Christmas With Her Ex

by Fiona McArthur

  She bounced back into an upright position, blushing like a schoolgirl, and it was her turn to hope nobody had heard or could see the pink in her cheeks. ‘And you missed my mouth the first time.’

  He smiled lazily. ‘I’m better at it now.’

  That made her smile and instantly the rapport was back. ‘You weren’t so bad even then, once I got over the shock.’

  Thankfully the meal arrived and it should have been easier but her eyes strayed to his strong white teeth as he put the fork to his lips, that tilt to his wicked mouth and his strong throat.

  She tried to work out what was pushing her buttons. He was unmistakably the full package when you put his undivided attention and the close proximity of their bodies together. Plus the memories of their slow awakening as they’d grown to adulthood together all those years ago.

  Would things have been different if they’d made love before their wedding day? The room was getting hot again.

  Connor watched the play of emotions cross her face. Every now and then he caught glimpses of the young girl from so many years ago. A vulnerability he thought she’d lost that made him want to protect her, but he stamped that down. No way. She didn’t want him to, and had never wanted him to. That was why she’d left him, remember?

  But that wasn’t all he saw. He saw the pulse beat at her throat, the subtle lushness of a woman’s body that stirred him like no other woman’s had. He could still feel the silk of her skin when he’d squeezed her hand that had burnt right through his defences so that he’d had to let go. There was no doubt he was playing with fire but hopefully neither of them would get burnt.

  He sat back and let the tension ease. They still had eighteen hours to go and he wasn’t rushing into anything.

  Selected cheeses, the plum duff with crème Anglaise and brandy butter, a sun-kissed dessert wine to be sipped and between them awareness swirled like the gold in the glasses as they smiled over firsts together.

  First hand-holding—how nervous she’d been. First kiss—how nervous he’d been.

  First fight and whose fault it was—not able to agree on that one.

  Old memories. Good memories that had been overlaid by guilt and shame and a lack of communication that now they could only shake their heads at.

  Both of them warmed to the shared moments that, despite the years, seemed like yesterday now they’d been allowed to escape.

  He glanced away to where a tiny Christmas tree spun in a corner with fibreoptic branches lighting the heads of the people sitting nearby in subtle colours.

  He tilted his head towards it. ‘Do you remember?’

  She glanced across and he saw the smile in her eyes as she nodded. ‘It was the year before you went away to school. My father had thrown out the old tinsel tree we had and I was heartbroken we weren’t having a tree. So you bought me a tiny little tree like that, with decorations and fibreoptic lights that came on when I plugged it in. I kept it in my room and it made me smile at night.’

  ‘I was so excited when I saw it but your father hated it.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘And he hated me.’

  She shrugged. ‘He hated everyone. It was a lovely thing to do. If it hadn’t been for you Christmas would have been the same as any other day in the year.’

  He thought about it. ‘You made my Christmas special just by being there.’

  Kelsie couldn’t believe how light she felt. As if she’d found a dear friend she’d thought she’d lost. And that was what it was. Impulsively she reached across the table and took his hand. ‘I’m so pleased we’ve had tonight.’

  He brought his other hand over the top and held her hand on his. ‘So am I.’

  Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, and suddenly she didn’t want to be in this car any more.

  He must have seen that. ‘There’s not a lot of places to go but would you like to walk?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  AWAY FROM PEOPLE? Should she?

  Not that they’d do anything they couldn’t in front of witnesses. Witnesses. She shied away from the word, like a wedding that hadn’t happened, thank goodness she hadn’t said that out loud—but, yes. She’d like to go somewhere quieter. More private.

  Connor rose and pulled out her chair, waited for her to precede him in the direction of her cabin, not his, and then followed at her shoulder so she could feel him brush against her as she made her way past tables filled with crystal and silver and satiated patrons.

  People she didn’t see. Past his grandmother, and the red-haired lady, and the couple who had danced, and always Connor’s hand hovered below her waist in case she lost balance with the rock of the train. So she was safe from injury but moving forward towards a different sort of delicious possibility.

  Her senses seemed more alert. Her skin more sensitive when he brushed against her. Her peripheral vision seemed filled with him and it was a very strange sensation amongst a sea of sensations.

  Connor leaned forward and opened the door for her, and for a crazy moment she wanted to bury her nose in his shirt and have him wrap his arms around her.

  She wasn’t even sure he liked her but maybe there would be time for that later.

  She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips as she looked up at him and his hand tightened on her shoulder.

  ‘Best not to look at me like that when we’re in public,’ he murmured with a wicked hint of warning in his voice.

  Her stomach kicked and her face flamed. What were the rules for a first date with someone you’d once loved? Someone you’d thought about on and off over the last fifteen years. Someone you’d once known as well as yourself and who’d always left you deliciously alert. She’d never known him that way—though they’d had a few close shaves—but Connor had always said he’d wait until they were married.

  But that had been then and this was now. Now they were both consenting adults with no ties. She was no longer a virgin—and it would be highly unlikely that a gorgeous man like Connor would be one either.

  They passed through the bar car and she didn’t see anyone. Just a blur of obstacles to avoid. Was she being too forward?

