The Fifth Season (15 page)

A vicious gust of wind slammed into the French doors, rattling the pane and signaling another winter storm. Emma slipped from beneath the covers and tugged Stone’s sweatshirt over her naked body. It dropped just above her knees, and she rubbed her arms in an attempt to draw faded heat from the aged fabric. Shoving her feet into his penguin sized sneakers, she shuffled across the floor.

Emma reached the fireplace and stacked a fresh round of kindling and seasoned oak on the grate. No guests, a winter storm, and Stone. She smiled at the thought of a lazy morning tucked tightly within his embrace. Tossing a match onto the kindling, she watched as flames burst into life.

“The dress code at River Run this morning is exceedingly provocative.”

Emma turned and gazed openly at him. He rested on one elbow, the sheets dropping past his hips, barely covering the promise his eyes held.

“Really?”

“Can’t say I have no inclination to discover exactly what that ratty sweatshirt’s covering.”

“Same thing you’ve been discovering the past two months.”

Stone grinned then shook his head slowly. “Every time there’s something new, something wonderful.”

Emma’s heart caught. She knew exactly how he felt and wondered, if by a miracle, he might love her even half as much as she loved him. It’d be enough.

“Well then, Marco Polo, let’s see what treasures you can find this morning.” Tossing off his shirt and shoes in one quick movement, she dove for the bed.

Stone caught her as she landed beneath the covers, pulling her hard against him and devouring her mouth in a hungry kiss. Her mind blurred beneath his passion. A thought flickered then dimmed as his hands touched and caressed, burning against her skin. Is this love or a need to banish the nightmares?

***

“No.”

This time, Stone’s voice hinged on exasperation. Emma moved swiftly around the kitchen, the rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted from the steaming cup she held between her hands.

“People expect it,” she said for the umpteenth time that morning.

“Why are you pressing me?” Stone sat behind the counter, an angry flush creeping up his neck. They’d been arguing about the annual holiday party for the past week. He refused to allow Emma to continue a tradition Margaret began more than fifty years ago.

“Because, without Margaret, this holiday’s gonna be tough on a lot of people. They need the party to remember her and honor her.”

“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it.” Stone pushed off the barstool and strode around the counter. He put her mug on the table, pulling her into a light embrace. “Stop trying to please everyone else and look to your own needs instead.”

“I am, Stone.”

“No. You’ve decided this is some twisted sense of duty. I won’t allow it. Emma, you need to start taking what you want and send the rest of the world packing.”

“I want this.” She knew this battle was lost but tried one more time. “I really want this.”

“Well,” he whispered against her ear. “I don’t.”

Resigned to the fact that the annual holiday gala had met its destroyer, she slipped from Stone’s arms. “Fine. I’ve some things to do in the office. I’ll see you later.”

Emma didn’t bother to look over her shoulder. She knew he’d be angry. But her inner voice wouldn’t be quiet, and if it demanded release, fireworks would begin within the comforting walls of River Run. And she didn’t want to fight. Actually, she suddenly realized, the past eight weeks she’d done everything in her power to avoid confrontations with Stone.

Instead of entering the office, Emma went to her bedroom. Opening the closet, she pulled a hanger from the back recesses. A thick plastic cover hid what hung beneath. Margaret had bought this for Emma in the post-season sales that flooded the boutiques in early January. She’d hoped to wear it at the party this year.

Peeling off the plastic, she touched the shimmering gown. Her fingers caressed the rich, velvet green then traced the pearl rimmed bodice and flared sleeves. She remembered Margaret’s face when she’d tried on the dress. She’d called her a fairy princess. An endearment her mother started the day Emma was born, words she remembered with love.

Sighing deeply, she hung the dress back in the closet. The deep rumble of the Jeep’s engine signaled Stone’s departure. Emma gave in to impetuousness and grabbed the dress back. Taking off her jeans and sweater, she slipped the heavy fabric over her head adjusting the shoulders so they barely skimmed her skin.

She twirled to face the mirror and froze.

