British Black Sheep: A Hero Club Novel

by Lauren Smith

  “Thank you.” Alec pressed his palm to the glass and watched as nurses moved Brie onto the MRI machine’s bed and helped her dress into a hospital gown.

  “She’ll be fine, Alec.” Simon joined Alec at the window.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen plenty of concussions. This is just a precaution.”

  Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

  Simon leaned against the window. “Alec, I’ve never seen you like this with a woman before.”

  Alec said nothing.

  “Alec, how did this thing between you two start?”

  Alec tried to brush it off. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Was it because of the crash? The plane crash, I mean.”

  That caught Alec’s attention. “If it was, does that matter? We had to share a bed. We were both stressed out. Things just happened.”

  Simon’s usually teasing expression was serious. “Alec, you need to be careful. Take it from someone who knows all about Florence Nightingale Syndrome. People bond in situations like that, attachments are made, but the relationships born don’t usually last. Not romantically, anyway. You get together for all the wrong reasons.”

  “We aren’t together. It’s just a tryst.” The word tasted like a lie, but it was the truth. They’d promised this week together had a built in expiry date. No expectations. No regrets.

  “If you say so…” Simon sighed. “Because right now you’re acting like a man whose heart is breaking as he watches a woman he’s fallen in love with be in pain. I know what you’re going through. You feel helpless. You can’t do anything but wait.”

  Alec leaned until his forehead rested against the glass of the observation window. “I know.”

  Simon put a hand on his shoulder and didn’t say anything else.

  11

  Brie felt as though someone had rammed the business end of an ice pick into her skull. She lay as still as possible in the MRI machine, hearing the magnetic thumps all around her. She’d never had an MRI before, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected.

  “You’re all done.” The nurse rolled her out of the sanitized white tunnel. “Can you sit up? I’ll help you into a wheelchair.”

  Wheelchair? This was a sledding accident, not a car crash. Brie’s humiliation was rising, especially when she saw Alec and Simon watching her through an observation window a dozen feet away. She climbed off the table and saw Alec give a halfhearted wave as she was eased into the wheelchair. Her neatly folded clothes were placed in her lap and the nurse wheeled her into the hallway where Alec and Simon joined them.

  “You okay, Brie?” Simon asked.

  She nodded. “I just have a killer headache.”

  Alec said nothing but he kept pace with the wheelchair as they headed to an exam room. The nurse left the three of them alone and Simon pulled out his cell.

  “I’ll be right back. I’m going to give Bridget an update and see if your dad parked the car.”

  “Thanks.” Alec turned to Brie once they were alone. He knelt in front of her, bracing his hands on either side of her arms. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I guess I wrecked sledding, huh?” Her voice held regret and Alec’s intense hazel eyes softened.

  “No, that was Morgan’s fault. He shouldn’t have put two adults on that hill in one sled. Your combined weight on the ice only increased your speed.”

  “Is Morgan okay? I was pretty out of it after the crash.” Bits and pieces flashed across her mind. The excitement of flying down the hill, the hard ice beneath the sled, rushing into the forest, the crack of plastic, her muffled scream and blinding pain, then nothing.

  “He’s fine. He’s worried about you, but fine.” Alec held her chin, examining her.

  “Alec…” She opened her mouth to say more but the doctor entered with Simon right behind her. The doctor, a dark-haired woman in her forties, performed several tests on her, then cleaned and examined her cut.

  “A minor concussion. I recommend rest and relaxation. Don’t do any hard work, physical or mental for a week. Enjoy the holidays. If your headache worsens, please come back straightaway.” She bandaged up the cut. “Treat the wound once a day with fresh antibiotic cream and bandages. It should heal in no time.”

  “Thanks.” Brie exhaled in relief. She wanted to go home and rest.

