by Flora Dain
Not this year.
I pace the house, stride briskly through the woods or stand and gaze at the endless breakers pounding on the shore, grey and forbidding. I watch them until my cheeks grow numb in the wind and my scarf freezes to my lip and then I stomp back indoors to thaw out by the fire and nibble roast chestnuts.
I try to take it easy and join in the homely fun but with so much on my mind it’s hard.
My parents try to be kind but they sense I’m troubled. They ask after Darnley, but Dad’s a mild-mannered country physician and Mom bakes cookies for the church sale to raise money for African orphans. How do I tell them my multi-millionaire boyfriend is a borderline psycho with a family to match and may right this minute be lying dead in some tropical swamp?
Worse, that he may no longer even be my boyfriend?
I smile and say he’s busy.
At midnight I take a short walk with my parents up the hill to their little Episcopalian church, lit up with light streaming through the stained-glass windows, painting the snow with splashes of colour.
It’s a lovely, traditional scene, homely and bright, normal as pie. Our little community gathers here every year to sing all the carols, and the Christmas midnight service is my all-time favourite.
Maybe the singing will help. Maybe it’ll burn off my blues, letting rip among all these good, happy people as they open their hearts and sing out their souls. The old tunes fill my heart, singing them an exercise as good as tonic.
Near the end of the service we start on ‘Hark the herald angels’, one of my favourites. It always gives me a lift.
Slowly I realise there’s a new male voice coming from the pew behind me. It’s a lovely baritone, rich and deep. We have a real singer in our little community? I suppose it’s possible. I glance at my parents but for some reason they’re taking no notice so I turn round to peek.
I must be dreaming.
It’s Darnley. Tall and tanned and large as life.
I step quickly past my smiling parents and join him in the aisle. He seizes my hand and we slip out of a side door into the pretty patchwork-coloured snow.
My heart leapt at the sight of him. Now I sink slowly into despair at his tense, troubled look. He left it till now to tell me?
I steel myself for what he’s going to say. If he took the trouble to come all the way up here to say it then at least I should listen.
‘So? You thought about things?’ My voice quivers a little, but I do still have one.
‘Yes.’
It’s so long since I’ve heard him speak I close my eyes for a moment to let his rich tone seep onto my bones. ‘And?’
‘Hey.’ He’s frowning, scanning my face. ‘You’re forgetting something.’ He pulls me close and all at once his mouth’s on mine and his arms enfold me and I’m in instant heaven. It lasts a few glorious seconds and then he pulls away, his expression still veiled.
He reaches into his pocket, takes out a small box and flips the lid. ‘I’m not sure of the fit.’
I stare, dazzled by the diamond solitaire flashing like a star in the light reflected off the snow. It’s a ring. Not just any ring – it’s a perfect match to the bracelets, satin-finish white gold.
‘Will you marry me, Ella?’
Joy sings in my ears, far louder than the music from the congregation. I swallow. ‘It’s a symbol, right? Like the bracelets?’
His voice is low but his eyes are dancing. ‘Way more important than the bracelets. This one’s for life.’
I lower my lashes, playful now, heady with love. ‘And – were you planning to ask my parents about this?’ I’m only kidding, but now he surprises me.
‘I already did.’
I stare at him. ‘When?’
‘Back in the summer. When I flew over here. While I waited for you to get here we talked it over and then I hung out on the beach by some crazy poet’s clapped-out old boat –’
He breaks off as I launch myself into his arms. ‘And what did they say?’
He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘They’re fine with it if you are. Are you fine with it?’
Tears are close, but I fight them off a few seconds more. ‘Yes, Darnley. I’m fine with it.’
As they spill over for real he kisses them away one by one and then he slips the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit, and so are our lips as we find each other once more in a long, loving kiss.
We pull apart, breathless, me fighting back silly tears. ‘You sing? You never said.’
His eyes glitter in the light off the snow. ‘When I look at you everything sings.’
‘You could have called me. I’ve been so worried –’ I break off. I want to cry and laugh both at once.
‘What, miss the chance to see that look on your face?’
He ducks as I scoop up a handful of snow and aim at his neck. And all at once we’re throwing snowballs at each other and the service has ended and people are spilling out over the snow, chattering and laughing and wishing each other Merry Christmas.
By the time my parents join us we’ve calmed down a little but we’re still out of breath. He holds me close with one arm and greets them with the other and after a few moments we all head home.
A couple of days later we fly over to Camp Akela. He says it’s quiet there this time of year with the family all away and we can have a few days’ holiday in the snow. After this he wants to take me to California to spend some time in the sun. He hasn’t seen his beach house in a while.
There are a few staff here to make the place welcome. They’re resident but they keep mainly to their own quarters, so we have the place pretty much to ourselves.
After dinner on our first night I ask him about his mission. He’s been suspiciously silent up till now but I’m longing to know. Also I’m deeply worried about all his scratches and bruises. He even looks thinner.
‘So what happened about their family feud? Did you get anywhere?’
He pulls me onto his lap and folds his arms around me. ‘I pulled some rank, business-wise. Now they’ve agreed to talk.’
