A Surprise Christmas Wedding

by Phillipa Ashley

  A SURPRISE CHRISTMAS WEDDING

  Phillipa Ashley

  Copyright

  Published by AVON

  A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2020

  Copyright © Phillipa Ashley 2020

  Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  Cover illustration © Hannah George / Meiklejohn

  Phillipa Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of 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.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008371609

  Ebook Edition © October 2020 ISBN: 9780008371616

  Version: 2020-10-05

  Dedication

  For my family, with much love

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Phillipa Ashley

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  15 September

  Porthmellow, Cornwall

  ‘Hold on! I won’t be a minute,’ Connor said, as he suddenly let go of Lottie’s hand.

  She frowned. ‘Why? Where are you going?’

  She reached for him but Connor was already yards away.

  He came back and brushed her lips with his. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Wait here on the harbour for me. Don’t worry, I won’t be long, Dotty Lottie.’

  ‘Don’t call me that!’ Lottie said, trying not to laugh.

  Connor’s grin was unrepentant as he melted into crowds of holidaymakers thronging the harbourside of Porthmellow, leaving Lottie on the quayside.

  She shook her head. Dotty Lottie was what some of the kids had called her at the Lakeland school she and Connor had both attended. He’d been four years above her and as a result they’d barely been aware of each other’s presence at the time, only meeting again through their work a few years before. Lottie was an events organiser at a hotel and Connor’s insurance firm had been one of their clients. However, she’d once unwisely confessed to him how much she hated the nickname and he’d used it ever since to wind her up and tease her – affectionately, of course.

  Puzzling over his mysterious behaviour, Lottie wandered along the harbourside, while she waited for him to return. She was hardly alone, surrounded by hundreds of tourists enjoying the late September heatwave, but she had a curious feeling that she’d been cast adrift, like a cork bobbing in the sea.

  Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings, and the fact that she hadn’t known they were even coming to Cornwall until forty-eight hours previously, when Connor had parked the car outside a tiny holiday cottage on Porthmellow’s quayside.

  Lottie could see its jaunty blue facade now, on the opposite side of the harbour, part of a row all painted in bubble-gum colours. The holiday cottage was such a contrast from the stone and slated houses of the Lakeland village where she and Connor lived. Langmere nestled on the shores of Derwentwater, encircled by the heather-clad fells and soaring peaks – equally pretty but with a subtler palette.

  It struck her that in many ways, the tight-knit community of Porthmellow, with its houses huddled around the harbour – and the sense that everyone knew each other – reminded her of the Lakeland village she’d grown up in. The locals chattered outside the fish kiosk, just as they did outside the village shop and post office. Sail ropes clanked against masts just as they did on the yachts moored in the lakeside marina. But the contrast delighted her too. While the sea was steely blue topped with whitecaps, the lake’s dark surface reflected the fells like a mirror. That morning, she’d woken to the slap of waves on the harbour wall rather than the beck tumbling beside their Lakeland home.

  It felt wonderful, but slightly disconcerting to have been whisked almost five hundred miles south at short notice, especially when she’d had no idea of their precise destination. Now she was here, she was keen to embrace every moment.

  She breathed in, savouring the tang of sea air and fishing creels, rather than the scent of woodsmoke and fresh rain she was used to.

  ‘Hello!’ Connor tapped her shoulder.

  Lottie twisted round. ‘You made me jump!’

  ‘Guilty conscience.’ With a smile, he joined her on the bench and crossed one leg over the other. He seemed extremely pleased with himself and he was grinning broadly.

  ‘You look like a dog with two tails.’

  He waggled his eyebrows. ‘You should be so lucky.’

  She groaned. ‘That’s a terrifying idea.’

  ‘Terrifying?’

  ‘Weird too. I don’t think I could handle it.’ She wrinkled her nose but was smiling.

  ‘Or them,’ he said, with what was meant to be a sexy grin. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the cottage.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to after what you just said …’

  But of course, she did want to go back to the cottage and knew exactly what he had in mind when they got there. Their unexpected week in Cornwall had certainly amped up the romance in their relationship – if the past couple of days was anything to go by. Although Lottie was now wondering where he’d been and what had happened to make Connor so smugly happy. Whatever it was, she was intrigued at this newly mysterious side to her partner.


