Wish Upon a Star

by Sarah Morgan

  He sounded nervous and she’d never known Alessandro to be nervous of anything before. He never questioned himself but tackled life with an enviable degree of self-confidence. But today that confidence appeared to be lacking.

  She glanced down at the box in her hand and felt the floor shift. Nestled in a bed of rich, deep blue silk lay a huge, sparkling diamond. It twinkled and sparkled under the kitchen lights and she stared at it stupidly.

  Finally she found her voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s the ring I should have given you twelve years ago,’ Alessandro said gruffly. ‘But I’m giving it to you now. If you’ll wear it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m not great at speeches, so let me just say what I have to say.’ He jabbed long fingers through his glossy hair and took a deep breath. ‘I fell in love with you the day I saw you. Impossible, I know, but that’s how it was. You were so beautiful, so warm and kind and yet so fiery and passionate. I’d never met a woman like you before and after I saw you I never looked again. And I’ve never stopped loving you. And if you love someone you’re supposed to be able to set them free—let them go. I told myself that I’d let you go if that was what you wanted—’

  ‘Alessandro—’

  ‘I promised not to order or command so I can’t force you to stay,’ Alessandro said hoarsely, ‘but I’m willing to beg. Will you stay, Christy? Will you stay if I beg?’

  Beg?

  She stared at him. None of it made sense. ‘But you don’t love me—’

  ‘How can you say that?’ He stared at her a look of stunned incredulity in his dark eyes. ‘When have I ever led you to believe that I don’t love you?’

  She chewed her lip. ‘Loads of reasons,’ she said finally. ‘You didn’t follow me to London, you put me in the spare room and we’ve been lying in the same bed and you haven’t made love to me—’

  ‘Because when I did make love to you,’ he exploded, the natural volatility of his Mediterranean temperament bubbling to the surface, ‘you slapped me!’

  ‘It was sex.’

  ‘It was love, querida,’ he said hoarsely, and she shook her head slowly.

  ‘You never once said you loved me.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘No,’ she said patiently. ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘So…’ He spread his hands in a supremely Latin gesture. ‘I had other things on my mind at the time, like the fact that you looked so incredibly sexy and we hadn’t been together for weeks and—’ He broke off and gave an apologetic smile. ‘And I am a man and verbal communication isn’t my forte. I’m working on it.’

  ‘I thought you’d stopped loving me.’

  He stared at her in shocked silence. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  Hope flared and she squashed it down ruthlessly. ‘You’ve never stopped loving me?’

  ‘Of course not. I know I’m not perfect.’ He frowned slightly as he said the words, as if admitting such a fact was difficult, ‘and I realise that I’ve done many things wrong. Seeing you in A and E and in the mountain rescue team made me realise how many skills you have that you’re not using. You have made so many sacrifices for the family.’

  ‘They weren’t sacrifices,’ Christy murmured, but he shook his head.

  ‘You made this family work. You made it possible for me to live the life I wanted to lead. And I neglected you as a woman. I can see that now.’

  She sucked in a breath. ‘Alessandro—’

  ‘You have to let me finish,’ he breathed, taking the box and removing the ring. ‘Over the past two weeks I have tried so hard not to be controlling and bossy and I promise to work on that but even so, I can’t let you leave again. I know I drive you crazy but you love me, Christy. Over the last two weeks I’ve become more and more sure about that.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Of course I love you. And I didn’t mean to leave—at least, not in the way that you mean. You weren’t listening to me and I thought it was the only way to get through to you. I thought you’d come after me—’

  ‘You didn’t mean to leave? What do you mean, you didn’t mean to leave?’

  ‘It was only ever supposed to be for the weekend,’ she confessed, pushing aside the last vestiges of her pride in an effort to save their relationship. ‘I thought you’d come after me and drag me back.’

  He ran a hand over his roughened jaw. ‘Am I really that controlling?’

  ‘Yes. But not on that occasion, obviously. Ironic, really. The one time I wanted you to come and drag me back, you didn’t do it.’

  ‘It seems that I’m not the only one who is hopeless at communicating. When I realised you’d left I was totally and utterly devastated,’ he groaned, sliding a hand into her hair and tilting her head so that he could look into her eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t love me any more and I could hardly blame you, because I missed our anniversary—’

  ‘It wasn’t about our anniversary,’ she interrupted him in a soft voice, needing to explain. ‘We just didn’t feel like a couple any more.’

  ‘I suppose I was suffering from that old cliché of taking you for granted.’ He gave a shrug and a self-deprecating smile. ‘I came home and you were always here. And then one day you weren’t and I had the shock of my life.’

  ‘So why didn’t you come after me?’

  ‘I genuinely didn’t realise that was what you wanted, although I should have done, of course. I’ve lived with you long enough to understand your temper.’ His voice was soft and he dragged his thumb over her cheek in a gentle caress. ‘For once in my life I was trying to think of you. I wanted you back but you were obviously so fed up with me that I thought you needed time and space so I left you alone.’

  ‘And I thought you didn’t want me.’

  ‘Then you arrived back here looking stunningly gorgeous and promptly slept in the spare room.’

