And now she wished she hadn’t provoked him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Her stomach was solid with misery. ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.’
‘You ridiculous woman! I’m not feeling guilty towards Sarah! I’m feeling guilty towards you for not being able to sort my emotions out!’
Was that good? She thought it might be. The misery melted a little. Now, should she tell him she loved him? Would that make his dilemma better? Or worse? ‘Mike, I—’
He put his finger on her lips. ‘Dear Grace, give me a day or two to wrestle. Right now I want to get home and have a hot shower.’
Ruefully, Grace had to admit that was what she wanted too. ‘Snap. Would you and Bethany and James like to come to lunch tomorrow? Then Bethany can have her Christmas present in time for your party.’
‘That would be lovely.’
With a sigh of relief, Grace stripped off the clothes she had worn all night and ran a bath. As she luxuriated in her favourite bath foam she thought about her lovemaking with Mike. It had been lovemaking. It had been fumbling, uncomfortable, awkward, at times almost impossible. But they had enjoyed it, the joy largely coming from the pleasure each was giving the other. There had been no mistaking that. At that moment Mike had really loved her. She just had to wait for him to realise it.
She hadn’t intended inviting them for lunch, but it was a perfect way to establish friendly—maybe more than friendly—relations. Except…Oh, Lord, did they do traditional Sunday lunch? And she only had a tiny freezer compartment, there certainly wasn’t a joint for four in it. She hastily finished her bath and dashed up to the butcher to see what he had left.
They were prompt the next day—which was good, because Grace had started far too early. Her kitchen wasn’t big enough to spread the preparations around. It had to be done task by task. The living room wasn’t big enough either, even without the tree taking up so much room. Grace banished the large cushion and unfolded one wing of the table so they could all sit together. Bethany thought it highly amusing that she had to scramble over the arm of the couch to get to her chair.
‘We brought wine,’ announced James, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Point me at the glasses and I’ll pour.’
Grace thought Mike was going to peck her on the cheek as well, but at the last moment his lips met hers, light but definite. Did that mean he’d come to a decision? Or was it simply an acknowledgement of something between them?
‘If you don’t like roast beef,’ she said, bringing the joint to the table, ‘I’d rather no one tells me. I would have done chicken, but with Christmas next week…’
‘Quite right,’ said Mike. ‘This looks lovely. And all of us eat any amount of Yorkshire pudding. I’m afraid we even have it with turkey.’
So that was all right. And with a glass of wine inside her and everyone making trencherman-like inroads on the food, Grace felt herself relax.
‘Where are you spending Christmas Day?’ asked Mike at one point.
The question was casual, but Grace didn’t miss his swift exchange of looks with his father. ‘At Natalie’s,’ she said.
‘That’s nice. And I suppose you’ll be working flat out until then, will you?’ Mike sounded resigned rather than reproachful.
‘People don’t stop being ill just because it’s the holiday season. You’re not telling me the pair of you won’t be on call?’
‘Guilty,’ said James cheerfully. ‘And in that case, you’d better have my present to you early. It’s an in-car charger for your phone. Can’t have my district nurse going awol again.’
It seemed to be the cue for them to pile the washing up into the kitchen and move across to the tree. Bethany was ecstatic about her party dress, insisting on putting it on there and then.
‘Beautiful,’ said Mike. His eyes met Grace’s. ‘Thank you.’ James was just as pleased with his bottle of whisky, but it was Mike’s reaction that Grace really wanted to see. She handed over the carefully wrapped package, praying that he’d like it.
He did. He looked at the old map of Rivercut in its frame and his face lit up with joy. ‘Grace, this is wonderful, it couldn’t be more…You must have known…’ He kissed her impetuously, unguardedly. ‘It’s just perfect.’ And then he hesitated. ‘My present to you isn’t wrapped yet. I thought I’d give it to you when you come to the manor for the party on Christmas Eve.’
Grace felt just a tiny bit let down. It was a tactful way of saying he hadn’t got her anything yet. ‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘Who’s for coffee?’
She kept herself busy over the next couple of days. Mike was looking after Bethany as there was no school, so he wasn’t in the surgery. He wasn’t idle, though. She seemed to be forever passing his Range Rover on the road. It was almost as if he’d committed her schedule to memory and was avoiding her. She couldn’t work him out. Since that night in the barn she thought they’d come to some kind of understanding…but what? Ah, well, there was just his party to get through, then she’d be off to Natalie’s where they could discuss the strangeness of men to their heart’s content.
