Christie (33 page)

disappear as suddenly as it had come.

He smiled warmly again. "If I don't, I fear they'll come and drag me out. But I've taken the room beyond the sitting room there, and I'll leave both inner doors ajar, if you like, so you need only call and I'll come. I'll be no farther away, Christie."

He was helping her to achieve a lying-down position in the bed, tenderly tucking the covers about her.

"You'll call if you need me?" he asked.

"I'll call," she said, and her smile was like warm sunlight to Garrett, who suddenly wished he didn't have to leave. Then he bent forward and kissed her forehead, whispering, "Rest well. I'll see you later," before turning and quietly leaving the room.

Christie sat in the big bed quietly thinking. Adam
ha
d just had his breakfast, and she was waiting for Garrett to join her so they might have theirs, as they
ha
d taken all their meals together, here in her room, for the past week. His mood and treatment of her continued to be tender and solicitous without
e
xception, with any change at all that she might note coming in terms of an increasing
warmth and kindness as the days passed.

It seemed no need of hers could be too great, no desire beyond his careful attention to see it fulfilled. When she had fretted that the long hours of confinement to bed were boring, Garrett had arrived, arms laden with books, and read to her for as much of the time as the doctors would allow. When she had been restless one night, tossing in her bed, unable to sleep, Garrett had suddenly appeared, carrying a
snifter of warmed brandy, and had gently coaxed the fiery liquid down and remained with her until she found sleep. And when, just yesterday, she had found herself inexplicably cast in a somber mood, there was Garrett, trailing out a host of ridiculous and funny stories, bits and pieces of anecdotes from childhood and other years, calculated to amuse her and, indeed, bring forth laughter and mirth such as she had rarely, if ever, experienced in a single afternoon.

What was his state of mind? She knew, from the words which had passed between them on the morning of Adam's birth, that he somehow had discovered and accepted the truth about the babe's siring. Not a word had been said of her running away from him, and he acted very much as if it had never happened. His every action toward her was laden with affection, and although no words were spoken, she would swear—God, dare she hope?—that the look in his eyes whenever they chanced to rest on her, which was, indeed, often, was loving?

Softly, she closed her eyes. In some respects, it had not been an easy week for her. Just seeing him again, having him so near, when she had thought to have lost him. Sweet torture! Oh, she loved him so! And she had begun to hope, slowly, hardly daring, that perhaps, just maybe, if God was kind . . .

Hearing her husband coming from the hall, she left off her reverie, but not before uttering a silent prayer: "Sweet Lord, please let it happen! Let him love me, even if it's only just a little. I'll try to be deserving of it. Oh, I love him so much!"

Garrett entered, carrying a bouquet of wild flowers

so huge, she couldn't see his face behind them.

"I just found out from Jess how much you
like
these," he said, slightly out of breath, "and I remembered how a profusion of wild flowers grows behind the lower barn at this time of year, so here you are, my lady; though, I swear, were I they, I would blush at my plainness in the face of beauty such as yours."

And bowing before her, he placed them on the table beside the bed.

"Oh, Garrett!" She laughed. "They're wonderful! I vow, I've never felt so pampered and spoiled."

"Only the beginning, sweet." Her husband grinned. "How would you like to take breakfast in the terrace garden this morning?"

"Garrett, you don't
mean
it!" she squealed.

She had been longing for the day when she might leave her bed and was completely surprised at its coming this soon.

"I not only mean it,"—he chuckled—"but I'm going to take you there right now."

And he proceeded to lift her out of the bed to carry her downstairs.

"Oooh, wait!" She giggled, her arms about his neck. "I can't go like this—my robe, there in the wardrobe."

"Easily done," said Garrett, carrying her to the tall piece of furniture and further opening its partially ajar door with his toe. "Pick one."

Christie grabbed the soft blue robe that matched the gown she wore and then, frowning in mock annoyance, asked him, "Well? Aren't you going^o let me put it on?"

Garrett eyed the sheer bit of fabric which barely concealed her full, ripe breasts as they pushed all too evidently forward, their pink peaks just thinly veiled.

"Only because I now recall there may be others about." He grinned, and then he set her carefully down on the floor before him, not once taking his eyes off her slim form as he donned the robe. He saw that childbirth had done little to alter her figure, for she was lithe and slender as ever, but there was an increased fullness to her breasts and something ... a suggested roundness here, a curve there, which said hers was no longer the body of a young girl; this was Ill-woman.

Christie noticed his gaze on her and, to avoid blushing, quickly raised her arms again about his neck, saying, "I'm ready."

"So you are." He smiled, and kissing her pertly on the nose, he again lifted her up and carried her to the garden.

