When they got home they lit the fire in the lounge, put some Christmas music on, and began to decorate the tree. They’d got back just in time: the snow was now coming down in a thick, frenzied blizzard.
As Liberty plucked old ornaments from a box, she smiled fondly at the memories they sparked. ‘I loved Christmas when I was little. Mum made it really magical.’
‘Was it just the two of you?’ Alex was trying unsuccessfully to untangle a couple of baubles. His brow was furrowed and he sighed impatiently.
‘Yes. Then when Mum died, Carys’s family invited me. We joke that Carys adopted me, and it’s kind of true – she’s always been like a sister to me. Here, let me.’ She took the baubles from him, untwisted their strings, and handed them back.
‘What are you doing this Christmas?’
‘I don’t know.’ She stared unseeingly at the red felt heart she’d just hung up. ‘Carys’s family have invited me, which is kind of them, of course, but …’ It would feel strange going there without her best friend. If she was honest, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
‘It won’t be the same without her?’ he finished, and she was surprised at the warmth and understanding in his voice.
She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. Trying to shake off the thought, she stared out at the thick curtain of snow and the delicate patterns of ice that laced the windowpane. ‘I hope Carys is okay,’ she said quietly. ‘I rang the hospital and they assured me they had enough staff despite the weather, but no one’s been able to visit. I hope she doesn’t think we’ve all forgotten about her.’
The radiator creaked as the ancient heating system worked hard to fend off the wintry temperatures.
‘I’m sure she doesn’t think that,’ Alex said gently.
She reached into the box of decorations and briskly changed the subject. ‘So what about you? Do you like Christmas – do you have fond memories of it from your childhood?’
He considered this. ‘It was … tense.’
She looked at him, surprised.
He went on, ‘We were never sure if my dad would be there. Usually he turned up at the eleventh hour, but things were more relaxed without him. And now – now we’re a growing family with my brothers’ wives and girlfriends and a baby. It’s great. We’ll all be together this year. My mother will be very happy.’
‘You’re going to Paris?’
‘No. Provence. She’s bought a house there with her new partner, Bernard. She’s making a new departure.’
‘A fresh start,’ she corrected, and smiled. His English was near perfect, but every now and then he used strange expressions, which she guessed were literal translations from the French. ‘Natasha loves visiting Luc’s family in Provence. She says it’s beautiful, even in winter.’
‘It is. We lived there when I was a child before my father made us move to Paris. Maman always wanted to go back.’
‘Going there might bring back memories for you, then.’
‘I’m sure it will.’
‘White Christmas’ began to play and he hummed along as he reached up to hang a patchwork star on one of the high branches. In the last couple of days she really felt they’d turned a corner in their relationship and become – well, friends. Being snowed in together had been intense, but they knew each other better now. She felt more relaxed and guessed he did, too, because he began to sing along with Bing Crosby for the chorus. She smiled because he had more confidence than talent.
‘You could have a second career playing in a band,’ she teased.
His eyes glinted. ‘I’m not that good.’
She laughed. ‘No, you’re not, but you’re rich. You could form your own band and pay people to perform with you.’
In mock outrage he grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at her. She threw it back but he ducked and it bounced off the wall. She grabbed another and stepped closer before throwing it. He dodged behind the sofa. She threw a third. He poked his head up and a missile flew at her. It took her a moment to realise it was one of Charlie’s toys, a ragged monkey with one ear missing. Another toy flew at her, a squeaky one this time, then a third. ‘Ew!’ she cried. ‘That one was wet with dog slobber!’
He laughed and rooted around for more.
‘Right,’ she said, snatching up a bigger, heavier cushion. She darted around the sofa and swiped at him with it. Feathers exploded as it burst. ‘Oops!’ She giggled.
‘What the—?’ he said, as they showered over him, clinging to his top and his hair. He moved to get away.
Damn, he was fast. She chased after him, and they both ran in circles round the room.
‘Stop!’ he cried. ‘You can’t do that. I’m allergic to feathers!’
‘Oh.’ Contrite, she stopped.
He grinned. ‘I’m kidding.’
Her outrage made him laugh. ‘That’s playing dirty, Ricard.’
‘You started it.’
She got him again, and he swiped the feathers away from his face. She threw a couple of lavender hearts at him too. ‘Hey!’ he said, as one hit him in the stomach. He sneezed and grabbed a quilt from the sofa to shield himself as she continued to pelt him.
Breathless, she caught up with him and threw the last lavender bag at him.
He peeped over the quilt. ‘Have you finished?’
She laughed and showed her empty hands. ‘Yes,’ she panted. ‘Nothing left.’
He put the quilt down. ‘Phew.’
‘Apart from this one!’ She grabbed the half-empty cushion and showered him with more feathers.
‘That’s low, McKenzie. Really low.’ He closed his eyes, resigned, and she laughed as the white feathers drifted down and clung to his clothes, his hair and even his stubble. ‘I’m glad you find this funny.’
‘You look –’ laughter choked her ‘– like a white chicken!’ She bent double with uncontrollable hysterics.
He stalked towards her, plucking feathers off his clothes until he had a fistful, then grabbed her sweater and pushed them down the back of her neck. She shrieked.
