Her eyes flitted around the room. She’d taken the curtains down last night. She’d need to hang them back up and let them dry. Now the pale light of day was filtering through the windows she could see the pale creams and blue of the room. It was much bigger than a normal bedroom, but the size didn’t hide the most important aspect.
It was exquisite. Exactly the type of room you’d expect in a castle. The bed, tables and furniture were traditional and elegant. Cornicing on the ceiling and a dado rail around the middle of the room, with a glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The two chairs next to the bed were French-style, Louis XVI, ornate with the thick padded seats covered in pale blue patterned fabric. Was it possible the rest of the castle was this beautiful? Between the dim light last night and the clouds of dust she couldn’t remember the details of the sitting room.
Now, she was conscious of the heavy breathing next to her. She turned her head just a little, scared to shift in the bed in case she woke him.
Finlay Armstrong’s muscular shoulders and arms were above the duvet cover. She had a prime view. All of a sudden her mouth felt oddly dry. He was sleeping. For the first time ever, Finlay looked totally relaxed. There were no lines on his face. None at all. All the usual little stress lines around his forehead and eyes had completely vanished.
He almost looked like a different person. Finlay had always been handsome. But there was always some kind of barrier around him, some protective shield that created tension and pressure. This was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him.
His jaw was shadowed with stubble. Her eyes followed the definition of his forearms and biceps, leading up to his shoulders and muscled chest. He shifted and the duvet moved again. Crumpled next to his shoulder looked like a black T-shirt. Did he have anything else on under these covers?
She squirmed under the bedclothes. Her flannel pyjamas were uncomfortably warm. The heating had obviously kicked in overnight. She slid one foot out of bed then realised she hadn’t brought any slippers. The carpet was cool. She’d need to find some socks.
How did she get out of bed without waking him?
Her phone beeped. Except it wasn’t really a beep. The jangling continued to echo around the room.
Finlay’s eyelids flickered open and he stretched his arms out, one hand brushing her hair.
Her heartbeat flickered against her chest as he turned his head towards her and fixed on her with his sleepy blue eyes. ‘Morning,’ he whispered.
‘Morning,’ she replied automatically. She felt kind of frozen—even though one of her legs was currently dangling out of the bed.
The edges of his lips turned upwards as the phone tune kept going. ‘Or should I say Merry Christmas?’
It was like warm melted chocolate spreading over her heart. She’d had so many images in her head about this Christmas—all of them focusing on the fact she’d be alone.
This was the absolute last thing she’d expected to happen. Waking up in bed next to Finlay Armstrong in a castle in Scotland would never have found a way into her wildest imagination. She almost wanted to pinch herself to check she was actually here.
She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Merry Christmas, Finlay,’ she said in a voice that squeaked more than she wanted it to.
He stretched again and pushed the covers back. If she’d been prepared—and if she’d been polite—she wouldn’t have been caught staring at his abs and chest muscles as he jumped up in a pair of shorts and reached over for his T-shirt. He slid it easily over his head. Giving her a smile as she watched every movement. ‘I take it the heating’s kicked in at least. Not as warm as I might have hoped. The fire in here last night made me too warm. We’ll need to try and find a happy medium.’
She swung her leg out of bed and stopped dead. She was facing the window—the one she’d removed the dusty curtains from last night. For as far as the eye could see there was thick white snow. It clung to every bump of the terrain. Every tree. Every fence. Every path. She stood up and moved automatically to the window. ‘Oh, wow,’ was all that came out.
She felt his presence at her shoulder and tried not to think about the fact there wasn’t much between her and those taut muscles. ‘You wanted snow,’ he said quietly.
She nodded. ‘Yes. I did.’ She turned her head towards him. ‘Just how wet are we going to get?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘How wet do you want to get?’
The air was rich with innuendo. She could play this either way. But she couldn’t forget how they’d ended up here. She just wasn’t sure where she was with Finlay. All she knew was that the more those deep blue eyes looked at her, the more lost she felt.
‘It’s snow angels all the way,’ she said safely. ‘But how about we find the Christmas decorations first?’
He nodded. ‘Let’s get some breakfast. Then, I think I might have a turkey to stick in the oven before we hit the hills. I know where the Christmas decorations are stored—but I’ve no idea what state they’re in.’
Grace shrugged her shoulders. ‘No matter. I’d just like to have Christmas decorations up when we eat dinner tonight. We’ll need to clean up the sitting room too.’
He hesitated. ‘Are you sure? This isn’t a busman’s holiday, you know. Just because it’s the day job, doesn’t mean that I expect you to help clean up around here.’ He stuck his hands on his hips as he looked at the white view. ‘I should probably get a company in.’
Grace shook her head. ‘You can do that after Christmas—for the rest of the house. The kitchen is fine. I can rehang the curtains in here, and I’m sure between us we can sort out the other two rooms. It’s just a bit of dust.’
It was more than a bit of dust. They both knew that. But Grace was determined to show Finlay that she wasn’t a princess. Last night had been a bit of a dream. Ending up at a castle made her seem like a princess. But emotions ran deep.