  He certainly didn’t relish surprises normally. His work as an actuary for an insurance company was a job that involved the precise calculation and prediction of risk. And while Lottie’s job as an events organiser at a large hotel also involved careful planning, she loved spontaneous things – an impromptu picnic on the fells, a last-minute trip to the theatre – unlike Connor, who preferred to plan in advance. He liked to discuss where they were going, research it in great detail and make sure they were both happy – right down to insisting they both looked at any hotel or resort on Google Earth to make sure there was no rubbish tip next door and you really could walk to that ‘charming bistro’ in the ten minutes the website claimed. It had to be a joint decision, often involving spreadsheets weighing up the merits of several different options and giving them a score.

  Which made it all the more surprising that he’d sprung this week in Cornwall on her. She already had the time off work booked and thought they were going to spend it redecorating the sitting room – after due diligence with relation to paint charts.

  However, when she’d come home from work on the Friday, Connor had informed her to pack her holiday clothes because they were spending a week ‘by the seaside’ from the very next day.

  Lottie had first reconnected with Connor when his company had held a charity ball at the hotel where Lottie worked. He’d volunteered for the firm’s community fundraising team and was helping to organise the event.

  They’d recognised each other immediately, because Connor’s family had, for a time, lived in the same village as Lottie’s. When he walked into the meeting at the hotel, Lottie had thought he was ambitious, efficient and very good-looking. She’d been surprised by the amount of attention he’d paid her. At first, she’d dismissed it as polite flirtation, but at the end of their third meeting, when they were alone having a coffee in the hotel bistro, he’d asked her out.

  The rest was history, and she’d allowed herself to be swept away by his charm, his energy and sheer determination to go for what he wanted in life. This, she remembered thinking, must be what a ‘whirlwind romance’ was. They did happen. A couple of months after they’d met, Lottie had moved out of the house she shared with her sister Steph and her lively two-year-old twin girls, to move in with Connor.

  Now, two years later, they were ‘partners’ and had bought their own cottage in Langmere. The flame of romance was still very much alive, and Lottie had started to envisage a long-term future that included, hopefully in time, a family. For now, she was going to simply enjoy the moment and her surprise visit to Cornwall.

  Over the next few days, they walked the coast path, dined in the harbour restaurants, sunbathed on the beach and swam in secluded coves. Connor made no reference to his mysterious errand, and Lottie wondered if he’d merely gone to buy something for her birthday – she’d be thirty-three in just a few weeks.

  Then, on Thursday evening, after dinner on the cottage terrace, Connor whisked her down to the cove next to Porthmellow. It was a mild September evening, still warm enough to wear shorts. They left their shoes on the rocks, and walked barefoot in the frilly edge of the surf. The sun sank lower, tingeing the sky with coral. They kissed, with the sound of the waves breaking on the sand and the gulls crying above them.

  Glowing from the sun, Lottie thought she had never been so happy.

  In high spirits, she broke away from him and shouted: ‘Bet you can’t catch me!’

  ‘Bet I can!’

  He ran towards her. She dodged him, though both of them were laughing too much to take the chase seriously. She waded into the sea, the surf wetting her calves.

  ‘You’ll have to come in to get me! Dare you!’

  ‘You dare to dare Connor,’ he said, wading into the water, ‘who never turns down a challenge?’

  He swept her up in his arms. She shrieked and protested as he carried her out of the surf and set her down in the shallows. Still breathless, he held her face in his hands and kissed her, while the wind tugged at her hair and the surf roared.

  ‘Keep your eyes closed,’ he whispered. ‘No, don’t even think about peeping!’

  ‘OK …’ She squeezed her lids shut, pulse racing with anticipation while wavelets lapped her ankles with the gentlest of caresses. She felt invincible, as if nothing bad could touch her or ever would.

  Grasping her hand, he guided her out of the shallows onto the wet sand and finally she felt soft powder between her toes.

  ‘Wait here,’ he ordered, his hands at her elbows, putting her into position. The temptation to steal a look was killing her.

  ‘You can open them now.’

  She blinked against the sun but Connor wasn’t in front of her. She looked down. He was at her feet, balanced on one knee on the sand.

  Her heart rate went into overdrive. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ He reached into the pocket of his shorts, wobbling a little on the sand.

  ‘No …’ Her hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘Yes.’ He took her other hand, opened the palm and placed a small blue box in it.

  She was shaking. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I can and I am. Open it.’

  Her fingers trembled as she undid the clasp on the box and the fire of diamonds glittered in the evening sunlight. ‘Wh-where did you get this?’

  ‘Here …’ He looked at her a little sheepishly. ‘That little jewellery maker by the shell shop in Porthmellow.’

