Sudden Pleasures

Chapter 10

It was raining when they left Venice. November weather had finally set in. There were a total of only five people in the first-class section of the plane. Ashley slept most of the trip, as did Ryan. They had had a sexual marathon that last day and night in the palazzo, because the weather was already getting lousy. And Ashley dreamed quite vividly during the flight. Dreamed of their naked bodies, all golden, reflected darkly in the mirror in the canopy above their bed. She had never seen-even imagined-anything so wickedly erotic as the images of the two of them vigorously fucking. She had never had so many orgasms in a night as she had had last night.

The first one had come, surprising her with its suddenness, when she watched her husband, his dark head between her pale thighs, kissing, nibbling, sucking, and licking her. The view was a completely different one from just gazing down her torso at him. Mesmerized by the portrait of him even as she felt his mouth and tongue on her clit, she went over the edge in an explosion of sensation that left her gasping for breath. And the night had continued on in that vein. At one point she had taken him in her mouth and milked him dry, his salty, creamy cum spurting down her throat, and he had groaned with his pleasure as he watched her in the mirror.

"Wake up, baby." Ryan's voice pierced her consciousness. "We're going to be landing shortly."

Ashley slowly opened her eyes. "How shortly?" she asked him.

"About forty minutes," he said.

The dream lingered, and frankly she was hot. She really needed to be screwed right now. "You promised me something," she murmured against his ear. Then she got up and headed for the first-class restroom, glancing over her shoulder once as she went to make meaningful eye contact with him.

Ryan couldn't help but grin when he realized to what she was referring. He waited a moment, and then followed her. The compartment was a bit larger than the one in tourist or business, but it was still small. He squeezed into it, throwing the lock shut, pulling her against him as she unzipped his trousers and slipped her hand in to fondle him. The thought of what she had in mind had already begun to have its effect, and it didn't take long for his^penis to stiffen and lengthen. "You are a very bad girl," he said softly as he backed her up against a bulkhead, his hands pushing up her skirt to her waist, discovering she wasn't wearing any panties. "Very bad." He chuckled as his hand cupped her mound, and he found that she was wet. Very wet.

"I was dreaming of last night," Ashley said, her lips against his lips. "You woke me up just as I was sucking you off," she told him.

His hands cupped her buttocks. She wrapped her legs about his middle as he raised her up just enough so that he could push into her wet, hot vagina. Sinking to the hilt, he whispered in her ear, "I love it when you're bad, baby." Then he began to fuck her with quick, sharp strokes until they both quickly climaxed and collapsed weakly against each other. "Welcome to the Mile-high Club, Ash," he said softly, kissing her mouth.

"You are probably the best husband in the world," Ashley said with a deep sigh. She pulled her skirt down. "I really was dreaming about us last night, and when you woke me I was so hot. Now I'll make it home." She turned and washed her hands in the tiny sink, then dried them. "I'll go first," she told him, and slipped from the small compartment, walking back down the wide aisle to her seat. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a small pair of silk briefs, and, since there was no one around them, Ashley slipped them on as Ryan reached their seat.

He grinned. "You weren't wearing those when we got on the plane?"

"Hey, you said you were going to initiate me into the Mile-high Club," Ashley answered. "I thought it better not to wear them until after we had our little rendezvous."

He laughed, genuinely amused. If he had let nature take its course, could he have found a better wife, a life partner, a mate, than Ashley? He didn't think so. And it had been so easy to fall in love with her. He had told Bianca that very thing a couple of nights ago. Restless, he had gotten up and wandered downstairs to the main salon. He had seen Bianca out on the tiled terrace smoking, and had joined her. They really hadn't had a moment alone to talk privately, and they had a lot of catching up to do.

It had been twenty-three years since he had last seen her. He was surprised to see how well she had aged. Hardly at all. Of course, her elderly husband was dead now many years, and he was curious as to why she had never remarried. She had laughed that husky laugh of hers that he still found sexy, and said she enjoyed her freedom.

"I am wealthy. I have my interests, and am on several committees regarding the preservation and well-being of Venezia, cara . When it amuses me I take a lover, but never for too long. And I am very discreet. I am content as I near sixty. My family understands, and I do not have to be alone if I do not choose to be."

"I never had an opportunity to thank you," Ryan said quietly.

"Thank me? For what, cara ?" the contessa asked him.

Ryan smiled. "For taking a boy and turning him into a man that summer. Whatever I've learned about pleasing a woman, Bianca, I learned from you when I was sixteen. I couldn't have had a better tutor. Thank you, cara ."

She laughed. "It was very bad of me. I should not have seduced you, Ryan. Your poor mother. I will never forget the look on her face when she confronted me with it. It was very wrong of your sister to tell her. Our affair would have ended quite naturally when you returned to America in September. I was so sorry your mother felt she had to take you and your sisters home immediately, but at least your father remained to finish his course those last two weeks. He moved in with Venutti, you know."

"I didn't," Ryan said.

"Have you thought of me over the years?" the contessa asked him.

"I have, Bianca, with gratitude. That summer is a bittersweet memory," Ryan told her, and he took her hand and kissed it. "To have loved you once made me realize the treasure that I have in my Ashley. You were my first love. She is, will be, my last love."

"She is a charming and intelligent girl, cara . I hope you will tell her about our summer one day. Perhaps you should have told her about it before you came."

"It is in the past, Bianca," Ryan said. Yes, it was in the past, he thought. The door had closed on it years ago.

"We'll be landing shortly, Mr. and Mrs. Mulcahy," the steward said. "You might want to fasten your safety belts. Weather is fair in New York, and the temperature is currently fifty degrees. Will you have anything to declare?"

"No," Ryan said. "It was a business trip."

"Then you should zip right through customs," the steward replied.

"Bill will be meeting us," Ashley reminded her husband. "And how about those nightgowns in my luggage?"