  Would he think she’d turned into a nymphomaniac if she asked him to bed? Because that was what she was thinking, though it could be problematic in a small train with very thin partitions between the cabins.

  His hand stayed in the small of her back, hot and possessive and the tension eddied and churned between them and her belly swirled with a mounting ache that had her squirming as she walked faster than she probably should have towards her cabin.

  They came to a deserted corner between carriages and he leaned her against the wall and pinned her there. His face was all angles and intent and a hint of a smile in his eyes as he took his time studying her face.

  ‘Now. About that first kiss… ’ This time he didn’t miss and Kelsie felt her head bump back against the polished rosewood parquetry as she melted bonelessly against him. His mouth was strong and hot and demanding and she couldn’t have denied him if all the passengers had trooped past them.

  His hand was in her hair, absently rubbing where she’d bumped it, murmuring against her lips with a smile in his mouth, and she kissed him back with all the angst of fifteen years of regret and apology and finally pure desire, and became lost.

  Then someone did come along, coughed and made a small joke, and they broke apart. Kelsie smiled down at the carpet, avoiding the face of the other passenger, and heard Connor’s relaxed, ‘Good evening.’ How could he be so cool? She not accidentally, though unobtrusively, brushed his thigh with the back of her hand and heard his indrawn breath. Still able to smile and pretend nothing was going on, Connor?

  She glanced up at him as the footsteps died away and his eyebrows hiked as he smiled down at her.

  ‘My, my. Haven’t you grown up?’ He leaned in again and flattened himself into her so that she could feel the length of him pressed solidly against her. He grinned lazily. ‘Has anyone seen Kelsie?’

&nbs
p; ‘I’m here. And you’ve been practising your kissing.’

  ‘Fortunately.’ They both smiled as he stepped back, took her hand and led her into the next carriage, and then the next, until they stood outside Kelsie’s door and she opened it.

  Kelsie put her fingers to her lips. Inclined her head towards the cabin next door. ‘Sh.’

  He leant down until his lips just brushed her ear and she shivered as he whispered, ‘I can do quiet.’

  Kelsie decided there was something very intimate about whispering in a darkened compartment on the Orient Express.

  Especially when golden chains of her dress had been lifted aside and Connor Black was spreading wonder over her bare skin as they stood pressed together in the darkness of her cabin. It was all a blur of whispers and touches but mostly it was feeling Connor’s mouth against hers.

  Every few minutes a bell would ring and lights from a railway crossing would flash lights across their faces, and once she opened her eyes to see him staring at her as he stroked her cheek.

  Time passed. They kissed like they could never kiss enough. Whispered about their lives, their dreams, their regrets and their successes. Held each other, Kelsie even shedding a few tears, and they laughed very quietly. Reconnected.

  Connor was trapped. He wanted to take Kelsie more than he wanted to breathe but he feared the exposure. The ripping open of a protective shield he needed to survive.

  He couldn’t do it.

  Already she’d burrowed under his defences more than he would have believed possible. Though he’d been young, he had truly loved this woman. Would have given her everything. The problem was he was whole now and he didn’t trust her not to hurt him again.

  He’d survived once when he’d lost her and he wasn’t so sure he would survive again if she touched his soul in giving herself to him. Making love with Kelsie, the way they were sparking off each other tonight, promised to be no light undertaking.

  He didn’t know if he would ever really trust her again. Surely it would be a hundred times worse if they made love and she got off the train in London and walked away.

  Yes. It would. He could feel his sanity return.

  For a few moments there he’d been ready to burn in hell if he could bury himself in her. But he was damned if he was going to rue the day he met her again.

  Connor pulled the gold straps back up her shoulders and kissed her once more.

  Kelsie sat back and stared at him. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Everything is perfect. Let’s not spoil it.’

  He saw her disappointment. Well, he had dibs on that one from a long time ago, and tonight he was right there with her. But he’d been burnt once by her. Severely, and he didn’t do loss well.

  And he wasn’t going to do something he’d regret. Funny how it had only been that way with Kelsie. Seemed he was better at denying himself than she was, which made him feel slightly better.

  But this was the new Kelsie and again she surprised him.

  Connor had drawn the line. Again. Heck, she’d thought he’d got over that, she grumbled to herself in the throes of frustration! She sat upright from where they’d ended up entangled on the seat, pushed back her hair and straightened her straps properly. For the first time in her life she’d actually been totally swept away. Scary, scary stuff.

  She took a few good breaths and focused. ‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books. It’s usually me who stops the action. Different, but probably sensible.’ She looked at him with a crooked smile. ‘Thank you. I think.’

  ‘And I think I’d better go.’

  She arched her brows. ‘Before I jump you again?’ He smiled. ‘It is a worry.’

  She wondered at the underlying truth beneath his jokey statement as she watched him leave.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, ready for her solitary bed, Kelsie was feeling pleased with herself. She’d visited the end of the rocking carriage and marvelled at the flash of railway tracks below the white porcelain bowl with a sort of horrid fascination.

  Wolfgang had been in and made her long seat into a snug little bed with starched white sheets and satin-bound woollen blankets. There was a delightful old-fashioned tin of sweets, of course in a blue-lined crested container, resting on her pillow, and the nightlight had been switched on.

