An Affair To Remember: A Ludlow Hall Christmas

by CC MacKenzie

  Her affair with Marc had burned incredibly hot, maybe too hot. And fast, maybe too fast. They'd made promises to each other without really knowing the other. Without really thinking things through. So when they hit a bump in the road (more like an earthquake) they had nowhere soft to land.

  But the part that really left a bitter taste in her mouth, was the part where he'd come up with a plan to set her up without warning. How could he do such a thing, stand there, let them tear her to pieces for hours and say nothing? She just couldn't get her head around it. But then she remembered that the room had been bugged. She sniffed, it was all so confusing.

  A strong arm was slung around her shoulder.

  "Elena, you've scrubbed that potato for ten minutes," Joe said.

  She turned to look up into his tired face, even tired her favourite brother was handsome.

  Joe had the unenviable task of being a resident doctor in Accident and Emergency. Just like his brothers in the army and the police, he manned the front line in a hospital system that was strapped for cash. And Joe was exhausted.

  "How much sleep did you get last night?"

  "Four hours. Luxury."

  "Why don't you take a nap?"

  "Nah. I'm used to it. If I go to bed now I'll be prowling the house at four a.m. and driving everybody nuts. Why don't we go out for a walk into town? I'll even spring for a drink at the pub. It might make both of us feel better."

  Sounded like a plan.

  Elena didn't tell him she'd already walked miles this morning, she valued any time she had with Joe. He was the second eldest, the voice of reason and a good listener.

  Ten minutes later, Joe and Elena were wrapped up in layers under duck-down puffa jackets with ski hats pulled down low and yards of woollen scarves wound around their neck. Czar was playing hide and seek in the snow drifts at the side of the road as they strolled down the lane.

  "So, what's this I hear about you and Marc Atelier? Sounds complicated. Is it serious?"

  "I thought it was serious," Elena said. She added a heavy sigh and tucked her arm in his. "We just clicked, you know? I thought, at last, I've found the one for me."

  Her big brother stopped to look into her eyes.

  "Do you love him?"

  Did she?

  "We had the most amazing weekend together. And for most of this week, and even at work, it was good, you know? We ate, cooked together, slept together. It was right."

  "Do you love him?"

  When she didn't respond Joe's brows rose.

  She couldn't lie to him.

  So she shouldn't lie to herself.

  "Yes, I love him. I can't stop." Now Elena spun around to kick a snow drift. Czar pounced on the clump of snow like a cat on a mouse. "He's made me so mad, Joe. I just want to punch him. He hurt me and I don't know if I can get past it."

  Joe pulled her into him, slung his arm around her shoulders and they continued to walk into the town, heading for an ancient tavern that had been serving travellers for four hundred years called The Bull's Head.

  "You need a drink."

  Joe shoved open the pub door, whistled for Czar who came to heel. Elena clipped on his leash and found a table in the corner while Joe went to the bar to order drinks. She pulled off her hat, her gloves and her scarf and unzipped her coat. There was a fire roaring in the grate and the place was crammed with revellers. Elvis was crooning something about a blue Christmas without you. The lyrics seemed to make the ache in her heart more intense.

  Joe pushed back through the crowd doing a juggling act with a glass of white wine and a pint of beer. He nodded to neighbours and acquaintances, and returned insults in the spirit to which they'd been given to his pals. He placed the glass of white wine in front of Elena and took a sip of his pint. He straddled a stool and tugged off his hat and scarf, handed them to Elena who had space in her little nook to stash their stuff. Czar flopped to the floor under the table, eyes closed, ears on alert for incoming like radar.

  "Cheers," Joe said and they clinked glasses. Her brother's dark eyes searched her face. "I think you should consider looking at what happened from Marc's point of view. Haven't you been reading what's been printed in the press about the Ferranti's?"

  Elena shook her head.

  "I lead a very busy life. I don't have time to read trashy gossip."