"Declare them if you want," Ryan said, "but they're women's clothing, and it's your bag, and we'll get through faster if we don't."

"There is a decidedly larcenous streak in you, Ryan Mulcahy," she told him.

They landed smoothly, collected their two bags, and breezed through customs. Bill was awaiting them immediately on the other side of the barrier with a porter, who carried the bags to the car to be loaded into the trunk. Seeing all the people around them vying for taxies, Ashley appreciated the convenience that money could buy. Bill piloted them home without incident, and as they came up the driveway in the dusk of early evening, Ashley realized how glad she was to be home.

The camera system had been installed and perfected at Ryan's business while they had been in Venice. And Frankie had turned a large room and a small adjoining room at the top of the house into an office for her brother while they had been gone.

The next day Ashley returned to Lacy Nothings, and Ryan went upstairs to his new offices to check on the workshop in the city.

Driving down to the shop, Ashley enjoyed the last of the autumn color. In the back of her Solstice were the six negligees she had purchased from Valentina in Venice. She wanted Nina to see them before she sent them into the New York shop. Nina was already in the shop waiting for her. The two women embraced.

"Was it wonderful?" Nina wanted to know.

"It was perfect. The contessa is lovely. She showed me all the high points of Venice herself while Ryan worked to get her piece of furniture packed and ready for shipping. The palazzo was incredible. We could see the whole city and the Grand Canal from our bedroom. And, Nina! The bed was seventeenth-century, with a mirror in the canopy! Oh, the food was good too, but a little too much seafood for my taste."

"A mirror in the top of the bed?" Nina chuckled. "I'll have to program that into one of my fantasies for the Channel. Maybe I'll go to Venice and take Casanova for a lover. I think I'll be a sexy sixteen-year-old virgin for him."

Ashley giggled. "You know, I had such a good time I didn't even miss the Channel. I'm probably not going to need it now. Ryan and I are getting along terrifically. And wait till you see what I brought back from Venice for the New York shop. I found a source. She has silkworms, a mulberry orchard, peasant women who actually spin the silk, and she designs the most gorgeous negligees. I bought six."

"We can't sell them?" Nina said.

"They are going to be outrageously expensive, and I believe the city shop is the only one in which we'll carry them. Valentina will ship me six garments, three times a year. Everything is handmade. She just can't do any more, and she has her own shop. We'll have them for Christmas, Valentine's, and the June brides." She set the embroidered satin lingerie case on the shop counter and opened it up.

"Wow!" Nina said, looking down at the ice blue silk nightgown on top. Carefully she examined it, noting the almost invisible stitches. "It's only two pieces," she said. "It's amazing. And it's so simple, but my God, it's sophisticated and elegant. I agree. This is strictly for the city shop. We couldn't sell this in Egret Pointe." She looked at the other five garments. Then she said, "You want me to ship these to Suzette?"

"Yes, but first we have to remove Valentina's labels and sew in our own. I told her not to put her labels in when she sends us the shipments from now on," Ashley said.

Nina nodded. "You're right. We don't want anyone learning our source for these gorgeous negligees. They are going to make the city shop's reputation. Suzette knows some important people. Some actress is going to end up wearing one of these."

"It's getting near Thanksgiving," Ashley said. "Has the town committee decided exactly what the windows theme is to be this year?"

"Winter Wonderland," Nina answered. "The bulletin came last week."

"Ohh, then I had better get started working on a design," Ashley replied.

The days that followed seemed to fly by. The wardrobe arrived from Venice, and Ryan went into the city for a few days to supervise the unpacking and start his craftsmen on the restoration. They spent a quiet Thanksgiving, inviting Lina, Frankie, her son, and Nina to dinner. December came, and on the ninth the florist delivered a Waterford crystal vase of lavender roses with a card reading, Happy Birthday, cara Ashley, Bianca.

"Oh, I feel terrible," Ashley said. "Her birthday was on the third."

"Don't," Ryan said. "It's her way to remember things like that. She did not expect you to remember her birthday."

"The local florist is in shock that someone would have a Waterford vase delivered to him in which to put flowers," Ashley said.

That night as they sat down to the birthday dinner Mrs. B. had cooked for Ashley, Ryan said, "You haven't asked what I got you for your birthday."

"No, I haven't," she said, smiling.

He handed her a jeweler's box, and, opening it, Ashley saw a beautiful round canary yellow diamond set in Irish red gold. "I never got you an engagement ring," he said quietly. "I had the ring made for you in Venice and sent home for Byrnes to secrete. I didn't want you to find it before I gave it to you."

"Oh, Ryan," Ashley said softly as she took the ring from the velvet and slipped it on her finger. "It's beautiful. I've heard of yellow diamonds, but never before seen one."

"I thought it suited you," he answered. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you, darling," she replied, leaning over and kissing his lips.

That weekend they began decorating the house for the holidays. Byrnes went off to the local nursery and returned with garlands of princess pine, which were then wrapped about the columns on the portico, and strung between them with lights. A enormous wreath of pine, pinecones, red berries, and white heather was hung on the front door. Electric candles were set in every window of the house, and on the twentieth Ryan and Ashley went back to the nursery to choose trees for the living room, the dining room, and the small parlor of their bedroom suite. A ten-footer had already been delivered and set up in the center of the round foyer. It was decorated with red plaid bows, papier-mâché lacquered red apples, and white lights. The one in the dining room had green and burgundy silk bows, and multicolored glass balls in ruby, sapphire, emerald, amethyst, gold, and silver. It had tiny white lights. The tree in the living room was done with Victorian ornaments, many of them authentic and beautifully preserved. It had multicolored tiny fairy lights.

The tree they had chosen for the parlor in their bedroom suite was set on a round table that was covered with a dark green velvet cloth. The table was placed near the fireplace. The tree was decorated with painted glass balls that depicted the various activities in Santa's workshop, and little red velvet bows. Its lights were multicolored.

