Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

by Fiona Harper

  When Ben ended the kiss, she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight enough to make her arm muscles shake. Pressed right up against his chest, she could feel his heart beating, racing even faster than her own.

  He kissed the tip of her earlobe and a shudder ran through her. Then he whispered in her ear.

  ‘Marry me?’

  She froze. All around her the dream began to splinter. And she had no idea why, because that question should have been the perfect prelude to a happy ever after. She only knew she was terrified out of her wits. This was too real, too…much.

  ‘Louise?’ There was a shake in his voice and she hated the fact that she’d put it there. She pulled away from him and smoothed down the antique satin of her dress. ‘I think we should leave,’ she said, unable to look at him. She was angry with herself for hurting him and, perhaps a little unreasonably, angry at him too.

  Ben ran after her as she marched off to the cloakroom and retrieved her wrap. She could tell he was itching to talk to her, but there were too many people around. And, coward that she was, she was glad.

  Within five minutes they were in the warm of his car, pulling out of the gates of Batterham Hall and weaving down the country lanes back towards home.

  ‘It’s too fast, isn’t it?’ Ben finally said grimly. ‘I got carried away.’

  ‘Are you saying you didn’t mean it?’

  ‘No! I mean…no,’ he said in a quieter tone. ‘I would never play with your feelings that way.’

  Not intentionally. But men were apt to promise the world when they were swept up in the first flush of love. Toby had been the same. It didn’t mean it was going to last a lifetime. Just at the hint of the possibility that it wouldn’t, her stomach turned to ice. Oh, she really didn’t understand what was going on inside her head this evening!

  She did her best to explain it to Ben, staring at her lap mostly and only risking the odd glance across at him as he drove. ‘It’s all so new. How can we possibly tell what we are really feeling? We’re riding the first wave of infatuation and we need to leave ourselves time to get past that.’ There. That sounded much more reasonable.

  He took his eyes off the road and turned his head sharply to look at her. ‘You think I’m just infatuated with you?’

  She’d made him angry. That hadn’t been her intention at all. He glared at her for a hard second, then returned his attention to the road. An instant denial should have popped out of her mouth by now, shouldn’t it?

  ‘No,’ she said slowly.

  ‘I’m not just infatuated with you, Louise.’

  Suddenly, he swung into a passing place on the narrow road and wrenched the handbrake on. He reached upwards and flicked a switch for a small light on the inside roof of the car. She swallowed. She’d always sensed that beneath the down-to-earth, practical exterior, Ben was a man who cared passionately and felt deeply. She just hadn’t expected it all to burst to the surface tonight.

  He turned to stare out of the windscreen. ‘Maybe I am a little bit infatuated, if thinking that everything about you is amazing, if wanting to spend my whole future with you fits the definition. I thought I’d found the woman who was my other half…’

  Unshed tears clogged her throat. They were wonderful words, but if she picked them apart just a little…

  Everything about her definitely wasn’t amazing, and that told her she was more right than she wanted to be. They did need more time. Why couldn’t he see that?

  He turned just his head to face her, and his eyes were burning. ‘It’s more than that, Louise.’

  She shook her head. ‘You can’t know that for sure. Not yet.’

  His mouth settled into a grim line. ‘You’re wrong. I know what I feel, what I want. I’ve never been more certain. It’s you that doesn’t know for sure.’

  How could she know? Real life wasn’t like daydreams or the movies when it all became obvious in a blinding split-second. She’d felt this way before and she’d been spectacularly wrong. Of course she wasn’t sure!

  ‘You don’t have any faith in me,’ he said grimly as he put the car into gear and drove away.

  Louise was pushing him away as hard as she could and it was his own stupid fault. He’d been hasty—which really wasn’t like him—even so, he was one hundred per cent certain that she was wrong about the infatuation thing. And he’d prove it to her somehow. First of all, he had to find out what was behind all of this. Something had triggered Louise’s panic button. Somehow, he’d touched on a really raw nerve.

