Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases)

by Miranda Lee

  ‘That’s your way of thinking, Lorenzo, not mine—’

  ‘But it’s your life—’

  ‘And I’m not sure what my life is right now, so please—’

  ‘I won’t stop you going,’ he said as she glanced towards the door. He eased away from the cabinets to let her get by him. ‘If you need me you know where I am.’

  An expression crossed her face that told him she was surprised and hurt he could just back off like that. His intention had been to give her space, but maybe space wasn’t what she needed.

  ‘Enjoy your supper,’ she said.

  It was a crossroads, a turning point in his life. She let herself out of the front door while the energy they had created was still springing round him. He wasn’t about to wait around for it to fade. Snatching up his jacket, he went after her.

  The moment she opened the front door of her flat he knew she’d been crying. ‘Go wash your face. I’m taking you out,’ he said.

  She stared at him blankly, and then to his absolute relief she opened the door fully, murmuring, ‘Come in …’

  He wanted to take her in his arms straight away. She was so vulnerable, he would do anything to heal the hurt inside her, but he held back, respecting her desire to find the path she wanted by herself.

  Thankfully, she rallied quickly, the way he’d hoped she would. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she said after a protracted tidying-up session in her bedroom.

  ‘That’s my surprise.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas Eve,’ she reminded him. ‘Won’t everywhere be too busy for us to find a table?’

  ‘It will be fine,’ he reassured her. ‘Trust me.’

  She gave him an ironic look. ‘You’d better tell me if I’m dressed appropriately?’

  If she’d been wearing a dustbin liner tied with string she’d have looked just as beautiful to him.

  ‘No comment?’ She gave a twirl.

  The ice-blue sweater against her ivory skin made her look ethereal, beautiful. He had only one suggestion. ‘Let your hair down …’

  Reaching up, she removed the tortoiseshell pin holding it, and the whole glittering cascade fell and bounced around her shoulders.

  ‘Perfect. Do you have a warm jacket?’

  ‘How warm do I need to be?’

  ‘No clues,’ he said. ‘You’re too good a lawyer. If I’m not careful you’ll have the whole story out of me before I’m ready for you to know.’

  The smile on her face was the only reward he wanted.

  Her face turned ashen when she realised where they were going.

  ‘You said nothing when I asked if you trusted me,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Yes, I know, but I hate flying.’

  ‘I’ll ask you again—do you trust me?’

  She gulped and stared up the steps of the small aeroplane. ‘Are you the pilot?’

  He laughed. ‘Unless you’d like to take a turn?’

  ‘No! I just—’

  ‘What you’ll just do,’ he said, ‘is sit in a very comfortable seat, reading a selection of magazines, while sipping champagne and nibbling some delicious snacks.’

  ‘I will?’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘You will.’

  ‘Will it be a long fright … flight?’

  ‘Quite a short one, actually,’ he soothed, escorting her up the steps.

  ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have a plane to fly …’

  Lorenzo must be taking her to Italy, Carly guessed as they took off. She knew he had family there. Or perhaps a Christmas ski trip. But if that were true, why hadn’t he suggested she pack even warmer clothes?

  It was no use worrying about it now she was buckled into her seat. She just had to accept they were heading somewhere—

  And landing already?

  Not Italy, then.

  So where?

  Peering out of the window told her nothing. One runway looked much like another in the dark.

  ‘Did you enjoy the flight?’ Lorenzo said, ducking his head as he came back into the cabin to collect her. ‘I told you it wouldn’t be long.’

  ‘So where are we?’

  ‘That’s my surprise.’

  As they stepped outside the aircraft and the sleet hit her in the face she read the sign.

  ‘I told you it would be a surprise, didn’t I?’

  But not a good one, Carly thought in silence.

