Christmas Pie Page 35

“The name is Sing, sir. Raymond Sing.”

  Hell and damnation. J. P. had never encountered so many people who insisted on being disrespectful to him. First his wretched son, then that absurd little girl and now this upstart Chinaman. J. P. did not approve.

  “Well, Raymond Sing,” he said nastily, “do you suppose you can find him for me?”

  Raymond eyed James’s father with mounting distaste. “Well, now, sir, I expect if neither he nor Miss MacNamara is in this room, it’s because they have other things to do. Together. I don’t know that I’d like to interrupt whatever those things are, no.”

  “Ha! That’s because you don’t know what I know.”

  “And what might that be, sir?” Raymond inquired politely.

  With a malevolent frown, J. P. considered Raymond Sing. Then he decided that, since James and Raymond knew each other a hell of a lot better than James and J. P. did, Raymond would be more apt to find him than he would.

  “Can you keep a confidence, boy?” Recollecting Raymond’s earlier objection to the designation, J. P. muttered, “That is to say, Mr. Sing?”

  Raymond—obviously a damned lawyer, thought J. P. sourly—equivocated. “Depends on the confidence, Mr. Drayton.”

  J. P. glared at Raymond. Then he recalled his agent telling him that one Mr. Sing, a Chinese gentleman, had been inquiring about the U.S.S. China Seas, and J. P.’s expression lightened. He grinned. Then he smiled.

  Then he leaned over and whispered something in Raymond’s ear. He was not surprised when Raymond’s eyebrows shot up. Nor was he surprised at his strangled, “My God!”

  J. P. straightened and beamed like an enormous, grizzled, powerfully cantankerous Christmas elf.

  “Well, will you keep my confidence now?”

  Raymond, reeling with the news J. P. had just whispered to him, cried, “My God, sir! You can’t keep this news silent! We should shout it from rooftops! You have no right to keep it from them!”

  Idiot, fumed J. P. “For God’s sake, I don’t plan to keep it from them. What I plan to do is—” He broke off and cast a surreptitious glance around the room. Then he leaned toward Raymond and said, “What I plan to do is—” And he whispered into Raymond’s ear once more.

  When he drew away from Raymond, he could tell the blasted boy was still not convinced. “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  He leaned over and whispered again. When Raymond seemed inclined to pull away, J. P. grabbed him by the shoulder and whispered even more.

  When Raymond straightened up again, his expression was one of reluctant appreciation.

  J. P., unused to sharing confidences, felt uncomfortable. A lot was riding on this young Chinese boy’s slender shoulders.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Raymond hesitated for another moment or two, then squared those same slender shoulders.

  “All right. I’ll do it.”

  J. P. actually smiled at him.

  “Not for you, mind you,” Raymond hastened to assure him. “But for James’s and Miss MacNamara’s sakes, I’ll do it. This is important to James, sir. And so are you, although I fail to see why, now that I’ve met you.”

  Before J. P. could do more than register an expression of incredulous fury, Raymond turned around and walked briskly away.

  J. P. fumed for a full minute before he, too, turned. As he headed for the cloak room to pick up his top hat, cane, and overcoat, he growled, “Youth of today. No manners at all. Wastrels! Idiots! They’re all a passel of damned uncivil whippersnappers!”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Oh, James, this is so beautiful. I never dreamed I’d actually live here one day. With you.”

  “Did you think you’d be living here with somebody else?”

  Polly could tell he was teasing her. Although it seemed impossible, he sounded as happy as she felt.

  “Of course not.” She laughed and hugged his arm tighter. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this effervescent, as though her veins were filled with champagne.

  James led her through the elaborate double front doors and turned on the electric lighting.

  “Electric lights! Oh, James!”

  “Only the best for you, my fair Polly.”

  The floor of his home’s foyer was laid with beautiful tiles. “I had them imported from Spain. Before the war, of course.”

  “Of course.” In all her twenty-one years, Polly had never set foot on anything so exquisite. It seemed almost a sacrilege to walk on them.

  “And here’s the main hall.” James ushered Polly into another room.

  “The hall,” she breathed. Mercy. It was bigger than the whole first floor of her humble home. Rooms led from it, and James gestured to the one on his left.

  “That’s the music room. You can practice your piano playing in there. And I expect you to teach our children all the carols you taught those orphans, Polly.”

  He was teasing again, but she felt herself blush at the thought of herself and James having children together; and what led to the having of them.

  “And over there’s the breakfast room. The kitchen and pantry abut the breakfast room, and the big dining room is on the other side of the pantry. Straight in front of us is the large parlor.”

