Newborn Under the Christmas Tree

Liam sneaked a glance beside him again, looking away quickly when Alice met his gaze. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was staring at her.

Except he was. Or he would be, if he wasn’t being watched by an entire village.

He’d known objectively that Alice was an attractive woman. She had that willowy body that she hid under baggy jumpers to keep warm in the castle, but he’d imagined it had to be under there somewhere—hell, he’d seen it in that gold dress the night of the fundraiser. It just seemed to him now that he hadn’t really been looking. And her features had always been pretty, her honey-blonde hair usually knotted up on top of her head and her face make-up free, but still obviously pretty.

He just hadn’t ever thought about what she might look like if she made an effort. Not dressed-up-in-a-costume-to-con-money-out-of-people gold dress effort. Just an ordinary, everyday nice outfit and some make-up.

Church, apparently, was worthy of that sort of effort.

It wasn’t as if she was even wearing anything fancy. But just the simple grey velvet skirt and black boots teamed with a bright red sweater transformed her body. He could see every curve, every dip, without having to imagine anything at all.

Except, maybe, what her skin felt like under all those layers...

No. He wasn’t thinking about that. It didn’t matter that her golden hair hung loose around her shoulders in waves, and he could smell the cinnamon shampoo he’d seen in the bathroom they now shared. The bathroom where she’d hidden that body under all those bubbles... No, definitely not thinking about that. And the fact she was wearing a little make-up, and her lips looked redder and more kissable than ever, didn’t matter to him at all.

Not one bit.

Probably.

He had to stick to the plan—and that plan did not involve thinking about kissing Alice Walters. It involved a purely businesslike arrangement where they took care of a child in need together—and that was more important than any lusty thoughts the evening might have brought out in him.

Liam focused on the service instead. He wasn’t a churchgoer—church had never loomed large in his childhood—but apparently Thornwood Castle, and its owner, were patrons of the village church. The impression he’d got from the vicar was that he’d be expected to attend at least occasionally if he lived at Thornwood.

Which he wasn’t planning to do, of course.

That was the other discomfiting side of his evening. From the conversations he’d had on arrival at the church, it was obvious that the village had very clear expectations of him. Expectations that he was going to fail, once he started moving on his plans for the future of Thornwood.

The children, all holding their Christingle oranges, paraded around the sides of the church, glow sticks held aloft as the lights went out. The organ started up with one last carol—‘Silent Night’—and the whole church rang with song. The music reverberated in his chest and he looked down to see Jamie staring up at him, mesmerised by the sound.

If he adopted Jamie, he’d be heir to Thornwood, Liam realised. No direct bloodline descendant of the Howlett family, but the whole estate would be his, all the same. The castle, the village, the land—all of it in the hands of a boy whose parents weren’t just unmarried—they were a mystery.

Liam smiled to himself. That seemed like a very fitting inheritance to pass on.

The music came to an end and, after a moment of silence, the lights of the church flicked back on.

‘Come on,’ Alice said, jumping to her feet. ‘We need to get a move on if we want a good spot to see the tree-lighting from.’

Liam followed her, manoeuvring Jamie back into his snowsuit and tucking him into the pram they’d left at the back of the church. He couldn’t imagine that the switching on of a few Christmas tree lights was really that spectacular, but Alice seemed so excited it was almost contagious.

That, or he wanted another look at how magnificent her legs looked in those long, shiny black boots.

Thornwood village green was situated just outside the church, and already it seemed to be full of people. In the centre stood a large pine tree, its base secured in a box made of logs and wrapped around with a bright red ribbon. The tree itself looked bare, though.

To one side of the green, the choir who had sung during the Christingle service filed out and took their places beside the tree. Then a group of schoolchildren, all in uniform under their thick coats, gloves and hats, were ushered into place by their teacher, until they stood neatly in rows in front of the choir.

Alice darted ahead of him and he hurried to keep up with her, pushing the pram through the crowd and hoping people moved out of the way before he crushed their feet. Finally she came to a halt, not too far from the tree and close enough to hear the kids’ choir chattering excitedly.

‘What’s that for?’ Liam pointed to an unexpected cherry picker beside the tree.

‘How else did you expect them to light the lights?’ Alice asked, eyes wide. The excitement sparkling in them made her more beautiful than any make-up or change of clothes had managed. Liam looked away in a hurry. He had a plan, damn it.

To be honest, he’d expected the lights to be lit by a remote—some local celebrity pushing a button that made the whole thing light up. Come to think about it, he’d half expected that local celebrity to be him, but no one had asked.

‘Ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls!’ A woman’s voice rang out over the crowd, and Liam hunted to find the speaker. Then he realised her voice was coming from above. Up in the basket of the cherry picker, to be precise, which had now been raised to the same level as the top of the tree. In it stood a woman dressed all in white, with gossamer wings attached to her back and a shiny silver halo hovering somehow above her head.

Liam stared. ‘And here I was thinking that you were the only angel of mercy in this village,’ he murmured, and Alice’s eyes widened even further. He flashed her a quick grin and turned his attention back to the angel.

‘If she was a real angel, she’d be flying,’ he heard one of the kids nearby mutter.

‘But her wings would get tired,’ another pointed out pragmatically. ‘This is probably easier.’

‘It is my great honour to start the Thornwood Christmas celebrations this year by lighting the village Christmas tree,’ the angel said, and a cheer went up. ‘Now, if you could all help me by cou

nting down...’

‘Ten! Nine!’ the countdown started. Beside him, Alice reached into the pram and lifted Jamie out, holding him up to see the tree.

‘You know he probably can’t even see that far yet, right?’ Liam asked, in between shouts of numbers.

Alice didn’t answer him. She was too busy murmuring in Jamie’s ear, holding him tight as the countdown continued.

‘Two! One!’

At the top of the tree, the angel reached out and placed a silvery star on the tip and, as she did so, the whole tree burst into rivers of light—tiny sparkles and flashes cascading down the branches. It was, Liam had to admit, wholly magical.

On the ground, the choirs broke into song—the choristers and the children’s voices mingling as they sang of peace on earth and other impossible things. And Liam looked around him and realised that this was unlike any Christmas he’d ever experienced or even dreamt of.

Then he turned to Alice, tucking Jamie back into his pram, her golden hair falling in front of her shining pale eyes, and realised it might just be the Christmas he wanted.

* * *

‘What did you think?’ Alice asked Liam, straightening up from the pram. Jamie hadn’t seemed particularly thrilled by the whole event, but she hoped that Liam might have found it more affecting. It was her second Christmas at Thornwood, and she remembered how magical she’d found it the first year she’d been there.

She was glad she’d got to share that feeling with Liam and Jamie before she left.

She turned to hear Liam’s answer.

‘It was beautiful,’ he said, but he wasn’t looking at the tree.

He was looking at her.

Alice’s next words caught in her throat as his gaze fixed on hers. There was something new in those dark blue eyes, something she’d never expected to see. A heat, perhaps. A wanting.

She stepped back but his hand caught hers and tugged her closer. ‘This might just be the magic of the moment speaking, or possibly that angel has cast some sort of spell on me—’