Chapter Thirty-Six − A Yuletide Blessing
The storm raged on for two days, and when it finally subsided, more than one home needed additional repairs. However, none had collapsed as Meagan’s had, for which Derek was grateful. Without hesitation, they opened their house to two other families, who reluctantly accepted their hospitality.
“Come spring, we will rebuild,” Derek promised, his wife by his side, her radiant smile the most wonderful gift he could ever have wished for that Christmas.
“With what?” one of his tenants had asked, and Derek had been hard pressed to answer. Although they could take lumber from the woods around Huntington House, they were lacking other materials as well as tools. After decades of neglect, not only Huntington House needed a myriad of repairs and improvements.
“Use my dowry,” his wife told him later that night.
Derek’s eyes grew round as he stared at her. “No, I will not. I promised you I would not touch a pen−”
“I know,” she replied, capturing his chin in her hand, not allowing him to turn away from her. “But things have changed. We are different people now.” Her gaze drifted lower. “We know how we feel.”
“Are you thinking of kissing me?” Derek teased, forcing himself not to reach for her, not to pull her into his arms.
A large smile came to her face as her eyes met his once more. “I can’t seem to think of much else these days.”
“Neither can I,” Derek growled out, unable to keep his desire at bay any longer. Pulling her against him, he claimed her lips, his right hand travelling over her cheek, past her earlobe to settle on the back of her neck. Deepening the kiss, he wished they were upstairs in their bedchamber and not in the drawing room, his family in the kitchen only down the hall preparing Christmas dinner.
“We need to stop,” she gasped, trying to push him away. Her breath was as unsteady as his own, and her eyes glowed with the same longing and desire Derek felt in his own heart. “Our guests will be arriving soon.”
Swallowing, Derek nodded, his gaze travelling down to her lips unbidden. “Tell me again why we invited them.”
Madeline laughed, “Because they’re our people, and because it’s Christmas.” Stepping back, she took his hand and pulled him after her toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if Bessy needs any help.”
Derek scoffed, “I doubt it.”
As they stepped into the kitchen, aromatic flavours tickled his nose, and Derek realised that he was quite famished. His wife, too, licked her lips as her eyes glided over the feast his mother and sister had prepared with the help of Meagan and the two other wives currently living under their roof. “It looks wonderful,” Madeline beamed, her cheeks aglow as she nodded her appreciation to the women who had slaved in the kitchen for the better part of the day. “You’ve outdone yourselves.”
More than one face blushed, and a touch of pride came to all their eyes as they bashfully averted their gazes. Except, of course, for his mother. “Of course, it looks wonderful, dear,” she stated, a touch of matter-of-factness in her voice. “What did ye expect?”
Madeline smiled, then leaned closer to him and whispered, “Nothing short of perfection.”
Derek tried to suppress a chuckle as he felt his mother’s watchful eyes on him. “Can we assist you in carrying these platters to the dining room?”
After his mother pointed to the platters that were to go out first, Derek and Madeline set to work, going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, carrying delicious smelling food that made their mouths water. Roasted duck. Steamed vegetables. Warm bread. All these scents travelled through the house, mingling with the fresh scent of evergreen branches hanging over windows and doorways, decorated with red ribbons. Candles had been placed strategically throughout the house to highlight the decorations and give the rooms a warm glow, adding to the warmth coming from the fireplace.
For a moment, Derek stood by the long table and gazed at the house that had once seemed like a curse.
Certainly, it was still in need of repairs and improvements. The furniture was outdated; the wallpaper faded. But it was a warm and friendly place, filled with laughter and children chasing each other from room to room. Especially now, with some of their tenants under their roof, the house seemed to have come alive.
“It’s beautiful, is it not?” his wife asked, coming to stand beside him, her hand slipping into his, squeezing it gently.
Derek nodded, then shook his head in disbelief. “Except for the roof, we haven’t even begun with the repairs on this house, and still, it seems to have undergone an improvement.”
Madeline smiled. “It’s no longer simply a house.” Gently, she brushed her lips against his. “It’s a home now. Our home.”
Home.
Derek sighed. Never had he thought of a place as his home. Never had he thought he would ever find one…or even need one. Only now when he had finally found the one place in the world that made him feel at home, he wondered how he could ever have lived without it.
Gazing down at his wife, his heart filled with awe at the fortunate turns his life had taken, and Derek could not help but pull her into his arms. “I love you.”
