Christmas in the Boss's Castle

The serious expression left his face and he stuck out his elbow towards her. ‘Well, Ms Ellis, are you ready to go to The Armstrong’s Christmas party?’

She slid her hand through his arm as all the little hairs on her arm stood on end. ‘I think I could be. Lead the way.’

The party was fabulous. She recognised lots of faces. Other chambermaids, bar staff, porters, reception staff and kitchen staff. Frank the concierge had dressed as Father Christmas and looked perfect.

There was a huge table laid with appetisers and sweets. A chocolate fountain, a pick-and-mix sweetie cart and the equivalent of an outside street cart serving burgers.

Finlay nudged her. ‘What? Did you think it would all be truffles and hors d’oeuvres?’

She gave him a smile. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

He shrugged. ‘The first year it was. Frank discreetly told me later that the staff went home hungry. After that, I gave Kevin, from the kitchen, free rein to organise whatever he thought appropriate for the Christmas party. I don’t think anyone has gone home hungry since.’

She laughed as he led her over to the bar. ‘Which of the Christmas cocktails would you like?’ he asked.

She was surprised. ‘You have Christmas cocktails?’

‘Oh, yes. We have the chocolate raspberry martini, the Festive Shot, with peppermint schnapps, grenadine and crème de menthe, then there is the Christmas Candy Cane, with berry vodka, peppermint schnapps and crème de cacao—or, my personal favourite, Rudolph’s Blast: rum, cranberries, peach schnapps and a squeeze of fresh lime.’

Grace shook her head and leaned her elbows up on the bar. ‘You know what’s in every cocktail?’

He gestured to the barman. ‘We’ll have two Rudolph’s Blasts, please.’

He leaned on the bar next to her and leaned his head on one hand. ‘Okay, that dress. You kind of caught me by surprise. Where did you get it?’

She waved her hand. ‘Did you expect me to come in uniform?’

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her and the smile on his face—well, it wasn’t just friendly. It seemed...interested. ‘Of course I didn’t. But you look like something the Christmas fairy pulled off the tree.’

Her eyes narrowed and she mirrored his position, leaning her head on one hand and staring straight back. ‘And is that good—or bad?’

He didn’t answer right away, and the barman set their cocktails down in front of them.

She leaned forward and took a sip of the cocktail. She licked her lips again as the mixture of rum and fruit warmed her mouth. He was focused on her mouth.

And she knew it.

She ran her tongue along her lips again then bit the edge of her straw.

‘I only have the dress on loan,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’ve promised to take very good care of it.’

He leaned a little closer, obviously trying to hear her above the music playing around them. Had she lowered her voice deliberately? Maybe.

As he moved a little closer she was still focused on those blue eyes. Only they weren’t as blue as normal. In the dim lights his pupils had dilated so much there was only a thin rim of blue around them. Was it the light? Or was it her?

‘Who gave you the loan of the dress?’

‘A good friend.’

‘A designer?’

Ah...he was worried she’d been loaned the dress by a male designer. She could tell by his tone. She took another sip of her cocktail. It was strong. But it was warming lots of places all around her body. ‘Someone much closer to home.’

His brow furrowed. She was playing games with him.

His hand reached over and rested on her arm. ‘Someone I know?’

She smiled. ‘Someone you respect. Someone I respect.’ Grace lifted her hand and placed it on her chest. ‘I’m told it’s lucky. Her husband proposed to her when she was wearing this dress.’

Something flitted across his eyes. It was the briefest of seconds but it made her cringe a little inside. That might have come out a little awkwardly. She wasn’t dropping hints. She absolutely wasn’t.

Then, it was almost as if the pieces fell into place. ‘Alice Archer?’ His voice was louder and the edges of his mouth turned upwards in a wide smile as he shook his head in disbelief, looking Grace up and down—again.

She was getting used to this.

‘This was Alice Archer’s dress?’

She nodded. ‘This is Alice Archer’s dress. She offered to give me something to wear a few days ago when she heard I was coming to the party.’ Grace ran her palm across the smooth satin. Just the barest touch let her know the quality of the fabric. ‘I had forgotten. When I walked in this morning she had it hanging up waiting for me.’