“Ah, there you are.”
Cathy whirled around at the sound of Adam’s voice, rich and warm with affection. “Oh - don’t you look nice!”
“I dressed while you were having your bath.”
“I know, I saw your shirt lying on the bed.” She colored, thinking of the moment she had pressed the snow-white fabric to her face. When he took her hand now, the warmth of his skin sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Had any man ever been more indecently handsome?
Retta spoke. “Happy Chris’mas, sir.”
He bent to kiss her cheek. “Happy Christmas, Retta. How are you feeling this evening? Why don’t I make you a little rum punch to celebrate the holiday?” Glancing back at his wife, he winked almost imperceptibly. “Shall we all have one?”
Cathy was feeling a bit giddy by the time they sat down for dinner. Even Hermione and Auggie looked friendlier to her, and their faces were softened by the flickering hurricane lamps.
“Have you ever seen anything more disgusting?” Hermione muttered to her young relative as they both poked at the jug-jug with their forks.
“What’s that, Mother?” Cathy inquired from across the table.
She put on a tortured smile. “I was just saying, dear, that this china is exquisite. I’ve been meaning to mention it.”
“Aren’t you kind,” said Adam, sardonically polite. “It’s Imari. Chinese. My great-grandmother Devon gave it to her son when he bought Tempest Hall, before he married.”
“Simply lovely.”
Auggie spoke up: “I saw a similar pattern at the most memorable dinner party of Newport’s last Season. Do you remember, Catherine? The Henrys had a stream running down the middle of the table, with fish in it! And, there was an enormous sand pile filled with priceless jewels. We were encouraged to dig them out between courses and keep them as party favors...”
Adam looked at his mother-in-law. “More wine?”
“Anything would be preferable to this odd-tasting scarlet beverage.”
“The sorrel? I suppose it’s an acquired taste. Still, it was kind of Harrismith to bring it.” Smiling with a trace of bemusement, Adam poured her wine, then reached under the table to find his wife’s soft hand.
Cathy felt a shock of arousal at his touch. She stared at the lock of black hair that curled over his crisp white collar, then let her gaze slide down to his fingers that held an antique fork. The thought of those beautifully-shaped hands touching her intimately sent a flood of warmth to the very core of her being. He turned his head and looked at her then, smiling as if he could read her thoughts.
“Happy Christmas, Cath.”
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding. “I believe it may be, after all.”
When the meal was finished, Hermione and Auggie took their wine and found seats near an open window. They could hear waves breaking on the nearby north coast. Alice followed Adam as he went around the room and lit candles of all sizes that he’d put in place just before dinner. The golden candle flames wavered in the island breeze, creating an atmosphere that overlaid the traditional Christmas images with the heady essence of the tropics. Alice stared at a nearby candle until she appeared to be hypnotized, and after a few minutes, she lay down beside the orange tree and dozed.
One by one, Cathy withdrew the ornaments from the box her father had packed for her, and she and Adam hung them on the little orange tree. The air between them was heavy with deeper meaning and the heat of yearning.
“It’s odd, isn’t it, that this present means more to me than something a hundred times more costly.” She spoke softly, just to Adam, and gave him a gentle smile over her shoulder. “Papa has always been at a loss when it’s come to buying gifts for me; usually he let Mother do it for him. But now he seems to understand what I need most.”
“It does seem significant. Do you wish him happiness?”
She nodded wistfully. “Now that you say it, I do. He found a hidden door to my heart today, and now that I’ve let him partway in, I can’t seem to go back. I have always loved Papa so much...”
Hermione walked out of the sitting room and stood alone in the gallery, staring out at the moonlit garden. The tree frogs had begun their whistling “coqui” song from the folds of the banana trees’ broad leaves. In the distance, a nightjar called and the ocean crashed in response.
Adam kissed his wife’s hair and slid an arm around her waist. The last ornament found a place on the tree. “I think it’s a good sign that you’ve thawed toward your father. His love for you was one of the few honest sentiments I witnessed at Beechcliff.”