  A gold ring nestled in the box, the stones glinting in the sunlight. ‘Y-you mean you decided while we were here?’

  ‘Yes. No. I’ve wanted to ask you for a while and I was going to ask you and wait until we could choose a ring together but then I saw you admiring the jewellery in their window and I thought, why wait? Why not just got for it? I hope it fits. Have I done the right thing? Though I suppose I ought to actually propose to you, first.’

  Lottie was dumbstruck. She hadn’t expected this. It had come, literally, out of a clear blue sky.

  ‘OK, I’ll just get on with it.’ He took a breath. ‘Lottie Hargreaves,’ he said, gazing up at her. ‘Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  What? Words would not come, only emotion: shock, excitement, joy, shock … robbing her of breath. He’d kept this secret for a whole week – no, longer than that …

  ‘This is so – sudden, Connor.’

  ‘Not that sudden. Not unexpected, surely? We’ve known each other for years. Plus, I love you. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘I love you too …’

  He laughed. ‘Then what else do we need?’

  What else? To commit to a lifetime …

  He searched her face, doubt filling his eyes. ‘Have I made a huge mistake?’

  ‘No. Not a mistake. I’m just shocked. I mean I’m flabbergasted. I never expected this.’

  ‘But it’s not a “no” as in “no, I don’t want to marry you”?’

  ‘No. I mean, yes. Yes, I do want to …’ The words slipped out before she’d even realised.

  His eyes lit up. ‘Thank God for that. Would you mind if I got up now? I think I’m kneeling on a sea urchin.’

  Laughing though still stunned, Lottie helped him to his feet. It wasn’t a sea urchin, only a broken shell that had grazed the skin. He rubbed it and they hugged each other and kissed for what seemed like forever. If he was willing to make a lifetime commitment, she was ready to meet him. Her heart danced like the waves on the sea and her spirit soared like gulls wheeling impossibly high in the sky.

  She genuinely wondered if it was possible to burst with happiness.

  Connor took out the ring and slipped it on her finger. It fitted perfectly and its fire caught the rays of the setting sun.

  Hand in hand, they’d wandered back to their holiday cottage, where Connor produced a bottle of champagne with a beautiful card featuring a painting of the cove where he’d proposed. Lottie wasn’t sure if he’d written it before or after she’d said yes but frankly, she didn’t care.
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  It thanked her for accepting his proposal and said she’d ‘made him the happiest man alive’.

  They took the glasses upstairs, but even after they’d made love, she couldn’t sleep for excitement, allowing herself to imagine the future stretching on forever with Connor, imagining children … grandchildren.

  The next day, on the long journey north, all she could think about was how excited Steph would be when she found out her four-year-old twins were going to be bridesmaids. It was too momentous a piece of news to be delivered by phone, she thought, driving home while Connor dozed in the passenger seat. It had to be in person, preferably with Connor by her side.

  She’d get him to come with her the following evening after work, make a big occasion of it, maybe get a taxi so they could all have a bottle of champagne. Yes, that’s how she’d break the news. She knew Steph would be as thrilled as she was.

  It was past eleven when she got home. Connor had driven the last few hours and gone straight to bed, saying he was knackered and had an early start. Lottie woke just as he was on his way out of the kitchen the next morning. She immediately noticed the overnight bag at his feet.

  ‘Not running away, are you?’ she said, putting her arms around him.

  ‘Running away?’ he said sharply.

  ‘I was joking.’

  ‘Oh. No … but I’m afraid I do have to go away to the Edinburgh office.’

  ‘Edinburgh?’

  Disappointed, she let go of him. This business trip was news to her. ‘What? Now?’

  ‘Unfortunately I’ll probably have to stay for a couple of days.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ve got a big project on. I had a message on the way home from Cornwall saying it was all going tits up. I need to spend the next few days kicking arses up in the Scottish branch.’

  Lottie couldn’t hide her dismay. ‘Arghh. I was hoping we could go round to Steph’s to announce our news. I thought we could make a proper thing of it, maybe get a cab so we can take a bottle of champagne.’

  ‘Can we hang fire until I get back? I’ll probably be stuck in the office until Thursday.’

  ‘Thursday? You want me to wait until Thursday to tell Steph our news? I’ll burst!’

  ‘Well …’ He sat down, a serious expression on his face. ‘It might be a good idea to hold on for a while anyway before we start shouting about it. Steph’s hardly had the happiest experiences with men, has she?’