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

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘I wish I had a Christmas present for you,’ Seb said. Isla looked up from her plate and smiled.

  ‘This is a Christmas present. You, being here with me.’

  His expression brightened. ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. Besides, I don’t have a present for you, so we’re equal.’

  ‘This is good,’ he said, waving his fork at his plate. ‘I don’t usually bother with Christmas dinner. Could never see the point.’ He spoke without maudlin or melancholy, but that alone made Isla’s heart suddenly lurch for him. She could picture the years going by, every one with him in some lonely place as Christmas came and went. It certainly put the injustices she saw in her own life into perspective. She’d had her share of disappointment and betrayal, but at least she’d had a mother who loved her and a place to call home.

  ‘Has it always been horrible?’ she asked gently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Christmas Day?’

  ‘Oh no,’ he smiled. ‘I’m used to it. Sometimes I even get invited to the odd lunch. But you feel it, you know, the fact that you’re an outsider even when people try to include you. The best ones were in the care home, actually, with the other kids. The place was a battleground most days but they were the closest to family I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Do you keep in touch with any of them?’

  ‘I tried, at first. It’s not so easy these days; we’re all so busy with our own lives. I often think of them, though.’

  ‘Did you have a girlfriend?’

  ‘No,’ he said, blushing a little. ‘That was difficult too, particularly if it was a girl in the home. The people in charge didn’t like that sort of thing.’

  ‘But you had a girlfriend after? A serious one, I mean. You said something… back at Lake Blanc. It sounded as if…’

  ‘It didn’t end well,’ he said. ‘She went to work in South America and I haven’t seen her since.’

  ‘Why didn’t it end well? Because of the job?’

  ‘Sort of. A bit because of the cheating too. But I suppose that was partly my fault.’

  Isla frowned. ‘Why would it be your fault?’

  ‘I introduced her to my best friend. The first proper friend I’d made outside the home when I started at university. At least, I thought he was my friend. Turns out it didn’t mean that much to him. He knew I was nuts about her. Perhaps that was the attraction.’

  ‘What a bastard!’

  ‘It’s old news now. I don’t think about it all that much.’

  ‘But you find it difficult to trust anyone now?’

  He gave a small smile. ‘I try not to let it have that effect on me. I want to be optimistic and forgiving. It would be too easy to go through life being miserable and blaming it on every one of my past misfortunes but that would be a waste of the life that could follow. A life I’m sure would be infinitely better and more productive than one spent wallowing in self-pity.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Isla said, her thoughts wandering back to her own experiences so far. It had been so easy to wallow and blame everything on everyone who had ever wronged her. But things were different now – she was moving on and it felt good.

  ‘Have you been with anyone since?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I suppose the right person just hasn’t come along.’

  ‘I suppose it’s quite hard meeting people wandering around glaciers,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood. But in reality, she hardly felt like joking at all.

  He smiled. ‘It could be a large part of the problem.’

  ‘You miss being with someone?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t mean anything to me. I’d rather be alone than do that.’

  ‘Nobody should settle for second best.’

  He sipped at his glass of wine in silence for a moment. ‘So you wouldn’t?’

  ‘Absolutely not. Where’s the sense in that? It’s love – or nothing at all.’

  Isla’s gaze fell on the pair of Christmas crackers Dahlia had sneaked onto the tray with their food. Seb, following her gaze, picked one up.

  ‘Where did these come from?’

  ‘Dahlia of course. God knows where she got them from; I have no idea if Christmas crackers are even a thing in France.’ She smiled. ‘Want to pull it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  He took hold of one end and Isla took the other, yanking hard until it came apart with a CRACK! She peered inside the long end she now held, convinced that he’d deliberately let her win, and retrieved the party hat stashed within.

  ‘It suits you,’ he said as she jammed it onto her head and then tipped the cracker upside down to shake out the elusive prize. A plastic ring tumbled out onto the table and Seb picked it up.

  ‘Wow – this could be worth a fortune.’

  ‘Millions,’ Isla grinned. ‘Looks like my cousin Pamela’s engagement ring… only classier.’

  He held it out across the table. ‘Will you marry me, Isla?’

  What had started as a flippant joke became something far stranger and more charged as she stared at him. His grin died too and he stared back, the ring awkwardly held in the space between them, his words heavy with meaning that neither of them had seen coming. Perhaps the day was already too strange and full of meaning for this to be a joke they could laugh off. And for one crazy moment she considered saying yes. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t serious, or that they barely knew each other, the response simply bounced around her head, taunting her, threatening to come out. She forced out a laugh in its place, one that sounded vaguely hysterical.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  He shook himself, blushing. ‘I gave it a shot. I might have known you’d refuse me. Way out of my league…’

  ‘Not that,’ Isla said quickly. She gazed at him – the floppy hair, the freckles, the nose that crinkled when he smiled. He’d been there all along – her perfect match, and she’d never seen it because she couldn’t see past the ridiculous template she’d set for herself for love. Those men had only ever caused her pain and heartache, and here was a man who was cute and funny, intelligent and kind and good-looking. If he wasn’t perfect boyfriend material she didn’t know what was. ‘Not that at all…’

  She reached across and took his hand. ‘I can’t marry you because I don’t know you. Yet. But maybe we could do something about that.’