  ‘You put me in the spare room,’ she reminded him, and he gave a wry smile,

  ‘Another major error of judgement on my part. I was expecting you to refuse to sleep there. Always you sleep in my bed.’

  He sounded so much like the old Alessandro that she gave a soft smile. ‘Thank goodness we had some help from the children or I’d still be in there,’

  ‘Sí—because we are both so stubborn and hot-tempered, gatita.’ He gave a groan and lowered his mouth to hers, dropping a lingering kiss on her mouth. ‘Perhaps if I was a cool Englishman, none of this would have happened.’

  ‘If you were a cool Englishman,’ she muttered against his mouth, ‘I never would have married you.’

  He lifted his head a fraction. ‘Is that true? I’m always very aware that I didn’t give you a chance to date other men and I confess I was worried about Jake.’

  ‘Jake has only ever been the very best friend to both of us. And I didn’t want to date other men. But what about you?’ She forced herself to ask the question she’d dreaded asking. ‘I was worried about Katya. I thought you might be interested in her…’ She left the statement hanging and his eyes narrowed, one ebony brow lifted in question.

  ‘Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘But our marriage was on the rocks and—’

  He placed his fingers over his lips. ‘Don’t say it,’ he breathed, ‘because it isn’t the truth and it never was. We are both stormy, passionate people and our journey through life is never going to be in calm waters.’

  ‘I thought you only wanted me to stay because of the children.’ Dizzy from his kiss and the hard press of his body against hers, she stared up at him and he shook his head.

  ‘Never,’ he said hoarsely, reaching for her hand and sliding the ring on her finger. ‘I married you in haste and I’ve loved you deeply ever since. I wanted you to stay because I love you and I can’t live without you. And this is the engagement ring I should have given you twelve years ago.’

  Her heart thumped hard against her chest as she stared at the ring in delighted fascination. It shone a
nd sparkled on her finger. ‘I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life,’ she murmured, ‘but I still don’t understand one thing…’

  His mouth was close to hers. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If you love me and you want me to stay, why didn’t you say so when Pete rang, asking me to go back early?’

  ‘Because you’d accused me of being controlling! I was giving you a choice, querida.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘But you weren’t making the choice I wanted you to make. I assumed you’d only come home because of the children and with Christmas over you had no reason to stay.’

  ‘And I thought you didn’t want me. Alessandro, I came home for Christmas for me, not for the children. The children just gave me the excuse I’d been looking for.’

  ‘And you say we kids are complicated.’ A voice came from the doorway behind them, and they both turned.

  Katy was standing in the doorway, arms folded and tinsel in her hair. Her eyes were on the ring that Christy was wearing. ‘Nice present, Dad,’ she said softly, and Alessandro gave her a slow smile, his arms still around his wife.

  ‘I’m glad you think so,’ he drawled, and Katy smiled.

  ‘So, are we finally a happy family?’

  Jake strolled into the kitchen and looped an arm round his goddaughter’s shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t be watching this, angel. It’s probably age restricted.’

  Katy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m almost twelve. I know everything. The next thing is they’ll probably go and mate or something. Pretty gross at their age, but there you are.’

  Alessandro stared in stunned amazement, Christy blushed and Jake threw back his head and laughed. ‘Well, my friends?’ He stared at them quizzically. ‘Have you sorted things out?’

  Ben dashed into the kitchen with an armful of toys. ‘Grandma says, is there a cloth? I spilled my drink.’

  ‘Oh, what’s new?’ Katy gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Father Christmas should have stuck a jumbo box of kitchen roll in your stocking. Don’t worry, Mum. You stay talking to Dad. I’ll sort it out.’ She hustled her brother out of the room and Jake watched them go, a smile playing around his firm mouth.

  ‘She’s growing up,’ he said quietly, and Alessandro frowned.

  ‘Don’t say that. I’m not prepared for hormones or boyfriends.’

  Jake rubbed his jaw, his blue eyes bright with humour. ‘I’d say you’re pretty good at defending what’s yours.’ The smile faded and he looked at both of them. ‘You two were meant to be together. Always. Remember that.’

  And with that he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Christy turned to Alessandro. ‘The turkey is cooked and the roast potatoes are on the point of burning. We ought to serve dinner.’

  He gave her a wicked smile. ‘When are we going to mate?’

  ‘Later.’ She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and she flung her arms round him and held him tight. ‘Oh, Alessandro, this is the best present. All I wanted was for you to love me. For us to be a family.’

  ‘And all I wanted was you, querida.’ His voice was husky as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, his eyes holding hers. ‘Always. Merry Christmas.’

  Miranda

  Sarah Morgan

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE’D MADE SUCH A MESS of her life.

  Sodden with misery, Miranda sat on the rock, staring at the frozen lake, oblivious to the fact that she was slowly losing the feeling in her fingers and toes.

  Around her the mountains rose, wrapped in their lethal covering of snow and ice, but she was as indifferent to their beauty as she was eager for their sanctuary. They offered refuge from glittering tinsel and other symbols of festive cheer.

