The Gift-Wrapped Groom Page 4

  Noel’s forehead dug into a deep frown. “I think you’re missing the point. Christmas is a very special occasion to us. My grandfather and I and the whole village put on a Christmas festival every year to celebrate this wonderful, joyous season. All the buildings are strewn with Christmas lights. We provide marvelous things to eat. My grandfather stars in a production of A Christmas Carol and tourists from neighboring valleys, even from as far as Missoula—”

  “Come to see your Christmas festival and leave their dollars. And the village buys their decorations from your store. A thriving capitalist enterprise. Yes, Miss Winsome. I do not miss the point.”

  Noel ground her teeth. Damn socialist. How had he managed to get her on the defensive, anyway?

  “If that is all, Dr. Baranov, it really is quite late and I—”

  “One more thing, Miss Winsome. I need your word that you are not pregnant.”

  The blood rushed into Noel’s face as she flew to her feet. How dare he ask, to even imply such a thing! She wouldn’t tolerate such a question from her grandfather, much less from this total stranger.

  Yet even in her anger and shock, she had to concede that to a man in Nicholas Baranov’s position, this question was probably perfectly reasonable, particularly considering the promise he’d given her earlier.

  Still, recognizing that fact did not mitigate her anger one iota. It took all her control to keep her temper in check. As it was, her response came out through locked teeth.

  “I have never been pregnant nor am I now, Dr. Baranov. You have my word. And those are all the questions I’m going to answer. You can dress for a wedding tomorrow or for your trip back to Moscow. Quite frankly, I don’t care which. Good night.”

  Noel stomped around the desk and headed for the door. Her grandfather’s voice called after her.

  “Noel! You must stay to hear the details of the ceremony.”

  Noel halted at the French doors, dug the toe of her boot into the carpet and pivoted angrily toward her grandfather. “I’m certain you have planned every detail with your usual unerring precision. Jean can call me in the morning with the details, if Dr. Baranov deigns to stay for it. Now, I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m going home.”

  * * *

  NICHOLAS LISTENED as she yanked her heavy coat off a hanger out of the hall closet. Her boots stomped across the wooden floor to the door. She tore it open, then slammed it behind her. A moment later, the echoing squeal of tires grated through the study as she laid rubber accelerating out of her grandfather’s circular driveway.

  And all the while, Nicholas watched William Winsome’s face brighten with a beaming, triumphant smile.

  As the last echoes of her retreat faded into the night, Winsome turned to Nicholas, still wearing that smile. His tone was not at all apologetic, but decidedly proud.

  “My granddaughter has a bit of a temper, Dr. Baranov, as you might have noticed.”

  Bit of a temper was putting it mildly. Nicholas was still reeling from the fire that had risen to her cheeks and lit those deceptively cool eyes—fire that had matched her head of hair and then some. She was a lot more woman than he had initially seen. A lot more. He could still feel the heat of her erupted passion burning his hands, quickening the pulse in his blood.

  “I’ve tried to give her guidance, but as you no doubt could tell, she makes up her own mind about things. Won’t follow her old grandfather’s advice. I suppose I should tell you this caused her to have a—most regrettable experience a couple of years back.”

  Ah, so this undisciplined passion was what had led this woman to her moral failing. And Winsome was trying to warn him. This was truly a man of honor.

  “We can discuss it now, should you want to hear the particulars.”

  William Winsome stood resolutely before Nicholas Baranov, waiting for his response.

  Nicholas remembered clearly the sixteen-year-old girl from his village—only four years older than he—who had so brazenly prostituted herself to the soldiers traveling through in exchange for soap and shoes made in Czechoslovakia. Her father and mother had hung their heads in shame and sent her to another village to marry a distant cousin.

  They had not mentioned the soldiers to this distant cousin. Naturally, the cousin knew something was wrong, but had had the good sense not to ask. He was committed to her and their future. What would have been the point in asking?

  “No, Mr. Winsome,” Nicholas said. “I do not want to hear the particulars.”