The days of Christie's recovery continued to pass in almost idyllic fashion. Garrett's attentions showed no threat of lessening or changing in any way, except, perhaps, to become more affectionate and, yes, apparently loving
.
She began to nurture the flicker of hope that this was not in her imagination, that he, indeed, had begun to care for her in the important way she craved. She also drew hope from one other important source; on the matter that had caused her to flee him after their marriage, his obsession with the revenge she had felt left no room in his heart for love, there was subtle encouragement. He never spoke of it, except once, when Jesse had
inquired of his trip to England and Garrett,
en
grossed in a moment of play with Christie and
th
eir son, had merely shrugged and said the trip had
tur
ned up naught. This had been said without the
s
lightest trace of bitterness or anger. Indeed, since
returni
ng home, he acted much as though his awful
q
uest did not exist; as though, somehow, his mind
was
bent on more important things. . .
'
Of course,
she was still troubled by the fact that he had yet to
utter any words which spoke of love, and it was this
one great omission which unsteadied her and caused
her doubts. So, when in moments of great tenderness
be
tween them she would be filled with an aching
longing to throw herself into his arms and confess
h
er own love, doubts would creep in, and she would
s
top herself, afraid again of that great pain that only
comes when love is not returned.

One night, about a month after Adam's birth, Garrett awoke to the sound of his son's crying, and noting the cries came from Christie's room, and not the nursery, he donned his robe and went to investigate. Moving silently through the two inner doors which had remained ajar since that first morning following their son's arrival, he came upon Christie pacing the floor with the disquieted infant. Seeing her husband in the doorway, Christie turned a troubled countenance toward him. "He's been fretting for hours, and I can't seem to give him any comfort."

"Christie," said Garrett, moving toward her, "why are
you
up with the babe? Where's Lula? Or Millie, or Katy, or any of the other servants? You need your rest, especially with the christening tomorrow. The day
will be tiring enough for you without your having no sleep."

"I know, Garrett, but Lula was up with him for hours already, and she looked so exhausted, I told her I'd try to quiet him after I fed him, thinking he was only hungry. The rest of the household is asleep, and, well—"

"And 'well' is exactly what you're not going to be, madam, if I let you continue this way," said Garrett, taking the fretting infant gently from her.

Then he began to rub and pat the babe's back, a bit too roughly Christie was about to say, when all of a sudden, there emanated such a large belch from the tiny creature that the room fairly echoed with the sound of it, and at once the crying ceased.

"Well, my man," chuckled Garrett, "I'd say that one came from your very toes," and giving Christie a smiling wink, he walked softly to the nursery and laid the drowsy infant in his cradle.

When he returned, he found Christie at the windows, which were open. A warm, balmy breeze wafted in, gently ruffling her hair which trailed loosely over her shoulders and down her back. The sheer white gown she wore fell softly to the floor, its gossamer folds lending only the merest transparent suggestion of clothing as the bright moonlight filtered through, silhouetting her body's every curve.

Noting all of this, Garrett's throat grew dry as he watched her from the doorway, and he was acutely conscious of the long months of celibacy he had endured since they had parted in New York. He smiled wryly to himself as he remembered briefly all
those times since then that he had disdained
the
charms of other women, understanding now,
the des
ire for abstinence which had puzzled him then. He wanted, needed, no other woman; he desired only Christie, this purely miraculous, enchanting creature who had entered his life almost by accident, and who now consumed all his thoughts and emotions, very being. He wanted her now, in the most immediate sense, and also in the total concept of the word. But he felt the time was not right yet, and, taking a long breath, he put aside his inclinations of moment with an eye to the future joys of a lifetime.

"Will you sleep, now?" he asked softly.

She turned to him, her face a mirror of tenderness and, yes, Garrett was sure, love.

"You were wonderful with him, Garrett," said Christie, her eyes large and luminous. "I somehow never guessed you would be such a loving father. . .
.
to answer your question. Suddenly, I'm no longer sleepy. I suppose it's the excitement about tomorrow—not only the christening, but my first trip out of the house since my confinement."

"Can I get you something?" he asked, his eyes smiling into hers.

Christie laughed. "If this were Windreach, in other days, I'd say yes to a warm midnight bath. Meirie fixed me one once. It was the night after I'd received Thunder. I was so excited from the events of the day, I couldn't sleep, and she roused three servants to heat water and draw me a bath."

"Then, so can I," said Garrett, moving toward the door to the hallway, "and a dozen servants; if
need be."

"No," she said, putting a slender hand on his arm to stay him. "You see, while I'd love a bath, I'm afraid the doctors say I'm—I'm not healed enough to allow it yet, and I must be content with basin and sponge until I am. Oh, but thank you for the offer. I've always doted on my daily bath."

"How soon before you're well enough?" asked Garrett.

"A whole wretched fortnight, yet!" she complained. "Such an
age!"

"And yet, little enough time." Garrett smiled. "It will pass quickly, little one." His green eyes were fixed intently on hers.

"Yes," she said softly. "It will pass quickly."

He was standing very close, his dark head tall above her. Very slowly, he lowered it and kissed her fully on the lips.