  She glanced toward Alec, and tried to smile, but it came out weary and half-hearted. Alec put an arm around her shoulder, not caring if anyone saw, and for some reason that simple gesture made her want to cry. He’d carried her all the way up the hill, like a hero from her romance novels and he’d stayed with her. His presence offered a comfort that she hadn’t felt in years. It had been so long since she’d had anyone looking after her, that Brie had forgotten what it felt like to be cared about. She covered one of Alec’s hands with hers and closed her eyes as he squeezed her hand back.

  Simon returned a minute later. “I found your dad, Alec. He’s in the lobby. We’ll go pull the car up and you can bring Brie outside.”

  Brie was glad to leave the wheelchair and exam table behind. Byron had the car pulled up right outside the entrance. Alec escorted her to the back seat so she could sit beside him.

  Byron smiled at her from the rearview mirror. “You look much better, Ms. Honeyweather.”

  “I’m feeling better.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  By the time they reached the house it was late afternoon and the great hall had dozens of new guests, including five children around Brendan’s age. Julia spotted them as they entered the hall and rushed over.

  “Brie, dear, how do you feel?”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “She needs to rest and have a bit of quiet,” Alec interjected, hovering close to her.

  “Then someone should stay with her,” Julia said. “Everyone else go on, Brie and I will have some downtime here. We can discuss our book.”

  “But you’ll miss the village fair,” Byron reminded her. “The patrons for the fundraiser are expecting you.”

  “Oh yes, you’re right…”

  “I would really like to go,” Brie insisted.

  “Heavens, no, dear. You must rest and you shouldn’t be alone. Even with the staff here, I wouldn’t allow it. Alec, be a dear and keep her company, would you? The rest of us need to go down to the village this afternoon. We’ll be back after dinner.”

  Alec agreed without hesitation. Brie shot him a warning look, but he ignored it. He escorted her to her room, where she changed out of her heavy clothes and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a navy-blue crewneck sweater.

  “So, what are we going to do while everyone’s gone to the fair?” she asked Alec. He leaned back against her bed with his arms folded as he studied her intently. His hazel eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

  “I thought we could read by the fire, perhaps roast chestnuts. Nothing too taxing.”

  Even though Brie didn’t feel up to it, she was disappointed he hadn’t mentioned sex. Alec’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “I saw that.” Sensual delight lingered in his words.

  “What?”

  “You want me to say it?”

  She didn’t respond with an answer.

  “Brie, I would love nothing more than to strip you bare and take you right now, but that doesn’t qualify as rest. The sooner you heal, the sooner we can break the headboard of this lovely Jacobean bed.” He knocked his knuckles lightly against a bedpost.

  Brie walked over to him, standing close enough that she could feel the energy simmering between them. “Promise?”

  It had been easy to become addicted to Alec’s rich voice, the warm ochre color of his eyes, and the way he touched her. But the best, and the most dangerous part, was how he made her feel. Like she mattered, like she was desired, like he wanted her to be a part of his life. It made no sense; they were barely friends, yet there was such a strong connection between them that was irresistible.

&nb
sp; But lust and desire could mimic a lot of other emotions. She made that mistake before.

  “I promise.” Alec gripped her hips. His gaze held a mixture of tenderness and desire that made her heart flutter. He flashed a devastating grin as he lowered his head and kissed her. Blood surged from her fingertips to her toes and a hot ache grew in her throat as she longed for more.

  He gently clasped her to him, her softer curves molded to the firm contours of his body. His palm slid from her hips to explore the hollow of her back. She’d never felt like this before. Even the act of being held in his arms and kissing him was all she would ever need in life.

  When their lips finally parted, she felt the burning sweetness it left behind and shyly touched her lips with her fingertips. Alec’s mouth relaxed in a lazy smile. This was the Alec she liked, the man who, in that moment, was not a workaholic investment banker. He was simply a man, a gorgeous one at that, and he was all hers. Merryvale was their private refuge, a place where she could forget her past and he forget his bleak future, at least for a brief span of time.

  She didn’t want to think about how soon it would all end, like the snow melting away in the early spring.

