Louis appeared with the soup flasks and some wrapped bread.
‘We’ll grab the wine on the way past. Is there anything else you want, Grace?’
She shook her head. Had she actually agreed to go to Scotland with Finlay? She couldn’t quite remember saying those words. But somehow the dark cloud that had settled over her head for the last day seemed to have moved off to the side. Her stomach was churning with excitement. Finlay seemed invigorated.
A Christmas with real snow? It would only be a day—or two. He was sure to want to get back to work straight away. And the thought of a helicopter ride...
‘Grace, are we ready?’ He had the hamper in one hand and the cool box in the other.
She nodded.
It seemed as though she blinked and the chauffeur-driven car pulled up outside her flat. Her hand hesitated next to the door handle. This part of London was nowhere near as plush as Chelsea. She felt a little embarrassed to show Finlay her humble abode.
But his phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. She slid out of the car. ‘I’ll be five minutes.’
He nodded as he answered the call and then put his hand over the phone. ‘Grace?’
She leaned back in. ‘What?’
He winked. ‘Bring layers.’
She was like a whirlwind. Throwing things into a small overnight case, grabbing make-up and toiletries and flicking all the switches off in the house. She flung off her clothes and pulled on a pair of jeans, thin T-shirt, jumper and some thick black boots. The pink coat was a must. He’d bought it for her and it was the warmest thing that she owned.
She grabbed her hat, scarf and gloves and picked up the bag.
Then stopped to catch her breath.
She turned around and looked inside at the dark flat. The place she’d lived happily with her grandmother for years. This morning she’d been crying when she left, dreading coming home tonight. Now, the situation had turned around so quickly she didn’t know which way was up.
The air was still in the flat, echoing the emptiness she felt there now. ‘Love you, Gran,’ she whispered into the dark room. ‘Merry Christmas.’
She closed the door behind her. This was about to become the most unusual Christmas ever.
* * *
Grace squealed when she saw the helicopter and took so many steps backwards that he thought she might refuse to fly. He put his arm around her waist. ‘Come on, it’s fine. It’s just noisy.’
Her steps were hesitant, but he knew once she got inside she would be fine. The helicopter took off in the dark night, criss-crossing the bright lights of London and heading up towards Scotland.
Once she’d got over the initial fear of being in the helicopter Grace couldn’t stop talking. ‘How fast does this thing go? Do we need to stop anywhere? How long will it take us to get there?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And where is there? My geography isn’t great. Whereabouts in Scotland are we going?’
He laughed at the barrage of questions. ‘We need to fly around three hundred and eighty miles. Yes, we’ll need to stop to refuel somewhere and it’ll take a good few hours. So, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.’
Grace pressed her nose up next to the window for a minute. But she couldn’t stop talking. It was clear she was too excited. ‘Where are we going to stay? Will your family be there? Can I decorate again, or will they already have all the decorations up?’
Finlay sucked in a breath. His actions in the heat of the moment had consequences he hadn’t even considered. His parents weren’t expecting him until Boxing Day. He hadn’t even called them yet—and now it was after ten at night. Hardly time to call his elderly parents. His sister was staying. He knew there was his old room. But there weren’t two spare rooms. And his parents would probably jump to an assumption he didn’t want them to.
This could be awkward.
He gulped. Not normal behaviour for Finlay. His brain tried to think frantically about the surrounding area. Although he stayed in the country they weren’t too far away from the city. There were some nice hotels there. And, if he remembered rightly, there were some nice hotels in the surrounding countryside area.
He pulled out his phone to try and do a search. ‘I haven’t booked anywhere,’ he said quickly as he started to type. ‘But I’m sure we can find a fabulous hotel to stay in.’
‘A hotel?’ It was the tone of her voice.
‘Yes.’ His fingers were still typing as he met her gaze and froze.
‘We’re going to another hotel?’
It was the way she said it. He stayed part of the year at The Armstrong. The rest of the year he flitted around the globe. He hadn’t set foot in his home—the castle—since Anna died.
Disappointment was written all over Grace’s face. She gestured towards the hamper. ‘Why did we need the food? Won’t the hotel have food?’ Then she gave a little frown. ‘And are you sure you’ll be able to find somewhere at this time on Christmas Eve when you don’t have a reservation?’
There was an edge of panic to her voice. She hadn’t wanted to spend Christmas alone—but she didn’t want to spend it at the side of a road either.
She could be right. Lots of the hotels in the surrounding area would be full of families in Scotland for Christmas. ‘Give me a second,’ he said.
He made a quick call, then leaned forward to confer with the pilot. ‘Snow is too heavy around that area,’ the pilot said quickly. ‘The hotel is too remote. Their helipad is notorious for problems.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d prefer not to, Mr Armstrong.’
Finlay swallowed. He’d used this pilot for years. If he said he’d prefer not to, he was being polite because Grace was here. He glanced at Grace. ‘My parents aren’t expecting me until Boxing Day. I don’t want to appear early without letting them know.’ He pulled a face. ‘The hotel I’d thought we could go to has rooms, but—’ he nodded to their pilot ‘—it’s remote and our pilot doesn’t recommend it.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘So, what do we do, then?’
He sucked in a breath. ‘There is somewhere else we could stay.’ As he said the words every bit of moisture left his mouth. Part of his brain was in overdrive. Why had he packed the hamper? Had he always known they would end up here?
‘Where?’ Grace sounded curious.
He hadn’t quite met her gaze. He glanced out at the dark night. He had no idea where they were right now. And he had no idea what lay ahead.
Last time he’d been in the castle...
He couldn’t even go there. But the practicalities of right now were making him nervous. What would they find at the end of this journey?
After a few years when he’d thought he’d never go back to the castle he’d let his staff go. His mother had made a few casual remarks. He knew that she must have been there. But he also knew that his family respected his wishes.
Grace reached over and touched his arm. Her warm fingers wrapped around his wrist. ‘Finlay, where are you taking me? Where will we be staying?’
‘My home,’ he said before he changed his mind. ‘Drumegan Castle.’
Grace pulled her hand back. ‘What?’ She looked from one side to the other as if she expected the castle to appear out of thin air. ‘You own a castle?’ Her mouth was practically hanging open.
It had been a while since he’d spoken about the castle. When they’d first bought it, he’d relished the expression on people’s faces when he’d told them he owned a castle. But the joy and love for his property had vanished after Anna’s diagnosis and then death.
‘You own a castle,’ Grace repeated.
He nodded. He had to give her an idea of what might lie ahead. ‘I haven’t been back there in a while.’
‘Why?’ As soon as she asked the question, realisation dawned on her and she put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she w
hispered. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s all closed up. I don’t even know what it will be like when we get there. It will be cold. I hope the heating still works.’ He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. ‘Please let the electricity be working.’ Then he looked upwards, ‘Please let the water be working.’ This was beginning to feel like a very bad idea. They might actually be better off at the side of the road than in the castle after five years. ‘What am I doing?’ He was talking to himself but the words came out loud.
Grace’s hand came back. ‘Finlay, we don’t need to go there if you’re not comfortable.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘But five years is a long time. Maybe it’s time to go back.’ Her gaze was steady. ‘Maybe it’s time to think about whether you want to keep the castle or not.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘And maybe it won’t be quite as bad if you’re not there by yourself.’