Tis the Season to Be Sinful (18 page)
The din was almost earsplitting as everyone began talking at once. Though it would not be cut down until the day before Christmas Eve, it was agreed that the tree should be the first thing selected. Richard was still struggling to imagine the notion of a tree inside the house when everyone scattered in all directions. Unprepared for the event, he was left standing with Juliet and Lizzy.
The hunt was on.
Removing his hat, Richard ran his hand through his hair, then glanced around the dense woods. “Where shall we start searching?” he asked.
“Oh, no, we stay here. We’ll need to inspect the trees that the others locate and decide which one to choose,” Juliet said.
“This year I’m going to pick out the tree,” Lizzy declared importantly.
“You will help, dear,” Juliet said firmly.
“Juliet, come see the one that I’ve found,” a female voice shouted.
“And so it begins,” Juliet said with a sparkle in her eye.
Looping her arm through his, Juliet dragged Richard down a narrow path. Lizzy skipped ahead with lighthearted abandon, the blond curls beneath her bonnet bouncing with each step.
They arrived shortly in a small clearing. Several of Juliet’s female relations were clustered around a towering fir. Richard judged the tree to be at least twenty-five feet tall, its sweet-smelling branches hanging soft and low.
“It’s lovely,” Juliet pronounced. “Though I think a tad too tall. We’ll have to cut the top off and that would ruin the shape.”
“This one is better,” Uncle Horace insisted as he stood proudly beside a full-sized pine. Obligingly, they all turned their attention to the next candidate, a few steps away.
“It is smaller,” Juliet agreed. “And very full.”
“It has a big hole,” Lizzy announced, and everyone peered around to view the spot where the little girl pointed.
“We can cover the bare section with ribbons and decorations,” Uncle Horace sputtered. “Or turn it toward the wall.”
The group ignored the older man’s suggestions and moved on to assess the next tree.
Richard hid his growing amusement as Juliet diplomatically previewed the next few possibilities. There was no shortage of opinions thrown her way, but she would not be swayed by the pleading looks or persuasive arguments. She clearly had something specific in mind, and would not relent until she found what she wanted.
A tree. For the house. Richard shook his head, having difficulty embracing the idea. Honestly, it sounded like a pagan notion, something the ancient Druids might have done—worshipping nature, decorating trees.
He did recall reading that the German-born Prince Albert celebrated the birth of his first son by erecting a Christmas tree at Windsor Castle years ago. Apparently the custom had spread throughout the country, though the appeal of it was lost on Richard.
As was the appeal of the entire Christmas holiday. But he hid the worst of his ire, loath to quash the sparkle of delight in his wife’s eyes. It was clear that this was making her very happy and that, in turn, lightened his heart.
A sudden cold gust of wind nearly blew off Richard’s hat, making his eyes sting. He instinctively drew closer to Juliet to reduce her exposure to the wind, and then realized what he was doing. How strange that she roused such a fierce protectiveness in him, one of which he didn’t even know he was capable.
Long ago he had perfected his ability to cut himself off from sentimental emotion. But with Juliet it was impossible. Something about her called to him, beckoned him to embrace the moment. Even if he tried, he knew he could not keep her completely out; but more amazingly he knew that he did not want to shut himself entirely off from her.
“We need to select the tree so we can begin gathering the other greenery,” one of the aunts said. “How about this one?”
Since he was standing so close, Richard heard Juliet’s small sigh of dismay. The tree was scrawny and misshapen on one side. It was by far the worst choice—even he could see it.
“There is still plenty of daylight. I think we can spare a few more minutes searching,” Juliet answered. “Don’t you agree, Richard?”
“Ah, yes. It wouldn’t hurt to continue looking.”
Juliet gazed at him appreciatively with those dark, entrancing eyes, and he felt the full force of her gaze. An unexpected gurgle of laughter bubbled up from his chest and he let it out, surprising himself at the sudden burst of joy he felt in that moment.
Is this what family life might have been like if his young wife and child had survived? Would he have joined them in holiday outings, delighting in their laughter, joining it with his own? Was this affection and warmth, a closeness that grew not only from love, but from security and trust, what made a family whole?
“I might have found one,” Miss Hardie called through a thicket some distance away. “What do you think of this tree?”
“Perfect!” George yelled. “Come, everyone, and look. I do believe Miss Hardie has found it.”
Juliet rolled her eyes and Richard’s smile widened. George’s opinion could hardly be counted upon when it came to anything to do with Miss Hardie. Her tree could be far worse than the last one they saw, but George would never admit it.
“Let’s all take a look, shall we,” Juliet suggested.
They all headed in the direction of Miss Hardie and George’s voice and found them both standing beside a majestic fir. It was deep green in color and perfectly symmetrical with full, dense boughs.
“It’s beautiful,” Lizzy said softly.
“You were right, Lord George. It is perfect,” Juliet said as the others all murmured in agreement. All except Uncle Horace, who still contended his choice should again be considered.
“Would you do the honors, Richard?” Juliet reached into her pocket, pulled out a long length of bright red satin ribbon, and held it out. “Tie it as high as you can reach. This way the gardeners will know which one to cut down.”
Self-consciously Richard followed her dictates. He had not altered his opinion of the entire outing, even if the tree was indeed splendid, but to please his lovely wife he was willing to make a bit of a fool of himself. The muscles in his legs stretched taut as Richard grasped the end of a branch well above his head and quickly attached the ribbon.
The entire group broke into spontaneous applause, the sound muffled by the gloves covering their hands as they clapped enthusiastically. Another gust of stinging wind blew, but Richard realized with great astonishment that, despite the cold, he was tingling with warmth.