As always when he spoke to her thus, she smiled up at him, her eyes shining as brightly as the sun. “I love you as well,” she whispered, biting her lower lip, trying to hide the unadulterated delight those simple words elicited. “And yet,” she continued, and Derek’s heart skipped a beat, “there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Swallowing, Derek nodded. “Do tell.”
“You never asked for my hand,” she said rather unexpectedly, and her gaze dropped from his for the barest of moments. “Why did you never ask for my hand? The night at Lord Kingsley’s ball was not the first time you saw me, was it? Why did you not ask to be introduced? Why did you never ask me to dance?”
Derek inhaled a deep breath. “I heard about your expectations,” he told her truthfully, seeing a touch of understanding come to her eyes. “In fact, it was Tristan who said−if I recall correctly−I’d advise against her.”
Her lips thinned as she glared at him. “He did?”
Derek nodded, seeing the telltale twitch in her lower lip. “He sought to put me on my guard.”
“He’s a good friend,” she replied, the expression on her face once again gentle and calm.
“The best.” Holding his wife’s gaze, Derek thought for a moment. Then he asked, “If I had asked for your hand, would you have accepted me?”
As though frozen in time, Madeline remained still for a long moment, her gaze lingering on his before she opened her mouth to reply. “No,” was all she said, drawing in a deep breath, slowly, carefully, “and it would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”
A rush of excitement seized Derek’s body, and he pulled her into another passionate kiss, his hands slipping into her hair as hers pulled on the front of his shirt.
“I may be an old woman,” his mother’s voice interrupted the moment as they jerked apart, “but I cannot see mistletoe anywhere near ye.”
Working hard to suppress a smile, Derek glanced at his wife, seeing the same impulse to laugh on her flushed face. Then he turned to his mother, doing his best to ignore the teasing gleam in her sharp eyes. “I fail to see your point.”
Chuckling, his mother grinned. “Ye kiss your wife under some mistletoe. Don’t tell me ye don’t know that?”
Derek’s brows rose into arches. “Surely, you don’t expect me to only kiss her under some mistletoe, do you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t expect anythin’, dear boy. All I’m sayin’ is that the house is full of people as a myriad of your tenants just came traipsin’ in through the kitchen−you might want to speak to them about that−and there’s a bunch of children runnin’ around.” She lifted her hands in mock surrender. “But you do as ye choose.” Then she turned on her heel and left.
Once they were alone again, they burst into laughter, falling into each other’s arms. “She can complain as much as she wants,” his wife said, an affectionate smile on her face, “but nothing will ever convince me that she dislikes seeing us together like this. Your mother likes to tease, doesn’t she?”
Derek nodded. “She does have a rather childish and whimsical side.”
“Well, I suppose it is Christmas,” Madeline replied. “If one can’t be whimsical at Christmas, then when can one?” As childish laughter echoed from down the hall, his wife took a step back, winking an eye at him. “How about I go see to the little rascals while you go and tell your tenants to come in through the front door next time or meet your mother’s wrath. She is very particular about her kitchen, isn’t she?”
Grinning at his wife’s feigned attempt at a serious expression, Derek reached for her hand as she stepped away. Pulling her back, he glanced over her shoulder, making certain that no impressionable eyes were watching. “I don’t like it when we have to part ways,” he whispered, then brushed his lips over hers.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, Madeline smiled. “Neither do I, but it’s Christmas.”
Derek frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know, but what do you expect?” Her arms came around his neck as she pulled herself closer. “You can be quite distracting.”
“As can you.” Once more he leaned down to kiss her.
“Uncle Derek!” Collin’s little voice echoed from down the hall. “Uncle Derek?”
Jerking apart for the second time that night, they looked at each other, and despite their annoyance with their nephew’s unfortunate timing, they could not help but laugh.
“I’ll see if your mother needs help in the kitchen,” his wife said, turning to go.
Reaching out, Derek grabbed her arm and pulled her back, his gaze locked on hers. “Let’s postpone this until later tonight,” he whispered, his gaze drifting lower.
Madeline drew in a deep breath. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace and headed down the hall until she was lost from his sight. “Your uncle is in the dining room,” her voice echoed to his ear before small footsteps echoed closer.
Shaking his head, Derek could not help but smile. He would never have thought himself the kind of man who delighted in a full house filled with noise and laughter. And yet, he was.
Never in his life had Derek been more relieved to have proved himself wrong.