"This is where we will put our gifts for us," Ashley said softly. "I have a very special gift for you on our first Christmas together, Ryan." And she smiled mischievously at him. "And I've found some boy toys that you'll like too," she teased.

"What do I buy the woman who has everything?" he asked candidly.

"I like beautiful and unusual things. And soft things. And you can always add to my Santa collection," she told him.

"The one in the dining room on the sideboard?" he asked her. "That's one fantastic accumulation of Saint Nicks."

Ashley laughed. "My grandmother started it for my father when he was a little boy. My mother added several pieces in the years that they were married. I began adding to it after my brother was killed," she told him. "I'm always looking. Ohh, Ryan! It's going to be the best Christmas ever! The house hasn't been so full in ages, and Christmas is when a house should be filled with family and laughter."

"Did you have to invite them all?" he asked in a pained tone.

"Ryan, Christmas Day will be our four-month anniversary. I know your older sisters are difficult, but surely by now they have accepted the fact that we are married. That what began as a marriage of convenience for us both has by some miracle turned into a love match. They backed off their attempts to sue you, didn't they?"

"Only because Ray and their lawyers told them to forget about it. They didn't have a leg to stand on. Dad's will just said I had to marry by forty, and I did. I won't be forty until spring. And Ma made some pretty dire threats. Remember, she's got a lot of money herself to leave one day, and the harpies are greedy."

"They just need to get to know me better," Ashley said. "Didn't they all accept our invitation for Christmas?"

"You asked them for two nights, Ash. They're dying to see how you live. Frankie has been enjoying torturing them. Having the harpies here is going to be pure hell on wheels." Ryan groaned.

"It will be fine," Ashley assured her husband.

He looked dubious, but there was nothing he could do to prevent his older sisters and their husbands from descending on them en masse for the holiday. For one thing, Mrs. Byrnes had been cooking up a storm. And Byrnes had been polishing more silver than Ryan had ever imagined even existed. And the daily housekeeper had, with Ashley's permission, been bringing two other women with her for ten days now. All the bedrooms were turned out: rugs, draperies, and hangings vacuumed, furniture dusted, the beds made with lavender-scented linens, feather beds, and lovely, puffy goose-down comforters. On the day their guests were arriving, small vases of red carnations and green pine were put in each of the bedrooms. By the time the extra-long limousine pulled up to disgorge his relations, Ryan was almost resigned. It was Christmas Eve, and the house smellcd ‹›t pine and cinnamon. He was in love with his wife, and lie-couldn't have imagined a year ago at this time how happy he would be. "Welcome to Kimbrough Hall!" he boomed jovially, standing on the portico. He embraced his mother.

They came up to him in birth order, as they had always done. Bride and Peter Franklin; Elisabetta and Paul Sweeney; Kathleen and Kevin McGuire; Magdalena and Frank Butler; Deirdre and Robert Napoli; Frankie and her son, Michael O'Connor. He greeted them each, and they moved on to Ashley, who stood next to her husband.

"Quite the lord of the manor, aren't we?" Bride said sharply.

"As a matter of fact, he is now," Ashley replied, smiling. "I'm so glad you could all come. Let's go in. It's cold. Byrnes will take your coats." She turned to speak to their own chauffeur, who was standing nearby. "Bill, will you help the limo driver with the luggage, please? Thank you." She led her guests inside, where Byrnes was waiting.

"Boy, you sure fell into it, didn't you?" the limo driver who knew Bill said.

Bill grinned. "It's like the old days my granddad used to tell me about, when he worked for a family. I even got my own digs above the garage."

The limo driver whistled. Then he said, "Let's get these bags inside. I got a long trip back to town, and the wife will have my head if I'm not back in time for church tonight." He opened the trunk of the car, and together the two men began getting the bags into the house, where Byrnes was waiting for them. Helping them, he led them upstairs, showing them the bedrooms where the bags were to be deposited. Then, coming back down, he handed the limo driver a plain white envelope.

"Merry Christmas from Mr. and Mrs. Mulcahy," he said. "There'll be another envelope when you come to pick them up on the twenty-sixth. Drive carefully." Byrnes opened the front door and ushered the driver out.

To Ryan's surprise the evening went smoothly. They sat down to a supper of shrimp cocktail, followed by small plates of pasta with a simple marinara sauce, followed by Dover sole broiled in butter with lemon, a marvelous casserole of carrots made with cheese and cream, tiny potato puffs, and a green salad. Dessert was a plain caramel custard in individual cups topped with raspberries.

Angelina Mulcahy smiled, well pleased. Her new daughter-in-law, while not a Roman Catholic, had known that December twenty-fourth was a fast day, although she hardly thought the lovely feast placed before them would qualify as a fast. She noted that her daughters and their spouses were eating to the point of silence. "Is there a church we may attend tonight?" Lina asked Ashley.

"St. Anne's," Ashley told her. "Ryan can take five in his car, and Bill will take the rest in the limo I rented for the weekend. The mass begins at eleven. That's why we've eaten early. I thought you all might like a little nap before church."

"Will you be going with us?" Kathleen asked pointedly.

Ashley shook her head. "I'll be at St. Luke's. I'm an Anglican. I'm driving myself. And before you ask, I don't intend to convert to Roman Catholicism. If this were a perfect world there would be no differences in religion to divide us, but it isn't a perfect world, and I prefer my own church." She smiled at Ryan's family.

"Will you ever get married in the Church?" Bride wanted to know.

"Yes," Ashley said, but added nothing more.

"And your children? That is, if you have any," Elisabetta said. "How will you raise them, I'd like to know?"

"I'm sure you would." Ryan stepped into the conversation, which was beginning to lean toward confrontational. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, girls, I think that is enough questions for tonight." He saw his eldest sister, Bride, smile just ever so slightly, and thought, My God, I think she's actually beginning to warm up.

