Excerpts

`A Midnight Clear' from Mistletoe & Magic...

The Linwood house was alive with the murmuring voices of guests, punctuated by bursts of laughter. The rooms, always chilly in winter, were growing cozy with the heat of bodies, the happy exchange of greetings adding an additional, intangible warmth to the evening air as friends and family gathered to welcome Catherine home.

"Will, this is my sister, Miss Catherine Linwood," Robert Linwood said. "Catherine, William Goodman."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Goodman," she said.

Will took her gloved hand, her palm down, her fingers long and delicate as they rested lightly over the side of his hand. "It is a great honor to make your acquaintance," he said hoarsely, performing an abbreviated bow over her hand and earning a brief, puzzled look from her glorious eyes.

"Catherine will be with us through the holidays," Robert said. "She's been traveling the world, seeing sights that make Woodbridge look like a country backwater in comparison."

"And meeting men that make you look like a positive cave dweller," Catherine said to her brother, mischief in her eyes, and laughed at his falsely affronted expression. The sound was warm and melodious, sinking through Will's chest and wrapping round his heart.

A commotion at the door drew her attention. Will wanted to say something, but was tongue-tied, his lips parted and silent as Robert said something else to his sister. She laughed again, and then her eyes went back to the door, lighting up with delighted recognition.

"Robert, Mr. Goodman, do forgive me," she apologized, and left them abruptly, hurrying towards the front door, the scent of lily of the valley hovering faintly behind her.

He stared after her retreating figure. She was wearing a burgundy silk gown, trimmed in black velvet and lace, the sleeves mere strips of material across her upper arms. She wore a velvet choker, the darkness of it emphasizing the creamy expanse of exposed bosom, and the gentle rounded curves of her shoulders. Her body was tightly corseted, the horizontal folds and gathers of her skirt around her hips making her waist look minuscule in comparison, the gathers at the back of her gown trailing yards of rich burgundy that dusted the floor in a short train.

Ludicrous, to be struck dumb by a pretty woman! He was thirty years old. He was no longer a giddy young boy. He was beyond adolescent embarrassments. He didn't believe in love at first sight.

And yet... In the space between one heartbeat and the next, when she had met his eyes and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Goodman," in a voice like mulled wine, Catherine Linwood had sparked to life a fire inside him.

The pleasure of meeting her was all his. But why? Why?

Earlier today he had congratulated himself on his life being complete. God had heard him and laughed, placing this woman down before him to prove his ignorance.

She was laughing, her gestures animated, her hand touching briefly on the coated arm of the visitor at the door. Will took his eyes from Catherine long enough to examine the newcomer, and felt a flush of jealousy run through his blood.

He'd never seen such a handsome man - the word 'dashing' came ridiculously to mind - and dressed in a manner that bespoke such careless wealth. This man came from money. He'd been born to it, and had the air of a one who has discovered that anything he wanted could be had for a price.

"Will? Will!" Robert said, stirring him from his staring.

"Huh?" he grunted, articulate as an ape.

"Good lord, man, you look like you've been kicked in the head."

Will blinked, frowned, and tried to focus on his friend. Robert Linwood was a few years younger than he, but Robert and the Linwood family had become good friends over the past few years. Robert was a lawyer, who like many others in Woodbridge relied on the town's position as the county seat - and thus the home of the county courthouse - for his business. Robert had never had much interest in taking over the sawmills and lumber business of his father, Edward Linwood.

"There is a saying amongst shopkeepers," Will said, still half-dazed, "that customers do not know what they want. A man may come into a store seeking only boot black, but then his eye lights upon a pocket watch and suddenly he must have it. He did not know he wanted a pocket watch. He got along fine without one for many years. But now he must have it, and if he cannot afford it he will leave the store with that watch haunting his thoughts until he finds the money to buy it."

"Are you feeling quite well?" Robert asked.

Will looked back to Catherine, who was introducing the stranger to her parents. Her excitement was palpable, even from across the room. "No, not quite."

Dinner was its own unique agony. The dining table was crowded, all its extra leaves put into use. Catherine was at the other end of the table, the newcomer, Mr. Rose, seated next to her and making himself the cynosure of the gathering.

"'Well, I never!'" Mr. Rose was saying, imitating the voice of an affronted woman of the upper classes, to the great amusement of those guests seated near him, "and then she tripped on the train of her gown, falling into a servant and sending his tray of glasses crashing to the floor!" A drumming of laughter followed the denouement to the story.

Will did not laugh, watching instead how Catherine smiled, as if she had heard the tale before, and then glanced quickly at those near her, gauging their reactions as if seeking communal approval of this man. Her eyes flicked briefly down to his end of the table, squinting a bit, and then her attention went back to Mr. Rose, who had begun another anecdote about life among the upper crust in New York.

"I don't like him at all," Amy whispered at his side.

Surprised, Will turned to the girl with whom he had developed a small friendship, during his visits to the house. She would not normally have been allowed to partake of a dinner party at her age, but an exception had been made tonight. "Do you speak of Mr. Rose?"

"I don't think he's a nice man."

"He appears to be entertaining everyone very well."

"All he does is mock people. I don't think that's a kind thing to do, do you?"

At the moment, Mr. Rose was doing a wicked impression of an Irish maid who did not understand the workings of water faucets. "No, not especially."

"I don't trust people like that."

"Did he say something cruel to you?" Will asked, catching the fiery look of resentment Amy cast at the man.

"No, it's just... There's just something about him. When we were introduced he said what a 'little doll' I was, and treated me like I was still in short skirts. I think he was even considering giving me a pat on the head. Then he ignored me completely."

"He and your sister make a handsome pair."

"Don't say that!" Amy grimaced, and gave a theatrical shiver of abhorrence. "I shouldn't like to have him as a brother-in-law." She was silent a moment, her dark brows frowning as she stared down the table at the object of her loathing. Then her gaze switched to Will, and her lips curled in a mischievous smile that was a younger version of her sister's. "I would much rather have you for a brother-in-law. Then Catherine wouldn't go off again to New York. She'd stay right here."

Will choked on the swallow of wine he'd just taken, and after he finished coughing tried to sound nonchalant. "Do you think I'd stand a chance against Mr. Rose?"

"You're a decent-looking fellow, and much nicer."

That didn't sound a ringing endorsement. 'Nice' and 'decent-looking' had not been known to win female hearts away from the dashing and amusing. "I think your sister is barely aware that I exist. She never looks this way."

"That's because she's half blind," Amy said.

"What?"

"She's near-sighted. Everything beyond about six feet gets blurry, and she refuses to wear eyeglasses. Even if she did look away from that man, she wouldn't be able to tell who was who down here. I do think that if she got to know you, she'd see that you were a much better choice than Mr. Rose. You think she's pretty, don't you?"

He swallowed, and suddenly found the plaster moulding on the ceiling to be of absorbing interest. "Uh..." he said noncommittally.

"You must. I think she's beautiful. And you need a wife. There's no one else you've got your heart set on, is there? Wouldn't Catherine do?"

He brought his eyes back to her intense green ones. "I suppose she might," he admitted.

Amy beamed at him. "I would be aunt to your children. Isn't that wonderful?"

Will blinked at her, thinking of the necessary steps to producing children with Catherine Linwood. "That would be... remarkable."