  In one synchronised movement they were both on their feet, kissing across the table. Isla plunged her hands into his hair and pulled him in, a prisoner in her embrace that she never wanted to release, moving with him as if this was a dance delicately choreographed and rehearsed a thousand times before. Now the moment was real and Isla couldn’t care less about Christmas lunch or missing families or the fact that she’d only known him for a week. She was burning in a fever of need, the smell of him and the taste of his mouth on hers driving all other thoughts from her head.

  He broke off suddenly. ‘I don’t want pity. Please… that wasn’t what I wanted.’

  ‘Pity?’

  ‘I’m alone and I’m OK with that.’

  ‘You don’t have to be.’

  ‘That’s not why I told you about my parents. I just thought… you’d understand. More than anyone.’

  ‘And I do,’ Isla said, moving in again. ‘I understand and it doesn’t change a thing.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You like me?’

  ‘Oh, Isla, you know I do…’ He screwed his eyes tight, letting out a sigh of barely contained desire. ‘You know I adore you.’

  ‘I couldn’t be sure.’

  ‘How can you say that? I’d fall down and worship the ground under your feet – you must be able to see that.’

  ‘I don’t think we need to go quite that far,’ she said with a faint smile.

  ‘You like me?’ he asked uncertainly.

  ‘Would I be doing this if I didn’t?’ was her lazy reply as she reached for his bow tie and pulled it loose.

  ‘What are you
doing?’

  ‘Undressing you. It’s a bit forward, I know, but I figure it’s Christmas, and since neither of us has any presents to open, we’ll just have to unwrap each other…’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Doing her best to shake away the fog of her sleepy brain, Isla pulled a sweatshirt on and hurried to the window to check the weather. Crisp snow covered the ground – a new fall must have come down while she’d slept in Seb’s arms – but it was calm and clear now, the sky pastel pink over the mountains as dusk cloaked the village of St Martin, giving the snow a glittering, icy hue. It should have been beautiful, but the sight only made Isla sad. It meant there was no excuse to stay now. Just when she most desperately wanted to.

  It had been the strangest and most incredible Christmas Day. None of her mum’s prawn cocktail starter, no figgy pudding and brandy sauce that nobody had room for, no falling asleep in front of a film, or charades. No aunts screeching with laughter and no pretending to love presents she’d later hide in a drawer. None of the things that were supposed to mean Christmas, and yet everything that Christmas meant was asleep in the bed where she’d left him. Christmas was about love, and she’d found that in spades.

  Crossing the room, she checked her phone. Missed calls and text messages from her mum, but that wasn’t surprising. She was probably still fuming about Isla’s no-show, even though she knew perfectly well it was out of Isla’s hands. She would return the calls, but right now she wanted to hold onto the feeling of intense happiness and contentment that had stolen over her.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Isla turned to see Seb was awake and looking at her. Naked, his limbs draped across the bed as he stretched, he looked like him, but not like him. Like an insanely sexy version of him. A naughty twin who didn’t wear a bow tie and study glaciers, but who swore and drank and did dirty things with girls.

  ‘I was checking the weather,’ she smiled. ‘And then I thought I’d look to see how many angry texts my mum could manage in an hour.’

  ‘And how many is that?’

  ‘Surprisingly only two. She’s thawing out in her old age.’

  He sat up. ‘Did we actually just do that?’

  ‘I’m afraid we did.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘We could do it again…’

  His grin was brief and bright, but then he was serious again, the old, thoughtful, uncertain Seb back.

  ‘I mean for us. You have to go home tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. I’d quite happily check back in and stay for another month, but I don’t suppose that’s a realistic prospect.’ She crossed to the window and peered out again as the sky above the Alps turned from pink to lilac. Seb appeared at her side and together they stood at the window watching new, stuttering snow flurries gently drift to the ground. Her hand found his and slid around it.

  ‘Maybe it will snow like crazy again tonight and then I’ll have to stay,’ she said.

  ‘I wish it would snow forever.’

  She turned to him. ‘I may have to go home, but I have no intention of leaving you. Why would you say that after today?’

  ‘I suppose it’s just the way I’m conditioned to think.’

  ‘I might have asked the same of you.’

  ‘Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t want to see you again?’

  ‘I sort of have a track record.’

  ‘Isla, I…’

  She smiled up at him and pushed a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t worry – I know. I feel the same way.’ Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck to pull him in. Pulse racing, desire coursing through her, their lips smudged across one another’s; she knew instantly that this was good and right. All her doubts, all her pretending, all her denial, all was washed away in the heat of this moment.

  He pulled her closer and his hand gently traced the line of her arm, across her shoulder, his fingers finding the nape of her neck and gently stroking. She groaned, desire exploding deep inside her.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he whispered, his lips close to her ear as he breathed her in. ‘I can’t lose you, not now.’