  Linking arms with her, Lorenzo hurried her across the tarmac towards a waiting limousine. ‘I’m taking you home,’ he said as if that should please her. ‘Families should be together at Christmas. It’s a time for reconciliation, and for love …’

  It wasn’t much of a village, though she was right; it was in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Carly’s talk of an English village had conjured up an impression in his head of a picture-perfect place like something you might find on the front of a greeting card. This was more like a village some local planning team had come up with fast on a Friday afternoon. It had been built without thought for the eventual inhabitants’ convenience, either side of a busy main road. He could see why Carly would want to escape; it was harder to understand why anyone would want to settle there in the first place.

  He turned to smile reassurance at her, having noticed how quiet she had become. He had hoped this trip back home would give him the answers she wouldn’t, but now he was beginning to wish he’d had more patience and had waited until she was ready to tell him.

  When the limousine had halted he helped her out. He was using a driver because he had wanted to sit with her, but she’d put acres between them on the back seat. She was going home, he thought, frowning inwardly. Shouldn’t that have been a cause for celebration? Maybe those answers he was looking for were right here.

  He stood close to her as she rang the front door bell. She had nodded when he had asked her if she was okay, but the set of her shoulders told him something different. He wanted to tell her it would be fine, and that he was there for her, but suddenly even he wasn’t so sure he could make it right. For a start, it was up to Carly to decide how much or how little she wanted to tell her parents about them …

  The door was opened by a thin, pinched-face woman who looked as if she sucked lemons for a treat.

  ‘Mum!’

  The excitement in Carly’s voice contrasted starkly with the way the older woman flinched.

  ‘Mrs Tate,’ he said, extending his hand formally. His hope had been to distract Carly so she wouldn’t notice her mother’s reaction to her. The calculation in Mrs Tate’s eyes as she turned her attention to him was a real eye-opener.

  ‘This is Lorenzo, Mother,’ Carly said, blissfully unaware, he sincerely hoped, of the undercurrents running from the house to the step. ‘Lorenzo Domenico … my pupil master in chambers?’

  Mrs Tate stood back to take a proper look at him. ‘To what do we owe this honour?’ she said.

  ‘Can we come in?’ Carly prompted with an edge of anxiety in her voice.

  ‘Of course you can,’ her mother said, standing back. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  A welcome, maybe, he thought.

  Once inside they walked down a narrow hallway and into an impressively neat sitting room. An older man was sitting in an easy chair watching football on the television. He looked weary, and barely glanced up, though judging by his slippers he had little enough cause for exhaustion.

  ‘Mr Tate?’ It was a relief when the man turned to look at him, and even more of a relief to see his gaze brighten.

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ he said, a little awkwardly, as if he were unused to being in the spotlight. Then his face transformed, and he sprang up. ‘Carly!’ he said, going to her.

  ‘Dad!’

  It was touching to see them embrace; it brought some warmth into the chilly atmosphere.

  ‘You’ve put on weight, Carly.’ Her mother’s voice shattered the touching tableau. ‘You need to watch that,’ she said.

  Car
ly’s cheeks reddened, and her father returned mildly to his seat.

  ‘My other daughter will be back soon.’

  He realised Mrs Tate was addressing him, and speaking as if she expected him to be riveted by this piece of information.

  ‘Olivia,’ she prompted, as if news of her younger daughter had travelled far and wide. ‘The beautiful sister,’ she added, in case he was in any doubt.

  ‘Oh?’ He smiled pleasantly, after shooting a glance at Carly. He had to remember they were discussing her sister, but in his opinion there was no one more beautiful than Carly.

  Olivia chose that very moment to breeze in, in a flurry of cold air and childish perfume.

  ‘Carly!’ she exclaimed as if all her Christmases had come at once. Ignoring everyone else in the room, Olivia threw her arms around her sister and danced about with her. She was deaf to her mother’s pleading that if she didn’t stop she might break something.

  From what he could see there was already a litter of broken hearts in the room.

  ‘Carly, come with me.’

  His jaw worked with annoyance as her mother uttered this instruction. She had broken father and daughter apart, and now she was doing the same to her two daughters. What was wrong with the woman? He held back from comment; his upbringing wouldn’t allow him to countermand an instruction from Carly’s mother in her own home. He would just have to fix the damage later.

