Would he have said that? Or was Hal putting words into his mouth that he wanted to hear?
He touched his fingers to his cheek again, remembering the way Angel had kissed him. You saved my life, she’d said.
He was nobody’s hero, not his wife’s, not his kids. He’d made so many mistakes in his life he’d lost count. And yet, tonight, Angel had called him her knight in shining armor.
She was way off the mark—he’d been convenient, and he’d only done what any person with a heart would have done in his place.
But his lips curved up in the darkness, all the same.
HE WOKE TO THE SOUND of a young girl’s voice explaining in a stage whisper to her Pooh Bear how he mustn’t play too loudly with Eeyore because it would wake Daddy up.
Prying open his eyes, he focused on Brenna and smiled as her face lit up with a huge smile as she saw he was awake.
“Daddy!” She leapt on him and threw her arms around his neck.
Hal sighed and peered at his phone—5:49 a.m. He’d had about five hours’ sleep.
But he’d missed a few evenings with his kids this week, and they would be going back to Rebecca’s tomorrow, so he had to make the most of them while he had them.
“Hey, Monkey.” He grabbed her and kissed her neck, causing her to wriggle and squeal.
“Daddy! Stop it!”
“What’s the password?”
“Honey!”
“Nope.” He kissed her again, tickling her skin with his beard.
“Argh! Your beard’s scratchy!”
“Password, then?”
“Piglet!”
“Nope.”
“You never tell me the password,” she complained, finally pushing herself away from him.
“That’s because it’s a secret.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yep.” He stretched and yawned. “Go and make me a cup of coffee, would you? And bacon and eggs?”
“Dad... I’m not allowed to use the cooker.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He smiled and poked Pooh Bear in the tummy. She reached out and hugged the bear to her, burying her face in him. The bear was a security blanket, a source of comfort when she obviously felt worried or insecure. He should talk to Rebecca about trying to wean her off it or else they were going to have trouble on their hands when she had to go to school at Easter without it. It would be the right thing to do, but the thought made him immeasurably sad.
Deciding to worry about it later, he said, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
She lifted her face. “What?”
“There’s a lady asleep in the living room.”
Her still-baby-blue eyes widened. “Is she your friend?”
“Um... well, I don’t know her very well. I... rescued her last night.” He surprised himself by feeling a flicker of pleasure at the description.
“Is she a princess?” Brenna wanted to know.
Hal smiled. “No. She’s an archaeologist.”
“She likes old things?”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that... But yes.”
“How did you rescue her?”
“The sea swept her car away. She had to climb into one of the refuge boxes, you know the ones on the road?”
Brenna’s mouth formed an O of shock. “Is she all right?”
“We’ll go down and find out in a while. We’ll try to give her a little longer to sleep, okay?”
Brenna nodded. “Can we play a game?”
Hal yawned. “I’m a bit sleepy and my brain isn’t working properly yet. Why don’t we watch a DVD? You can get under the covers with me.”
She nodded and scrambled beneath the duvet, bear in her arms. Hal had already set up Finding Nemo, and he flicked on the small TV and started the DVD, then sat back on the pillows.
Brenna curled up to him, and he rested his lips on her red curls. She still smelled like a baby, of talcum powder and milk and biscuits. She wasn’t a baby anymore, though, and he knew he shouldn’t treat her as one. It was his job as a parent to prepare her for life, and he wouldn’t be doing her any favors if he mollycoddled her.
He didn’t have to do it right at that moment, though. He was the only father she’d ever have. Charles would never be able to fulfil the role the way Hal could. He closed his eyes and listened to Marlin and Dory’s conversation, resolving to make the most of his little girl while he still had her.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, he had a shower, then when the movie was finished, he took Brenna into the kitchen and made her some scrambled eggs. Jamie joined them halfway through, attracted by the smell of breakfast, and while he dished up another serving, Hal explained to his son what had happened the night before.
Finally, with both kids in tow, he opened the living room door, peered around, and went in. He stopped a few feet from her, captivated by the scene.
Angel lay on the sofa, facing the fire, which had now died down to embers. She was still wearing his sweatshirt, although she’d snuggled under the duvet. Her eyes were closed, her breathing regular, and she had more color to her cheeks. Her hair was fanned over the arm of the sofa, and had dried to a bright blonde.
Hal thought of the way she’d kissed his cheek, and a warm glow spread through him as if he’d knocked back a shot of expensive whisky.
“Is she going to wake up?” Brenna asked in a fierce whisper.
Angel’s eyelids fluttered and opened. She blinked a few times, then focused on the three figures standing looking at her.
“Oh.” She pushed herself up, clutching the duvet around her. “Good morning.”
“I’m so sorry to wake you.” Hal shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “but they wanted to meet you. This is Jamie, and the one with the curls is Brenna.”
She stared at him. “You’ve shaved.”
He fingered his chin. “Oh, yeah. Brenna made me.”
“His beard was scratchy,” his daughter said.
