Regency Christmas Gifts: Scarlet Ribbons / Christmas Promise / A Little Christmas. Lyn Stone
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smiled in response, but the kiss did seem to discomfit him. So much so that he didn’t comment on it.
Her parents entered just then, her father bearing a basket of gaily wrapped gifts. Moments later, Mrs. MacTavish made her entrance with one large gift. When all were greeted and seated, Michael took charge.
“We haven’t a huge yule log, but Father, David and I have provided one that should keep us warm through the festivities.” The two proceeded to dump the oversize section of a tree trunk onto the smoldering ashes in which they’d roasted the chestnuts. He stoked it to a flame, then turned to the boy. “Now, my man, it is time for you to present our gifties whilst I provide music!”
David’s little chest puffed out with pride as he waited for Michael to reach the pianoforte and begin playing softly. “Grandmama, you first, for you are the oldest!”
Mrs. MacTavish quickly erased her frown.
“This is for you from me,” David said, presenting the rather grubby pouch of warm chestnuts. She accepted them with sincerest thanks, commenting on how good they smelled.
Then he reached into a box beside the hearth and turned to her parents. “Milord and Lady Harlowe, new nib pens from Mr. Michael and me. I found the feathers and he trimmed ‘em.” Her mother and father applauded and smiled, accepting their gift.
“Miss Amie, for you,” David said, handing Amalie a small packet of sachets, purchased no doubt from one of the local ladies in the village. She sniffed them appreciatively. “Lavender! My very favorite!”
“And Father,” David said at last. “I made you a picture with watercolors.” He tore off the wrapping himself before Napier could take hold of it. “See, Da? It’s Scotland!”
“Indeed it is. Old Ben Muir,” Napier said, eyeing the bare, purplish mountain with gorse and heather stippled over it in a childish hand. “Well done, David,” he added, his voice thick with pride. “Very well done.”
Amalie saw the tears gathered in his eyes, though he never let them fall. She offered him a smile and he returned it with a sheepish quirk of his lips. She thought she had never loved him more and the very idea shocked her.
She loved Napier. Alexander. The Scot. When had that happened? From the first meeting? No. Later, perhaps, when he met her every insult with humor and equanimity? Did it even matter when? She loved him now with a mixture of such longing, exasperation and need to give that she could barely stand it.
She had only meant to make him like her and to learn to like him. Love was not what she’d always thought it was. Not an easy thing at all. He almost surely had no such feelings for her, and why should he? She had not given him a single reason to feel so. He probably didn’t even like her very much. But he did want her and that was a fact. And it was a start.
He gave her a silver trinket box lined with silk that held a delicate brooch set with amethyst stones. Amalie thanked him rather more formally than she would have liked, then produced her gift to him, handkerchiefs embroidered with his initials. He smiled and complimented her needlework. How proper they were with each other after such an improper beginning.
“Your turn, I believe,” Napier was saying to his son. He presented the beautifully carved wooden sword and Amalie added the tam she had made. Michael and her parents gave David a mechanical bank, a metal monkey that snatched a penny as he raised his hat.
The boy delighted in everything. His manners were impeccable when he remembered them. When he forgot was when he was most adorable, Amalie thought with a grin. Away from his grandmother’s watchful eye, he was a rambunctious little rascal. This evening he was an angel.
She pictured Alexander as being very like him at that age. That made her wonder what his daughters would be like when he had some. She dearly wanted them looking somewhat like her. Little hellions, most likely. At the fantasy, her grin grew wider still.
And then Mrs. MacTavish produced the skates.
David’s mouth dropped open in absolute wonder as he ran his small fingers reverently over the highly polished blades attached to shiny leather boots. He threw himself into his grandmother’s arms. “Oh, Granny! Skates! Thank you, thank you! You knew what I most wished for in the whole world. You always do!”
Mrs. MacTavish tossed Napier a gloating look of superiority over her grandson’s shoulder. Amalie wanted to smack her for it. The woman never let an opportunity pass to remind them that David was better off in her care than he ever would be in theirs. But one had to admit, the skates were a brilliant move to secure David’s undivided affection.
Amalie leaned closer to Napier and said behind her hand, “I knew we should have gotten the pony.”
“His birthday’s next month,” Napier replied in a whisper. “And I’ve a saddle on order.”
Amalie placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “Well, then, let her top that if she thinks she can!” She smiled back at Mrs. MacTavish, granting the woman today’s small victory.
Amalie realized that at some time during David’s visit, she had begun to lay a motherly claim upon him. And while she did not approve of spoiling children in general, she wanted to make this boy happy, to show him how much a real family with two loving parents could do for him as he grew to manhood. She felt responsible for making that happen and she would, no matter what.
When all the gifts were given, they went into a late dinner of roast beef and plum pudding. Amalie hardly tasted the food, so busy was she in planning her future. Nothing could go wrong, she kept telling herself. The wedding was set, only a week away. David would stay. She would have all the time in the world to regain her ability to walk. Then, in realizing she was not a slackard, Napier would like her, perhaps even come to love her in time. She would work to that end with all the energy and determination she could muster.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, after a restless night, Alex dressed and took up his crutches, intending to head for the breakfast room, but David almost ran him down in the hallway. “Father, come and watch me skate! Granny says I may on the shallow fishpond! Will you come?”
“Absolutely! Wouldn’t miss it. Do you know how it’s done?”
“Aye. I’ve skated a bit with borrowed ones, but it’s hardly ever cold enough to freeze,” he declared, grasping on to one of Alex’s crutches as was his custom.
His son thought he was helping and Alex didn’t even think of disabusing him of the notion. It was as close to holding the lad’s hand as he could get while walking together.
“Where are you off to? Aren’t you two hungry?” Michael asked as he wheeled Amalie toward the breakfast room.
“A skating expedition,” Alex explained. “Apparently it won’t wait until after we eat.”
“Come watch me!” David chirped, grinning as his grandmother also approached to accompany them.
Alex offered her a smile and said good morning, wishing they could mend fences. It did not look likely and he did understand. She would be lost without David, but then, so would he. And a boy needed a father.
Michael fetched Amalie a blanket and wrapped her against the cold, but she argued him out of the weather shield that attached to the front of the chair. Michael pushed as Alex lurched along beside her, David hanging on to his far crutch, gaily impeding his progress. Alex could not recall a time since his injury when he had felt such contentment.
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