At ten thirty the cars were ready, and they were transported to St. Anne's. Ashley honked and waved at them as she passed them by, pulling up at the pretty stone church across the street. Both churches let out at approximately the same time, and Ryan asked Frankie to drive his car home while he joined his wife. They led the way back to Kimbrough Hall. There they found whiskeyed eggnog and hot mulled cider, along with very thin slices of an almost black and extremely rich fruitcake awaiting them.

"This is fruitcake?" Angelina was surprised.

"It's how the Irish make it," Ashley told her mother-in-law. "It's my great-great-grandmother's recipe. It's one of the few things I actually make every year."

"It doesn't taste at all like those disgusting light fruitcake bricks we had to sell in Catholic school," Frankie noted. "Remember, we used to kid about using them to build a house." She laughed. "All those yucky candied cherries, and big pieces of nuts."

Everyone departed for bed. The tree in the living room was now surrounded by gifts, as each of the sisters had brought presents. Ashley walked through the house, smiling to herself. She had a really big surprise tomorrow for her husband. She stood for a moment in the living room, darkened now but for the dying fire in the fireplace. It was well after midnight, and there was absolute magic in the air. She could feel it. Going upstairs, she noted it was silent behind all the bedroom doors. She entered their bedroom suite to find Ryan standing naked, a large red bow about his very distended cock.

Ashley giggled. "You're kidding," she said.

"You don't like my present?" he said.

"I want to know how you got it that way without me," she replied.

He grinned. "I've got a talented hand and a great imagination."

"Well, I suppose I should try it on for size," she said as she began to pull off her turtleneck. "It looks like it might be a good fit, darling." She unfastened her lacy bra and tossed it aside. Then she kicked off the slippers she always wore in the house when she wasn't barefooted, unzipped her slacks, pulled them off, pulled down her silk briefs, and stepped out of them. She was quite naked now. Reaching out, she undid the bow adorning his long, thick penis, let it drop, and then, wrapping her hand about him, she led him into their bedroom.

Pushing him down on the bed, she climbed atop him, her butt toward his head, and, leaning down, captured his dick between her two full breasts, moving it up and down.

"Ohh, baby," he murmured as he hardened seriously. His hands reached out to squeeze her cute ass cheeks.

"You like?" she asked him. Her tongue snaked out to lick at the tip of his cock.

"Yesss!" he hissed. "Hike."

She took the tip of him between her lips and rotated her tongue about him. "Mmmm," she said. Then she bent lower and sucked him deep into her mouth and throat, but she was careful with him, because she didn't want him to come in her mouth this time. For a moment or more she sucked him, and then released him, gasping as she did when Ryan pushed a finger deep into her ass. "Ohh, my!" He had never done that before. She squeezed her butt cheeks together hard.

He chuckled and rotated the finger. "You like?" he parroted her query of a few moments before.

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"We'll get a nice little dildo and play sometime. I think we should expand our horizons, don't you?" he said softly as he withdrew the single finger.

"Oh, God, am I boring you?" Ashley asked, turning around to face him.

"You will never bore me, baby," Ryan told her. Then he rolled her over and thrust himself into her wet pussy. "This is where I belong!"

Ashley wrapped herself around him and let him fuck her until she was weak with pleasure. He took her high, and she scratched and bit and screamed as he groaned and finally, as they climaxed together, shouted. Afterward she giggled as they lay together, replete and satisfied.

"Good thing we're way down the hall from everyone else," she said. "The harpies would sure as hell be jealous."

He chuckled. "Fuck 'em!" he said, and she laughed.

"That was your first Christmas gift," she told him.

"Yours too," he responded, pulling her into his arms, and then yanking the down quilt over them.

They fell asleep, waking several hours later to the smell of coffee in their sitting room. Byrnes had crept quietly in, as he did almost every morning, to bring it. Getting up, they pulled on robes and went out to find the tray decorated with a sprig of holly and containing a plate of cinnamon rolls and butter as well. They fell upon the food, realizing that their exertions several hours previous had given them an appetite.

"Can we open our presents?" Ryan asked boyishly, and she nodded.

Together, like two kids, they took turns pulling off Christmas paper and opening the boxes beneath their small tree. They had decided beforehand to limit their gifts to two each. Ashley's boxes contained a red cashmere turtleneck sweater and a beautiful gold chain, at the end of which was a ruby heart. It was the necklace that caused her to cry. She had gotten Ryan a beautiful antique gold and bejeweled miniature triptych she had found in Venice with Bianca's help, and a leather desk set for his new office. He was delighted with both.

"We hung our stockings for Santa," Ashley reminded him. "I see there's something in yours. You'd better go check it."

"I thought we said two gifts. I forgot about the stocking. Stocking gifts don't figure in the total, do they?" He looked a little distressed.

"You'll remember next year. Go see what Santa left you," she encouraged him.

"Probably a lump of coal." He grinned. Reaching in, he pulled out a narrow rectangular box all beautifully gift wrapped. Carefully he pulled the paper off of it. Probably a new watch, he thought. Lifting the box lid and then the tissue, he stared down, confused, at the plastic rectangle with the pink plus sign. "What is it?" he asked her.

"A pregnancy test kit I took the other day," she said softly.

Ryan's mouth dropped open. He stared down at the pink plus, and then he looked up at Ashley. A smile suddenly split his handsome face. "We're going to have a baby?" he said in a husky voice.

"We're going to have a baby," Ashley told him, smiling back.

"When?"

"Sometime next August," she told him. "I think it was that mirror in the canopy above the bed in Venice that did it," Ashley teased him.

"We gotta get married," he said. "Right away!"

"We are married," she reminded him.

"Not in the eyes of the Church," he told her nervously.

"If it will make you happy, then fine," Ashley agreed. "But it has to be with your priest and mine, Ryan."

