A Cosy Candlelit Christmas: A wonderfully festive feel good romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 2)

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Really? I know it’s supposed to be a Christmas classic and it’s always on TV but I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘I have. About a million times.’

  ‘Oh…’ He sat up and turned to her. ‘You want to watch something else? You should have said instead of letting me put it on—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Isla smiled. ‘I don’t mind watching it again. In fact, I quite like it. Just don’t tell her I said that.’

  ‘I’ll be sure not to if our paths ever cross.’

  Out of habit, she tucked her legs beneath her. The action spread her body so she took up more room on the sofa and she was suddenly aware of how much closer to him she now was; the heat of his arm resting against hers, his scent in the air she breathed. She sensed him tense up. Instinctively she pulled her legs down again and moved away.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Taking up so much space.’

  ‘It’s fine…’ he said, flipping up from the sofa and crossing the room to grab a high-backed chair. He set it beside the sofa and sat down.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Giving you the sofa so you can put your legs up.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks.’

  Sucking in a sigh, Isla got comfortable again. She didn’t know whether his gesture was endearing or annoying. Just as she was about to tell him she didn’t want him to vacate the sofa on her account her phone bleeped a message.

  Did you get your room sorted? Celine says you’re welcome to stay here if not.

  Isla tapped out a reply.

  Dahlia sorted me out. Thank you but no need to worry.

  How about Christmas lunch? As you’re here would you like to join us?

  She glanced up at Seb, who gave her an uncertain smile as he paused the film. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘Just my dad, checking everything is OK.’

  ‘And is it?’

  ‘I think so. He wants to know if I’m eating with them tomorrow.’

  ‘Perhaps you should. I mean, he’s your dad after all. Won’t he be offended if you don’t?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know if I’m strong enough…’ Isla shivered, overcome by a sudden wave of emotion that she hadn’t even seen coming. ‘I mean… it’s a bloody mess, isn’t it? My family is a shit-tip of a mess and I just don’t know if I can cope with it any more. Honestly… I think I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘He’s your dad, though.’ Seb was silent for a moment. ‘I could come with you?’ he said. ‘Moral support if you’re feeling nervous around your brother. Actually, ignore me. That’s a stupid idea – your dad doesn’t even know me and why would he allow that?’

  ‘He’d probably allow it, but I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I appreciate that you were willing to put yourself through that on my account, though.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Isla typed a brief reply and then locked her phone. She looked up at Seb. ‘I’ve told him I’ll sleep on it.’

  ‘Probably wise.’

  ‘Now, please come and sit on the sofa because you’re making me feel guilty.’

  With a sheepish grin he perched himself next to her. ‘I just thought you might need some more space.’

  ‘How fat do you think I am?’

  ‘You’re not at all fat, I think you’re…’

  Isla didn’t get to hear the rest of his reply. They both jumped as the lights flickered twice and then they were plunged into darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  There were footsteps – Seb running across the room. Isla could see his lean silhouette in the dim light from the dusky skies beyond the window.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked as he headed for the door.

  ‘Just checking on Dahlia. You’ll be alright here for a minute?’

  ‘Sod that, I’m coming too!’

  Out in the windowless corridor it was total blackness. Isla heard other doors opening too and guests coming out mumbling about the loss of power. Once or twice she bumped into someone with an apology on her lips. She felt a hand grab hers and knew by the scent close by that it was Seb. There was a jolt of desire, a spark so charged he must have felt it as well. The darkness and the uncertainty of their predicament brought a sense of urgency, but it was strangely thrilling too, almost sexy. His hand closed in, a gentle, reassuring squeeze and her free hand itched to pull the rest of him closer. She balled it into a fist and fought the urge. Hadn’t he just said Dahlia would need them? This was not the time for crazy fantasies.

  ‘Stairs,’ he said, and pulled her to follow him.

  ‘Won’t it come back on in a minute or two?’ Isla asked uncertainly as they felt their way along to the stairwell door and opened it. He’d flicked his phone torch on but she was still impressed by his confidence. He wasn’t fazed at all.

