Copyright © 2009 Jane Toombs
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Aldis Gorman walked slowly down the long curving staircase. Her sister Brenna had interwoven cedar boughs decorated with red velvet ribbons between the chestnut banisters, and their aromatic scent filled the foyer.
This area hadn’t been used as an entry hall since well before she was born. Bookshelves, a wicker settee, and a wicker lounge chair had changed it to a comfortable reading nook, but her parents had called it the foyer, and so did she and her sister.
Aldis noticed that her ward, Moya, had been busy with Christmas decorating too. Gold and green candles burned on the low bamboo table beside the settee, and a spring of mistletoe hung above the heavy oak door that led to the snow-covered lawn sloping down to the Hudson River.
She paused for a moment, thinking of how different it must have been in the old days when sailing up the Hudson was the best and easiest way to reach her hometown of Plum Point. In her grandparents’ time, guests arrived by paddlewheel steamer, and this door would have been the one to welcome them into the Gormans’ gracious three-story house.
For years now, though, the side door by the porte-cochere was the main entrance to the house. Aldis knew Brenna had carefully covered the side door with red foil and ribbons so it resembled a gigantic Christmas present. Her sister had certainly gone all out to decorate the family homestead for this party.
From the rooms beyond the foyer, Aldis heard the hum of conversation punctuated by laughter. Brenna’s guests were having a good time. And so were hers, for that matter. She glanced down at her three-year-old pink wool with its vee neck—she wasn’t even dressed festively. Brenna had accused her of playing Scrooge, but the truth was that Aldis was more like Bob Cratchit—she couldn’t afford a new outfit.
Any more than she could afford the money this party would cost her. She barely met expenses now from the proceeds of her ceramic sales. And this was the last year of Moya’s trust fund. Next fall, Aldis would have to pay Moya’s boarding school fees herself. Somehow.
The thud of the cast-iron eagle striking the outside of the oak door made her jump. She stared at the door. Was someone knocking? But who on earth would walk around the house in the falling snow to this door? Everyone knew better.
The knocking grew more insistent.
Aldis reached the door, slid back the iron bolt, and opened it. The cold wind off the river swirled snow around her, but as she stared at the stranger on her doorstep she was scarcely aware of the chill.
A tall, lean-faced man with melting snow crystals in his black hair stared at her from keen dark eyes. A man who looked so totally alive, he seemed to somehow energize her. She had no idea who he was. One of her sister’s friends?
As she stepped aside, wordlessly inviting him in, the stranger glanced above her head. Before she understood what he intended to do, he strode through the doorway and swept her into his arms. His lips came down on hers, cool at first, but quickly warming.
She found herself responding, prolonging the kiss that ignited flickers of flame deep within her, and pulled back in confusion. What was wrong with her? He let her go, half-smiling as she pushed the door shut with unnecessary force, making the mistletoe above it dance.
She’d forgotten the mistletoe. But even so, he had some nerve, even if she had responded. Aldis stared at him, unable to think of a word to say.
“Coleman!”
Brenna breezed into the foyer, her swirling holly-berry-red chiffon emphasizing her elegant slim figure, accentuating her dark beauty. Not for the first time Aldis felt her pink dress and pale hair made her a faded copy of her dynamic younger sister.
Brenna put her hands on Coleman’s arms and smiled up at him. His dark gaze took her in. The smile that lit his hawk face was for her. Aldis realized she didn’t want to see this man kiss her sister and had started to turn away when he dislodged Brenna’s hands and took off his coat—without kissing her.
“Is this your sister?” he asked Brenna.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Aldis, this is Coleman Hattox. Coleman, my sister Aldis.”
A formal greeting seemed pointless after that kiss. Aldis felt as though the imprint of his mouth must show on her own, that Coleman must be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart. “I’ll take your coat,” she told him.
He grinned at her as he handed her his sheepskin-lined coat, making her flush. Coleman Hattox knew very well he’d unsettled her and was enjoying the fact.