  Polly had already noted with approval that James had had the hall decorated for Christmas, but she was unprepared for the magnificence of his parlor.

  “Oh, James.”

  A uniformed woman stood in front of the gigantic tree, a lighted taper in her hand.

  “I just got the last candle lit, Mr. Drayton,” she said with a smile. A ladder stood behind her; she must have used it light the uppermost candles.

  “Wonderful.” James took Polly by the hand and led her toward the woman. “Polly, let me introduce you to my housekeeper, Mrs. Pinkney. Mrs. Pinkney, you’re the very first person to know that Miss Polly MacNamara here has done me the great honor of accepting my proposal of marriage. Very soon Polly will be Mrs. James Drayton.”

  “Mr. Drayton!” After her squeal, the woman turned to Polly and pumped her hand as if she expected water to spurt from Polly’s mouth.

  “Oh, ma’am, I’m so very happy for the both of you. I’ve been telling Mr. Drayton these many years it’s past time he found himself a wife. And you’re perfect for him. I can tell, you’re just perfect!”

  James muttered, “Good God.”

  Polly, however, returned Mrs. Pinkney’s enthusiastic greeting with warmth. She didn’t think she could bear to have been met with disapproval.

  “Thank you very much, Mrs. Pinkney. I shall certainly do my best to earn your approbation.”

  “I think you’ve already earned it,” her beloved mumbled. To Mrs. Pinkney, he said, “Well, yes. So now that you two have met, why don’t you go on to bed now, Mrs. Pinkney. I’ll show Polly around.”

  “Of course, Mr. Drayton.” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy, gave Polly one last big smile, and left.

  James pulled Polly into his arms in front of the Christmas tree. “Do you like it, Polly?”

  “Oh, James, yes. I just love it.” She turned into his embrace. “I love you.”

  This time, James didn’t have to initiate the kiss. Polly slid her fingers into his hair, cupped his head, and drew his lips to hers. James soft groan was music to her ears.

  “Come upstairs with me, Polly. Let me show you our room. I have something there for you.”

  “You do?” Shivers thrilled through her. Although she wasn’t sure she could negotiate the stairs because her legs had turned to rubber, she wanted more than anything else to see their room. Their room. Oh, mercy.

  She needn’t have worried about her rubbery limbs. James stooped, slipped an arm around her back, another behind her knees, and lifted her. She clung to him and as he carried her up the broad, curved stairs. Vaguely, Polly noticed that they were covered in thick burgundy carpeting, nothing akin to the threadbare runners on the stairs in her home. Her former home. She gave James a squeeze and he kissed her.

  She closed
her eyes right before James pushed the door to their room open. She wanted to be surprised.

  “I hope you like it, Polly.”

  He wasn’t even breathing heavily, a fact Polly noted with approval. Her James wasn’t soft and out-of-shape like Lawrence Bullock. James was hard and strong and handsome. And hers.

  When he lowered her onto the bed and she felt the soft feather mattress, Polly languidly lifted her eyelids. She didn’t want to let go of James; she wanted him to join her, and wondered if her desire was the sign of an abandoned soul. Then she decided she didn’t care.

  “Here, Polly, let me show you what I have for you.”

  Although she was disappointed when he left her alone on the magnificent bed, James’s withdrawal allowed her to look at the room that would soon be hers. Hers and James’s. Since James was no longer there to hug her, she hugged herself as she looked around.

  It was a beautiful room, and Polly was pleased to see that no feminine hand had as yet touched it. Smugly, she thought of Lady Midnight and decided that whatever sordid alliance she had once shared with James, her presence had left this room untainted.

  The bed on which Polly sat was covered with a spread of green-and-gold Chinese brocade. An ebony headboard carried out the Chinese motif, as did the rest of the room’s furniture. She liked it. The green carpeting and cream-colored curtains gave the room a restful feel appropriate for a bedroom.

  “Here, Polly. I want you to have this.”

  James’s voice startled her out of her perusal of their room. Her hand trembling with excitement, she took a tiny box from his hand.

  “I hope you like it.”

  He looked concerned, as though worried she might not appreciate whatever resided inside the box. As if he could ever give her anything she wouldn’t like.

  When she pressed the latch, the lid sprang open, revealing a ring: an exquisite creation featuring a single sparkling diamond mounted in a setting sprinkled with tiny rubies and emeralds.

  “Oh, James. My goodness. It’s beautiful.”

  “It was my mother’s, Polly. I saved it, thinking that if I ever married, I’d give it to my wife. I’d begun to believe nobody would ever wear it again until I met you. Here.”