"No argument," he replied. "But right after the holiday, okay?"

"Fine," she told him. "I'd like to tell your family today after dinner."

He nodded. "Ma will be so pleased, especially since we're going to get married now."

"We are married, you dumb Eyetie-Mick!" she insisted. "It's legal."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, but not without the Church's blessing. Bear with me on this one. I can't help the way I was raised," Ryan said.

Ashley laughed. "I like the way you was raised," she teased him.

They finished their coffee, dressed, and went downstairs to greet their guests.

Byrnes had laid out a breakfast buffet on the library table in the living room. After a good night's sleep and a lot of rather excellent food, the five elder Mulcahy sisters were leaning toward acceptance of their new sister-in-law. Outrageous promises from their husbands had helped to cool their disappointment over losing the monies they had hoped to gain from selling R &R. They exchanged gifts with one another, their youngest sister, nephew, mother, brother, and Ashley.

"They're actually laughing," Frankie's son, Michael, whispered to his mother. "I never saw your sisters laugh so much."

"Scary, isn't it?" Frankie murmured back.

"Behave yourselves, the pair of you," Angelina scolded softly.

"Sorry, Nonna ," Michael replied.

At four o'clock in the afternoon Christmas dinner was served.

"I wasn't certain what your traditions were," Ashley apologized, "and so I asked Mrs. B. to do prime rib, which my family has always served, a ham, and a turkey." She noted that most of her guests took a little of everything, and realized that she had just begun a new tradition. There were potatoes done about the beef, a sweet-potato casserole, and mashed potatoes, along with French-cut green beans, mashed turnips, creamed onions, and a fruit salad. There were freshly baked rolls, butter, and cranberry and horseradish sauce.

"Where do you get such fresh beans?" Magdalena wanted to know.

"We have a small greenhouse where we grow them, along with peas, lettuces, radishes, carrots, spinach, and baby beets in the winter. We tried growing tomatoes, but it's a small greenhouse, and we haven't room to heat it enough. We pick the beans young."

"It's like being in your own little private world," Kathleen put in. "Is there any crime out here?"

"A little," Ashley said. "Egret Pointe isn't paradise, but it's as close as you can get to it, I think. Most of the crime is kid stuff, and when you live in a small town like this you get found out pretty fast. Everybody knows who you are, who your parents and family are, and what you did."

"Drugs?" Kevin McGuire asked.

"The kids get what they want, but they aren't getting it in the village. It's probably at the nearby mall," Ashley said.

When they had finished dinner, which concluded with Ashley's homemade plum pudding, mince and apple pies, and an ice-cream bombe created from chocolate, vanilla, and raspberry sherbert, along with coffee and tea, they returned to the living room, where the tree's glow reflected itself in the window, and the fire crackled. Ashley went to the library table, now set with a tray of liqueurs, and offered her guests an after-dinner drink.

"That's a beautiful engagement ring you're wearing," Bride noted.

"Ryan had it made for me in Venice when we were there last month," Ashley said proudly. "He gave it to me on my birthday. And I got this necklace for Christmas." She held up the gold chain with the ruby heart.

"Did you like Venice?" Elisabetta asked.

"Very much," Ashley responded. "We stayed with the Contessa di Viscontini in her palazzo. It's gorgeous, and she was so nice to us. Ryan is restoring a family piece that she found in an Austrian village shop."

"I think you're very broad-minded," Deirdre said softly.

"Why on earth would you say that?" Ashley asked her.

"Staying with your husband's former mistress," Deirdre replied. "I'm afraid I couldn't be that sophisticated, Ashley." She smiled a small smile.

The room had grown deathly silent, but before Ashley could even consider what she could possibly say to her sister-in-law, Ryan was on his feet.

"Bianca di Viscontini was never my mistress," he shouted. "Jesus, Dee, I was sixteen the last time I saw her. I haven't seen or spoken with her in twenty-three years!"

"You fucked her, Ryan," Deirdre said calmly. "All summer long that year."

"Deirdre Mary Mulcahy!" Angelina exclaimed. "I don't want to hear language like that coming out of your mouth ever again. How dare you! And in front of your nephew to boot. Apologize to Ryan and his wife at once!"

"Why? Are you going to pretend it didn't happen, Ma?" Deirdre asked.

"The contessa seduced your brother that summer. She should not have done such a thing, but sometimes women do things they should not. She apologized, and sooner or later your brother was going to gain carnal knowledge. If the truth be known, and God only knows I never thought I should say this aloud, but if your brother was to know a woman-and I knew he wasn't going to be a priest-I am just as glad it was Bianca di Viscontini who initiated him. Italian women know how to love and be loved. But she was hardly Ryan's mistress, and as soon as you came and told me what was going on we left Venice." Angelina's color was high with a mixture of distress and anger.

Ryan was obviously furious. "Why the hell did you bring this up now?" he demanded of his sister. "Is it impossible for the Mulcahy sisters to get through a family gathering without starting a riot?"

"I told you that one day I would get back at you for Carlo," Deirdre said.

"Uncle Ryan had a mistress when he was sixteen?" young Michael O'Connor said admiringly. "How cool is that? Just wait till I tell the guys in my dorm."

Frankie began to giggle, and even the withering look her mother sent her couldn't stop her laughter.

"Who the hell is Carlo?" Ryan wanted to know. "And what the hell did I do to him? You are off your nut, Dee. You need serious help."

"You don't even remember, do you?" Deirdre said dramatically. "Carlo Fabiano was the love of my life, and you told Dad some filthy lies about him. If you hadn't I wouldn't have told Ma about you and the contessa. We wouldn't have left Venice! Maybe I would have never left Venice."

"Are you talking about the slimeball you dated that summer? The one who had bets all over Venice with his friends on how long it would take him to get into your pants?" Ryan snapped at his older sister, astounded. "I saved your stupid butt, sis."