  “Why don’t you grab a notebook and pen? I’ll show you some of my favorite things about Christmas before you rest for a bit.”

  “Okay.” As she followed him into the hall, she became lost in the magic of his words and the way his face lit up when he talked about his home.

  “In late September, the light starts to change. Autumn slowly turns the landscape gold. The farmers harvest their crops and Merryvale begins to stock its larder with all that we’ll need for the long cold winter. We tour the village during its annual Christmas fair on Christmas Eve. The money raised at the fair is donated to a charity of my mother’s choice every year.”

  “What’s the charity this year?” Brie asked. The excited crowd of new guests for the holidays had departed the great entryway, leaving it quiet once more. The marble busts tucked in alcoves wearing their holly crowns watched in silence as Alec and Brie descended the stairs.

  “I believe this year the donations go toward our troops. Mom will arrange for care packages.” Alec paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Smell that?” He grinned and held out a hand. Brie hesitated, until she remembered no one was here to see. Following the maze of rooms and hallways, Alec led her back to the kitchens, where they’d baked cookies the day before. The cooks were now preparing mince pies, soups, Christmas quiches and various beautifully iced cakes.

  “Christmas at Merryvale is a blend of ancient rituals and modern customs. We strive to show the beauty of the land around us, so we don’t lose the heritage that makes this place unique. The cooks base our menus around what is grown and harvested in the fall, typically winter fruits and special cuts of meat.” Alec grinned as he stole a blackberry tart and handed it to Brie. Then he stole one for himself before they exited the kitchens.

  “On Christmas morning, a host of local bagpipe players will stand outside and play Highland Christmas songs.”

  “Bagpipes?” Brie bit into the blackberry tart, the slick sugar coating was like liquid honey upon her tongue.

  “Oh, yes. You’ll like it, I think.” Alec finished his tart before taking her hand again. He guided her through a series of rooms and Brie marveled at all the books she saw. Piles by beds, by desks, and baskets near couches, and the library itself glowed with gilded spines. Merryvale was a wealth of stories about people and places.

  “My grandfather was as great believer in the power of books,” Alec said.

  Brie laced her fingers through his as they gazed up at the vast expanse of titles. “So am I.”

  “Books always seemed to glow, don’t they?” Alec mused. “The way the light catches on the spines. You can almost see the stories within them like a halo.

  “They do,” Brie agreed. She’d marveled at that same thing before while in the middle of some old bookshop where she’d passed by a shelf near a window and the light illuminated a specific spine. It was like the book was calling to her in an almost magical way.

  “If you feel up to it, we can take a walk in the snow,” Alec offered.

  “I’d like that. I’m not feeling too bad.”

  Once dressed for the weather, they left the house. Brie looked back at the front door. The tall walnut wood was heavily oiled, weathered, and studded with iron-mongered bits; it was also festively decorated with two matching Christmas wreaths. She knew from her research that the shape was no accident. The circular shape represented eternity, with no beginning or end, and the evergreen making up the wreaths symbolized eternal life. It brought a symbolic beauty to the sight.

  Alec led her down a path of trees. The slender gray trunks of the birch bent slightly in the wintry breeze and felt like ghostly guardians.

  “My grandfather called these ghost chasers. He said that birch trees would ward off evil.” Alec placed a gloved hand on the smooth, white bark that was knotted with black spots like a thousand eyes. Beyond the forest, a field of pure white snow covered the earth.

  “I used to love it here,” Alec said. “I loved everything about this place.” He squeezed her hand slightly as he met her worried gaze. “But it’s hard to look upon now. It only reminds me of what I’ve lost.”

  “The more you look at it, the more you should remember the good, not the bad.” Brie moved closer to him. “After my parents died, I hid the pictures, tucked them into drawers or cabinets. But the pain stayed anyway. Later on, I took the pictures back out and the good memories began to outweigh the pain of what was gone.”

