Thank God he had finally found his.
He closed his eyes, remembering the night he had spent in Ashleen's arms, the pleasure, the pain, intensified by the knowledge that it might be the last time they would touch each other, love each other.
She had given of herself so freely, fiercely, demanding he do the same. And he had. He had loved her until they were breathless, exhausted. Then he had loved her again. At last they lay, their bodies twined, their arms clinging, awake until the first birdsong heralded the new day.
A flutter of white caught Garret's eye, and he looked down into the yard to see Ashleen, her skirts rippling in the breeze, an apron bound about her slender waist. There was a smear of flour on her nose and a haunting sadness in her eyes he knew he alone could see.
"Renny! Liam! You, too, Shevonne and Meggie-mine!" She called out. "Supper's ready!"
Garret's lips twisted in a taut smile as he watched the children scramble out of the woods, a frond of grass sticking out of Renny's red hair, a bird's nest balanced in Liam's hand, while Shevonne came decorously out of a break in the pines, not a strand of white-blond hair out of place.
Garret felt a tight sense of loss in his chest as he drank in the sight of them, only Ashleen's voice breaking through his musings.
"You, too, mister," she called, the smile she shot him overbright. "The saint's day dinner is growing cold, and Shevonne has been driving me mad begging to let Meggie open her gifts."
Jamming the handle of the hammer into his waistband, Garret made his way down the roof, swinging onto the oaken ladder he had found in the stable.
"You go to hell for lying, woman, just the same as stealing. You know damn well you've been worse than the little ones, poring over the store of packages you have stuffed up on the mantel."
"I know what every one of those packages is," she said with forced indignation.
"Except for the one I added this morning."
A smile played about her lips. A real smile, made more beautiful still by the blush tinting her cheeks as Meggie emerged from the root cellar and wandered toward the cabin. "I'll never forgive you, Garret MacQuade, for tying the leather thongs around it so tight. Couldn't even peek."
Garret leapt from the last rung onto the ground and slipped his arm around her. "Well, in a few moments you'll be out of your misery, lady."
The words fell out before he could stop them, and he felt her stiffen, then lean against his side, her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, breathed in the scent of cinnamon that clung to her glossy curls. Then he guided her slowly toward the cabin's door.
Mayhem reigned within—a racketing of shouts, arguments, Shevonne's shrill cry greeting them the moment they entered the room.
"Renny snitched frosting off Meggie's cake," Shevonne tattled, "and Liam stuck that bird nest in his bed! It's probably full of bugs and—"
"Enough, Shevonne," Ashleen chided, firm yet gentle as she went to the table Garret had set up earlier using crates and boards, with empty kegs as stools.
A silver-paper crown sat at the head of the table, each tin plate nested in a wreath of flowers. A chipped stoneware pitcher held a riot of blossoms, while a cluster of oddly shaped packages had been stacked near Meggie's place.
Garret took up the crown and walked over to the child, who stood regarding the proceedings with huge, dark eyes. He hunkered down to peer into her face. "Who do you think all these presents are for, sweetheart?" he said, unable to stop himself from tracing his finger down her small chin. "Must all be for me."
"No! They are not!" the other children squabbled, Liam chortling with glee.
"Do you know any little girl who might like to open 'em?" Garret asked, as if Meggie had replied. "They're fit for a princess, and I just happen to know where to find one." He took the crown and settled it on Meggie's dark curls. She stared at him, so solemn, so quiet. He would have sold his soul just to see her smile.
Instead he patted the keg that was to be her seat, gesturing to the presents.
"C'mon, Meggie, open 'em!" Liam shrilled.
"Open mine! Mine first!" Shevonne ordered, snatching up a small, soft package and thrusting it into Meggie's hand.
"Let her pick for herself!" Renny objected, his chin tipping at a dangerous angle. "It's her day, Shevonne."
"Stop it, all of you!" Ashleen broke in, laughing. "She could've opened them all in the time you've spent arguing! Give her a chance."
With a few more grumblings the children gave way, each prodding Meggie as eagerly as if the gift was their own. After a moment Meggie began to open their offerings.
The first was a fine square of lawn hemmed into a handkerchief. Crocheted lace worked by Shevonne's hand edged the fabric, a lopsided letter M embroidered in one corner. There was a jumping jack Renny had carved out of wood. The little man suspended by strings between two sticks would jump and dance and turn somersaults when the sticks were squeezed together. Liam had strung a necklace out of bright-colored buttons, while Ashleen's gift to the child was a woolen stuffed cat she had worked out of a pair of Renny's stockings.
Simple gifts, made with love, they brought back memories to Garret of Christmas mornings he and Beth had rushed to see what Father Christmas had left them.