"I didn't believe that story you told Dad then, and I don't believe it now. Carlo loved me. He wanted to marry me," Deirdre said angrily.

"You were to be a notch on his bedpost, stupida ," Ryan told her. "He had no intention of marrying you. Dad questioned him about that. Know what he said? He said he had to finish university first, and then he was going to law school. And his own father told Dad that the family was arranging a marriage for Carlo with a distant cousin when he finished his education. She was an heiress, and guess what? It all happened just the way we were told. The little prick is a big-shot lawyer in Milano, and is married to his fat, rich cousin. You only escaped with your virtue intact because one of the young men who knew Carlo and had met you thought Carlo was no gentleman, but that you were a proper virgin and needed to be protected. So he told me. And I told Dad. You don't have to thank me, Deirdre," Ryan finished sarcastically.

Deirdre's husband had listened to the exchange, surprised. "How soon after this love of your life did you marry me?" he asked her sarcastically.

Ashley had finally regained her composure. She was furious at Deirdre, and angrier at Ryan. "Robert," she said, addressing her brother-in-law, "I would prefer that you continue this discussion with your wife when you get home. Deirdre, if you don't shut your mouth this instant, I will throttle you myself. I will not have discord in my home, and especially at Christmas, which is supposed to be a season of peace."

"Wow," Michael O'Connor said softly. "Uncle Ryan got laid at sixteen."

Angelina threw up her hands in exasperation, but the boy's continued fascination with Ryan's teenage behavior caused enough laughter to break the tension in the room.

"Gimme a little more of that Madeira sherry," Kevin McGuire said. "You keep a good table, Ashley. It's been a wonderful Christmas for us because of you."

Ashley smiled. "Thanks," she said. "It's certainly been the most interesting holiday I can ever remember in this house."

"Who is the distinguished gentleman whose portrait is hanging over the fireplace?" Kathleen asked.

"That's my grandfather, Edward Livingston Kimbrough," she answered. "There are other ancestor portraits hanging all over the house. The one in the front hall is the Kimbrough who built the hall."

The rest of the evening continued on with light conversation, but the tension still lingered below the surface. Finally the guests began feigning yawns and deciding it was time for bed. Frankie practically took her son by his ear upstairs, because she could see he was dying to hang around and question his uncle, but Angelina remained until all of her daughters and their husbands had gone.

"Well, I think I'm ready for bed too," Ashley said.

"Wait," her mother-in-law said quietly. "I want to speak with you."

"Lina, there is nothing to say. It's over and done with. I'm just sorry that Deirdre nursed her anger for so long. She has hurt her husband very much. How soon after your return from Venice did they marry?"

"She had just become engaged to Robert before we left for Venice," Angelina replied. "The wedding was planned for the following spring, and it was celebrated then. I never knew she felt this way. She did not really love him, of course. Carlo Fabiano was suave and charming. Deirdre was very sheltered, and had never met anyone like him. They were never alone, that we knew of, but rather traveled in a group of other young people. We knew his reputation, but assumed she was safe, and in the end she was."

Ashley nodded.

"I told you the truth." Ryan suddenly broke into the conversation. "I hadn't seen or communicated with Bianca in over twenty years."

"We will speak upstairs," Ashley said quietly.

"Cara-" her mother-in-law began, but Ashley held up her hand.

"This is between your son and me, Lina."

And her tone told Angelina Mulcahy that Ashley was not to be trifled with in this matter. The older woman watched as the younger left the room. Then she turned to her son. "You should have stayed at a hotel," she said. "What in the name of God possessed you to accept the contessa's invitation? Are you so insensitive then? That is the Irish male in you, Ryan." She stood up. "I am going to bed, and you had better straighten this out with Ashley immediately." She departed the living room.

He sat alone for several minutes. Then, standing up, Ryan Mulcahy went upstairs to meet his fate. He found his wife awaiting him in their sitting room. "Baby, listen-" he began, but she put up a hand like a traffic cop.

"Sit down, Ryan," she told him.

"You can't be angry at me for something that happened when I was sixteen," he protested, obeying her directive.

"Of course I'm not angry at you for losing your virginity to the contessa," she told him. "I'm angry at you because you didn't trust me enough to tell me before we went to Venice. What a little ninny Bianca must have thought I was, Ryan."

"I'm sorry. You're right," he agreed. "But to be honest with you, I never even considered that summer again after it happened."

"It was thoughtless, Ryan," Ashley said. "I know our marriage began as one of convenience in order for both of us to save our assets, but you've said you love me, and I certainly love you. You know everything there is to know about me. I made no secret of my past with you. Marriage is based upon trust, among other things. That you didn't trust me enough to share that bit of information with me makes me reconsider whether we really have a marriage, or at least the chance of a real marriage."

"I swear to you I never thought of Bianca in all the years since that summer," he protested. "I do love you!" He stood up. It was impossible to feel the way he felt right now and remain seated, but she did stay seated. And calm. Frighteningly calm.

"That isn't the point, you moron!" Ashley shouted at him. "You brought me into the house of the woman who taught you all about sex, and you didn't warn me beforehand. Why the hell couldn't you tell me, Ryan? Why couldn't you allow the decision to stay in a palazzo or a hotel be mine?"

"It would have been inconvenient to stay in a hotel," he said. "I needed to be where the wardrobe was. It's my business! And how the devil was I supposed to tell you? 'Oh, by the way, baby, our hostess relieved me of my virginity when I was sixteen, but don't let it bother you. She's a real nice gal.' "

"Don't you dare hide behind your business, Ryan! All you had to do was explain to me about that summer. I would have understood. Do you think I'm so unsophisticated that I would have had a hissy fit, and refused to stay with the contessa? Hell, the woman is over twenty years older than you are, even if she does still look good, and after all, I am your wife. If you were still in love with Bianca di Viscontini you would have married her. But you should have told me, and you didn't. How can I ever trust you again, Ryan? How do I know what else you are keeping from me?"