From across the room, Auggie’s voice rose with a note of desperation. “I am having a devil of a time whipping up Christmas spirit, aren’t you? Oughtn’t we be able to jump into a sleigh and race up Fifth Avenue at breakneck speed, bells jingling on the horses’ bridles? And I’ve been craving a genuine Christmas meal at Sherry’s restaurant. Molasses-glazed roast goose with chestnut stuffing, acorn squash, and mincemeat pie...”
“Honestly, Auggie,” Cathy exclaimed, “I can’t see why you came to the West Indies for Christmas if you’re going to complain so! What good is it to moan and groan about New York? We are in Barbados this Christmas; it is my new home, and I don’t want to hear any more of your lamentations!”
With thinned lips, the young man rose and went to join Hermione in the gallery.
“Shall we make our escape while we can?” Adam asked bluntly.
She blushed. “Yes. I think we should.”
“Oh— I almost forgot.” He led her under a sprig of sea-grape leaves that had been attached to the arched doorway. “Look: Bajan mistletoe.”
Cathy laughed and went happily into his embrace. They kissed with more euphoric pleasure than they’d shared in a long time, and she dared to hope that it was more than Christmas spirit.
Watching her master and mistress go upstairs arm-in-arm, Alice seemed to weigh her own options. Finally, with an effort, she rose and tottered off after Adam and Cathy. A few minutes later, she arrived at their bedroom to discover that the door was closed tight and her dog bed had been moved outside on the floor. Heaving a sigh, Alice circled several times and finally lay down.
“Isn’t it a glorious night?”
Adam paused in the midst of stripping off his clothes and looked at her. She’d pushed out the jalousie shutters and flung the window open to its limit. The tiny bedroom was awash with silver-white moonlight and the tangy deep breeze from the ocean. Cathy leaned out, hands braced on the sill, and thirstily inhaled the night as if she were drinking the finest champagne.
“Isn’t it glorious?” she repeated. “Dear God, I love this place so much.”
Something about her was so juicily unguarded that Adam dropped his shirt and went over to embrace her from behind. “So it’s Tempest Hall that’s put that glow in your eyes?” he murmured before bending his head and kissing Cathy’s neck. Her fragrance went straight to the core of him.
“I’m afraid to say it, but it’s more than the house.” She turned slowly in his arms and glanced at him through her lashes. The intimacy of his broad, muscled chest against her, when she was still fully dressed and standing, sent a current of heat over her nerves. “It’s everything.” Cathy longed to tell Adam that Tempest Hall was special because of him, but lost her nerve. “It’s beginning to feel like... home.”
“It will feel more like home when we’re back in our own bed.”
“Is it going to be our bed after Mother leaves?” A winsome smile lit her face.
“Perhaps it should be, my sly little minx.” His lips grazed her ear. “Aren’t you hot in that gown?” Reaching around her slender back, he found the tiny buttons and flicked them open.
“You certainly are good at that.”
“I’ve had a bit of practice, in preparation for this night.”
She laughed softly as the gown came away from her body.
“Something amuses you?” He held her close, and the sight of her lacy camisole, molded to the swell of her breasts above her corset, made his groin clench.
Cathy’s brown eyes widened. “No.” Her voice was faint. “Nothing at all.”
He stepped back to gently pull her gown from her arms, and it puddled on the floor around her feet. Quickly, his fingers undid the laces of her corset and it too was discarded. “Oh, Cath, you are so beautiful; I ache with wanting you.”
She blushed. “You’re just saying that.”
His strong arms drew her firmly against him, her breasts flattening under the pressure of his chest. His fingers tangled in her curls that had come loose as he kissed her throat with such deft tenderness that Cathy moaned aloud. “Don’t ever think that,” he whispered when his mouth was poised over her own. “I don’t have to say anything at all.”
The tide of desire rose higher and higher. He captured her mouth in a scorching, plundering kiss that left her weak-kneed and breathless. In the next moment, he had drawn her with him onto the bed and they were lying together, feasting on kisses. Cathy could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his fawn trousers, and the power of his masculinity was almost frightening.