The Earl's Snow-Kissed Proposal

With that he vanished into the crowd.

The whole confrontation had taken no more than a few moments, but those minutes had left her encased in a mesh of terror.

Gabe was on his phone, giving a description of Tommy and asking for confirmation that he’d left the grounds.

He dropped his phone into his pocket. ‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ Aware that a few spectators were nudging each other, Etta forced a smile to her face. ‘Absolutely fine. Isn’t it time to judge the Victorian Christmas reindeer?’

Gabe hesitated.

‘It’s OK, Gabe. This is my problem now. Our deal is nearly done.’

CHAPTER TEN

GABE EXHALED HEAVILY. His muscles ached, but the clear-down was finally finished, with everything set in place for a rerun the following day.

‘Thank you, everyone. The day was an outstanding success. You have my heartfelt thanks and I’ve put my wallet behind the bar in the pub. Drinks on me tonight. Go and enjoy.’

There was a cheer and the staff filed out, leaving just Etta and himself in the enormous marquee that held the restaurant. Exhaustion smudged her features and dust smeared the jeans she had changed into for the clear-down. She’d worked like the proverbial trooper—she’d served food, played games, and done more than her share of lugging crates and boxes. But he was pretty sure her pallor had zip to do with work and everything to do with Tommy.

‘Come on. We definitely deserve a drink.’

Now her lips turned up in a smile and his breath caught at her sheer prettiness; there was an ageless quality to her beauty—the kind that came from character and poise.

His palms itched with a desire to swirl her into his arms and kiss her, take her mind off Tommy. Bad idea, Gabe. Been there, done that. And whilst their kiss had blown his mind, it had spooked Etta—she’d been clear that she wanted to forget it. He didn’t get why, but instinct told him the reasons were complicated. If Etta wanted to act on their mutual attraction it had to be her decision, not his.

‘A drink sounds good—and I have just the thing,’ she said.

He followed her to the kitchen, where she headed to the fridge.

‘I know it’s probably not as high-quality as you’re used to, but I picked us up a bottle of bubbles. To toast the success of the fair.’

The unexpectedness of the gesture halted him in his tracks.

‘Don’t look so surprised.’

‘I am surprised. The Derwents don’t go in for celebratory gestures because success is a given. Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome. That must be hard,’ she added. ‘To always expect to succeed.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘Hmm. Well, I don’t always succeed, and I’m not sure how successful our dinner is going to be either. I told Sarah she didn’t need to cook for us today—she needs to go home and put her feet up, ready for tomorrow. So I made something yesterday! Don’t get your hopes up—it’s not exactly haute cuisine. Just macaroni cheese and salad, but...’

‘Etta, stop apologising. This is a lovely gesture.’

And in truth he didn’t know how to handle it.

She pulled the macaroni cheese out of the fridge and put it into the oven, while he opened the sparkling wine, the pop of the cork reverberating round the room. He poured the frothing golden liquid into two crystal flutes and handed one over.

‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers. To a successful alliance. Your new family tree is done, the fair is on its way to success, and after tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair.’

There was a hint of strain to her smile, and he put his glass down on the counter.

‘You must be looking forward to seeing Cathy again. I’ll drop you at the airport as planned.’