"Baby, listen to me."

"Do you have something I could possibly want to hear, Ryan? I don't think so. At least not now. The couch in your office opens into a bed. Go sleep there tonight."

Suddenly his voice was cold. "I will not sleep in my office while my mother and the rest of my family are in the house," he snapped. "You can make whatever arrangement you want tomorrow when they are gone, but not tonight."

"Very well," Ashley agreed. "Tomorrow I will return to my old bedroom. You can have this. And, Ryan, you are not to tell anyone that I am pregnant. I had intended announcing our happy news tonight, until your sister decided to drop her bombshell."

"Yeah," he said. "It would have been a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't it?"

"I'm going to bed," she replied, and she slept as far away from him as she could that night, taking the bolster that usually lay at the head of their bed and running it lengthwise like a barrier between them. But the real barrier was the fact that he was a fool, Ryan knew.

The next morning they joined their guests for the breakfast buffet before the limousine arrived to transport them all home. The chatter was light and inconsequential. And afterward Ryan's eldest sister, the formidable Bride, took Ashley aside.

"I want to apologize for my sister," she began. "Okay, so we all were counting our chickens before they hatched, and Ryan's marriage took us by surprise. Especially as neither of you made any bones about the fact that it was to save yourselves, and not true love. But we're not fools. Well, maybe Dee is. We can see that you and Ryan do love each other at this point, and we don't want to see either of you unhappy because Dee can't get over her past. She hurt a lot of people last night. I'm sorry. The rest of us feel terrible about what she did. I hope you won't hold it against us. This was really a wonderful Christmas, and to be honest, we haven't had such a nice time in years. Any of us."

"Apology accepted," Ashley said. "And don't worry, Bride. I'm not going to throw your brother out. But he is going to get a very hard lesson in sensitivity training. I do love the big lug."

Bride smiled warmly. "Geez," she said. "You really are the right wife for him, Ashley. He needs someone who won't put up with his crap. We're with you all the way." And Bride Mulcahy Franklin actually hugged her sister-in-law.

"What's that all about?" Ryan murmured to Frankie.

"I think your wife has just joined the enemy," Frankie replied with a grin. "Serves you right too, dummy."

"No lectures, kid," he growled at her. "You don't want me poking into why you buy sexy apparel from Lacy Nothings now, do you?"

"You'll know soon enough," Frankie said mysteriously.

"Hey, Uncle Ryan, could I talk to you a minute?" Frankie's son asked.

Ryan looked to his youngest sister.

"Oh, go ahead," she said. "He'll never let you be until he does. Make it quick, Michael. The car is here, and we've got to go."

Ashley bade each of her guests good-bye, and Deirdre burst into tears as she faced her hostess.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "It's the change. It makes me do cruel, stupid things."

"It's okay, Dee," Ashley assured the woman, but she thought, I'll probably never really like you for what you did last night.

"I don't know why I said what I said," Deirdre sobbed. "Robert is mad as hell at me now, and I don't blame him. I really am sorry." Then she joined the rest of them in the limousine.

Ashley almost felt sorry for her as her sisters moved away from the weeping Deirdre, and she heard Bride tell her sibling to belt up and stop howling.

"Can you ever forgive him?" Angelina asked before she too entered the car.

"Of course," Ashley murmured low. "But not until I've taught him a lesson about trust. You trusted your husband, didn't you? And he you?"

Her mother-in-law nodded. "Trust is every bit as impor tant as love and sex," she answered. "Don't be too hard on him, cara . Men have many virtues, but usually common sense isn't among them. And men, for all their sizes and ages, never really grow up. They are all boys at heart, no matter how old they get. Trust me on that one." She kissed Ashley's cheek. "You will go into church before the baby is born, won't you? It would make me very happy if you did."

Ashley colored. "Did Ryan tell you? I'll kill him!"

Angelina shook her head in the negative. "Cara," she said, "I've borne seven children. I know the signs. I won't say anything until you are ready to make your announcement, and then I shall be totally surprised with the rest of them."

Ashley laughed softly. "I can see I won't get much past you, Lina. I was going to tell everyone last night, but then Deirdre started babbling."

"Of course, and then afterward you could say nothing."

"I'll call you," Ashley said, and then she ushered her mother-in-law into the car. She stood with Ryan as the stretch limousine drove down the hill and out of sight.

"Come in out of the cold," he said to her.

Wordlessly Ashley reentered the house. "I think," she told her husband, "that you'd better stay in town for a few days. I'm sure R &R could use your presence."

"Are you kicking me out?" he wanted to know.

"Only for a few days," she said. "Go tomorrow."

"I don't want to go," he said stubbornly, following her upstairs into their little sitting room. "I want to straighten this out right now."

"Ryan, there is nothing to straighten out. I do not hold a youthful indiscretion against you any more than you hold Carson, Chandler, and Derek against me. But as I told you last night, I would have liked to have known about Bianca before I accepted her hospitality. Did she know I didn't know?"

"Yes. A few nights before we left Venice we talked. She told me I should have told you, but that, not having done so, I had best remedy the error sooner than later," Ryan said.

"You spoke on the terrace below our bedroom. I saw you," Ashley responded.

"You never said anything," he replied, surprised.

"No, I didn't. I assumed you would speak of it eventually, and I certainly didn't suspect you of any infidelity," Ashley said. "I didn't believe you were that kind of man. Now I'm not so certain about that."

"I am not that kind of man," he said.

"If you say so," Ashley responded dryly.

Ryan gritted his teeth. Why the hell was she making this so difficult? So he hadn't told her that Bianca banged him when he was sixteen. So what? "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated.

"I'll sleep in my old room then," Ashley told him.

"Go ahead," he said. "You'll miss me, baby. You will."