As the guests huddled together, discussing their next move, Richard’s natural inclinations for efficiency and organization rushed to the forefront. In moments he had the ragtag bunch separated into various groups—one to cut down pine boughs, one to gather holly, and a group to search for mistletoe. “Why do we need to gather mistletoe?” James asked.
“So the gentlemen can kiss all the pretty ladies,” George answered, winking suggestively at a blushing Miss Hardie.
“Pah.” James shuddered with disgust.
“It will take but a few short years before you change your mind on that score, young man,” George replied.
James gave a stubborn shake of his head and the adults laughed.
“Off we go now,” Uncle Horace interjected. “The daylight will be gone soon.”
Taking the command to heart, everyone scrambled to comply. Ever the leader, Richard realized he hadn’t thought to assign himself to any of the groups. As everyone melted away, his inclination was to follow Juliet, but then he remembered the mistletoe. The younger men had insisted that was the task for them, so Richard set off in their general direction. He had gone only a few yards when he heard the rustling of footsteps behind him.
“I thought you two were going to collect holly,” Richard said as James and Edward fell in step beside him.
“We want to get the mistletoe,” Edward replied. “Everyone knows that’s the most important job, well, except for finding the Christmas tree.”
“I don’t like the kissing part, but it’s still better than trying to pick the holly,” James added. “It pinches! See what it did to my coat?” The boy held up his arm, showing where the foliage had snagged the sleeve and torn the fabric.
“Do you know where to find the mistletoe?” Richard strode on, knowing he was walking too fast for them, but not slowing his pace.
“It grows in the tops of the older oak trees,” Edward insisted. “Didn’t you know?”
“I grew up in the city,” Richard explained.
“London?” James asked.
“New York.” Richard halted, turning his head slowly to survey the area. He heard no voices or the sounds of footsteps; the other men must have gone to a different section of the woods. Lord knows, it was big enough. “So, where are the oak trees?”
“I’ll show you!” James’s voice climbed at least two octaves in excitement.
The boy raced ahead, Edward hot on his heels. Richard watched them. He considered turning off the path and heading in a different direction, then caught himself.
Give them a chance. What harm could it do?
Richard gritted his teeth and followed. They went deeper and deeper into the woods until finally they stopped beneath a cluster of very tall trees. Tilting his head back, Richard stared up the thick trunk of the one nearest to him. Sure enough, clustered in the top branches were clumps of greenery with distinctive white berries. The elusive mistletoe.
“We’ll have to climb up to reach it,” Edward stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“It’s very high,” James said, his voice uncertain.
“Come on, don’t be a baby,” Edward taunted, reaching for the lowest branch.
Richard’s hand shot out instinctively, grasping the boy’s wrist. He could clearly picture Juliet’s stricken face if he returned with one of the boys seriously injured.
“I’ll be the one climbing,” Richard decided. “You two wait here.”
“I want to do it,” Edward insisted.
“No,” Richard decreed.
“But I—”
“I’ll go first, Edward,” Richard interrupted. “Then if we don’t have enough, you can try.”
Edward opened his mouth to protest. Richard raised an eyebrow, casting a quelling look at the pair, hoping to stave off any additional arguments. After a moment, the boys reluctantly nodded.
Richard breathed a sigh of relief. Even if it killed him, he intended to strip every scrap of mistletoe from those branches, thus alleviating the need for the boys to attempt the climb.
Richard removed his hat and greatcoat, then stomped his feet to ward off the cold. Swinging himself onto a lower branch, he carefully picked his way upward, all the while hoping the thinner lower branches would support his weight.
It had been many, many years since he had scaled a tree, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten how it was done. Richard gingerly tested each branch before committing himself, and within minutes he was hot, dusty, and disheveled. He was also within an arm’s reach of his prey.
“To the left,” James shouted.
“No, there is more on the right side,” Edward yelled. “Go that way.”
“Be sure to get the ones with the most white berries,” James called out. “Mama likes those best.”
“She does not,” Edward whined.
“Yes she does!”
Richard shook his head and smiled.
Will those two ever miss a chance to argue?
Ignoring them both, he sat on the thick branch directly in front of him and began picking from the nearest cluster. When he had cleaned the branches of every trace of mistletoe, he paused to catch his breath and contemplate the situation.
Will those two ever miss a chance to argue?
Ignoring them both, he sat on the thick branch directly in front of him and began picking from the nearest cluster. When he had cleaned the branches of every trace of mistletoe, he paused to catch his breath and contemplate the situation.
Climbing up a tree was always so much easier than getting down, he thought wryly. The boys had finally ceased their arguing and Richard relished the quiet. Getting a toehold against the gnarled trunk, he began a slow descent, having no desire to fall and break his leg.
Suddenly, his foot started slipping. Bracing himself, Richard hung precariously for a few seconds, his heart racing. A quick shift and he was once again in control. His valet would probably start sniffling when he saw the condition of his boots. There were several deep scrapes on the inside, scarring the leather, that no amount of polishing or buffing would remove.
But at least he was still in one piece. And it was all for a good cause.
As he neared the bottom, Richard eyed the lower branches. Remembering how much they had bent on his way up, he decided not to test their resilience a second time. Taking a deep breath, he jumped, landing neatly on his feet.
Feeling more than a little smug, he turned to observe Edward and James’s reaction, then realized why it had become so quiet.
The boys had disappeared.
For an instant, Richard panicked, worried they had decided to scale one of the other trees in search of mistletoe. He turned, glancing at the branches of the remaining oaks, sighing with relief when he confirmed that no one else, child or adult, was in the general vicinity.
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