  ‘Last time I was here we lost power. Dahlia has a backup generator but it’s in a really tricky location; the steps are lethal, especially when they’re covered in snow like they will be today. I’d rather she didn’t go down there.’

  ‘So you’re going down there so you can break your neck instead?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Isla didn’t reply. As she wasn’t about to let go of his hand, it looked as though she was going down there too. Together they emerged from the bottom doors of the stairs and out into the main reception corridor. Flashing his torch around the space, Seb quickly revealed that Dahlia wasn’t there. Beyond the main desk Isla could see the bar was full of customers. The remains of Dahlia’s candles from the previous evening were still burning, dotted around the restaurant with a warm, reassuring glow. It looked so pretty and festive it was tempting to believe that they didn’t need their electricity at all. Seb led her to the key rack behind the reception desk.

  ‘The key’s gone… she must already be on her way down,’ he said, his voice unmistakably tense.

  Without waiting for a reply, he tugged at Isla again and took her through a side door that emerged into the freezing cold of the world outside. Snow slapped in her face and took her breath away, more ferocious than any snow she’d ever been in. It had looked beautiful and magical from the safety and warmth of Seb’s room, but outside it was wild, unpredictable and totally terrifying. He grasped her hand tighter and they crossed a narrow lane to a kind of bunker, a dark, squat doorway buried in snowdrifts. The door was already open.

  ‘Dahlia!’ Seb cried into the darkness. He crossed the threshold, and Isla followed him, the smell of damp assaulting her. He shone his phone down a set of steep stone steps. The top few were inches deep in snow that had drifted beneath the door, and the ones falling away looked slick with icy moss and lichen. ‘Dahlia! Are you down there?’

  ‘Here!’ called a cheery voice. ‘I’m having a bit of trouble with the switch though. Arms aren’t as strong as they used to be.’

  Seb cursed under his breath. Isla had imagined that he simply didn’t swear and she was taken by surprise. ‘I knew she’d do this. I told her to call me if the power went out. Stay here – it’s too dangerous to go down.’

  ‘But you’re going down?’ Isla clamped her hands on her hips as he gently pushed her away. ‘Why is it more dangerous for me than you?’

  ‘I won’t be long. I don’t want you to fall.’

  ‘I didn’t ask what you wanted – and I won’t fall.’

  ‘Isla…’ He moved closer, held her in a pleading gaze, and once again there was a moment when she found herself drowning in the pools of his eyes, where the candlelight from the windows of the hotel beyond played tricks with the colours swirling there. But she jutted out her chin and shook herself from the spell. ‘You’re not backing down, are you?’ he asked, the half-smile about his lips belying the half-exasperated tone of his voice.

  ‘No. So the quicker we agree I’m going down, then the quicker we’ll get to Dahlia.’

  After a heartbeat’s pause, he simply nodded and for a second she almost th
ought that he’d move in and kiss her, like some action hero in a movie just at the moment of ultimate peril. But instead he gave her that exasperated smile again and turned for the steps once more.

  ‘Does this happen a lot?’ Isla asked as she followed him gingerly down, the bravado she’d shown for his benefit now dissipating in the reality of the damp and dull cellar. Instinctively she reached for his hand again, but he was too far in front and to grab it from here might have sent them both tumbling down the steps. She had to satisfy herself with reaching for the clammy walls, rough and unpredictable under her palms, to steady her path.

  ‘Imagine how hard it is to get power up here in the first place, and then imagine the force of the blizzards battering the equipment. That’s what the generator is for.’

  As they hit the bottom step, the tiny, low-ceilinged space was lit by a larger torch to reveal Dahlia wrestling with a huge rusting lever.

  ‘Why didn’t you fetch me?’ Seb asked, rushing over.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. You’re not here all the time so I need to be self-sufficient.’

  ‘Not at the expense of a broken limb… Remember what happened last time?’

  ‘That was last time. I’m not stupid enough to let it happen again.’

  ‘What happened last time?’ Isla asked.