  Kneeling, James took the ring out of its box and slipped it onto the second finger of Polly’s left hand.

  “This is the engagement ring, Polly. There’s another ring, a plainer one, for the ceremony.”

  “Thank you so much. It’s absolutely beautiful.” Polly flung her arms around him and drew him onto the bed with her.

  “Lord, Polly.” James went with her willingly, raining kisses on her cheeks, chin and throat.

  Pressing her gently back into the soft mattress, James began to deliver a lesson Polly would never forget. Heat radiated from everywhere he touched her. Gently, he slipped the Chinese silk shawl from her shoulders and it drizzled to the floor next to the bed. The next to go were her slippers. She nudged them off one by one and didn’t even hear them land on the plush carpet.

  Heedless of propriety, she grabbed the lapels of James’s evening jacket and jerked it away from his shoulders. He shrugged it off and she began on his shirt buttons.

  “Are you sure, Polly?”

  James’s voice sounded ragged, and it made Polly glad. She felt a little ragged herself.

  “I’m sure, James. I’ve never been so sure.”

  Need spiraled within her. Everywhere he touched her, every stroke of his hand, every tender kiss, made sparks ignite in her body, heating it until she burned with passion.

  She groaned. His hands had begun playing havoc with her breasts now, and her nipples had puckered into aching nubs.

  “Please, James.” Polly wished she lived in a more enlightened age so she’d know what to do now. She wasn’t even sure what to ask for.

  James was happy to enlighten her. Carefully, he unbuttoned a million or so tiny pearl buttons at the back of her dress. When the elegant creation finally relinquished its hold on her, Polly felt as though she’d been relieved of a terrible burden. She whisked her gown off and lay before her beloved in her underpinnings.

  Not to be outdone, James slipped out of his trousers and the shirt Polly had thoughtfully unbuttoned for him. Since he was a good-hearted young man, he helped Polly unfasten her corset, flung it aside, then wrapped her in a crushing embrace.

  “Oh, James.” This time, Polly’s whisper was distinctly shaky.

  “Polly, I love you so much. I love you more than life. I swear, I didn’t think I’d ever find you. Let me love you, Polly.”

  “Yes, please. If you don’t, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  Needing no further encouragement, James proceeded to adore Polly’s body. Never in her born days had Polly even guessed the delights a man and woman could give each other. James gifted hands burned her sensitive flesh, from her throat to her belly and lower. When his tongue flicked a rigid nipple, Polly almost screamed.

  “James! Oh, Lord, James!”

  “Do you like that, Polly?”

  She thought his question absurd. Nevertheless, she managed to gasp, “Oh, yes. Oh, mercy, yes.”

  “Good.”

  His hand had taken to stroking up her leg, scorching a path from her ankle to her knee and then higher, until he stroked her silky thigh. When his clever fingers found the petals of her womanhood and then the bud of her desire, Polly nearly came undone.

  “Yes, Polly. Oh, yes. Open for me. You’re so warm and wet. You’re mine, Polly, and I’m yours. We’ll be together forever, love. You and me. Forever.”

  “Oh, yes, James.”

  In truth, speech was difficult. It soon became impossible as he continued to stroke her. As he stroked, first one finger, then two, dipped into her. Reason fled, replaced by feelings, wonderful feelings, feelings Polly didn’t understand. Her body reacted for her, lifting to meet James’s gentle probing, guiding her higher and higher. Suddenly Polly cried out in amazement as James sent her into a place she’d never been before; a special place sparkling with love and light.

  Before she’d come to earth again, James kissed her hard and positioned himself over her. With a hard thrust and a hoarse cry, he claimed her.

  Polly knew this was supposed to hurt, but she was still contracting with release, and barely noticed the pain. What she did notice was the feeling of fullness as he entered her. She loved the feeling. They were joined. They were one.

  Polly felt a surge of pure joy as James, with a shout of completion, exploded in her. When he collapsed next to her they were still joined. Polly lay on her back beside him, staring at the ceiling of her soon-to-be-bedroom, and marveled at the goodness of life.

  James turned to look at her. Polly saw him out of the corner of her eye, but felt too stunned to move. She was surprised when he looked worried. “Polly? Polly, are you all right. My God, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” His odd interpretation of her blissful mood nudged Polly into stirring. She turned her head and stared at him. “Hurt me? My goodness, James. You didn’t hurt me.”

  He looked relieved.

  “I’m so happy.” She heaved a huge, satisfied sigh. “I’ve never been so happy.”