This was her first Christmas without her grandmother. It was always going to be tough. But Finlay had already made it a bit easier. The change of scenery. The fact that someone had actually thought about her, and considered her, meant a lot.
Today would be hard. Every Christmas aroma would bring back memories of her gran. She’d worked so hard up until now to try and push the reality of today into a place there wasn’t time to think about.
Past Christmases with her gran had also been a panacea for something else. It didn’t really matter what age you were—being ignored by your mother would always cut deep.
It didn’t matter that she’d reached adulthood intact and totally loved by her grandmother. The big gaping hole was always there. She could never escape the fact her mother had all but abandoned her to make a new life for herself. What kind of person did that?
In a way, it had strengthened the bond between her and her grandmother. Both of them trying to replace what the other had lost. But it also made it hard for her to form new relationships with other people. Grace struggled to make friends easily, because she struggled to trust. The girls from Maids in Chelsea were the closest friends she’d ever made. As for men? It was easy to blame her gran’s illness and juggling jobs to explain why she’d never had a truly lasting relationship. She could just say it was down to poor taste in men. But the truth was, she’d always found it hard to trust anyone, to believe that someone would love her enough not to abandon her. It was easier to keep her feelings cocooned. At least then they were safe.
But now? Her biggest problem was that every second she was around Finlay she became a little bit more attached. Saw another side of him that she liked, that she admired, that she might even love a little. But he was her boss. They lived completely different lives. Her heart didn’t even know where to start with feelings like these.
So why had they ended up here together?
Finlay’s fingers intertwined with hers as they looked at the snow together. The buz
z was instant, straight up her arm to her heart. There was so much she could say right now. So many tumbling thoughts.
‘Let’s get dressed,’ said Finlay as he turned and walked away.
Grace folded her arms and smiled out at the untouched snow. This Christmas was shaping up to be completely different from what she’d ever imagined.
Her phone beeped and she pulled it from her bag. Sophie.
Where are you? I dropped by the flat.
Grace pressed buttons quickly, knowing exactly the response she’d get.
With my boss. In Scotland.
She smiled, added a quick, See you all at the Snowflake Ball, and tucked the phone into her bag, knowing it would probably buzz for the rest of the day.
* * *
It was like having someone with boundless energy next to you all day. Grace didn’t seem to know how to sit down. Five minutes at breakfast was her record. After that, she’d rehung the curtains, then started to power around the dining room.
Meanwhile he’d been in the place he clearly wasn’t destined for.
Finlay frowned at the instructions. They must have got a little wet in his pocket. They were a bit smudged. He’d found a suitable tray for the turkey and followed Alec’s instructions. But this basting thing looked complicated. Would he even get to leave the kitchen at all today?
Grace appeared with a smudge on her nose, laughing, watching him squint at the instructions. ‘How’s the turkey?’ She smiled with a hand on her hip.
He shook his head. It was too, too tempting. His thumb was up wiping the smudge from her nose instantly, the rest of his hand touching the bottom of her chin.
Whatever she’d opened her mouth to say next had been lost. She just stared at him with those big brown eyes. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t inhale.
Every thought in his head was about kissing her. Tasting those lips. Running his fingers through her soft hair, tied back with a pink ribbon. She’d changed into a soft pink knit jumper and blue figure-hugging jeans. Her face was make-up-free, but, although she was as beautiful as ever, today she looked different. She looked happy. She was relaxed.
He could almost sense a peaceful aura buzzing around her. His stomach turned over. He’d done the right thing. He’d done the right thing bringing Grace here—both for him, and for her.
It was as if she was caught in the same glow that he was. ‘How’s your Christmas going?’ she whispered.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away. ‘Better than I could have hoped for.’
She put a hand over his at the side of the turkey tray. ‘Then let’s get this old girl in the oven. I’ve found the Christmas decorations, but I couldn’t find the tree.’
‘Oh.’
Her hand was still on his. ‘What do you mean, oh?’
He picked up the tray—this turkey was heavier than it looked—and slid the tray into the oven. He picked up the other items that Alec had given them, onion, stuffing and chipolatas, and pushed them back in the fridge. ‘We can put them in later.’
He closed the oven door with a bang and checked the temperature. Grace folded her arms and leaned against the countertop. Finlay looked around the room for his navy jumper. It only took a moment to find it and pull it on. He glanced at Grace’s feet. ‘Do you have other boots?’
‘Why?’
He walked around her and held the door to the main hall open. ‘Because I don’t have an artificial tree. I’ve never used one at Drumegan Castle.’ He gestured with his hand. ‘I’ve got a whole wood out there full of pine trees. All we need to do is go and get one.’
Her eyes widened. Even from this far he could see the enthusiasm. ‘Really, you’re going to cut down a real Christmas tree?’
He nodded. ‘Snow angels, anyone?’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘I’ll race you!’
* * *
In the end she hadn’t worn the very expensive pink winter coat that Finlay had bought her. He’d found old waterproof jackets in the cupboard and they’d worn them on their hike across the grounds, complete with wheelbarrow and electric saw.