  ‘Are you pregnant?’

  Carly’s eyes widened. Her mother had barricaded them in the tiny kitchen, and now she stood barring the only escape route with her back firmly planted against the door.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ If she was pregnant, she would need her mother’s support, surely?

  ‘Because I can’t think of a single reason why a man like that pupil master of yours would fly you up here in a private jet just to see us.’ Her mother’s thin lips pursed as she waited for a response.

  ‘He said it was Christmas, a time for families to be together.’

  ‘That’s never bothered you in the past.’

  ‘I only ever missed one Christmas at home, and that was when I was on a gap year from university—’

  ‘But you didn’t fly back then, did you?’

  ‘You know I didn’t. I was in India. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise … I should have been here—’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ her mother said impatiently, frowning. ‘So are you pregnant?’

  She had been brought up to tell the truth, and everyone knew condoms failed, and people got pregnant all the time. ‘I don’t know …’ Carly met her mother’s cold gaze steadily. They could both hear Lorenzo, his deep voice providing a melodious counterpoint to Olivia’s delighted laughter.

  ‘Well,’ her mother said with a knowing air. ‘You needn’t think a man like that’s going to marry you …’ Glancing towards the door, she made it clear whom she considered the more suitable candidate to be. ‘If he has got you pregnant the best you can hope for is a pay-off. Any mistress to a man like that would have to be—’

  ‘Beautiful, Mother?’ Carly cut in. ‘Stylish? Content to live in the lap of luxury provided by Lorenzo? We both know I don’t fit any of those categories, don’t we?’

  ‘Don’t turn your bitterness and disappointment on me,’ her mother shot back. ‘If you’re pregnant, have an abortion.’

  The moment’s silence rang on and on.

  ‘Don’t look so scandalised,’ Carly’s mother insisted. ‘You’ve always been the practical member of the family. If there’s a problem there’s a solution—wasn’t that what you always used to say to me?’

  Carly flinched. She hadn’t realised that so much bitterness had built up over the years. It might be too late, but she had to try one last time. ‘You gave up so much for me.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ her mother said. ‘But that’s behind us now.’

  Was it? Would it ever be behind them? No, Carly thought, it was here with them now in the tiny kitchen like a malign force—every penny spent, every missed hair appointment that had gone to provide for some expensive textbook. And she hadn’t seen it. Had she been too self-absorbed to see it? She had—and this was the price she had to pay. ‘If I am pregnant you wouldn’t really want me to abort your grandchild, would you?’ Her throat constricted as she waited for her mother to answer.

  ‘Make up your own mind,’ her mother said dismissively. ‘You never listen to me anyway. I just hope you’re not on your way to making a bigger fool of yourself than usual.’

  As Lorenzo’s laughter sounded from the other room Mrs Tate moved away from the door. ‘You’d better go back in if you’re to have the slightest hope of hanging on to him.’

  Blinded by tears, Carly blundered through the door.

  ‘Carly …’

  Lorenzo got to his feet the moment she entered the room. He was smiling, and there was such a change in the atmosphere after the frost in the kitchen it took her a moment to adapt. The small sitting room was unusually full of life. Her father had even switched off the television. But as Lorenzo stepped forward to take hold of her hands she got the horrible feeling he was about to make an announcement. She was so disorientated and distressed after the talk with her mother she managed to persuade herself that Lorenzo wanted to comfort her when he explained that he was going to marry her sister. It was the only thing that made sense; they were both so beautiful. She could even hear him saying it: ‘Mr and Mrs Tate, I have been struck by a thunderbolt and have no alternative other than to ask for the hand of your daughter Olivia—’

  ‘Carly?’ Lorenzo said, dipping his head to stare her in the eyes. ‘Where are you now?’