  "Yeah, well, maybe you should make time. After all you work at Ludlow Hall and Nico's your boss. Knowledge is power. Some of the stuff was nasty. Rumours about affairs and rumours that the marriage was in trouble."

  "That's utter nonsense," Elena said.

  "Yeah, well, not everyone believes it's lies. The couple have been having a really hard time. Even to me, it appears as if someone's got it in for Nico. There was stuff in the financial press, too, about something in Italy. For a few months it looked as if he was in big trouble. But then that petered out, too. Marc works for Nico as a security expert. I'm betting Marc keeps a close eye on nefarious stuff and nips things in the bud all the time. I bet that's why he was based in Italy, too."

  "You make him sound like James Bond."

  Joe grinned. He was a big fan of the film franchise.

  "Apart from you and me, kiddo, we're a family of police and military men. Liam and Adam like Marc, a lot. They recognise one of their own. And they did a little digging. The guy's a hero. He had a very hard start in life and rose above it."

  When Elena frowned into wine, Joe studied her face carefully.

  "He didn't tell you about his past?"

  She shook her head.

  "Only that he was adopted and the people who took him took his half-sister, too, when she was a baby. He loves his adopted mother very much. And you're right, he is close to Nico."

  "Think about it. He's ex-military, ex-police. What you felt was a hot grilling, a grilling that made you crap your panties, he'd regard as no big deal. And from what I could tell he thought you were a star. He's really proud of you, babe. But then you're a Kennedy. I'd expect nothing less."

  "He set me up for his own ends."

  "He did it to stop the leak." He waited a couple of beats. "You like Bronte?"

  "Of course I like Bronte."

  "Thanks to you, Bronte's going to stop being hurt by a vicious tabloid bitch. Bronte loves Nico. Nico loves Bronte. Nico hurts, Bronte hurts."

  Elena took time to mull his words over in her mind.

  By this time they'd finished their drinks.

  They started to pile on their jackets and hats and scarves and gloves.

  As they pushed through the crowd with Czar, Elena knew she had a great deal to think about.

  Joe stamped his feet as fresh snow started to fall.

  "All I'm saying is that maybe you should give the guy a chance. It's the season of goodwill. Think about it."

  He slung his arm around her and she wound her arm around his waist.

  "Love sucks," she muttered.

  "Tell me about it. Loving someone isn't always a personal choice. Count yourself lucky you've fallen for one of the good guys. Nothing worse than being in love with the wrong person. Now that is hell."

  Elena looked up into his face, but Joe was looking straight ahead, his mouth firm.

  Her brother looked... sad.

  She was dying to ask him what was wrong.

  But Joe was a very private person, a deep thinker, and she knew better than to open old hurts, old wounds best left alone.

  She pulled him tight into her side as they trudged up the hill to their home, both deep in thought.

  Elena was still deep in thought as she prepared stuffing for the turkey.

  The ring of the doorbell had everyone look at each other in the kitchen.

  No one moved until Liam muttered something intelligible and moved down the hallway to open the door.

  "Hey, gorgeous. What can I do for you?"

  "Can I speak to Elena?"

  "Sure, come on in."

  Bronte Ferranti stepped into the kitchen. Her coat was taken as she was hugge
d and kissed by a long line of men, including Elena's father.

  By the time they'd finished, her face was flushed and her green eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter.

  "Sorry to interrupt, I know it's a busy time for everyone." Her eyes found Elena's. The laughter slid away. Bronte bit her lip. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Well, the Ferranti's had really brought out the big guns if Bronte was standing in her father's kitchen.

  "Come on through to the sitting room. Would you like a drink?"

  Elena led the way.

  Nico's blonde wife shook her head.

  "No, thank you. I've left Nico home alone with the kids. Trust me, it's a recipe for disaster, especially the night before Christmas. The twins are bouncing off the walls."

  The girls moved through the hall and into the sitting room with its battered old couch and mismatched chairs. The space was filled with the detritus of family life. Newspapers, magazines, dirty mugs and plates and tennis shoes.