Angel was looking at him as if he’d walked in with a fish on his head. Did he look that different without the beard? He supposed he had let it get rather long. She didn’t look as if she disapproved, though. The warmth in her dark eyes gave him goosebumps.
“This is Angel,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Brenna blinked. “You’re an angel?”
“No, sweetie,” Hal said, “it’s just her name. I think.” He smiled, and Angel blushed delightfully.
“How are you?” Jamie asked politely. “Dad said you were caught by the tide.”
“Yes.” She took her hair in one hand and twirled it so it hung over her shoulder in one long twist. “I’m afraid I was very silly. I didn’t follow the tide table. I was late, and I didn’t want to wait another five hours to get onto the island.”
“Was it cold?” Brenna asked, clutching Pooh Bear to her.
“Freezing. I was very relieved that your daddy came by. You’re lucky to have such a hero for a father.” She smiled at him.
Jamie lifted his chin, looking proud at her description of his dad. “Dad always says we should help those who are weaker than ourselves.”
“Angel isn’t weak,” Hal corrected him hastily. “She’s a shield maiden.”
She laughed then, a lovely husky chuckle. “I wish! But thank you.”
He tore his gaze away from hers and bent to start making up the fire. “I’ll call the garage in a while. We’ll find out what state your car is in.”
“And my cases,” she said regretfully. “I guess all my clothes will be soaked.”
“Clothes can dry.” He raked through the ashes, put a couple of firelighters on the grate, then added some kindling on the top, conscious of her watching him. “At least you’re safe.”
“Would you like some breakfast?” Jamie asked. “I know how to make scrambled eggs in the microwave.”
Hal opened his mouth to say he was sure their guest didn’t want mushy eggs made by a seven-year-old, but
Angel said, “Can you really? Wow, that would be lovely.”
Flushing, Jamie nodded and set off for the kitchen.
Hal set light to the firelighters, then sat back to wait until they’d caught. He glanced at Angel. She was smiling.
“That was a nice thing to do,” he commented.
She shrugged. “I’m hungry, and he looks perfectly competent.”
“If he sets fire to the kitchen, I’m blaming you.”
Her smile widened. “Fair enough. I’d be interested to see how he could start a fire with a microwave.”
“He could put a spoon in it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She gave another husky chuckle. Hal made a mental note to make her laugh as much as he could, if it meant hearing it again.
“I can make cookies,” Brenna said.
“With chocolate chips?” Angel asked. “They’re my favorite.”
Brenna nodded shyly. “You roll the dough into balls and squidge them on a tray. A grown up has to put the tray in the oven, though.”
“That sounds very sensible.”
“We have to make lots of dough because Daddy eats half of it,” she said.
Hal rolled his eyes and poked his daughter, who gave an indignant, “What?”
“Go and help Jamie,” he instructed her. “Make sure he hasn’t got any eggshell in the bowl.”
“Okay.” Brenna ran off.
Hal raised an eyebrow at Angel. “I’m terrified she’s going to tell you all my dark secrets.”
“You have that many?”
“Not really.” He started adding a couple of bigger logs to the fire. “It makes me sound mysterious though.”
“They’re lovely kids,” she said, a smile in her voice. “How old are they?”
“Jamie’s nearly eight. Brenna’s four, five next August. Rebecca wanted her to start school last September, but I talked her into waiting until the summer term. It might have been more convenient for both of us, but Brenna’s not ready. I think she might struggle if we try to make her go too early.”
“Where would she go to school? Here?”
“No...” He turned and sat on the floor, his knees drawn up and his arms around them. Angel had rested her head on a hand and was watching him. Her expression was interested but not judgmental, and he felt a sudden urge to unburden, to talk about his problems. “Rebecca lives in Berwick, which is about an hour away, so Brenna would go there, where Jamie goes.” He glanced at the door. He could hear Jamie and Brenna talking in the kitchen. “Yesterday, Jamie asked me if he could come and live with me here.”
“Ouch,” she said. “That must have been difficult.”
“Yeah. I kinda sidestepped the question, but I know he’s going to bring it up again.”
“Would you want that?”
He sighed. “I’d love to see more of them. I only see them at the weekends in school time. But at the moment, I work in Edinburgh, and it doesn’t seem right to have a nanny bring them up, even if I could afford it. Anyway, neither of us would want to split the kids up, and his mother would never agree to me having them both all the time.”
Angel nodded. “How long have you been separated?”
He looked across at the Christmas tree. Brenna had switched on the fairy lights, and they twinkled softly, lighting up the room, which seemed dark considering it was morning. He glanced out at the sky—it was the color of concrete. It would be snowing before Christmas Day.
“Two years,” he said absently. “I was hoping the decree absolute would turn up before Christmas, but I doubt it will now. It could have gone through quicker if I’d stated adultery as a reason, but she didn’t want that.”
“You had an affair?” Angel asked.
He frowned. “Not me. She did. She asked me not to use it as the reason for the divorce, though. I didn’t want it to turn more acrimonious than it already was, so I agreed to wait two years. Part of me wishes I hadn’t now, but...” He shrugged. “It’s probably better for the kids this way.” He got to his feet and held out his hand.