  Alec leaned his head down to hers, their foreheads touching. “How is it that you always know the right thing to say? How are you so wise?” He closed his eyes, holding onto her mitten-covered hands as their breath mingled in the air around them.

  “I guess I’m just amazing.” She deadpanned the reply, winning a smile from him.

  “You are such an American,” he chuckled and kissed her. “Come on, just a bit farther.”

  They walked through the fresh snow down the tunnel of birch trees until they reached a small clearing. An angel carved of stone wept above a tombstone.

  Snow-capped, her head and her wings draped over the headstone, protecting it. The name Walter Halston was carved into the stone along with the words, “I desire to live worthily as long as I have lived, and to leave after my life, to the great men who should come after me, the memory of me in good works.” — Alfred the Great.

  Ivy climbed around the statue, but its leaves had fallen away, leaving a gnarled patchwork of roots and vines gripping the stone. Bursts of color stood out among the dead ivy. Winter berries, spindle plants, and red-berried holly thrived in the absence of the overpowering ivy leaves.

  “He wanted to be buried here on the land, rather than in the churchyard.” Alec’s voice grew rough. “I haven’t been back here since the funeral.”

  “It’s peaceful,” she said, reassuring him. It hurt her to know that he was reliving something that had wounded him so deeply.

  “My grandfather was the only one who seemed to understand me. He was different than the rest of my family. He understood me in ways I can’t really explain. Don’t misunderstand me, I love my family. But my grandfather and I…we had a special bond. I don’t know if that even makes sense.”

  It did. Brie bit her lip. She felt at home with Alec in a way she’d only ever felt around her parents. But even with them, she’d felt isolated. Even when she’d only known the rude and arrogant Alec on the plane, she’d still felt engaged, alive, and focused when she was near him. It hadn’t been like that with Preston, not really. She knew she would never would have had a conversation like this with her ex-husband.

  Alec looked around the clearing at his grandfather’s grave as he squeezed Brie’s hand. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Here? Or Merryvale?”

  “Both.”

  “Me too.” She leaned into his touch. “I’m glad you came home for C
hristmas.”

  Alec looked once more upon his grandfather’s tombstone and blinked in surprise. The brown vines blanketing the base of the monument looked greener now, didn’t they? He had to be imagining it. He grew up hearing about the magic of Merryvale, but he never believed in it, at least not fully.

  But maybe…maybe he should believe in it. Magic didn’t have to be about wizards and spells. Sometimes it was a quiet snowy afternoon with a person who made you feel whole again.

  He gently touched the skin above the cut on her forehead. “Let’s get you back inside. You should rest.”

  “Maybe you could teach me to roast chestnuts? I’ve always wanted to learn.”

  “Absolutely.”

  They returned to the house, holding hands. It would be hours before the others returned and they would have to go back to hiding their relationship. They removed their coats and returned to the kitchens, sitting at a small table in the corner. The cooks had prepared a quick meal of turkey, brie, and cranberry sandwiches on rye bread.

  “I’m finally getting to eat you after all,” Alec whispered in her ear. She kicked him in the shin but also laughed.

  “Why is my name so funny to you?” she demanded but she couldn’t stop giggling.

  “It’s a cheese. It’s hilarious.”

  She rolled her eyes and licked cranberry sauce off her fingers. “Okay, show me your nuts then.”

  Alec choked on his sandwich. “My nuts?”

  She leaned into him and caressed his thigh. “Your chestnuts.”

  He laughed so hard that it actually hurt his ribs. He hadn’t laughed like that since… He honestly couldn’t remember.

  “Seriously, show me how to roast chestnuts.”

  Still chuckling, he collected their plates and put them in the sink before he retrieved a bag of large shiny chestnuts from the pantry and set it on one of the counters.

  “Lesson one. You don’t use horse chestnuts; those are for decoration. You want to get the nuts from an ‘eating tree.’ Chestnuts were a great source of carbohydrates in the winter during the middle ages, hence the tradition of roasting them on an open fire.”