Stone stood in the doorway. Her heart hammered. She couldn’t contain the embarrassment at being found trying on clothes. Emma silently chastised herself for feeling like a kid being caught with all the cookies.

“I’m just seeing if it still fits. I need to clean this closet and give all my old stuff to Goodwill.” Wincing, she knew she rambled.

“The tag’s still on the dress.”

“Oh? That…silly, it’s just a bargain piece I never should’ve picked up.”

He stared at her for a long moment. His face unreadable, making her squirm beneath his icy gaze. Finally, he shrugged and backed out the door. “Whatever. I’m on my way into town to pick up thick stationary.”

“What for?”

“We can’t have a party without invitations, can we?”

***

Stone sped down the gravel drive. He should never have left the Jeep. The vision of Emma dressed in that gown completely unraveled his resolve. He’d gone to her room to demand she cease all topics regarding the holiday bash and instead ended up agreeing to host the stupid event.

It wasn’t until that instant when she’d turned, her auburn hair spinning in a soft halo that he realized exactly how deep his feelings ran. She’d quickly become his life, and he found it hard to deny her anything, including the opportunity of wearing a gown that transformed a beautiful woman into a radiant treasure more alluring and breathtaking than King Solomon’s mines.

***

Emma sat before the roaring fire, snuggling beneath a thick wool blanket. The tantalizing scent of garlic, sun-dried tomatoes and olives wafted from the kitchen. Her brain whirled in a frantic circle, checking and rechecking all the preparations for tomorrow night’s party.

Stone was wonderful. After balking only once at the guest list, he’d buckled down and run every errand she requested. The only oil stain on the event poured from his refusal to permit Nate to attend. He’d made her promise, several times over, that his father wouldn’t be allowed to step foot on River Run. She’d agreed, but not without guilt tugging at the frayed edges of her heart.

A frigid blast of air preceded the slamming of the front door. Emma twisted around and smiled as Stone stomped his snowy boots on the large, woven door matt then dumped an armful of packages on the kitchen table. He muttered and cursed beneath his breath, causing her to rise from the couch and explore the situation.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s damn cold out there.” He stripped off his fleece lined denim jacket and rubbed his hands together.

“Here, let me do that.” Emma gathered his hands and slipped them beneath her shirt. She shivered as their coldness tickled her skin but ignored the sensation and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grinned and pulled her close, seizing her mouth in one of his famous mind-sweeping kisses.

A grunt and snuffle around her ankles pulled Emma’s attention away from the path her ever-present, over-heated hormones were taking her. Glancing down, she smiled at Pocahontas.

“What’s she doing in here?”

“It’s too cold in the barn. I’ve shut all the doors and battened the stall windows, but it’s still too cold for her. I found her shivering in her pen.”

That frightened Emma. Normally, Pokey weathered the winter fine. She knelt and stroked the pig’s head and neck. Everything seemed okay-clear eyes, perky ears, same disgusting slobber decorating her nose.

“I’ll make a bed for her in the laundry room.” Emma stood and kissed Stone passionately. “Thank you.”

His face suddenly flushed bright pink. “You’re welcome.”

He stepped over the pig and went directly to the bar. “I think I’ll have a glass of wine. Care for one?”

“Need you ask? Dinner’s almost done. I’ll tuck in Pokey then we can review the final checklist for the party.”

“I’d rather not.” Stone’s tone sounded strained, and she turned to look at him carefully. There were tight lines around his mouth detailing a strong running emotion floating beneath his carefully masked reserve. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“That sounds ominous.”

His lips curved up in a half smile. “Not nearly as ominous as Porkahontas’s mean streak.”

“Don’t joke. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that can’t be dealt with.” He turned away, preventing her from reading what flashed in his eyes. “Go put Porkie to bed.”

“Okay,” she said softly, her insides shredding into tiny shards of hot fire. This was it. He couldn’t handle her or her demands any longer. The party must’ve tipped the scales, forced him back into the hole he loved to bury himself within.

He’s going to leave.