  Elena's face burned.

  She was going to kill her brothers.

  They lived like pigs.

  "Sorry about the mess. I only clean in here about five times a day."

  "Please, don't worry about it. You have a lovely home. I've always thought so. Look, first of all I just want to say that the men in our lives were completely out of order to put you in the middle of this big mess."

  Elena blinked.

  But before she could speak, Bronte carried on.

  "It's so typical of Nico to just power over people and their feelings. He's so overprotective of me and the kids. You'd think I was a shrinking violet or something. He's going to apologise to you, Elena. All I'm asking is that you hear him out. He's devastated that he's hurt you. He's even more upset that he's lost you from The Hall. But it's his own fault."

  "Well, they did find those emails on my PC. He had to question me. I understand that and I accept it. It was just the way it was done, Bronte. I've never been so scared in my life. And Marc wouldn't even look at me..."

  "Stupid. They're stupid, Elena. Marc's looking as if he's lost his best friend. His mother's arrived, and his sister, and they're worried sick about him. As if the poor things haven't been through enough with losing John so suddenly. Marc's moved into Heron's Rest so they can all be together. And he's planning that they stay for a while, to give his mother a chance to find her feet again. Poor woman. They were married for over forty years you know. So it's been very hard on everyone."

  Elena felt awful, just awful, that Marc's mother was suffering such heartbreak.

  Bronte turned big emerald eyes on her and took her hands in hers and held on tight.

  "Anyway. The reason I'm here is to try to build bridges. You can torture Nico for as long as you like, God knows the big lug deserves it. But, Elena, Marc is crazy about you. He doesn't know I'm here. He'd be furious. But I've known him for a number of years and even after John died he wasn't in this state. Please listen to what he has to say. Please give him a chance. We're having a little get together tonight at The Dower House. If you don't already have plans, please consider dropping by and bring all the family. It would be lovely for Mary and Nina to meet new people. Please, Elena."

  What could she say against the force of nature that was Bronte Ferranti?

  The woman's heartfelt plea would bring a tear to a glass eye.

  Elena realised she had no choice.

  "Okay," she said, making up her mind for the whole family. "We'll be happy to come. What time?"

  "Seven-thirty. Oscar's prepared a buffet, so he'll be there with Emma. Trust me, you'll all have a great time. Bring the dog, too."

  "That's very kind of you, but Czar will be fine on his own doing guard duty. What do I wear? Is it casual?"

  "Jeans and a sweater. No big deal." Bronte hugged her tight. When she eased back her eyes were too bright. "Wonderful! I'll see you then. And thank you, Elena. Thank you so much."

  Elena sat on the sofa for at least five minutes after Bronte left. Her eyes rose to check the time on the old carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Six-thirty, not a lot of time to organise five men. Nothing like a challenge.

  She marched into the kitchen, grabbed a saucepan and banged a wooden spoon on the base. That got their attention. Immediately all the chat stopped as five males stared at her.

  "We're off to The Dower House for a Christmas Eve get together to welcome a couple of new arrivals to our community. I'm in the shower first. You have exactly sixty minutes to get showered, shaved and changed. Starting now."

  She raced out the door and up the stair and into one of the two family bathrooms before they could start moaning and groaning.

  But at precisely seven-fifteen her brothers and her father were standing all present and correct at the bottom of the stair. And every one of them looked amazing. My God, her brothers, and father, certainly cleaned up well. It wasn't their usual custom, as a family, to venture out on Christmas Eve, except to church. Elena knew they were doing it for her and for Marc.

  As the guys argued who was driving, they crammed into her dad's Land Rover Defender and left for The Dower House.

  Elena let the voices roll over her head.

  Her stomach was in knots and she felt physically sick.

  She just hoped to hell she was doing the right thing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The last thing Marc wanted to do was spend Christmas Eve socialising at The Dower House.

  He hadn't heard a peep from Elena.