"I'll survive," Ashley answered him sharply. "You would be surprised at how well I can survive without your exalted presence, darling." But she hated sleeping alone now. And she wasn't interested in uninhibited sex on the Channel either. What she really wanted was to talk with her brother. He'd been dead for so long, but she still missed him. Ben always knew how to help her. Ashley had always used the Channel for sex, but now she wondered if she couldn't use it to bring her brother back. Oh, she knew he wouldn't really be there, but she needed someone of her own to talk to, not someone on Ryan's side, no matter how nice they were.

Ben, she said to herself, I want you back. I have to talk with you. Let's meet down on the beach. Remember that October day when we just sat and talked? That's what I want now. For us to sit and talk. She pressed the button that let the wall covering the flat screen television open. She pressed the on button on the channel changer, programmed in the Channel, and then she hit the A button, and enter. And there she was on the beach below the bluff on which Kimbrough Hall stood. And there was her brother, Ben, coming toward her. She ran into his arms. Though he would be over forty now, he looked as he always had.

"Hey, kiddo, what's the matter?" he asked, his blue eyes sympathetic. He led her to the bench by the water's edge. "Tell your big brother, and I'll try to make it all right."

"Oh, Benji, why did you have to get killed in that damned war?" she asked him.

"Hey, kiddo, that was my fate, but you didn't fantasize me just to ask that. What's the problem?"

Ashley started to cry, and between sobs she told him.

Ben listened quietly, and then when she had concluded her tale of woe he said, "Kiddo, you know you can't hold it against him that he was either too dumb or too scared shitless to tell you about the contessa. You've married one of the good guys."

"But I don't think he would ever have told me about her if his damned sister hadn't shot her mouth off," Ashley said.

"Have you told him about the Channel?" Ben asked her.

Ashley's jaw dropped, but then she quickly said, "That's different!"

"Nope, it isn't, kiddo," Ben told her. "Look, everyone has something in his or her life that for whatever reason they don't want to share. It doesn't mean they're thoughtless or being dishonest. It just means they don't want to share it. You going to tell Ryan about the Channel, Ashley?"

"Of course not! It's a women's thing. No woman who gets the Channel talks about it to a man," she replied. "It's an unwritten rule."

"I rest my case, kiddo," Ben said. "Look, Ashley, we never know what's going to come at us in life. I never expected to die in Desert Storm. Frankie never expected to lose her husband in the attack on the Twin Towers. You don't want to waste a moment of the time you're given. So Ryan neglected to tell you about the contessa. Maybe he was never going to tell you about her. Call it a sin of omission." He smiled at her. "Hey, kiddo, you love him. Now don't waste any more time being pissed at him. I can tell you that you've scared him to death, Ashley. He won't make the same mistake again." Ben laughed, and his eyes crinkled just the way she remembered them doing.

"I miss you so much," Ashley said. "You're right about Ryan. He's smart in so many ways, but where women are concerned he's just a big dumb jock. And I do love him. I really got lucky, Benji, didn't I?"

"Yeah, kiddo, you did," her brother said wistfully, with a smile.

"We're having a baby," Ashley confided. "Yeah, I know," Ben replied.

"I think I got pregnant that last night in Venice," she told him.

"Nope," he said, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "But it was before you got back to Egret Pointe, kiddo."

"Not that last night, but before we got back?" And then Ashley blushed a deep pink color, remembering their trip.

"Yeah." Ben chuckled. "It was then." He put his arm around her and gave her a loving squeeze. "Well, I've got to be going now, kiddo."

"Can we talk again?" Ashley asked him.

He shook his head. "You're not on the Channel this time, little sister. You're dreaming," he explained. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. The folks who run the Channel aren't on my boss's invite list. But the place is harmless for most women. They don't linger that long as a rule."

"But I distinctly remember turning on the television and programming you in as a new fantasy," Ashley insisted.

"Did you, Ashley? Maybe you were just too tired and upset to realize what you were doing." He stood up, and she did too. Then Ben Kimbrough bent down and kissed his younger sister gently. "So long, kiddo. Oh, Granddad and our folks say hello."

And before Ashley could say another word her brother began walking down the beach, disappearing into a mist that had suddenly come in off of the water. "Ben," she said softly, but he was gone, and the mist was surrounding her too. To her great surprise she awoke. The flat-screen television was still hidden behind its wall. The remote lay on the nightstand next to her bed. Beyond her bedroom windows the day was gray, and she could see that snow had begun to fall.

Ashley slowly got out of bed. Ben! She had spoken to her brother. She had! She smiled. And as always his advice had been good. It was good now. She was going to take it, because she didn't want to end up like Deirdre, foolish and bitter. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, she saw it was about to strike six a.m. Ashley opened the door to her old bedroom and hurried down the hall to where Ryan lay sleeping in their own bed. Entering the room, she slipped into bed beside him, and at once his arm encircled her.

"Am I forgiven then for being a coward and a jerk?" he asked her.

"Only if you make mad, passionate love to me," Ashley told him.

"Thanks, baby, and I do apologize," he said. "How did I ever get so lucky?"

"I don't know," she said, "but I think we both got lucky. Now cut the talk, darling, and let's have a little more action, please."

He laughed happily. "Anything you say, baby. Anything you want," he promised her, grinning.

"Now, will you look at that?" Ashley said. "You've finally got it, darling. You finally understand how it works in a modern marriage. I am the mistress. You are the slave. Now pleasure me, my darling, and then we have to decide when to go into the church so this child of ours will be one hundred percent legal and legitimate."

He kissed her a kiss that Ashley could have sworn curled her toes, and she felt him harden against her. "Yes, mistress," Ryan Finbar Mulcahy said to his wife, his hands beginning to roam over her body.

Ashley purred with her total satisfaction as both outside and inside the storm built and increased in its intensity. She had to remember tomorrow to cancel her subscription to the Channel. It was unlikely she would ever need it again.