Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge Read online

  She had only read a couple of pages when a noise from outside caught her attention. At first she thought it was the wind thrashing against the cottage walls, then realized it was the actual physical thumping of either a large animal or person.

  Not having seen a single sole since her arrival, Laura pictured an enormous and angry bear in search of food and shelter. Nervously, she searched her surroundings for some type of weapon. Her eyes fell upon the beady eyes of the elk. “Some good you'll do.”

  The thumping reached the front of the house and was now nearing the cottage's entrance. Laura held her breath, then leaped into action. Grabbing the cast iron poker from the fireplace, she quietly approached the entrance, poker posed above her head ready to kill.

  It all happened so quickly, she hadn't a moment’s thought. The heavy wooden door swung open and a large dark form loomed forebodingly, the wind howling directly behind it. Instinctively, Laura screamed then with all her strength, brought the poker forcibly down.

  Just before the blow reached her victim, it raised its head and cried out, “What the—”

  Shock struck her, after she struck him. “Dexter?”

  He moved but not nearly fast enough, the edge of the poker caught a corner of his face. Immediately, he collapsed to his knees, crying out in pain.

  Aghast, Laura dropped the poker and fell to her knees beside him. “Oh God, are you all right?”

  He was still conscious, unbelievably. Foul language rolled off his tongue as he angrily placed a hand against the infliction. When he removed it, Laura nearly fainted. It was covered in blood.

  “Oh God.” Tears stung her eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

  Furious eyes shot to her anguished expression, then dropped to her tear streaked cheeks, before jerking to his feet. “You stupid woman, you nearly killed me.”

  “Let me help you.” She grasped his elbow in unsteady hands.

  “Don't touch me!” he barked. “You've done enough damage.”

  He moved forward and stumbled over something. “For pity's sake, turn some damn lights on.”

  “I-I can't, the hydro has gone out.”

  He cursed again. “Is that why it's so damn cold in this place?”

  “Come near the fireplace and get warm.” She led him to the couch and watched as he dropped lifelessly against the pillows. Pang pierced her heart even as he growled up at her.

  “Well, don't just stand there, get me some warm water and clean towels. There's a first aid kit—”

  “I know, I know.” She quickly turned and hurried out of the room. In the kitchen she found the first aid kit, a large bowl to fill with warm water, and plenty of clean towels.

  Five minutes later she returned, placing the bowl on a nearby table and began soaking a cloth. Turning on her knees, she reached up to begin cleaning the wound, when he snatched her wrist in a fierce grip. “I think I can manage without your help.”

  Hurt, but allowing him to remove the cloth from her hand, she watched in grief as he cleansed his wounded mouth, his face grimacing in pain. Without realizing it, she began crying all over again. It wasn't until he finished then returned the cloth to her when he noticed her tears.

  “Now what?” He tried to look angry but appeared more troubled.

  Crying harder, she sobbed, “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.”

  With a steady gaze he stared at her blubbering face for many silent minutes, when at last he muttered, “Could you help me with the bandage?”

  She nodded, still crying, as she removed the large square adhesive from its package. Cried even harder as she placed it over the wound and caused him to flinch.

  Without warning, and entirely out of character, he suddenly took pity on her. Reaching up, he placed his hands around her waist and drew her into his embrace. The result made her tears increase. At this point, however, Laura was almost sure it had nothing to do with the wound.

  “It's not that bad. It just hurts slightly.” He spoke above her head. “It could have been worse.”

  She stayed there many minutes before her crying was under control and she was able to pull herself together. But even then, she didn't want to leave the warm and safe haven of his arms. A place she was hardly allowed to visit.

  Gently, he began to pull her away. “Feeling better?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” An uncustomary smile peeked out of the unwounded side of his mouth. “Look, if I ever need my house guarded, I know who to call.”

  “That's not funny.” She punched him in the arm.

  “Ouch! What are you trying to do, torture me until the bitter end?”

  “That didn't hurt.”

  “How do you know what makes me hurt?” He became cold once again, and unexpectedly serious. “God knows I deserve it.”

  Laura looked up. “What?”

  He paused, weighing what he would say next, then decided on, “I didn't say anything.”

  Glancing around the room, he took in his surroundings. “If the hydro has gone out, I suggest you don't let the fire burn out. The electric baseboard heaters will be useless.”

  “Oh, I didn't think of that.” She got to her feet. “I better go get some wood.”

  His head snapped up. “Out there, in that? Are you crazy?”

  “Well I have no replenishment. I'll have to.”

  “No replenish—” Aghast, he turned his attention back to the now empty stack of wood near the fireplace. Getting to his feet, he muttered, “Of all the idiotic—”

  “I said I'd get it.”

  “I'll be damned if I'll leave my well-being in your incompetent hands.”

  “Well I never asked you—” Her words dropped off as a thought occurred to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. And where the devil have you been all this time?” He moved over to the door. Laura followed quietly behind him.

  “Right here. Your mother was so nice as to—” She stopped speaking as well as walking. “Wait a minute. Why did you ask where I’ve been? Have you been looking for me? Did your mother tell you where to find me?”