On Christmas Eve itself, she’d arranged to finish work at midday. Half her patients had been invited to the party at the manor anyway. During the morning she got a phone call from Mike. ‘I have a favour to ask. Could you come over to the manor early this evening? Say about seven? You’ve done parties there before—I’d like your advice on a couple of things. Come in your party dress in case there isn’t time to change. Can you do that for me?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Seven it will be.’
In truth, she was not sure how she felt. A party at the manor but not her party. It seemed really to be the end of an era. She had a bath and dressed slowly in her new gold taffeta gown. Was this too much? No. She lifted her head proudly. She owed it to the manor itself to pass her muchloved home on graciously.
It was a gorgeous night. The stars shone in a black velvet sky, she could hear the choir practising in the church (she’d been told that they had all been invited up after choir practice), and the air had that sharpness that came with a frost. The snow crunched softly under her feet. She looked down and grinned. Here she was, walking to a party in a gold taffeta gown slit to the thigh—and Wellington boots.
The gates were open. She turned the corner into the drive—and gasped. Tears came to her eyes. At the front of the house on each side of the door a tall Christmas tree stood. Just as they always had at this time of year. And on them were coloured lights—mirrored by the coloured lights in the downstairs windows! Just as they always had been. Even the fairy on top of each tree—this was a recreation of her childhood!
She felt like a child again, moving up the drive in a dream to stand and gaze up at the trees. It was like a miracle.
Mike must have been looking out for her. He appeared in the doorway. She had just time to notice that his dinner jacket looked the last word in elegance and that he himself looked more than a little apprehensive. But she had to ask.
‘Mike, the Christmas trees, they’re wonderful! They’re exactly like they used to be. How did you manage it?’
‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’
‘Of course I don’t mind! How could I mind?’
‘You lent Bethany the photograph albums, remember? And I asked Dad what the trees used to look like. And I copied them. Come inside, you must be cold.’ He took her arm to draw her into the hall, then angled her towards the cloakroom to one side of the door. ‘Can I take your coat? And your…’ He looked down, past the seductive slit in the skirt to her Wellingtons.
‘Don’t you dare laugh. Stand right there without a word while I put my party shoes on.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ But there was a suspicious wobble in his voice.
‘Fibber.’ Grace leant on him to change first one foot and then the other. ‘There,’ she said. ‘You can look now.’
The admiration in his eyes was all she’d hoped for. ‘May I say you look wonderful?’
‘You may.�
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‘And may I welcome you properly?’
She felt suddenly breathless. ‘Properly?’
‘Like this.’ He took her by the shoulders, his hands warm over the diamanté spaghetti straps, and kissed her. He might have intended to stop before it became a proper, full-on kiss, but the moment their lips met it was heaven.
‘You…You said you wanted my advice,’ she said faintly.
‘Did I?’ He seemed as shaken as she was. ‘Oh, yes.’ He took a deep breath and rotated her gently. ‘How does this look to you?’
Grace stood transfixed at the sight of the hall. The old electric fire was long gone, of course, but in its place was a roaring wood fire. To the side of the fireplace was a Christmas tree—with all the big decorations that hadn’t fitted on her tree at the cottage! In the centre of the room were two great tables arranged in a T just as they had once been for parties. And around the room were pieces of her own furniture, last seen stored at the Holroyds’ farm.
She looked at Mike in bewilderment, feeling tears fill her eyes. ‘I don’t…How have you…?’
‘You told me how lovely it would be to see the hall all grand and festive again. So this is my attempt at showing you. I borrowed your furniture from the farm. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Mike, I don’t mind! This is so wonderful. I can remember it being just like this and…Thank you, Mike.’ Her turn this time to kiss him. But not for long. She wanted to look around, drink it in with her eyes. She only had one tiny, sad thought. This was wonderful—but it wasn’t hers any more.
Mike looked a bit more relieved, but there was something else he was nervous about. What else had he done? She was almost afraid to ask.
‘You said you used to play party games,’ he said. ‘I want to try one with you now, a guessing game.’ He walked to the big fireplace, its mantelshelf now covered with cards. Above was the mirror that had always been there. Mike really had studied those photos well. But above the mirror was something new—a rolled-up screen, perhaps eight feet long. Mike pulled at a cord, the screen unrolled.
