Christmas in the Boss's Castle

It was as if she was caught in the same glow that he was. ‘How’s your Christmas going?’ she whispered.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away. ‘Better than I could have hoped for.’

She put a hand over his at the side of the turkey tray. ‘Then let’s get this old girl in the oven. I’ve found the Christmas decorations, but I couldn’t find the tree.’

‘Oh.’

Her hand was still on his. ‘What do you mean, oh?’

He picked up the tray—this turkey was heavier than it looked—and slid the tray into the oven. He picked up the other items that Alec had given them, onion, stuffing and chipolatas, and pushed them back in the fridge. ‘We can put them in later.’

He closed the oven door with a bang and checked the temperature. Grace folded her arms and leaned against the countertop. Finlay looked around the room for his navy jumper. It only took a moment to find it and pull it on. He glanced at Grace’s feet. ‘Do you have other boots?’

‘Why?’

He walked around her and held the door to the main hall open. ‘Because I don’t have an artificial tree. I’ve never used one at Drumegan Castle.’ He gestured with his hand. ‘I’ve got a whole wood out there full of pine trees. All we need to do is go and get one.’

Her eyes widened. Even from this far he could see the enthusiasm. ‘Really, you’re going to cut down a real Christmas tree?’

He nodded. ‘Snow angels, anyone?’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘I’ll race you!’

* * *

In the end she hadn’t worn the very expensive pink winter coat that Finlay had bought her. He’d found old waterproof jackets in the cupboard and they’d worn them on their hike across the grounds, complete with wheelbarrow and electric saw.

‘I’m kind of disappointed,’ she teased as he wheeled it towards the wood.

‘Why?’ He looked surprised.

Her feet were heavy in the snow. It really was deep here. Finlay hadn’t been kidding. She gave him a teasing smile. ‘I kind of hoped you’d just stomp over here with an axe, cut down the tree then throw it over your shoulder and bring it back to the castle.’

He let out a laugh. ‘Really? Just like that?’ He stopped wheeling, obviously trying to catch his breath just at the edge of the wood. ‘Well, I guess I could do that if you want.’ He pointed to a tiny tree just at the front of the wood. It was about two feet tall. ‘But this would be our Christmas tree. What do you think?’

She sidled up next to him. It had started to snow again and the snow was collecting on her shoulders with a few flakes on her cheeks. ‘Finlay Armstrong, you know how much I love Christmas, don’t you?’

She’d tilted her chin towards him. All he had to do was bend down a little.

He couldn’t help the smile that automatically appeared. Grace’s enthusiasm was infectious. ‘Grace Ellis, I might have noticed that about you.’

‘You did?’ She blinked, snowflakes landing on her thick lashes.

His hand naturally went around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands slid up the front of his chest. ‘I might have. So, I want you to look around the wood and find your perfect Christmas tree. When you find it, it’s all yours.’

She was watching him carefully. ‘All mine, I like the sound of that.’

He licked his lips. A few weeks ago, if someone had told him he’d be standing in the castle grounds on Christmas Day, waiting to cut down a tree with a beautiful woman in his arms, he would have thought they were crazy.

That would never, ever happen for him again.

And yet...he was here. With Grace. And for the first time in years he actually felt happy. He wasn’t imagining this. This was real. There was a real connection between them.

She gave her hand a little thump against his chest and looked upwards. ‘Snow’s getting heavier.’ She winked at him. ‘It must have heard I was here. Snow angels waiting. Let’s find this tree, Finlay. We have a date in the snow.’

A date in the snow.

He knew exactly what she meant and the words were casual. A date. Hadn’t they already had a few dates? Had he been dating without really knowing it?

She walked ahead and gave a shout a few minutes later. Then she gave a squeal. He darted through the trees. She was jumping up and down, clapping her hands together. ‘This is it. This is the tree. It’s perfect. Don’t you think? It will look gorgeous in the sitting room.’

She was infectious, truly infectious. She was right. She’d picked a perfect tree. Immaculately shaped, even branches and just the right height. ‘It’s not quite perfect,’ he said as he stepped forward.