  It was Christmas Day, but up here in the icy wilderness of the Lake District, Christmas Day was just another span of daylight hours without meaning or significance.

  And she really shouldn’t be crying.

  It had been six months. Six long months. Time enough to accept the situation and move on. Time enough to forgive herself for being unforgivably stupid and naive.

  She was supposed to be streetwise. Independent. She was supposed to know everything there was to know about the dark side of human nature. Well, apparently she didn’t. She gave a cynical laugh. Apparently even she could be duped.

  She’d been stupid and gullible and she just hated herself for having been taken in so completely.

  With a sniff, she rubbed her numb cheeks with equally frozen fingers. Crying was pointless and was something she rarely indulged in. Struggling to hold back the tears, Miranda searched inside herself for the fierce strength that she knew she possessed, but all that happened was that more tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her frozen cheeks. Oh, for goodness’ sake! She brushed them away with an impatient hand and wondered what was happening to her. She was never usually this pathetic! It was just because it was Christmas. Christmas made everything feel different. At Christmas, everything was focused on the image of the perfect family, but for her to be seduced by that image was completely laughable because she knew better than anyone that families were entirely imperfect.

  She didn’t want one!

  She was better off on her own.

  But she’d managed to forget that fact. Briefly, she’d lost all sense of judgment. She, of all people, who had learned long ago that the only person you could truly depend on was yourself. She never leaned on people. Never. And yet she’d—

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed the thought away. That was in the past now. Whether she liked it or not, it was over and the past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the future. And remembering not to make the same mistake again.

  She straightened her spine and lifted her chin.

  It was time to grow up. That was going to be her New Year’s resolution. She was going to stop being such a romantic dreamer and get to grips with the realities of life. Princes didn’t ride up on white chargers or horses of any other colour, come to that. Ordinary people didn’t win the lottery and families were entirely dysfunctional and not to be envied in the slightest. And Christmas was just one day out of three hundred and sixty-five and it would pass soon enough.

  There was absolutely no point in sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere, feeling sorry for herself for not having something that just didn’t exist.

  She needed to pick herself up and make the best of the situation.

  Feeling something cold brush her hand, she glanced up and realised with a flash of surprise that it was snowing. Suddenly aware of just how cold she was, she turned her head and noticed with a stab of alarm that she could no longer see the top of the mountains.

  The weather had been perfect when she’d left her miserable, cramped, rented flat.

  What had happened to the blue sky and the sunshine?

  With a flash of panic, she realised that she actually had absolutely no idea where she was. She’d been so desperate to get away from the rows of houses with Christmas trees and fairy-lights—so desperate to escape from the glaring taunt of happy family gatherings—that she’d just climbed onto her rusty, secondhand bike and ridden out of town until the houses had been far behind her and all that had lain ahead had been the mountains. She didn’t even know the area because she’d only moved here a week ago.

  She’d abandoned the bike in a deserted car park and started to walk, lured by the promise of fresh air, blue sky and the absence of festivities.

  Up here on the fells it hadn’t seemed like Christmas. Up here, she hadn’t felt like the only person on the planet who was surviving Christmas Day on her own. Up here it had just seemed like any other normal day.

  Except that her life had reached crisis point.

  But the time for reflection had passed and more immediate problems were now pressing in on her. Like finding the car park again. If she were to stand any chance of finding her way down the mountain, she was going to have to leave immediately.

  She stood up and stamped the snow off her tr
ainers, realising how totally inadequate they were.

  How could she have been so irresponsible?

  The answer, of course, was that she hadn’t been thinking about anything except her problems, but problems had a way of shifting around and she knew that her immediate problem was one of basic survival.

  Trying to identify the way she’d come, she walked for a few minutes and then realised that she could no longer see the ground directly in front of her. She couldn’t work out which way was up and which was down. The path had vanished and beneath her feet lay a lethal, snowy carpet. A treacherous covering that concealed the way home.

  The temperature was dropping, she was lost and she had no means of contacting anyone. No one knew where she was.

  Suddenly understanding the seriousness of her situation, her heart lurched with fear and her mouth dried. Panic gripped her with tight, merciless fingers and for a moment she found it hard to think.

  The weather was deteriorating by the minute and she knew absolutely nothing about surviving in freezing, wilderness conditions.

  If she walked without knowing where she was going, there was every chance she could walk over a precipice, to her death.

  But staying still wasn’t an option either. She had no equipment, nothing with which to create warmth or shelter.

  Part of her just wanted to sit down and give up. But something stirred inside her. Something that reminded her that giving up wasn’t an option. Dying wasn’t an option. She had to live.

  She’d just have to find a way down. Somehow.

  She was going to survive.

  And once she’d done that, she was going to totally rethink her life.

  Jake Blackwell trudged steadily up the path, noting the change in the weather with a faint smile of amusement. Mountains. A bit like women, he thought to himself as he shifted the pack on his back—unpredictable of mood and always to be treated with respect.

  In many ways he preferred unpredictable, wild weather to sunshine and blue skies. Walking and climbing became more of a challenge, a guessing game, a battle of wits between him and the mountain.