Thoughts of River Run without Stone dominated her mind. She absently laid a comforter on the floor of the laundry room for Pocahontas then tossed an old pillow and blanket next to it. The pig grunted, snuggled into the downy pile and closed her eyes with a soft sigh of appreciation. Emma knelt next to her, covering her up and rubbing a hand along her side.

“What am I to do?”

Pokey didn’t answer. Emma stood and decided she’d better face the beast or else a serious bout of brooding threatened to erupt. Leaving the solace of her old friend, she stopped in the kitchen to check the status of dinner. The roast steamed and she pulled it out of the oven to allow it to finish the final stages of cooking.

She could feel Stone hovering behind her.

“Here’s your wine.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning to accept the glass.

Their eyes connected and a shiver ran through her entire system. He reached a hand across the slick granite surface separating them, and she reached back. Their fingers twined. He tugged her toward him, their bodies bent over the countertop placing their faces less than an inch apart.

“I need you,” he said hoarsely.

Her breath hitched. She suddenly understood the heart-in-throat analogy because words wouldn’t come. Emma felt tears burn the back of her eyes and blinked them away. “Are…are you leaving?” she finally managed to blurt out. His intense eyes floated with all sorts of emotions that were impossible to label.

“Someday.” Stone leaned closer, kissing her gently. “But not today.” He kissed her once more. “And when I go,” his tongue flicked out, teasing her mouth open. She inhaled his scent, welcoming the sweet invasion. “I hope I won’t be alone.”

Emma swallowed then broke the kiss, banking the desire curled deep within her core. “What are you saying Stone?”

She slipped her hand from his and walked around the counter to stand before him. He gazed down into her face, stroking her cheek with his knuckle.

“I don’t know what I’m saying. But I know what I’m feeling.”

“What’s that?” her heart paused, waiting, praying for three little words that would release the killing grip on her soul.

“Like someone crawling out of the devil’s hole and grasping the wing of an angel. And you’re that angel, Emma. You’re my ticket back to life.”

She didn’t try to stop the tears that welled then fell in a hot stream down her cheek. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it rang true enough for her.

“I love you, Stone.” Her heart stopped, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. Glancing beyond him, she focused on the milky-white moon cresting the jagged peaks of the Tetons. It cast a soft blue glow on the snow-capped ridge, sending waving fingers of shadowed light down toward the valley. She kept waiting for the cold touch of that ethereal hand to enter River Run and squeeze her soul into nothingness, to kill her hope.

She felt his touch instead.

A tentative stroke on her cheek, then a stronger pressure forcing her to look into his eyes. The light in the room shrank beneath the darkened evening, and she cursed her thoughtlessness at not switching on any lamps. She couldn’t read his face. “We’ve a lot to work through, Emma. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

This is his response to my soul bearing declaration
? She was stunned. “Such as?” Disappointment caused a harsh edge to her words. Emma retreated from Stone’s touch and slipped around him. She flipped on low wattage lamps and lit a myriad of candles scattered around the kitchen and living room.

A fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Stone sighed in exasperation and strode over to stoke the burning logs, coaxing the flames higher before he added more seasoned wood. “This isn’t easy for me,” he said.

“What isn’t? Obviously, you hold the upper hand because I’ve no clue what’s eating at you.” He stepped away from the hearth and turned a cold gaze in her direction.

“No clue?”

“No.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and stood her ground.

“I feel your touch on my skin every night. Calming, soothing, attempting to erase my nightmares. Until I’m able to forget the past, Emma, I don’t see how I can have a future.”

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together. She stepped toward him. He wasn’t rejecting her, he was rejecting himself. “You’ll never be able to forget, Stone. It’s not possible. What you have to do is remember…not just the pain, but the happiness as well. In time, the bad does fade and the days become greater between sadness. Each year,” she touched his arm and forced his attention. “I welcome January 1st not because it’s a new year but because it marks more time between the day my heart died and the present.” She shrugged. “It helps. Maybe, if you tell me about it and release some of that guilt…that might help, too.”

“I can’t. It’s classified.” He turned away from her and stared into the flickering flames. “I can tell you I killed my men. I led them into an ambush, and they were massacred. Every last one of them…except for me.”