‘You played Cupid after all?’
He shrugs. ‘Hardly that. But I did what I could.’
‘It took a while.’ It’s hard not to sound bitter. ‘I wish you’d called.’
I see him swallow, like I’ve touched some nerve. All at once, he starts talking. And all my terrors spring back to life.
He was out of range of signals, some of the time. And in danger most of the rest of it.
Just as I thought.
‘We flew up into the mountains and ran out of fuel. We were holed up a couple of days, waiting to be rescued. Things looked pretty bad, but I had time to think.’ He grins. ‘About you, mostly. And – about that night. It came back to me in flashes. Something I’d blanked out. And slowly I pieced it together from what I found out since. It was about the garage doors.’
‘But Lydia said she slammed them shut.’
‘I know. But I’m not sure she could have. They were automatic. They worked by keypad from the inside wall, or by remote from the outside. The manual over-ride was pretty heavy, even if she knew how to work it. And in the morning they had to force the door. They’d lost the remote. The one everybody used.’
I frown. ‘But surely there were spares? She could have used one of those?’
‘One in the garage, one in the safe, one locked in a drawer in the office. They were all there. They checked. But the main one was missing.’
I’m only half listening, still horrified that he’s been holed up somewhere. I nestle deeper in his arms, glad he’s safe. ‘So – maybe she threw it away?’
‘No. I found it. Next morning.’
I sit up, all attention. ‘Where?’
‘Under Eldon’s bed. That week I’d been showing him how it worked. The garage block was set back from the house, behind some trees, but you could see it from our rooms. I’d shown him how to open and close the doors from his bedroom window. I’m guessing he took it upstairs that night to
play with.’
I stiffen. ‘And if he happened to shut the doors with Kraik’s engine still running …’
‘Exactly. Kraik wouldn’t have lasted long. Lydia met Freda and me on the way back to the house and assumed the worst, so she covered for us. For all of us.’
He turns to me, his eyes bright. ‘He was six, Ella. Just a little kid. He never knew. And all this time I’ve been making sure he’d never find out what happened that night in case he freaked. But I’d forgotten why.’
I lay my cheek against his, filled with dismay. ‘That’s a terrible thing to remember.’
He folds my hand in his and kisses my palm, his lips warm, his eyes glowing. ‘No, Ella, it’s a great thing to remember. And the best thing about it is you.’
Now it’s late and I’m standing very still in the bedroom doorway, staring at a parcel wrapped in black tissue. It’s tied with a big bow in gold lace and it’s been placed right in the middle of my pillow.
Darnley’s behind me. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck and his heat on my body. As his arms steal around my waist I can sense his excitement.
I glance back at him, my own excitement mounting. Truth to tell, I’m also a tiny bit scared. ‘What’s this? A Christmas present for me?’
He’s grinning. ‘Nope. Yours is on the West Coast. This one’s for me. Go on. Open it.’
I stare at it, my heart sinking. I bet I know what it is. And even though I want so desperately to please him I’m not sure I want to see what’s inside. It’ll make things too final, somehow.
But he’s waiting, so I open it.
As I do it my smile opens out too and now I feel a wave of heartfelt relief. ‘Darnley, it’s lovely.’
It’s not the handcuffs I was expecting. Instead it’s wickedly pretty, very sexy and may have cost a small fortune.
I’m holding up a thong made of a single line of diamonds teamed with black satin. There’s a skimpy, jewel-encrusted bra to match. The gems flash and dazzle, spraying tiny rainbows everywhere. And there’s even a wisp of black lace to wear over it. ‘You expect me to wear this?’
He grins. ‘Yep. Now.’
I hesitate. ‘What about … did you bring the cuffs?’
‘The …?’ He looks blank for a moment. ‘I left them behind. I can get some if you want …’ He tails off, his expression perplexed.
I fling my arms around him as relief floods over me. ‘No, no, that’s fine. Better than fine. It’s the best Christmas present ever.’
He’s forgotten the cuffs?
Finally we’re getting somewhere.
‘Really? Damn.’ He grins as he folds his arms around me. ‘Then I could have saved myself all the trouble of getting you the one waiting for you in California.’
I have the grace to blush. ‘You’ll have to wait for mine. I’d no idea we’d meet and I can’t run to a yacht.’ I kiss him on the cheek. ‘Guess I’ll have to owe you.’
His grin fades and all at once I sense danger.
There’s a familiar and very disturbing gleam in his eyes. ‘Hey. I just told you, my present is you in those diamonds.’ His eyes narrow. ‘Ten minutes.’
When I try it on it feels sensational. I hope it looks OK. When I join him in his room he certainly seems to think so. He looks me over for a long time and then he falls on my mouth. And now I know exactly where we’re going.
As ever, it’s a long journey and it takes a long time. Or maybe it takes hardly any time at all. When I’m in his arms I lose track. All I know is, one way or another it leads to glory.
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Copyright
Mischief
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Copyright © Flora Dain 2014
Flora Dain asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007579594
Version: 2014–05–30
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