It had a border of Christmas scenes—pictures of holly, mistletoe, church bells, candles. In the middle there was a message—Merry Christmas. Welcome home, Grace.
‘Guess what this means?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘It’s lovely, Mike. But this isn’t my home any more. It’s yours.’
‘It could be your home. If you wanted it.’
‘But you’re going to live here. You and Bethany.’
He felt in his pocket. ‘I said I hadn’t wrapped your Christmas present. I lied. The manor is half your present—and this is the other half. If you don’t like it we can change it for something else, but I did take a long time picking it.’
Her gave her a small parcel, wrapped in Christmas paper, with a card attached. The card read: For Grace, with all my love. Mike.
Grace’s heart was beating much too fast. ‘“With all my love”?’
He put his hand to her face. ‘I had to write it before I could say it. It’s taken me a while, but I’m there now. With all my love, Grace.’
She tore away the paper with shaking hands, opened the little leather box inside. There was a heart-shaped ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds. She stared at it, speechless, entranced. Then she took it out of the box, held it up so the jewels sparkled and flashed.
He took the ring from her, folded her hand in his. Dimly, dazedly, Grace was aware of Bethany and James at the top of the staircase.
‘I love you, Grace. Will you marry me? Marry me and make the manor your home again?’
‘I love you too, Mike. Of course I’ll marry you.’
She held out her hand, he slid the ring on her finger. The kiss this time was all she had ever wanted, all she had ever hoped for. And was cut short by a delighted little girl in her first long party frock, pelting down the stairs towards them.
‘Congratulations, son,’ said James, beaming all over his face. ‘Grace, I couldn’t be more pleased. This is more than a Christmas party now, it’s an engagement party! I’ll go and break out the champagne!’
Mike nudged them all towards the old kitchen passageway. ‘Look up,’ he said softly.
Grace smiled. He’d fixed a sprig of mistletoe in the archway. ‘Just in case,’ he said, and kissed her again.
Epilogue
A NEW season. It was the first day of spring, and as beautiful in its way as the winter had been. There was blossom in the fields, the trees were showing new green leaves.
Gardeners had been working hard at Rivercut Manor. By summer the rose garden, herb garden and the shrubbery should be as wonderful as they had been in the manor’s heyday.
But they hadn’t started to re-lay the new lawn. The old lawn had been left for now—it was just the right size for the marquee that had been erected on it.
This was a village wedding. It seemed as if most of the village were guests, and they all agreed how stunningly beautiful the bride looked in her simple cream silk dress with a full train. Her bouquet was a pretty posy of white and yellow roses. Mike looked handsome in his dark grey morning suit, while Bethany and Chloe made enchanting bridesmaids in long dresses of yellow tulle with circlets of flowers on their heads. The matron of honour was, of course, Natalie, in an amber gown, while James wore his old regimental uniform.
After the service in St Lawrence’s, the reception was held in the gardens of Rivercut Manor, the home of the newly married couple. And after a delicious meal, everyone danced long into the night.
‘Do you think anyone noticed?’ Grace whispered in a rare moment they had alone.
Mike slid his hands over his wife’s slender waist. ‘There’s no sign of Bethany’s new brother or sister yet.’ Grace’s hand moved to cover his, brushing over his third finger where her narrow ring to him nestled snugly alongside Sarah’s, both of them making a whole band, and he kissed her tenderly and deeply. ‘But do you know how happy it makes me to know he—or she—is there?’
She smiled radiantly up at him. ‘As happy as me.’
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A CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL—
the gift of a lifetime
Two gorgeous and talented doctors are looking to swap their stethoscopes for wedding rings this Christmas…
Dr Josh Bentley and Dr Mike Curtis aren’t looking for love…until they meet their irresistible new colleagues and instantly lose their hearts!
They’re going down on bended knee and hoping to hear the words ‘I do’ in
HOT-SHOT DOC, CHRISTMAS BRIDE by Joanna Neil
CHRISTMAS AT RIVERCUT MANOR by Gill Sanderson
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are
registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
First published in Great Britain 2009
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride © Joanna Neil 2009
Christmas at Rivercut Manor © Gill Sanderson 2009
ISBN: 978-1-4089-1228-7
Table of Contents
Cover page
Title Page
Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride
About The Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Other Books By
Christmas at Rivercut Manor
About The Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride / Christmas At Rivercut Manor Page 31