  ‘You know I have to.’

  ‘What if I never see you again?’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘We’ll make it happen. One way or another.’

  He pulled away and shook his head. ‘I should have said something sooner; you’ll be leaving in the morning and it’s my fault we have such little time.’

  ‘I think we could both take some blame for that. And besides, I’m leaving in the morning, but the morning is hours away.’

  ‘I think your wish came true.’

  Isla stood at the window of their room and gazed out onto a fresh fall of snow. It looked as if it had been snowing all night and it didn’t show any signs of stopping. They’d slept for a few hours but something had woken her early. It was Boxing Day morning and already Christmas Day seemed like a strange and distant dream. Except it wasn’t a dream, and Seb came to stand beside her, folding her into his arms as they took in the scene together, just to remind her of how real it had all been.

  ‘If I’d known it would be that easy I’d have tried wishing for things a lot sooner.’

  ‘So what should I do? I’ve already cancelled one flight and I can’t keep putting off my trip home.’

  ‘But you haven’t rebooked it yet?’

  ‘Dad said to wait and see what the weather was doing. He didn’t think it would be an issue to get something last minute.’

  ‘Looks like it was good advice. I guess you could phone the airport and find out if anything’s taking off their end but, honestly, I’d wait a while.’

  She swivelled to get a better look at his face. ‘Is that because you don’t want me to go?’

  ‘Could be,’ he grinned. ‘Would another day be so bad?’

  ‘I suppose I’ve already missed Christmas Day and I doubt I could enrage my mother any more by missing Boxing Day. I think she’s already at maximum capacity.’

  ‘There you go then – decided.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t…’ Isla giggled. ‘You make it sound too easy.’

  ‘Isn’t it? One more day? I’ve only just found you and I have to let you go already? Please, one more day isn’t going to hurt anyone, is it? I’ll help you book tomorrow’s flight, but give me today. And the weather’s on my side too, so how can you argue?’

  Isla let out a sigh. She wanted to stay, God only knew how much. But the longer she stayed with Seb, the further away real life seemed and the less she wanted to go back to it. If she stayed too long she might never go back. She had Serendipity Sound and Seb there for the next couple of months; St Martin was looking like a very appealing prospect right now.

  ‘I’d better phone my mum and let her know. She is not going to be happy.’

  ‘You’re joking, right? This is a joke…’

  ‘No, Mum.’ Isla shot a frown at Seb as he watched her make the call. He pulled a sympathetic face before returning his attention to the batch of emails he’d promised he’d reply to as quickly as he could while she was busy on the phone.

  ‘You said you’d be home for Christmas and here you’re telling me you’re not even coming home on Boxing Day?’

  ‘I can’t do anything about the weather.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have been stuck in snow if you hadn’t gone in the first place! I knew this would happen—’

  ‘Mum, it’s one Christmas out of a whole life of Christmases.’

  ‘For you maybe. How do I know you won’t want to go there every Christmas now that you have your fancy house?’

  Isla chewed on her lip. She had thought about spending more time in St Martin and she couldn’t deny that in the end Christmas here had been amazing.

  ‘If I did, you could come with me.’

  ‘Unbelievable! Why on earth would I want to do that? Christmas is here, with family!’

  ‘But I have family here now too. And it’s so beautiful, Mum… if yo
u could only see it I know you’d love it—’

  ‘Me? Set foot in the same town where your father lives with another woman? Are you crazy?’

  ‘Maybe a little.’ Isla shot a furtive glance at Seb as he tapped on the keyboard of his laptop. His forehead was creased in a vague frown and his tongue poked from the corner of his mouth. She couldn’t help but smile. If her mum thought things had changed for Isla while she’d been in St Martin, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how much. ‘There’s something else and I might as well tell you because it means I’ll be coming here again in the next couple of months. I’ve met someone.’

  There was silence. Seb looked up from his work with an expression of mild surprise.

  ‘Mum?’ Isla said. ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘A local?’

  ‘No; not a local.’

  ‘Thank the lord.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘I only mean that if it was a local I wouldn’t be happy.’

  ‘Why? What difference does it make?’

  ‘Well, you’d be moving there.’

  ‘Mum… you need to stop doing this. I can’t stay with you forever and you need to get used to that.’

  ‘Yes, but he lives there…’

  ‘You mean Dad?’

  ‘You know who I mean.’

  ‘He does, but that shouldn’t matter. I’m not a kid who needs your protection any more. If I choose to build a relationship with my dad then that’s my choice, and if it all goes wrong then that’s my problem. If I marry a Frenchman and come to live here – not that I’m going to – that’s my choice too and I live with the consequences. You’ll always be important and no matter what happens I’ll always love you, but I can’t keep living in your shadow.’

  ‘Isla, what the hell—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum – I know you don’t want to hear this but I need to say it. I need to make my own mistakes because while I’m making yours the world is shrinking around me and pretty soon the only life I’ll have is the one you have.’