‘Still find it funny?’ He grinned.
‘That tickles!’ She squirmed, trying to retrieve the feathers. But he was stuffing more down. ‘Stop!’ she yelled. She tried to wriggle away from him, but he caught her by the waist. She yelped again and pressed her palms against his chest to push him away, but he’d stopped.
He was staring at her, his eyes dark.
The room suddenly emptied of noise, the air crackled, and she could hear someone’s heart thudding. Her own? His? It was difficult to tell, he was so close.
She ran her tongue over her lips. His hand was still around her waist and her palms were still pressed against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. She was mesmerised by the intensity in his eyes, and those soft lips so close to hers.
The moment seemed to stretch endlessly, and although no words were spoken a conversation was taking place silently. Breathlessly.
Her stomach tightened. He was so frighteningly, dangerously sexy. She lifted her fingers to touch his dark stubble. It felt deliciously rough, his skin so warm. He closed his eyes, and they moved closer, their hips touched.
Oh, God, it felt so good. Heat rushed through her. He didn’t resist as she leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft, her body pressed against his, and the kiss deepened. She gripped his shoulders, his back, his arms: all were firm muscle. His hair felt like satin as she laced her fingers through it.
The sharp trill of a phone made her jump.
She sprang away from him, but it took her brain a few seconds to realise where the noise was coming from – it was her mobile, and she patted her pockets until she found it.
Ethan’s name lit up the screen. Red-faced, heart hammering, she hesitated.
‘Aren’t you going to answer?’ asked Alex. His expression was unreadable.
‘I— Yes.’ She jabbed the phone and turned away to answer.
Ethan’s smiling voice greeted her. ‘How is everything?’
She p
ictured his blond hair, his kind eyes, and guilt made her feel a little queasy. He had no idea what he’d just interrupted. What she’d done. ‘Oh, f-fine. You know …’ She couldn’t formulate a sentence or even a coherent thought.
‘Not bored of being cooped up inside yet?’
‘No, I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.’ Belatedly she realised how that had sounded and, blushing, glanced at Alex. ‘You know, sewing, sledging, walking the dog. How about you?’
‘We’re fine. Mum says hi by the way.’ There was a pause before he said quietly, ‘I wish it would thaw so I can see you.’
‘Yes. So do I.’ And she meant it. She really liked Ethan.
So why had that kiss happened? Her fingers touched her lips. What on earth had possessed her?
Charlie trotted in from the kitchen. Curious, he sniffed the feathers. She reached down to rub his ears, but he ignored her and headed straight for Alex. Her dog kept doing that, she thought irritably, and watched as Alex greeted him affectionately.
She tried to focus on her conversation but she was too flustered. ‘Ethan, can I call you back? I’m just in the middle of something.’
‘Yeah? What are you up to?’
She cringed and her cheeks blazed. What would he think if he knew? ‘Erm – the tree. Decorating it.’
He chuckled. ‘There’s no need to call back – I just wanted to say hello. Hopefully the snow will have melted before the ball on Saturday and I’ll see you then. Can’t wait.’
She hung up and took a deep breath while she tried to work out how a cushion fight had morphed into a moment of madness. Of desire. What had they been thinking? She felt guilty and mortified in equal measure.
Alex pushed a hand through his hair. He looked as shocked and embarrassed as she felt.
She couldn’t meet his gaze as she blustered, ‘Listen. I don’t know what happened – how that happened. I mean, of course I know how, but not – not why …’ Her cheeks prickled, her clothes felt sticky against her skin.
There was a long pause, which only made her feel worse. Oh, God, now things would be all kinds of awkward between them. Because of a stupid kiss.
She tried again: ‘Look, just promise me you won’t breathe a word about this to anyone, okay? If Ethan finds out he’ll get the wrong idea. He’ll think I like you.’
Alex raised an eyebrow and she could tell she’d offended him. Oh, great one, Liberty. Talk about digging herself in deeper.
‘You kissed me like you liked me,’ he said drily.
She didn’t know what to say to that – so she ignored it. ‘It was a mistake. I don’t know why—’ She began again, ‘I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what came over me. You’re not my type at all.’
She shook her head in disbelief. She was very clear who her perfect match would be and that definitely wasn’t a thrill-seeking Frenchman.
His chin lifted. ‘No?’
‘You know you’re not! We’re opposites.’ She remembered how it had felt on the sledge with him, the incredible rush of wind on her face, the terrifying speed, the fear as they’d stopped inches away from the stone wall. He was all about danger and excitement, whereas she was – she gazed at the cosy room stuffed with quilts, candles and cushions (admittedly, one less cushion than an hour ago) – a home bird. ‘That was a mistake, Alex. The biggest mistake.’
Chapter Fourteen
Alex was as bewildered as she was by what had just happened, and by her reaction now. He knew she fancied the blond guy, he knew she wasn’t interested in him in that way – look how often they’d argued since he’d arrived here.
But that kiss had been … incredible. The passion, the potency. It had blown him away, and if she hadn’t kissed him, he was fairly certain he would have kissed her. Something that powerful couldn’t be one-sided.