  “Well, do we have a deal, Nicholas?”

  “A deal?”

  “That’s American for asking if you’re staying for the wedding tomorrow or going back to Moscow.”

  Nicholas rose to face his host. “What time is the ceremony?”

  William Winsome laughed and clapped Nicholas on the back. “Seven in the evening. She’s a handful. Always has been. Stubborn as a wild mustang at the end of a rope. But more and more, I’m convinced you’re the man for her, even if you’re not sure yet.”

  A small frown knit Nicholas’s forehead. Winsome read it accurately.

  “Oh, I don’t expect you two to fall in love instantly. I know it will take a little time. But the marriage will help immensely to move things along. That’s why I’m convinced it needs to take place right away. Before she can change her... I mean, so you’ll get to know each other quicker.”

  Winsome winked at Nicholas. Then, with a big smile on his face, he turned away and started out of the study, walking with his characteristic fast clip, gesturing toward the back of the enormous single-story ranch house to where the bedrooms lay.

  His house was spectacular. Seemed to stretch over an entire acre. So many bedrooms and baths. So much fine woodwork and furniture. A whole wall that opened into a television set. A satellite dish that brought more than a hundred stations at the touch of a button. The telescope, too, had been a fascinating discovery. Imagine. Walking up a tower in one’s own home and being able to look out into the universe. William Winsome was a wealthy man indeed.

  But what impressed Nicholas most about Winsome was that he was a man brimming over with love and pride for his granddaughter, no matter what she had done. This man did not hang his head. He held it up high.

  “I had it put in the closet in your room, Nicholas.”

  “Excuse me. It?”

  “The tuxedo I had made to your measurements for tomorrow’s ceremony. If alterations are going to be necessary, we might as well find out now so I can have my tailor here first thing in the morning.”

  Nicholas followed his future grandfather-in-law, his boots sinking into the plush, brightly colored carpets running down the shiny wooden floor of the hallways, past a labyrinth of rooms. One could so easily become lost. When they finally reached what Nicholas guessed was the door to the room that he would occupy that night, Winsome paused and turned to look at him, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Noel’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Nicholas conceded. “Very beautiful.”

  Winsome’s smile broadened. “I was keeping that part a surprise. Not an absolute requirement in a wife, but a nice bonus I think. I expect I’ll be bouncing the first of my great-grandchildren on my knee by next Christmas.”

  “Mr. Winsome—”

  “Oh, no pressure, son. But I can already feel the sparks. The air sizzles around you two. That was the way it was with her grandmother and me. Keyne was her name. Means jewel. And she was. From the moment I met her and every day afterward for the thirty-five years we had together, the air sizzled for us.”

  Winsome’s blue eyes glistened for a moment with trapped, swimming tears. Nicholas liked watching those tears and the feelings that had caused them to pool there. Yes, he liked this old man.

  “Noel has her grandmother’s long, thick hair. That exact red-gold shade. Sometimes in the dim light, with these old eyes, I could swear...I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had Noel. First, my beloved Keyne, and then my son and daughter
-in-law. Gone. So fast. The ghosts of their love—that’s all I’d have left if it wasn’t for Noel.”

  Suddenly, a lanky hand clapped Nicholas on the shoulder, and Winsome’s eyes dried of their momentary moisture into a bright, happy blue.

  “That’s why you and Noel need children, Nicholas. Oh, I know about your past loss. Tragic business that. Noel has had her...disappointments, too. You both have some wounds that are still tender to the touch. That’s one of the things that makes you two fit so well.”

  “Mr. Winsome, this ‘fit’ you speak of may not—”

  “Nicholas, we are here such a short space of time. Can’t bury ourselves prematurely. Got to keep the love going in the world. That’s what you’ll do for me when you and Noel have my great-grandchildren. Keep the love going.”

  Nicholas had a hard time looking into those happy eyes now. His hands found the pockets of his jeans. He fingered the folded note that lay in the right one as a small frown creased his forehead.