Angel slipped hers into it and let him pull her up. “I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
“It takes two to tango,” he said roughly. “She would say I drove her to it.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Apparently, she called me Mr. Frosty,” he said, surprising himself how much it hurt to say it. “She said I iced her out of the relationship.”
Angel looked up at him with her large, dark eyes. They were brown, he realized now, up close to her, with little orange flecks near the irises. “I don’t find you cold,” she said. “Quite the opposite.”
Their gazes met and locked. She really was quite beautiful, he thought, when she wasn’t soaking wet and half frozen.
“Dad! It’s ready,” Jamie yelled from the kitchen.
He blinked and broke the spell. “I apologize in advance for the state of the breakfast.”
She gave her husky chuckle. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”
“There will be shell in the scrambled egg.”
“Added extra crunch,” she said cheerfully.
Grinning, he held open the door, and they went into the kitchen.
Chapter Eight
There was shell in the scrambled egg, but Angel ate it anyway, too hungry and too touched by the boy’s offer to feed her to make a fuss. While she ate, Hal and Jamie washed up the breakfast things, and Brenna sat opposite her, coloring in a picture.
“That’s Princess Anna from Frozen, isn’t it?” Angel asked her as she cut into her toast.
Brenna stared at her with adoration. “Kristoff’s sleigh was broken,” she said, pointing at it with her pencil. “And that’s Olaf the Snowman.”
Hal gave them both an amused look over his shoulder. “You’ll be her friend forever.”
Angel smiled and sipped her coffee.
The warmth in his eyes when they’d been talking in the living room lingered in her mind. He couldn’t possibly be interested in her—she was wearing no makeup and her hair must look like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. And she was older than him. To any local, she must seem a complete idiot for getting caught by the tide. And yet he’d been generous and considerate, and he didn’t seem angry or irritated.
Her gaze lingered on him. Lesa would think it hilarious that she had actually met Ragnar Lothbrok on the first day.
Lesa. Oh God. She was going to be worried sick.
“I wonder whether I could borrow your phone?” she asked. “I should ring my sister, because she’ll be worried that I didn’t call to say I’d arrived last night.”
“Of course.” He picked up a handset from the cradle on the window ledge and passed it to her.
Dialing Lesa’s number, she rose and walked back into the living room. Lesa answered after two rings.
“It’s me,” Angel said.
“Jesus. I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”
Angel hesitated. Up until that point, she’d intended to tell Lesa everything, but the words froze on her lips.
She didn’t want to admit that she’d already screwed up. Lesa wouldn’t be smug—she’d be out of her mind with worry—but she would say that Jackie had been right to tell her not to go away on her own, and she’d insist that Angel return home.
She’s not weak... She’s a shield maiden. Hal’s words rang in her head, and she smiled.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry I didn’t ring last night. There was lots of traffic, and it was really late by the time I got to the cottage. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Lesa blew out a breath. “You should have. I’ve hardly slept.”
“I’m so sorry.” Angel bit her lip. She’d put her sister through a lot, and it wasn’t fair to make her worry so much.
“I wish you’d come home,” Lesa said.
It would be easier for everyone else if she did. But did she really want to? She hadn’t even looked around the small town yet. It had the ruins of a medieval prio
ry, a museum, a castle, and St. Aidan’s Winery where they made and sold mead, amongst other things. And it looked as if it was going to snow. She was sure it would be magical here at Christmas.
Plus, she wasn’t sure she had a car anymore.
Oddly, she thought she could hear music, and it wasn’t coming from inside the house. “Hold on,” she said to Lesa. She opened the window a crack, leaned forward on the ledge, and peered out, shivering as the cool wintry air cut through her.
Further along, on the corner of the street, was a group of carol singers, proper ones probably from the church, not just out-of-tune kids. They were singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, the deep bass voices of the men and the higher angelic voices of the women sending a shiver down her spine.
There was magic here at Christmas. She could feel it in every cell in her body.
She took a deep breath in, and blew it out slowly as she closed the window and turned her attention back to the phone. “I am sorry I worried you, but I need this. I love you, you know that, but I need to be alone, just this once. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, and I promise I’ll ring if I need anything.”
“Okay.” Lesa didn’t argue with her. “Well, keep in touch, eh? And you know where I am if you need me.”
“Of course. Speak to you later.” Angel hung up.
She stayed there for a moment, looking out of the window. She felt a surprising sense of freedom at the thought of being here and coping alone, even if she had been rescued by a Viking.
“Everything okay?”
She turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He’d placed her dry clothes on the arm of the sofa.
When she’d woken that morning to see him standing before her with his children, for a moment she hadn’t recognized him. He looked so different without his beard. Younger, for a start, and with rugged good looks that elevated him from being a Viking warrior to a Viking jarl. His thick dark hair grew up from his scalp making him look as if he’d just run his hands through it all the time, and he had an impressive build, at least six-foot-two and with wide shoulders and hands like dinner plates. This man could easily have commanded an army.
If Kisses Were Snowflakes Page 5