a frigid room. In this house, there weren't any maids to stoke the fires and make her morning routine comfortable. For breakfast, she'd made do with coffee and a cold slice of bread smeared with blackberry preserves, all the while picturing Clarissa and the children in the estate's elegant dining room with their porridge, eggs, ham and jelly-filled pastries. After nearly a week of separation, she missed them terribly, despite the fact that she was enjoying the peace and quiet.

“How far are we from the Wattses' land?” Her hold on the saddle horn tightened as the Wattses' horse she was borrowing navigated a steep bank. She'd likely be sore tomorrow. Her outings were confined to the estate grounds and expansive city park—easy terrain compared to this.

“A couple of miles.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. “You all right?”

“I'm fine.”

Pointing higher up the mountain slope to where the forest thickened, he said, “We've got about a half mile of ground to cover before we start seeing the trees you'll be interested in.”

By the time they reached it, Allison was grateful for a chance to dismount and stretch her legs. She was turning a slow circle, soaking in the glorious view, when Shane appeared at her side and handed her a small, squat canteen with a hand-knitted cover.

“What's this?”

“Hot cocoa.” He held out two miniature cups. “Would you mind pouring while I fetch the rest of our repast?”

“Repast. That's a big word for a lawman.”

He cocked a brow. “Not for a lawman who spends his free time reading.”

She grinned, unwisely thrilled at being far from civilization with him. Using a fallen log as a table, she carefully poured the rich brown liquid, her mouth watering at the aroma of sweet chocolate. Shane returned with a crushed white box and a slight frown.

Peeking beneath the lid, he said, “I brought a dessert for each of us but it appears only one survived the trip in my saddlebags.”

Going to stand beside him, she inspected the hefty slice of golden cake and, beside it, what looked like a pancake. “I can't believe you brought us cake.” She sniffed the contents. “What kind is it?”