  In the middle of a nightmare. Blinking, she refocused. Her mother and father had returned to their usual places either side of the fire. Her mother sat on the edge of her easy chair, while her father sat well back, as if bracing himself for confrontation. Olivia sat in silence on the sofa staring up at her.

  For the first time in her life she couldn’t bring herself to meet her sister’s gaze. This time it wasn’t a question of yielding a favourite toy, or the last chocolate in the box, it was the threat of losing the man she loved.

  The man at the centre of the drama stood in front of her, making the tiny sitting room seem claustrophobic. Whatever had happened, whatever misunderstandings there had been between them, Lorenzo was the only person who made sense of her life. He was the direction she wanted to take; she just hadn’t realised it before. And now it was too late.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘CARLY’S OVERWHELMED at returning home,’ Lorenzo said to explain her silence. ‘I’m glad you two had time together,’ he told her mother, but something in his eyes left Mrs Tate in no doubt that he knew what she had done.

  The tension that followed was suddenly too much for Carly, and she bolted for the stairs. She was halfway up them before she remembered she didn’t have a room in the house any longer. Fortunately, Olivia was right behind her.

  ‘My room,’ Livvie said. ‘Left at the top of the stairs.’

  ‘My old room …’ Carly smiled as she looked around. Plain fabrics had been replaced by chintz, and there was lace at the window.

  ‘It’s a bit frilly for you,’ Livvie said, reading her sister’s thoughts. ‘I hope you don’t object to my taking it over, only it was bigger than mine. You don’t mind, do you, Carly?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t mind. You get the rooftops …’ Carly turned to stare out of the window at a view she knew so well. She used to imagine all the hidden miles rolling back behind the chimney pots …

  ‘I thought I’d better take the bigger room since it looks like I’m stuck here for life.’

  Carly turned to look at her sister. Olivia had flopped down on the bed. ‘You’re not stuck here any more than I was. Not unless you want to be, Livvie.’

  ‘I’ve missed you …’ Livvie patted the bed by her side.

  ‘And I’ve missed you …’ They hugged.

  ‘So, is this Lorenzo special?’

&nb
sp; There could be no secrets between sisters as close as they were, Carly realised. ‘Lorenzo?’ She gave a dry laugh. ‘Anyone can see Lorenzo’s special—far too special for me.’

  ‘No one’s too special for you,’ Livvie argued hotly. ‘And why would he bring you all this way if he didn’t care for you?’

  ‘His good deed for the year, maybe.’

  ‘Carly, what’s happened to you? You never used to be so cynical.’

  ‘I never used to be much of anything, unless being a bookworm counts—’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Livvie exclaimed with exasperation. ‘You’ve always been the most wonderful sister to me. You’re kind and loyal and brave. And you had the courage to escape.’

  ‘You have that same courage. We’re sisters. We’re out of the same egg.’

  ‘The same bitter old husk, don’t you mean?’

  ‘Livvie … Don’t say that about Mother. She’s done her best. But it’s never enough, can’t you see? She never quite managed to catch up with those wealthy friends of hers.’

  ‘Then she should get herself some real friends,’ Olivia argued fiercely.

  By the time the two girls returned to the sitting room Lorenzo seemed to have worked magic. He had certainly put their parents at ease.

  The atmosphere could hardly remain tense while Lorenzo was around, Carly reflected, but she wasn’t ready for her mother’s next remark.

  ‘Why don’t you stay over?’ her mother invited. ‘We’ve got two spare rooms now Carly’s gone. Of course,’ she hurried to explain, ‘Christmas Day is a simple affair in the Tate household, and not up to your usual standards—just lunch at the golf club, followed by a few drinks. If I make a call now I’m sure they’ll put on a couple of extra places.’ Her eyes were already gleaming at the thought of introducing Lorenzo round.

  ‘How kind of you, Mrs Tate,’ Lorenzo said politely. ‘I’d love nothing more, but I must admit I’ve made other plans for your daughter.’

  As her mother tensed Carly felt sure the whole world was holding a collective breath.