Which was why he was baffled by how she’d responded – with regret. Shame.
‘So why did you do it, then?’ he asked stonily. He wanted to understand and his brain raced through the possible reasons, trying to catch up. A thought suddenly occurred that made his eyes narrow. ‘Don’t tell me – it was another of your challenges. Kiss the lodger. No – kiss the racer. Does that count for more?’ He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He’d believed she was different, that she wasn’t interested in that side of his life. But he also knew she was taking her challenge seriously.
‘What?’ She stared at him. Her cheeks bloomed with colour, then her eyes sparked fire. ‘Yes. That’s exactly it. It’ll be a nice fat tick in my book. You have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you?’
‘I’ve helped you with your challenge before.’
‘Let me set this straight, I did not kiss you for my challenge.’
‘Then why? Why kiss a man and immediately tell him it was a mistake?’ He was aware as he spoke the words that his pride was talking. His wounded pride.
‘I told you before – I don’t know. And I don’t understand why you’re so angry anyway. You told me you don’t do relationships.’
‘I don’t. I never stick around, so don’t read anything into it. Don’t get attached.’ The words tripped from his tongue automatically. Yet they sounded lame in the face of a woman who’d just told him that kissing him had been ‘the biggest mistake’.
‘There’s no danger of that,’ she said, her words clipped and curt. She went to leave. ‘No danger at all.’
Alex paused from pacing in his room as he heard her locking the front door, running the tap in the bathroom, then finally closing her bedroom door and going to bed. The cottage became silent, but her mortified expression wouldn’t leave him. Nor would the regret. She was right. Totally right. That kiss should never have happened.
Agreed, the cushion fight had come out of nowhere, but still. He could have stopped it – should have stopped it – yet instead he’d been mesmerised by those deep brown eyes and her pulse flickering furiously at the base of her throat. He’d wanted to run his fingertips over it. Touch it. Touch her. And then she’d kissed him and her lips had felt softer than he’d dreamed they would. She’d fitted perfectly against him, matching him in height. Her cheek had been velvet beneath his fingers.
We’re opposites. She was right. One hundred per cent right. His head filled with memories of Solange, and warning bells sounded. Liberty, with her desire to settle down, was not for him.
He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time he’d lost control like that. He couldn’t.
Restless, he got up and strode to the window, yanked it open, and dragged in lungfuls of frosty night air. Just when they’d been getting along. He cursed himself yet again. How was he going to fix this? He couldn’t.
Or could he?
The white forest glowed in the moonlight, like a fairy-tale scene in a snow globe. An idea suddenly occurred, and he closed the window quietly.
He couldn’t change what had happened, but perhaps there was a small thing he could do to put things right.
Friday, 12 December
Liberty was in the kitchen when Alex came down the next morning. She said hello, wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, then kept her eyes down and went back to reading the news on her laptop while he made coffee. Had he really thought she’d kissed him for her challenge? And what had he been implying – that he was a challenge? That she was afraid of kissing him? Why on earth would she be afraid? She stared distractedly at the computer screen as she relived the dizzying sensation of his mouth on hers. It had been an explosion of fire and colour, and her body had lit up like a string of Christmas lights.
She squeezed the mug. Her body might have responded like that, but her head knew better. Alex was attractive – especially with his endearing accent and gorgeous smile – but she was looking for more than appearance in a man.
‘Any news about the letters?’ he asked.
She was surprised at the question after they’d parted on frosty terms last night. But his wary tone told her it was an olive branch. S
he realised he meant on the online forum. ‘Sorry, no. Nothing.’
He was clearly disappointed. He leaned against the worktop, coffee in hand, keeping his distance. Although she didn’t look at him she was aware of the covert glances he cast her way. She wasn’t sure which was worse: his hostility when he’d first arrived, or this new awkwardness – magnified by being snowed in with no escape from each other.
‘I have a surprise for you, Liberty,’ he said unexpectedly.
His body language was wary, his tone conciliatory. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. ‘I don’t generally like surprises.’
‘You’ll like this one.’ There was a pause. ‘I think.’
Her lips twitched. ‘You’re not filling me with confidence.’
‘Well, we’ll soon see if you like it or not.’ He downed his coffee and went to leave.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To get your surprise.’
She jumped up and followed him into the hall. ‘Now? What is it? Where are you going?’
He tapped his nose and smiled the gorgeous smile that made his eyes crinkle.
‘When will you be back?’
‘I’ll be less than thirty minutes.’ He fastened his jacket and slipped his hands into the mittens she’d given him.
What on earth could his surprise be? Her shoulders tensed. The things that excited him were terrifying to her. This could be disastrous.
‘Should I prepare anything?’ she fished, hoping for a clue.
‘Just prepare to be brave.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart sank. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
‘It will be. You’ll see.’
She watched him trudge away from the cottage, then closed the door against the biting cold air. This did not bode well.
Exactly thirty-six minutes later she was sewing the binding on to the chevron quilt when she heard the sound of a rough engine. She left the sewing machine and went to the window. A quadbike was pulling up, and when the driver removed his helmet it revealed a shock of messy dark hair. Alex ran his hand through it, but only made it messier.
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