  ‘Fell down the steps,’ Seb grunted as he threw his weight into the lever and pushed hard. ‘Broken ankle.’ The lever inched up and, with a loud clunk, slotted into place. The room flooded with yellow light and there was a muffled cheer from the hotel above.

  ‘Guess that’s done it.’ He grinned, wiping his hands down his trousers. He turned to Dahlia. ‘I know I’m not here all the time, but I’m here now so you should have asked me to come down.’

  Dahlia looked sheepishly from him to Isla and back again. ‘I figured you would be busy.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how busy you think I am, next time fetch me.’

  ‘Yes… OK,’ Dahlia said, pouting like a chastised child. Seb offered his arm.

  ‘What about Isla?’ Dahlia asked pointedly. ‘Shouldn’t she have your arm?’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll get up those steps three abreast,’ Isla said, throwing a surreptitious grin at Seb. ‘If I break an ankle the worst that will happen is I have to take some time off uni. You have a hotel to run, and who’s going to cook my divine pancakes if you can’t?’

  Seb led Dahlia, complaining, up the stairs and back out into the snow as Isla followed. It was funny hearing her complain because she was always so agreeable. Anyone would think they’d seriously scuppered some cunning plan by coming down to the basement to save her.

  The snow was still heavy, but it had calmed enough to venture out, and it seemed half the guests of Residence Alpenrose were trekking through the snow alongside Seb and Isla as they made their way to the little church in the main square. The power was back on in the village so Dahlia had been able to divert the hotel back onto the main grid from her backup generator, and now their way was lit by streetlamps and fairy lights in the windows of homes. They walked side by side, Isla wishing he’d take her hand like he did before, but he didn’t. He did talk, however. A lot.

  ‘I’m interested to see what the service is like,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been to a Christmas church service before. I suppose it’ll be in French and mine isn’t brilliant but I should be able to follow it. Do you need me to translate as we go along?’

  If Isla hadn’t known better she’d have said it was nervous chatter, though he certainly had no reason to be nervous. At least she didn’t think so.

  As they got closer to the church they were joined by more groups of people from around the village – some guests of other hotels and some village residents, some greeting with a friendly hello and some with bonsoir or salut. Everyone was smiling and although Isla had never been particularly sentimental about the holiday season, it was difficult not to get caught up in the warmth of the crowds that swept away the cold of the night. Old, young, parents, children, couples and friends – everyone wore the same expression of joyous expectation.

  The church was small, made of old rendered stone with a grey bell tower. The exterior was lit from the ground, throwing a warm glow across the square which teemed with crowds so large Isla wondered how on earth such a tiny village could house them all.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Isla said. She’d passed it during the day when it had looked pretty but unassuming, but now the light and the atmosphere in the square had turned it into something altogether more enchanting. Some people in the crowds carried lanterns and others gave out warm, spicy drinks. There were no snazzy coloured fairy lights, no blow-up Santas, no jangly music playing over loud speakers, just simple and elegant touches that harked back to a peaceful, more simple time. A time where the real meaning of Christmas was still fresh in the minds and hearts of men. Isla didn’t ordinarily mind the bling that went with the holiday season at home, but this was something so refreshing that she already loved it.

  As they approached the church entrance, swept along with the crowds, Isla was given what looked like a hymn sheet.

  ‘Joyeux Noel!’

  ‘Merci,’ she replied.

  Seb laughed. ‘Speaking the lingo.’ Isla nudged him in the ribs.

  ‘I’ll have you know I’m not completely useless.’

  ‘Just a little bit.’

  She tried to frown but it turned into a grin. ‘I admit that I’ll struggle with anything more than telling someone my name, or asking where the train station is.’

  If the outside of the church had looked pretty but unassuming, the inside was as different as could be. Ornately carved wooden panels adorned the seating, sculpted figures of cherubs and saints were everywhere painted in rich hues, frescoes stretched across high-vaulted ceilings and row upon row of candles lined the walls.

