He laughed and nodded. Kissing lying in the snow wasn’t an ideal arrangement. He knew that. He just didn’t care about the wet clothes.
He looked over at the piece of ground a little away from the trees. ‘To make snow angels, we need to do it where there are no other marks. Let’s go over there.’
He took her arm and pulled her up. They’d only walked a few steps when she stopped dead. ‘Look!’
‘What?’ He looked around near the trees and bush she was pointing to.
‘Holly,’ breathed Grace. ‘It’s holly.’
She was right; the jaggy green leaves and red berries were poking out from underneath the snow. She grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Can you cut some? Wouldn’t it be gorgeous to have some fresh holly in the house?’
There it was again. That infectious enthusiasm. If she could bottle it and sell it she could be a millionaire. He put his arm around her waist. ‘Snow angels first, then the tree, then the holly. You could freeze out here.’
She nodded and shivered. ‘I think I already am.’
He took her hand and led her across the snow, turning around to face the castle. ‘How about here?’
She nodded as she looked at their trail of footprints in the snow.
‘Then let’s do it.’ Finlay grinned as he held out his arms and fell backwards in the snow, landing with a thud. ‘Oof!’
Grace looked a bit shocked, then joined in, turning to face the castle, holding out her arms and falling backwards. Her thud wasn’t nearly as loud.
They lay there for a few seconds. The clear blue sky above them, the white-covered world all around them, with the majestic grey castle standing like a master of all it surveyed.
‘It’s just beautiful here,’ breathed Grace.
Finlay wasn’t thinking about the cold. His eyes were running over the hundreds of years old building he’d neglected for the last five years. It had stood the test of time, again and again. It had been here before him. And it would still be standing long after he had gone. ‘Yes, yes, it is,’ he agreed.
Pieces were starting to fall into place for him. The brickwork at one of the turrets looked as if it needed work. There were a few misaligned tiles on one part of the roof—probably the result of one of Scotland’s storms. All things that could be easily mended.
The cold was soaking in through his jacket and jeans. All things could be mended. It just depended on whether you were willing to do the repairs.
‘Hey? Are you going?’
He smiled again. Grace was the best leveller in the world. ‘Yes, let’s go.’
They yelled and shouted as they moved their arms up and down in the heavy snow. Grace started singing Christmas songs at the top of her voice.
He hadn’t felt this happy in such a long time. He hadn’t felt this free in such a long time. He turned his head and watched her singing to the sky with a huge smile on her face—this was all because of Grace. He just couldn’t deny it.
When she finally stopped singing they lay in the snow for a few seconds.
‘Thanks, Grace.’
She looked surprised. ‘For what?’
He held up one damp arm. ‘For this. For helping me come back here. For making something that should be hard feel as if I was meant to do it. I was meant to be here.’
She rolled over in the snow onto her stomach, facing him. ‘That’s because I think you were, Finlay. Maybe it was just time.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘Maybe it was.’
She pushed herself up onto her knees. ‘Thank you too.’
‘What for?’
She smiled. ‘For making a Christmas that I thought I was going to hate, into something else entirely. Snow? A castle? What more could a girl ask for?’ She shook some snow off her jacket. ‘Except pneumonia, of course.’
He pushed himself up. ‘You’re right. Let’s go. The tree will only take a few minutes to cut down and we can grab some holly along the way.’
* * *
From the second they’d got back in the castle and showered and changed, things had seemed different. This time, Grace had put on the only dress she’d brought. It was black with a few sparkles. She’d always liked dressing up on Christmas Day and she was hoping Finlay would appreciate the effort. There hadn’t been time to do anything but dry her hair so she left it in waves tied back with the same pink ribbon as earlier. Finlay was in the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he basted the turkey—again.
She nudged him as she watched. ‘What do you say we make this easy?’
‘How?’
‘That tray of roast potatoes, stuffing and chipolatas? Just throw them in next to the turkey.’
‘You think that will work?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not? Let’s put the Christmas pudding on to steam. We might as well. We have a tree to decorate.’
Something flashed behind his eyes. She wasn’t sure what, because it disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. He nodded. ‘Yes, we do, don’t we? Okay, then.’ He threw the rest of the food into the turkey tray. ‘At least if nothing else works, we still have the soup. It’s stored in the fridge. At least it’s safe.’
Grace put a pan of water on to boil and arranged the steamer on top with the small muslin-wrapped Christmas puddings. ‘All done.’
She’d left the cardboard boxes full of decorations in the sitting room. Finlay had already arranged the Christmas tree on the stand—just waiting to be decorated—and lit the fire to try and warm the room some more.
As they walked through to the room together she could sense something about Finlay. A reluctance. A worry.
The aromas around her were stirring up a whole host of memories. She was so used to making Christmas dinner with her grandmother. While the Christmas pudding was steaming they normally dug out some old board games and played them together.
It was hard not to have her around. It was hard to face the first Christmas without her. Her hand went automatically to her eyes and brushed a tear away. She wanted to enjoy this Christmas. She wanted to know that she could still love her favourite time of year without the person she usually spent it with.
What scared her most was how much she was beginning to feel about the man she was secluded with in this castle. That one kiss had stirred up so many hidden emotions inside her. Apart from a dusty castle, there were no other distractions here.
It was just him. And her.
It was difficult to ignore how he made her feel. It was difficult to fight against a build-up of emotions in an enclosed space.
She rummaged through the box and heard a little tinkle of bells. It reminded her of an old film she’d watched with her grandmother. She looked upwards and smiled. It didn’t make her feel sad; instead a little warmth spread through her. ‘Love you, Gran,’ she murmured.
She pulled a strand of tinsel from one of the boxes, bright pink, and wrapped it around her neck. Then, she flicked the switch on the radio. The words of Let it Snow filled the room.
She turned to face him and held up her hands. ‘Think they knew where we were?’
‘Could be.’ His voice seemed a little more serious than before; his eyes were fixed on the cardboard boxes.
She moved over next to him and put her hands on his chest. He’d changed into a long-sleeved black shirt, open at the neck, and well-cut black trousers. It would be easy to spend most of the day staring at his muscular thighs and tight backside. ‘We don’t have to do this, Finlay.’
He shook his head. ‘No, we do. I do.’ She stood back and let him open the flaps of the first box and start lifting out the decorations.
They were all delicately wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped one after the other. She could see the expression on his face. Each one brought back a different memory. She put her hand over his. ‘If I was at home right now, I’d
be feeling exactly the same way,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Some of the decorations my gran and I have had for years. Some of them we made together. There were several I just couldn’t hang this year. I get it. I do.’
His grateful blue eyes met hers. There was pain in them, but there was something else too. A glimpse of relief.
His hands seemed steady as he handed each one to her to hang. Occasionally he gave a little nod. ‘That one was from Germany. This one from New York.’
Her stomach twisted a little. She felt like Scrooge being visited by the ghost of Christmas past. All of these memories were wrapped around Anna. She didn’t expect him to forget about his dead wife. But she needed to be sure that when he kissed her, when he touched her, he wasn’t thinking of someone else. She wasn’t a replacement. She wouldn’t ever want to be. Lots of his actions made her think he was ready to move on. But this, this was eating him up. Her stomach flipped over. She’d brought something, lifted something on instinct in the penthouse in London. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
She looked in the box and gave him a smile. ‘Hey, I haven’t found anything purple yet. Isn’t there anything that will match our decorations down in London?’