  Outside the window, snow flew in little flurries and the muted bells of the passing railway crossings added a soothing melody to the sound of the tracks clacking below.

  But as she cleaned her teeth at the tiny basin, she stared at her pink cheeks in the gilt-edged mirror and wondered at the star-filled eyes of the woman who stared back.

  She still reeled at the absolute mindlessness Connor could induce when he kissed her. Her cheeks glowed back at her as she thought about her lack of control. Somewhere inside her the unsatisfied woman within grumbled and groaned at an ache that wouldn’t go but still she marvelled that after all these years Connor was the one who could make her legs give way when he kissed her.

  It seemed she wasn’t uninterested in sex after all. Sex was pleasant, nice, occasionally great, but just kissing someone had never shaken her rafters like Connor had tonight. She grinned at the thought. Did trains have rafters?

  A small smile teased at her lips as she dried her mouth. And to think that she’d wished she hadn’t seen him in Venice. They wouldn’t have much time when they got to London but maybe it wouldn’t be a solitary Christmas after all. She had a few hours before she flew away. The possibility of spending a little more time with a very grown-up Connor Black before she left would be a bonus and she would be very interested in that.

  Not that she minded being on her own for Christmas, as she usually worked and the thought of wandering around the deserted streets of London on Christmas morning had been part of the plan.

  They hadn’t actually spoken about what would happen when they arrived in London but they had hours of travel to go. It was perfect that she was leaving the next day because the tiny voice that wanted to start planning a life with Connor didn’t have a chance. That was good. She enjoyed her independence too much to be answerable to any man. Even Connor Black. Especially Connor Black.

  For the rest of the night she was actually quite looking forward to some cheeky dreams in her rocking bed. She switched off the light above her bed and let the dimness soak into her. Despite her solitude, her cabin still seemed to hold the essence of Connor and she closed her eyes dreamily.

  The crying started just as Kelsie’s head sank deeper into the pillow. The darkness carried the soft weeping that came every few minutes and rose and fell like a tiny wave.

  Her eyes opened again and Kelsie glanced at the luminous hands of her watch. The sound went away and she closed her eyes.

  It came again. Three minutes since the last.

  She knew about those tiny waves. Sat up and stared at the wall opposite.

  The noise returned, intensified, and she tracked it to the wall behind her head—from the compartment that held the girl in the oversized coat.

  She climbed out of bed and pulled on the blue silk robe and her soft Orient Express bedroom slippers and sighed. Though not sure of her reception when the girl had tried so hard to remain out of sight, Kelsie couldn’t leave her to weep alone.

  Especially when she had her suspicions as to why a woman might be crying like that.

  Kelsie unlocked her compartment door and peered out into the corridor. Apart from the clatter of the wheels on the rails beneath them, the corridor was silent—until the girl began to weep again.

  All of the hallway doors she could see were shut and she suspected that nobody else wanted to investigate. It had to be well after midnight but the sound floated in tendrils down the corridor.

  Kelsie tapped gently on the door next to her. The crying stopped and there was a shuffling noise and then the door opened a crack.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Kelsie whispered through the crack, and the door opened a fraction more.

  A shaky w
hisper came back, ‘No. I am afraid.’

  Afraid wasn’t good, Kelsie thought, and hardened her resolve to intrude. ‘Can I come in? I’m alone.’

  No answer for a long pause and then the door opened enough to allow entry and Kelsie slipped around the door and then pulled it shut quietly behind her.

  The girl climbed back into bed and curled into the foetal position as if she could keep away the pains. Kelsie couldn’t really do anything except stand over against the door or sit next to her on the rumpled bed.

  She was young, dressed in a thin white nightgown, and when Kelsie looked down the obviousness of the pregnant belly confirmed her suspicions.

  ‘I’m Kelsie. Can I sit for a minute?’

  The slim shoulders shrugged and the woman sniffed, but she shifted her bottom further back into the bed so there was room for two. ‘I am Anna.’

  ‘Hello, Anna.’ Kelsie peered into her face. ‘Are you in labour, Anna?’

  Anna shook her head in the negative, rapidly, and then sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How long have the pains been coming?’

  Huge dark eyes stared solemnly back as the girl pushed her thick long black ponytail off her neck. ‘Since we left Venice.’

  ‘Are they regular?’ The girl blinked and didn’t answer. Kelsie tried again. ‘Do they come the same distance apart? Every few minutes.’

  ‘I think so.’ Her eyes screwed up and her hand flew to her belly. ‘Another comes.’

  The young woman began to whimper and Kelsie put her hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. Just let it happen. Don’t be scared. If you’re scared then you feel more pain. Keeping calm means less pain.’

  Kelsie listened to her automatic midwifery patter and mocked herself. Or you could be scared because you’re in a train in the middle of the Swiss Alps and there’s snow outside. If something goes wrong, we’re all in trouble.

  Instead she said, ‘Just let it go. Let it wash over you like a big wave. Ride it up one side of the wave and down the other and let it go. Everything is fine. You’re doing beautifully.’