  On the note was the written question Noel had passed to him—the real question she had asked him, not the one he had made up for the benefit of the farsighted Winsome.

  Dr. Baranov, the only way I will agree to this marriage is if I have your solemn word as a man of honor that you will not attempt to consummate our legal union. Furthermore, you must never let my grandfather know we are not really living as husband and wife. If you agree, say yes to the question I have just posed to you verbally. If not, say no and go back to Russia.

  Nicholas had said yes. Given his word. As a man of honor. And, if truth be told, he had felt much relieved by the arrangement. Because he knew there would be no children. Because he knew whatever Noel Winsome’s moral failing, the innocent would not be made to suffer. Because he knew his conscience could be clear.

  Only now, Nicholas was no longer feeling relieved. His conscience no longer felt clear. He did not like deceiving William Winsome and his hope to keep love going in the world.

  * * *

  NOEL STOOD in the glassed-in balcony and stared down in both shock and awe at the large hall that served as Midwater’s church, community center and theater all rolled into one. She barely recognized the old building.

  A new coat of white paint glistened on its walls. Miraculously, its beat-up wooden flooring had been covered with thick, plush carpet. Six-foot, silver-plated candelabra, their lit candles casting a gentle glow everywhere, lined the new pews leading to an elegant, raised altar, awash in white satin bows and streamers and the heavenly scent of fresh-cut, long-stem snow roses—hundreds and hundreds of them standing in huge crystal vases.

  And behind the altar, an enormous, fairy-tale Christmas tree shot to the ceiling, decorated with sparkling tinsel and crystal ornaments and topped with a replica of a bride and groom, the groom very tall and dark, the bride with long, red-gold hair.

  It was all so lovely, it made her heart ache.

  Jean moved to her side. “Your grandfather spared no expense. When he got the final approval of the paperwork on Dr. Baranov last week, he sent the painters and carpenters in. Everyone in Midwater got an embossed invitation. And here they come.”

  Noel kept watch as the beautifully decorated hall filled to capacity with all her friends and neighbors in their Sunday best.

  “How could he keep this from me? I’ve been in the village all week at my store right down the street. No one said a word. Knowing the people of Midwater, I would have sworn that was impossible. And, I never saw—”

  “You know your grandfather, Noel. He browbeat the workmen into silence and he had the invitations hand delivered first thing this morning to the rest of the village so the gossip mill couldn’t get grinding prematurely. He can and does move mountains when he puts his mind to it.”

  “He never lifted a finger to send even one flower when Cade and I were supposed to be married.”

  “To Missoula? When you were to be married before a justice of the peace? What did you expect, Noel? He never approved of Cade’s idea of a wedding—or Cade, for that matter.”

  “Because Grandfather didn’t select him.”

  “It was more than that, Noel.”

  “Look, I’m not denying Cade was a mistake or that I’m better off without him. It’s just...”

  A strong arm encircled Noel’s shoulder as her voice drifted off. “At least Cade was your mistake. I know.”

  Noel sighed. “Why didn’t you warn me about this Russian?”

  “Because by the time I found out, he was already on his way. And since I don’t intend to start lying to you, I also didn’t say anything because I think your marrying him might not be such a bad idea.”

  “Jean, you? In favor of an arranged marriage? I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m in favor of what works. Some folks are solitary souls. They can make it through life perfectly content to be on their own. You’re not one of those folks, Noel. You need someone to love. And there sure as hell isn’t anyone in this valley to fit the bill.”

  “I’ve got Mistletoe. I don’t need a man.”

  “There are some things a man can do that a dog can’t, or have you forgotten?”

  Noel looked purposely away from the twinkle in Jean’s hazel eyes. Her toes, used to the comfort of her roomy boots, suddenly felt very cramped in the satin pumps on her feet.

  “All my friends and neighbors are down there. Lucy Lydon waylaid me before I even came up to dress. Couldn’t wait to wish me well. They all think this is a love match. My grandfather has spread the word that Nicholas and I have been secretly corresponding this past year.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “I feel like such a fraud. Jean, this man is a stranger.”