Christie's eyes closed as a flood of sweet weakness washed over her whole body. His lips felt warm as they lingered on hers for a moment, and the familiar feel of them plunged her into memories of other times when she had felt their touch. He withdrew them slowly, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders, and the look of love she thought she saw in his face made her heart leap and she held her breath in her throat.

"Good night, Christielove," he whispered. Then he left and went to his own chamber.

"Good night, Garrett," breathed Christie, her fingers touching the lips he had just kissed. "Good night, beloved."

The next morning found the entire household in a busy state as preparations were made to take Adam Jeremy to church and to officially name him in the eyes of God and the faithful. In private, Jesse wondered at the number of eyebrows that would raise as Garrett Randall made his first appearance at the little brick house of worship in over twenty years. The Rev. John Sinclair, of course, had already been informed, and that old gentleman's joy at the news had been wondering and vocal.

"Jesse, I cannot believe it!" he had exclaimed, when the infant's uncle had ridden to his home to make the arrangements. "Do you think the birth of the child can have restored his faith after all these years?"

"That may have been a part of it, sir," Jesse had told him, "but I think the love of a certain young roman has had the greatest effect on my brother, ^wait until you meet her. I think then maybe you'll have an easier time understanding what may be only the beginning of some major changes in Garrett's outlook on everything." He chuckled. "You know, some women are only beautiful on the outside. Christie Randall has it from within, as well. I imagine it would be difficult for anyone to be hard and bitter for very long in the face of all that sunshine and zest for life."

"But your brother isn't just anyone," Sinclair had reminded him.

"No, but his wife loves him in ways I couldn't begin to measure. Now, Garrett's just begun to find lis out,"—Jesse had smiled—"and his old convictions are already acting like a mountain hit by
an earthquake."

Jesse also mused on the number of broken hearts their appearance in church would cause, as several local young ladies and their hopeful mothers only now found out that the eligible Garrett Randall was married. Since both Randall men had been for some time the subjects of hot feminine pursuit on the part of the area's unwed females, news of Garrett's marriage was sure to cause its share of disappointments. Briefly Jesse gave a weary sigh as he reminded himself that now he could expect to become sole recipient of all those tiresome attentions.

Sometime around midmorning, the already-bustling household was sent into an even greater hubbub by the surprise arrival of Aunt Celia Trevellyan and Barnaby Rutledge. Charles had written them, saying he intended to stay on at Riverlea through the baptism of his grandson, and Celia, who had already been invited to the christening of Melissa and Beau Richardson's baby daughter the week before, had persuaded Barnaby to meet her in Charleston and escort her to the Randall plantation. She came on the scene full of congratulations and good wishes, coupled with remonstrances that no one had taken the trouble to let poor Margaret and Philip know the whereabouts of Christie or Charles—let alone that the Stanhope grandchild would have a cousin of almost exactly the same age. She also carried with her, her niece's own christening gown, carefully preserved for the day when a child of Christie's would wear,it.

The ceremony came off without any difficulties, not even from young Master Adam Jeremy, who slept
through the whole thing nestled most of
that time in
his father's big arms. Afterward, as they left
the
church to walk to the waiting carriages, no one seemed to mind very much that Christie and Garrett stayed far behind the others, and Jesse noticed, as he carried his new godson up the path, that Garrett held his wife's hand as they walked.

In the evening there was a celebration feast in the dining room of the big house, and spirits were high.

"You couldn't have asked for a better behaved baby," beamed Charles, "though I hope his sleeping in church doesn't prove a harbinger of how he will react to the sermons of years to come," he added, laughing.

"As I recall," interjected Celia, "his mother was also quiet during her own ceremony, but wide-eyed and awake the whole time."

"Aye," chuckled Charles, "and badly mannered, too, I'm afraid, presenting godfather Barnaby here with a very damp lap!"

There was laughter all around, and Christie blushed good-naturedly as she joined in.

"I see that, even then, Christie attended no event without making her presence felt," chuckled Garrett, and there was more laughter from the table.

"Don't feel so bad, Christie," said John Sinclair. "I officiated at your husband's christening, and I assure you, he was no gentleman himself at that tender age. Not only did he howl furiously during the entire ceremony, but he gave the top of the baptismal font such a fierce kick, it fell to the floor and broke."

Christie hid her smile behind a pretended cough as Garrett threw a semiserious frown in Sinclair's
direction and the others laughed heartily.

As the merriment continued, Christie was called away to feed Adam, and when Barnaby noticed how her husband's eyes followed her until the moment she disappeared from view, he gave Charles a quick wink and a smile which his old friend returned with an ear-to-ear smile of his own.

After dinner everyone retired to the drawing room, including the men, for, as Jesse remarked, he and Garrett had never been fond of that custom which separated the gentlemen from the fair sex at the end of a meal. Christie joined them there, coming to stand behind her husband's chair as he sat relaxing with a cheroot.

"Tell me, Garrett," asked Barnaby, "how difficult has it been for you to work without slave labor on your plantation?"