  His second in command, Steve, told him he'd seen her in a pub in town with a tall, dark haired guy. Apparently they looked really cosy drinking wine and beer, with their heads close together, with eyes only for each other.

  It hadn't taken her long to find someone else, Marc thought savagely as jealousy, a lousy emotion, had chewed up his gut and spat it out.

  He'd showered, and on his mother's strict instructions, shaved.

  Two pairs of anxious eyes had watched him like a couple of hawks all fucking day.

  Waiting for him to burst into tears or something fucking stupid like that.

  As if!

  He clattered down the wide staircase of Heron's Rest to find his mother and sister all wrapped up warm and raring to go. Nina was looking her usual fabulous self. Her dark hair hung down her back. Bright blue eyes sparkled into his. She'd painted her full mouth pillar box red. The colour matched her sweater. Her slim legs were encased in black skinny jeans and flat over the knee suede boots. Her black duck down coat kept her nice and snug. She was growing up too damned fast. She'd be twenty-one next month. An adult. Where the hell had the time gone?

  His mother looked cute, too, in her slim tunic sweater of cashmere the colour of pewter, smart black pants and ankle boots. She'd done something different with her hair. It made her look years younger. Her grey eyes were still haunted, but her smile was genuine as she rose on her tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

  "We'd better get going or we'll be late," she said.

  His mother had never been late for an appointment in her life.

  But he didn't argue.

  Instead he saw them safely to his SUV.

  When they arrived at The Dower House, Marc hadn't been sure what to expect.

  Maybe a crowd of neighbours and friends.

  What he found, after Nico took their coats and welcomed his mother and sister to his home, were Elena, her brothers and her father, Oscar Kamani (the famous chef) and Emma Ludlow, Bronte's cousin.

  And Nico and Bronte and the kids.

  That was the sum total.

  His heart was in his mouth at he took his mother to meet Elena, the woman who held his heart in his hands.

  "Mum, I'd like you to meet Elena Kennedy."

  Mary Jones took both of Elena's hands in hers and held on tight.

  "Lovely to meet you at last. Are you ready to forgive my son?"

  Elena met his eyes and held.

  "Do you think he deserves forgiveness, Mrs. Jones?"

/>   "Oh yes, dear. Just don't go too easy on him. Start as you mean to go on that's what I always say."

  And thank you, Mother.

  Before he could open his mouth, Bronte took their arms and guided them through the sitting room doors, into the hall and into a small room, a study.

  "I come here when I need a few minutes to myself. Take as long as you like. I imagine you two have a lot to talk about."

  And with that, she walked out and closed the door.

  "She's a smooth operator," Elena said, as she strolled around the pretty room, fingered the novels, heavy on romance and thrillers, on the shelves.

  She didn't look at him and Marc's heart fell.

  "I'm sorry I hurt you, Elena."

  Now she turned to him, her gaze direct.

  And once their eyes locked, he couldn't look away.

  Taking it nice and easy, he moved into her to take her in his arms.

  When she didn't push him away, he took it as a good sign.

  She didn't touch him either.

  Her chin had a stubborn edge to it as she leaned back to keep her eyes on his.

  "You were just doing your job. I understand that now. It was a shame you had to flatten me to do it."

  Not giving an inch.

  Little devil.

  He took her wrists, wound them around his neck and pulled her closer.

  Soft breasts pressed against his chest and he could feel her heart beating fast, or was it his?

  She smelled fabulous, flowers, shampoo and woman.

  His woman.

  "Do you want me on my knees, Elena? Is that what you want?"

  Her eyes narrowed, but he didn't see any anger in them.

  He didn't see any warmth either.

  "It's a start. I was thinking more along the lines of you crawling on your hands and knees."

  His brows rose as he took a chance and dropped a kiss on her nose.

  She didn't blink.

  "Forgive me?"

  This time he pressed little kisses on her cheeks, her chin, at the side of her mouth.

  "Is that the best you can do?" she murmured, watching his face through slitted eyes.