A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,37
don’t believe you did. But I’m immensely happy that you do. So, you’ll consider it? After we’ve had time to make sure that—”
“How much time would that be?”
He grinned. “Want to celebrate the new year in Chapel Hill? Test things out?”
“If we can celebrate after I’m done house-sitting.”
“That can be arranged.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, Santa is being very, very good to me this year.”
He scooped her up against him. “That Santa is a hell of a guy, I hear.”
“Well,” she said, kissing him, “he’s got some competition.”
The kiss started out gentle and sweet, but quickly turned into something fiery and passionate. He started to back walk her out of the kitchen, and toward the staircase leading upstairs.
“Trevor,” she said, sighing as he started his way along her neck with those kisses she already knew would drive her wild. “The hidden room. Your legacy.”
“Is in my arms.”
She melted a little, but moved away from his tempting lips all the same. “You want to know. It’s there for you.”
“I don’t think it’s going to change anything. Being a Hamilton or not. I mean, it is who I am, like it or not. It’s helped me, whether I’ve wanted it to or not. But I like who I’ve become, on my own, and whether or not there’s another surname out there I don’t know about that should rightfully be mine, what’s come to me through the family is mine. But that doesn’t matter now. Because I know what I am, and what I’m not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether I’m a Hamilton, or a Smith, or a Jones won’t change anything. My world is still in North Carolina, my life is my own, and that trust fund will stay where it is, because that’s the decision I’d make whether it’s rightfully mine by ancestry or not. I guess I’ve always known that. I just hadn’t come to terms with it.”
“What changed? Not what I said about Lionel hiding something, because—”
“It just put it in a different perspective for me, one I’ve been too narrow-minded and locked into past thinking to consider.”
“So, even if that other surname isn’t attached to you? But, maybe to some other branch of the family?”
He nodded. “It’s immaterial to who I am. It might be important to Lionel, and if that’s the case, I’ll respect that. I know it’s not how I want to define myself, it’s not how I have defined myself.”
“So…what will you do with it? Your Hamilton legacy, I mean.”
“The money?”
“And whatever other responsibilities or inheritances might be in your future, yes.”
“Keep them for our offspring?”
She laughed. “You really are forward-thinking.”
“Okay, let’s just say I’ll make sure it stays somewhere safe, on the off chance my progeny feels differently about his or her legacy than I do.” He tipped her face up to his. “Are you okay with that?”
“It’s not your money or your name I’m after, Mr. Smith.”
“Good.” His grin was quite suggestive. “So…what are you after, then?”
“Starting the new year in Chapel Hill. And the best chicken Marsala a girl can get.”
“Feeling lucky, are you?”
“Oh, there’s no feeling about it. Lottery winners the world over should envy me right now.”
“I rather like that notion.”
“So…upstairs? Or hidden room?”
“You know, whatever secrets Lionel might be protecting will be his cross to bear. That’s been his choice.”
“So, you’re not going to look.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not going to look.”
She glanced over her shoulder, toward the hall leading to the study. “The whole secret room…”
He laughed. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”
“I can’t believe it isn’t killing you. Just for curiosity’s sake.”
“How about this—come upstairs with me, and we’ll talk about the future.”
“Talk?”
“Amongst other things.”
He really did have the most wicked twinkle in his eyes.
“And then?”
“And then if you want to go treasure hunting, you can go while I cook.”
Her eyes widened. “You’d really let me go find out?”
“Just because I’ve decided not to doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know everything you might need to know about the family you’re entangling yourself with.”
“And if I find something…interesting?”
“Your call.”
“I’m warning you, no way will I be able to not tell you. I’m a terrible secret-keeper.”
“Okay.”
“You really are the most perverse man.”
“I know it seems that way, but honestly, my perspective has shifted into an entirely new orbit.” He tugged her up the stairs. “One that involves you, me, and whatever we might discover as we head down our path. It’s going to come with Hamilton stuff. And I hope it comes with a lot of Lafferty