‘I’m kind of disappointed,’ she teased as he wheeled it towards the wood.
‘Why?’ He looked surprised.
Her feet were heavy in the snow. It really was deep here. Finlay hadn’t been kidding. She gave him a teasing smile. ‘I kind of hoped you’d just stomp over here with an axe, cut down the tree then throw it over your shoulder and bring it back to the castle.’
He let out a laugh. ‘Really? Just like that?’ He stopped wheeling, obviously trying to catch his breath just at the edge of the wood. ‘Well, I guess I could do that if you want.’ He pointed to a tiny tree just at the front of the wood. It was about two feet tall. ‘But this would be our Christmas tree. What do you think?’
She sidled up next to him. It had started to snow again and the snow was collecting on her shoulders with a few flakes on her cheeks. ‘Finlay Armstrong, you know how much I love Christmas, don’t you?’
She’d tilted her chin towards him. All he had to do was bend down a little.
He couldn’t help the smile that automatically appeared. Grace’s enthusiasm was infectious. ‘Grace Ellis, I might have noticed that about you.’
‘You did?’ She blinked, snowflakes landing on her thick lashes.
His hand naturally went around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands slid up the front of his chest. ‘I might have. So, I want you to look around the wood and find your perfect Christmas tree. When you find it, it’s all yours.’
She was watching him carefully. ‘All mine, I like the sound of that.’
He licked his lips. A few weeks ago, if someone had told him he’d be standing in the castle grounds on Christmas Day, waiting to cut down a tree with a beautiful woman in his arms, he would have thought they were crazy.
That would never, ever happen for him again.
And yet...he was here. With Grace. And for the first time in years he actually felt happy. He wasn’t imagining this. This was real. There was a real connection between them.
She gave her hand a little thump against his chest and looked upwards. ‘Snow’s getting heavier.’ She winked at him. ‘It must have heard I was here. Snow angels waiting. Let’s find this tree, Finlay. We have a date in the snow.’
A date in the snow.
He knew exactly what she meant and the words were casual. A date. Hadn’t they already had a few dates? Had he been dating without really knowing it?
She walked ahead and gave a shout a few minutes later. Then she gave a squeal. He darted through the trees. She was jumping up and down, clapping her hands together. ‘This is it. This is the tree. It’s perfect. Don’t you think? It will look gorgeous in the sitting room.’
She was infectious, truly infectious. She was right. She’d picked a perfect tree. Immaculately shaped, even branches and just the right height. ‘It’s not quite perfect,’ he said as he stepped forward.
‘It’s not?’ She leaned back a little, looking up as if she was trying to spot the flaw.
‘No,’ he said as he reached the tree and stretched his hand through the branches to catch hold of the trunk. ‘Too much snow.’
He started shaking the tree as she screamed, covering them both in the tumble of snow from the branches. It fell thick and fast, sliding down his neck and making him shiver.
Grace fell backwards with a shriek, laughing as she fell.
She lay there for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath. He pulled his hand back and stepped over her. ‘Okay down there?’
She was lying looking up at the sky. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve been hoodwinked by a crazy Scots man.’ She held her hand up towards him.
He grabbed it, steeling himself to pull her upwards. But Grace was too quick for him. She gave him
an almighty wrench, yanking him downwards to her and the heavy snow.
He landed with a splat, face first in the snow next to her, only part of his body on hers.
Her deep, throaty laugh echoed through the wood. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
He sucked in a breath and instead sucked in a mouthful of snow, making him snort and choke. He tried to get up on his knees to clear his mouth, but Grace grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ She was still laughing.
He spluttered again, this time getting rid of snow and starting to laugh himself. She’d got him. She’d got him good.
‘You promised me something,’ she said.
The laughing had stopped and she sounded deadly serious. He lay down next to her in the snow. ‘Okay, then. What did I promise?’
She reached over and touched the side of his cheek. It was the tenderest of touches. ‘You promised me snow angels,’ she whispered. ‘And I plan on collecting.’
He only had to move forward a couple of inches. Maybe she was talking about snow angels. But the heat between them had been rising all day; it was a wonder they hadn’t melted all the snow around them.
He captured her sweet lips in his. Her cheeks were cold. The hat she’d pulled from her pocket earlier had landed on the snow, letting her hair fan out in the snow—just as it had on the pillow last night. That memory sparked a rush of blood around his body.
He pulled his hand from his gloves and tangled it through her hair. Her other hand caught around the back of his neck, melding her body next to his. It didn’t matter that the ground was freezing and snow was getting in places it just shouldn’t. He didn’t care about anything other than the connection to this woman.
Somewhere deep inside him a little spark was smouldering. Willing itself to burn brighter and harder.
Grace responded to every movement, every touch, matching him step by step. He didn’t have any doubt the feelings were mutual. He was surprised when she slowly pulled back and put one arm against his chest. She was smiling though.
‘Parts of me I didn’t know could get wet, are wet.’ She sighed. ‘I guess this would be the right time to collect on the snow angels.’
Christmas in the Boss's Castle Page 14