  “Hardly. She’s been very tight-lipped where you are concerned.” He gave her a displeased look before continuing. “I needed to get away. And what I believed to be solitude turns out to be already occupied. I'd leave except for one minor detail.”

  “The storm,” she stated.

  “Make that two minor details. The last gas station before here was closed. I thought I’d make it before I ran out, but my car stalled along the county road. I had to walk the rest of the distance to get here.”

  “Oh.”

  Silently she watched as he opened the door again and disappeared from sight. She felt a pang of guilt. With his injury, she really should have gone. Biting her lip, she waited anxiously for his return.

  At last a big yellow wheelbarrow loaded with firewood, followed by a windblown snow-covered Dexter pushed opened the door.

  Anxiously, she followed him back to the fireplace and began unloading the wood hoping he would remove his wet garments and dry himself in front the warm fire. However, he didn't. Instead he retraced his steps, returning five minutes later with a new load of wood, repeated the routine until at last the stack was refilled once again.

  When at last he did remove his wet coat and soaking boots, the first words out of his mouth were, “I'b beat. I'b boing beb.”

  “Pardon?” She frowned, then her eyes widened in horror. “Your injured mouth, it froze. You can't speak.”

  He simply nodded his head, then turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  Frustrated, he gestured upstairs.

  “You can't sleep up there. The bedrooms are freezing.”

  He closed his eyes and Laura could almost hear him counting to ten in an effort to compose his temper.

  Quickly, she stated, “There's a pull-out couch here in the living room. It's quite warm in front of the fireplace.”

  His dark eyes shot her a l
ook.

  She frowned, puzzled. “What?”

  “Wheb you sweeb?”

  Frowning harder, she attempted to understand his garbled words. “I don't understand.”

  Sighing in frustration, he gestured toward the couch, then jutted a finger in her chest then pointed the same finger back at the couch.

  Laura's eyes grew in shock. “How dare you? I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last—”

  Dexter shot his eyes heavenward before turning to the other couch, which did not pull out, and dropped his big weight on it.

  Ashamed, Laura bit her lip. He wanted her to take the sofa bed. “Thank you. Though I think it best if you sleep here. What with your injury and all.”

  He sat up angrily. “I'b hurb my moub, I'b not pawawized!”

  Again she shook her head.

  Totally perturbed by this point, he stupidly tried to clarify, “I'b hurb my mout—@#&*!” Though the words were unclear, the cry was not. Immediately, she went to him.

  “Don't talk, you'll only open the wound again.”

  The look he shot her was utter annoyance.

  Wanting only to heal, she reached up and gently placed a finger alongside the bandage.

  She half expected him to angrily thrust her hand aside but, instead, was surprised to discover he allowed her to tenderly stroke his swollen lip. Her eyes focused only on his lips, with the flickering shadows of the fire dancing across his handsome yet stern face.

  It occurred to Laura then that he had gone completely still. Overcome with emotion, she allowed her feelings to take over her good sense. Gingerly, she trailed her fingertips down and off the adhesive and on to the soft moist swelling of his bottom lip. Beneath her touch, she felt him tense then release an unsteady breath as his lip quivered against her fingers. Worried she might have offended, she snapped her hand back.

  Bewildered, she felt that same hand gently retrieved and placed back against his lips. Lifting her eyes, she came face to face with a man she had never seen before. His wonderful hazel eyes were mingled with dismay, desire and yes, even desperation. Quickly he dropped his gaze and closed the shutters on his emotions. And yet, he did not remove her hand. Instead, he began placing tiny flutter of kisses against their fingertips sending a shiver of delight up her arm.

  With his other hand he reached up and began blindly tracing his own fingers across her dazed lips. She gasped at the unexpected desire his touch evoked. He noted her reaction, giving the smallest devilish grin at the corner of his good mouth. Then with expertise, he allowed his lips to leave her fingertips, down their long sinewy lengths, across her now sweaty palm and around the pulsating nerves of her tiny wrist.

  At this, an unsteady gasp escaped her throat and fluttered across his rugged fingers still delighting in a leisurely exploration of her lips. Seizing the opportunity, he slid one finger into the folds of her moist mouth. Startled, Laura's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected arousal from such a simple act. Then acting on instinct, for it certainly could not have been anything else, she closed her lips around the rough skin of his masculine finger and began a sensual sucking both with her lips and tongue.

  To her surprise, Dexter's face suddenly went irate as he snatched his hand back. “Wherb youb learb dab?”

  “Pardon?” Shaken, both by his unexpected withdrawal as well as her unexpected arousal, she could only blankly stare at him.

  He cursed again, jumping to his feet.

  “Dexter, what is it? What's wrong?” Color flooded her face. “If you didn't like that, I can stop.”

  Pivoting in fury he glared at her. “Bibn't wike it? Whab hob-bobbed—”

  “Dexter I can't understand--”

  Like a mad man he reached for her. “How many otter men?”

  This she got the gist of. Her eyes grew in horror. “There are no otter-other men. How dare you? I'm about to give myself to you and the first thing you do is insult me. You were right all along, you are a cold cad.”