  When they arrived at her house, he insisted on accompanying her inside, sure that if he left it now, she would retreat inside her shell and he might not have the opportunity again. He had to talk to her now while it was all brimming at the surface.

  She wasn’t pleased about him being there, he could tell. An air of irritation hung about her as she led him into the drawing room and poured him a miserly brandy. He took a seat across the room from her as she perched on a dark purple velvet sofa.

  ‘Why can’t you believe, Louise? What’s happened that makes it so difficult for you to trust your feelings?’

  She took a deep breath and he saw her shutters rise. Damn! For five long minutes she stared into the cold fireplace. Then, still keeping her gaze locked on it, she said, ‘I’m scared to. I so want it to be real, Ben.’

  Instantly, he was across the room and sitting beside her. There were wounds here that were too old, too deep to be healed in a moment. He’d been a fool. If he’d realised they were there, he would have trodden a lot more carefully. But she’d seemed so different recently, happier, freer…

  She leaned against him, but still continued to stare into the empty fireplace. He placed an arm lightly round her shoulders and stroked the soft skin of her upper arm with his fingers. She didn’t push him away. It was no longer about convincing her, getting her to see the truth. For now, the important thing was just that she get a chance to vent things that had been buried for too long.

  He waited, knowing that pushing her with questions might easily make her re-erect the defences.

  When she spoke, her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it. ‘Right from when I was very young, life was about putting other people first—which isn’t a bad thing. Don’t get me wrong. But even when I didn’t want to, I had no choice. So I used to daydream about the life I couldn’t have while I was being mother to my younger brothers and sisters and taking care of my father.’ She turned to look at him and his heart broke to see her eyes full of such pain. ‘I suppose it was my survival mechanism.’

  ‘We all have those,’ he said tenderly.

  She turned back and he guessed she found it easier not to look at him.

  ‘Well, one day,’ she continued, ‘someone walked up to me and offered me all my dreams wrapped up in a sparkly box with a big bow—fame, success, recognition, enough money so I’d never have to worry about not having any clothes except my school uniform, enough money so I wouldn’t see the little ones’ eyes when I served up beans on toast for tea again…And love. I thought I’d found love.’

  He sighed. Louise had had the kind of childhood he worked his hardest to protect Jasmine from. He thought of this brave woman, not much older than his daughter, running a household, studying, caring for a sick relative. Who would blame her for reaching for the dream?

  ‘And so I was selfish. I chose something for myself.’ She buried her face in her hands and the tears came thick and fast. Ben hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. He knew exactly who would blame her for such a thing—she blamed herself. One by one the puzzle pieces clicked into place, fragments of things she’d told him that suddenly made sense—her relationship with Toby, her father, why she continued to punish herself.

  ‘You can’t blame yourself for your father’s death, you know. From what you’ve told me, he was a very sick man.’

  Okay, maybe he could have phrased that a little better, because Louise broke down c
ompletely. She was crying so hard she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Years of guilt and pain, of grieving she had never allowed herself to do, came spilling out in one go. He hugged her fiercely, as if he could protect her from it by sheer strength.

  Through the sobs she croaked, ‘But I…shouldn’t have…left him!’

  People thought she’d stuck with Toby all those years because she wanted the glitz and glamour more than she wanted her self-respect. How wrong they were. It came to him with crystal clarity: Louise had stayed with Toby because she believed she deserved him. He was her penance.

  Then a second thunderbolt hit. That wonderful New Year’s surprise he’d had planned for Louise. It was the worst possible thing he could have done.

  Louise opened one eye. Stark light sliced through the windows, bearing testimony to the fact that she’d been too exhausted to remember to draw the curtains when she’d crawled upstairs in the small hours of the morning.

  Her eyes, her head, even her throat ached. Nerves tickled her tummy. She had that awful sick feeling in her stomach. Too many emotions, too many tears. She wanted to call it all back and pretend it hadn’t happened. What must Ben think of her now?