  ‘Wow!’ Isla stood and stared, almost causing a line of people behind her to topple like dominoes. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled as she blushed, but it seemed the spirit of Christmas was working its magic on everyone and the nearest man merely waved away the apology with a smile. She turned back to Seb, who was scanning the room for a vacant seat. ‘This place is incredible!’

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Gorgeous! Have you been here before?’

  ‘Dahlia told me about it last time I was here so I came to have a look around. It was a lot quieter then.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ Isla said with a smile as he indicated a space for them to sit on the end of a row. ‘I wish I knew more about religious iconography now so I could understand some of these pictures.’

  ‘You don’t need to understand them to appreciate them. It’s a bit like glaciology in that way; you can still see it’s beautiful even if you don’t understand what makes it tick.’ Seb gave her a strange sideways look as he said this.

  ‘Well, I wish I did,’ she replied, uncertain what to make of his expression.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing I do know,’ he said with a soppy grin that looked like him again. He pointed to the gold-embellished altar. ‘See those fine fellas in those paintings there? Saints. Saint Martin, Saint Joseph, and the best one, obviously, Saint Sebastian.’

  ‘Saint Sebastian?’ Isla smiled and peered to get a closer look. ‘He’s better looking than you, though,’ she said. ‘More muscles.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s how they painted everyone in those days. It was like Photoshop for the sixteenth century. In real life they were flabby and useless like the rest of us.’

  ‘You’re not flabby,’ Isla giggled. ‘I’ve never seen such a bendy beanpole of a man.’

  ‘You think I’m a beanpole?’ Seb looked vaguely offended.

  ‘No,’ Isla laughed. ‘I don’t really. I think you’re just right.’

  The voice of the priest suddenly filled the space. Isla looked up in surprise, not realising they’d been almost ready to start as she and Seb chatted. He seemed to have that effect on her – that whenever he was talking the res
t of the world somehow faded away. How funny that she hadn’t noticed it before. After one last brief smile from him, she faced the front. She had absolutely no idea what the priest was saying and even less about what the order of service was, but it didn’t matter. She was sure she was going to love every minute no matter what.

  ‘Isla!’

  She spun round at the sound of her name being called. The service was over and the congregation was spilling out into the square, lanterns aloft again, the chattering and laughter of a crowd in high spirits, ready to start the festive season in earnest. She looked to see Ian trudging through the snow towards her with Celine, Benet and Natalie following.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight,’ he said, throwing a glance at Seb before turning back to her. ‘You could have come along with us.’

  ‘I didn’t know myself I was coming until an hour before I did,’ she said. She looked behind him, half expecting to see Justin bringing up the rear and was relieved that she couldn’t see him anywhere. ‘I just… we just decided it might be a nice idea.’

  Ian looked at Seb again, clearly under the impression he was missing something. But he merely gave him a stiff smile and turned back to Isla.

  ‘And did you enjoy the service?’ he asked.

  ‘It was lovely,’ Isla said. ‘I didn’t understand a word, of course, but I enjoyed the sentiment. And Seb translated a little for me.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Ian replied, looking at Seb again, and if she hadn’t known better Isla would have said it was the look of suspicion that all fathers gave to new potential suitors for their daughters. But then, Ian wasn’t like all fathers, Isla wasn’t like all daughters and Seb wasn’t a suitor.

  ‘Will you come back to our house for drinks now?’ Celine asked. She looked at Seb now, weighing him up in a subtler way than Ian but still seeming to weigh him up just the same. ‘Your friend is welcome too.’

  ‘Sebastian.’ Seb nodded. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  Isla was almost dazed as everyone greeted him briefly, as if events were somehow always two steps ahead of her. She barely knew herself how she felt about Seb and now he was meeting her family as if all this was normal. As for him joining them for drinks, she didn’t know what to make of that either and the idea of them all sitting together seemed overwhelming. And would Justin be there? Seb and Justin in the same room. Now there was a prospect, Isla thought wryly. Even less appealing was the idea of spending time with Benet, who now stood nonchalantly, hands dug in his pockets and barely concerned with proceedings at all. At least that was the impression he was trying to give. Natalie stepped forward to link arms with Celine and smiled.