  She jumped to her feet and would have spun around, when he unexpectedly reached out and grabbed her upper arms, pulling her painfully into his embrace. Without a moment’s pause, his cold cynical mouth came crashing down on hers. But it only lasted a brief moment as a sharp reminder had him crying out in pain, pulling away with a hand to his injured mouth.

  Tears stung his eyes and Laura couldn't help but feel pity. “Are you all right?”

  When he didn't respond, she added in a low voice, “You deserved that.”

  His head snapped up and she could tell from his expression that he would have liked nothing better than to throttle her.

  Unexpectedly, she smiled. “Next time you kiss me, you might want to make sure you don't have a cut lip.”

  “Therb won't be a neb time,” he snarled through sore lips.

  She turned away and shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

  “Huh!” he barked behind her mockingly, but which Laura decided to ignore.

  “I'm going to bed, on the couch over there. I want you sleeping on the pull-out.”

  He mumbled something but didn't bother to argue.

  Leaving him with the chore of untangling the bed from the sofa, she went silently to the washroom where she undressed, washed up and changed into a warm pair of flannel pajamas. Giving her long brown hair one last gleaming brush, she quietly tiptoed back to the living room.

  In the entrance, she came to an abrupt halt. It was obvious Dexter had not heard her return for she was certain he would never had allowed Laura a glimpse of his nearly naked form. He moved about preparing for bed wearing only a pair of white boxers. She swallowed hard, watching in awe as the muscles flexed in his rather large biceps. Her hungry eyes devoured the sight of his rather broad chest and down his chiseled torso. Her fingers ached to reach out and touch the toughened skin as it rippled across his sinewy strength.

  Too soon he moved and slipped beneath the covers, shutting out the sight of his wonderfully sculpted body from view. Taking a deep breath, she advanced into the room acting as if she had not glimpsed his gorgeous nakedness. Keeping her gaze averted, she dare not look in his direction in fear the arousal was still evident in her eyes.

  “Thab loobs cozy.” He jibed as she crossed the room.

  Impulsively, she snapped back. “Well it's certainly warmer than going naked.”

  Immediately she felt the hot flood of embarrassment stain her cheeks without needing to see the small smirk on his face, which she was certain he wore.

  Placing his hands behind his head and with a lethargic gaze, he watched as she self-consciously unfolded a blanket and tossed it, and herself, onto the couch.

  Glancing briefly in his direction before tossing her back to him, she said, “Goodnight.”

  She didn't think he was going to respond when it remained silent from his end of the room. Then his muffled response came from those frozen injured lips. “Goobnight.”

  Laying there silently for what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes, she listened for sounds coming from the opposite end of the room. It remained silent. She felt frustrated and increasingly uncomfortable with an urge to turn around. Though having Dexter realize her discomfort, was out of the question. She would rather suffer in silence if it meant remaining in that position all night. After a while, however, she began to relax and even punched her makeshift pillow into a more comfortable cushion. It seemed to have the desired effect for shortly afterwards she drifted into a restless sleep.

  * * *

  The fire had slowly burned itself out and left the room dim when Laura awoke with a thud. Blinking her eyes open, she found herself face down on the floor, minus her blanket. Pulling herself back on her heels she looked over at the now expired flames in the fireplace and shivered. The power obviously had not yet kicked in, leaving the room feeling well below fifteen degrees Celsius. Dragging the blanket over her shoulders, she quietly tiptoed over to the dying coals. A quick glance in Dexter's direction discovered him still sound asleep.


  After tossing a bundle of kindling wood into the hot coals, she began blowing until a tiny flame came to life. Rubbing her hands together over the warmth, she then added a couple of logs to help feed the fire.

  “Lord, it’s cold!” Dexter's voice startled her.

  She spun around and was confronted with his naked torso once again as he sat up on the sofa bed rubbing the back of his head sleepily.

  “Th-the fire died out.” With little success, she attempted to control her voice.

  Noticing her sitting by the fire he slipped his legs over the side of the bed, reached for his pants and slid them on before getting up and joining her by the fire. Immediately, she wished he hadn't. Or at the least, put a shirt on as well. For a woman of twenty-eight, she was unusually innocent. Never before had she ever been near a man as naked as he was at that moment. Cowardly, she drew further back into the shadows.

  Holding his hands over the flames, he repeated her earlier action and rubbed his hands together for warmth.

  “I guess the power hasn't come back on?” He looked her way momentarily, before shifting his attention back to the fire.

  She simply shook her head, not daring to speak. At her lack of speech he searched the dark corner she cowered in and noticed her shivering. “Come closer to the fire and warm up.”

  Against her better judgment, she did as commanded, grasping the blanket close to her chest.

  “You going to share that blanket?”

  Her hands froze. A sudden, very clear image of the two cuddled together under the close and warm enclosure of the woolen blanket, leaped remarkably visible in Laura's mind. She felt her entire body flush from the picture and shifted beneath his securitizing gaze.

  Noticing her sudden discomfort, he sighed heavily before getting to his feet. “I wasn't asking you to sleep with me.”

  He dragged a blanket off the sofa bed and returned to her side. Settling comfortably beside her and wrapping the blanket warmly around his shoulders and blocking out his naked torso, he said, “Happy?”