  At the thought of him, she raised herself on one elbow. Last time she’d seen him he was curling up on the sofa with a blanket—which was completely ridiculous as she had at least ten empty bedrooms—but he’d insisted.

  She got out of bed and her foot met something slippery and incredibly smooth. Her Chanel dress lay in a heap where she’d let it drop before falling into bed. She picked it up and draped it over a low upholstered chair in the corner before wandering into her bathroom and having a shower.

  There was no noise from downstairs when she emerged. Yesterday morning she’d have been rushing downstairs to meet him. Today she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see Ben. He’d pushed her too far, made her feel things she wasn’t ready to feel. And, while she knew he’d had the best intentions in the world, that didn’t mean she wasn’t cross with him.

  In her mind, she played out the argument she wanted to have with him, telling him to back off and leave her alone. Who did he think he was, dragging all that stuff out of her? What gave him the right?

  She walked to the dressing table and picked up a comb and untangled her hair with unforgiving strokes.

  When she could delay it no longer she padded down the sweeping staircase, dressed in a grey track suit and large pink slippers. The echoing silence made it seem colder than it really was and she crossed her arms across her chest and hugged herself.

  She found a note in the kitchen: ‘Be back soon. Something I have to sort out. Ben.’

  She scrunched it into a little ball and threw it in the bin. Then, while the kettle boiled, she rehearsed the coming argument in her head again. Who had given him the job of deciding what she needed? She ought to be what she needed, and she certainly didn’t need some man to step into the slot Toby had left and take over her life. Okay, Ben wasn’t the same. He was full of concern rather than apathy, but that didn’t make her feel any less overruled, overshadowed.

  As she drained the last of her cup of tea, she heard a knock at the back door and turned to see Ben standing there, his face grim. Outside, she might have looked as if she didn’t care if he was there or not. Inside, she was seething. She walked over, opened the door, then walked away again before he could touch her.

  He stepped into the kitchen and rested against the counter without removing his coat. ‘I have something to confess.’

  She almost laughed. What now? He had another wife, a spare one, raving mad and locked in the attic? That would just about be her luck. She retreated to the opposite side of the kitchen, crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I had arranged a meeting with a journalist for this week. I was going to give an interview about…us.’

  Louise felt her jaw drop.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head, just once. ‘I know, I know. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her. All the carefully rehearsed lines of her row trickled away. ‘I wanted to fight for you, to tell the world what a wonderful person you are, that you’re not what everybody thinks you are…I wanted them all to see what I see.’

  It was very noble. It was also very stupid.

  ‘I’m not going to do it now,’ he said. ‘I cancelled the meeting.’

  ‘Well, thank you so much for telling me.’ The level of sarcasm in her voice surprised even her.

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘Why not, Ben? Why shouldn’t I be angry that you decided all on your own what was best for me? You should have talked it through with me.’ She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘This is becoming a pattern, you know—you jumping in and rescuing me from myself. Well, you know what? Perhaps I don’t need rescuing!’

  He stood up and walked towards her. ‘It’s not like that, Louise. I love you.’

  She backed away, still shaking her head. ‘I’m not one of your stupid plants, you know, something to be trained or cultivated. You can’t fix me, Ben. I am who I am and you need to accept that—all of that—and if you can’t, then perhaps I don’t need you at all.’

  Ben stopped walking and stared at her. How could he convince her? ‘I know I messed up, Louise. And I know I jumped in too fast, but that’s only because…I’ve never felt this way about anyone else—ever. It excites me, confuses me, scares the life out of me. I don’t want to lose you.’

  Her shutters fell again, and this time they were clamped down and double bolted. With an increasing sick feeling in his gut, he realised that this was the kickback from last night. She was too raw, and she was protecting herself the only way she knew how.