  “Look, Noel. I don’t know why you agreed to this arranged marriage and I’m not asking. But, I’ve sneaked a peak at your grandfather’s file on this Russian. The guy is a certified genius. And you’ve got to admit, he ain’t bad to look at. There are a lot of single gals in this valley who wouldn’t mind being in your shoes. Way I see it, you’re taking him on approval. If it works out, great. If not, well, you file for divorce in Missoula and poof, he’s history. What’s the sweat?”

  Jean was right, of course. Wasn’t that what Noel had decided herself last night? Wasn’t that why she had gotten Nicholas Baranov’s agreement not to consummate this marriage? They would be going through the motions, that’s all. And those motions would continue to insure her hard-won independence from her grandfather’s continued interference and control over her life.

  Noel straightened her shoulders and turned to face her friend. “You’re right, Jean. This is just a temporary arrangement. A marriage of convenience. I can do this.”

  She might have convinced herself if her eyes hadn’t strayed to the floor-length mirror of the small balcony room where she saw herself for the first time in her mother’s beautiful wedding dress.

  The memories flooded her mind and heart and along with them came a stampede of new emotion. Her mother’s long slender hands reaching toward the protective garment bag, gently, lovingly removing the satin and lace for her to see. Then there were the sweet tears that had glistened in her mother’s eyes as she looked up at her daughter.

  “You will wear this one day, Noel. That happy day when you march into the arms of the man with whom you will vow to share your life and love for all your tomorrows. Just as I wore it when your father and I exchanged those vows that gave each to the other.”

  Her mother’s wistful voice echoed in her ears. In her mind’s eye, Noel could see this lovely dress’s yards of lace trailing behind her on that beautiful plush carpet leading to that beautiful altar to take those beautiful vows.

  Till death do us part.

  Only her parents had also died together, defying even death to part them. They had lived their love so truly, honestly. What would her parents think if they were here today to witness her role in this mockery of a marriage? Noel’s heart began to ache with the answer.

  Her voice broke on the words.
“I was wrong. I can’t do this, Jean. I can’t.”

  “But, Noel, what—”

  Noel ran for the back staircase away from Jean’s call. Tears blinded her as she fumbled for the banister with one hand, holding up the satin folds of her dress with the other. She stumbled clumsily down the stairs in the unaccustomed high heels and bolted out the back door, slamming it behind her. The soles of her satin pumps almost gave way on the slippery wooden slats of the porch. She grabbed the railing for balance, steadied herself and looked out at the dark sky from the shallow overhang.

  Through her blurry tears, snow was falling—casual, quiet flakes that drifted nonchalantly toward the ground. She didn’t know how long she stood there—two minutes, ten. The tears would not stop. Neither would the ache.

  She loved the small village of Midwater in the peaceful valley surrounded by forests full of wildlife and inhabited by people full of warmth. It had been the only home she had ever known or ever wanted to know. And she sincerely loved her grandfather, despite his long interfering nose. He did mean well, no matter how difficult he made it for her to lead her own life sometimes.

  But her freedom and basic honesty were at stake, and in the final analysis, what else would matter if she lost them?

  So tomorrow she would be saying goodbye to Midwater and her grandfather. She would pack up her old Dodge truck, set Mistletoe on her lap and the two of them would head for points east, west or south to start over, dirt poor but with a free heart and clear conscience.

  Because tonight she would not, could not, exchange solemn vows she did not intend to keep with a man she did not love, and bring shame to the memory of her mother and father—not to mention make a sham of everything she herself believed in.

  The weight lifted from her heart only to settle firmly on her shoulders. This was a necessary decision she was making, but far from an easy one. It would cost her dearly.

  The only home she knew. The only family she had.

  Noel was so lost in the agony of her thoughts that she started at the sudden sound coming from behind her. She whirled to see the shape of a man emerge from under the eaves a few feet away. His hands were in the pockets of a short, black overcoat that covered a full, silver shadow tuxedo.