  The Louise he knew would never hold a grudge about that stupid magazine interview. It was just easier for her to feel anger, to hate him for that, than to let herself feel any of the other things last night’s conversation had brought up. And he wasn’t going to get anywhere by pushing. He had made that spectacularly awful mistake already and it had triggered this whole mess.

  But he was going to leave her in no doubt as to how he felt about her before he gave her the space she needed. She had to believe him about that. Knowing she would just retreat if he approached her, he stayed rooted to the spot and hoped the truth of his words could pierce her shield.

  He wanted to say something beautiful, elegant, poetic—something to reflect just a tiny bit of what he felt for her—but his mind was blank. No flowery words seemed to measure up. So he spoke with his eyes, his body, his whole being and, finally, he simply said, ‘I love you. I always will.’

  The shield around her buckled just enough for him to see a deep yearning ache behind the fire in her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but she was too scared, and he tried to pinpoint why that was. What was the overriding factor here?

  Guilt.

  The word popped into his head as if someone had whispered it in his ear.

  The irony of it all hit him like a blow in the solar plexus. Once again, he was offering all he had—his heart, his life, his love—to a woman, and it wasn’t enough. While she nursed her guilt, anything he could give her, even if he wrapped the whole universe up and put it in a silver box, would never be enough.

  Until she believed she deserved the happy ever after she yearned for so desperately, it would always be out of her reach. Until she understood she was worth being loved, she would always doubt him. Always. And that tiny speck of doubt, like a grain of sand would irritate and irritate until she couldn’t stand it any more. Even if he could talk her round now, their relationship would die from a slow-acting poison.

  He had to let her go. Just the thought of that made his nose burn and his eyes sting. He coughed the sensation away.

  Louise was looking at him with a strange mix of irritation and confusion on her face. It took all his strength not to reach for her, not to taste her lips one last time. Heavy steps took him across th
e kitchen to the door. He opened it, stepped through, then turned to take one last look.

  ‘Goodbye, Louise,’ he said, then closed the door and walked away.

  The daffodils were gone and blossom was on the trees when work on the old stable block was completed. The garden was looking fabulous too, although that always made her feel a little sad. Ben’s men had done a grand job. She hadn’t seen him again, really, since New Year’s Day. She kept away from the village, preferring to shop in the nearby towns, although she fancied she’d seen him from a distance a few times. On each occasion she’d turned tail and scurried away.

  How could she face him? After all those awful things she’d said to him? She’d had a chance and she’d blown it. More than that. She’d blasted it to smithereens with dynamite.

  At least she’d found something to do to take her mind off it all.

  She’d spent most of January unpacking her feelings about her childhood. In her teenage years she’d just soldiered on, doing the best she could. But now, looking back on her past with the eyes of a mother, she wondered why there hadn’t been more help. Social Services had been very keen to let them know when things weren’t up to scratch, but nobody had ever offered to step in and help.

  A break—just a week away from it now and then—might have made all the difference. She’d have gone back refreshed, ready to carry on. And she’d have been less susceptible to impossible fairy tales and knights. Not a knight in shining armour, but in black leather—wolves’ clothing. She sighed. Maybe that was being unfair to Toby. He wasn’t the devil incarnate; he was just immature, weak, spoiled.

  Louise picked up her bunch of keys and headed out towards the stables. It was time for one last look around before her guests arrived.

  In the small cobbled courtyard in front of the stables there was now a fountain and bright flowers in pots, benches to sun oneself on. Inside was even better. Four apartments, which she’d really enjoyed decorating, had all the mod cons, everything needed for a week of relaxation and pampering.

  As winter had faded and the snowdrops had appeared on the hillside, she’d approached Relief, a charity that specialised in giving respite care for young people who had to act as carers for sick or disabled family members. They were desperate for more locations to send the kids, places they could rest, unwind and meet others in the same boat. On site would be a cook and general den-mother, so the guests didn’t have to do chores and cooking as they did at home, and a child psychologist would be making regular visits.