Christmas in the Boss's Castle

Her eyes flitted around the room. She’d taken the curtains down last night. She’d need to hang them back up and let them dry. Now the pale light of day was filtering through the windows she could see the pale creams and blue of the room. It was much bigger than a normal bedroom, but the size didn’t hide the most important aspect.

It was exquisite. Exactly the type of room you’d expect in a castle. The bed, tables and furniture were traditional and elegant. Cornicing on the ceiling and a dado rail around the middle of the room, with a glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The two chairs next to the bed were French-style, Louis XVI, ornate with the thick padded seats covered in pale blue patterned fabric. Was it possible the rest of the castle was this beautiful? Between the dim light last night and the clouds of dust she couldn’t remember the details of the sitting room.

Now, she was conscious of the heavy breathing next to her. She turned her head just a little, scared to shift in the bed in case she woke him.

Finlay Armstrong’s muscular shoulders and arms were above the duvet cover. She had a prime view. All of a sudden her mouth felt oddly dry. He was sleeping. For the first time ever, Finlay looked totally relaxed. There were no lines on his face. None at all. All the usual little stress lines around his forehead and eyes had completely vanished.

He almost looked like a different person. Finlay had always been handsome. But there was always some kind of barrier around him, some protective shield that created tension and pressure. This was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him.

His jaw was shadowed with stubble. Her eyes followed the definition of his forearms and biceps, leading up to his shoulders and muscled chest. He shifted and the duvet moved again. Crumpled next to his shoulder looked like a black T-shirt. Did he have anything else on under these covers?

She squirmed under the bedclothes. Her flannel pyjamas were uncomfortably warm. The heating had obviously kicked in overnight. She slid one foot out of bed then realised she hadn’t brought any slippers. The carpet was cool. She’d need to find some socks.

How did she get out of bed without waking him?

Her phone beeped. Except it wasn’t really a beep. The jangling continued to echo around the room.

Finlay’s eyelids flickered open and he stretched his arms out, one hand brushing her hair.

Her heartbeat flickered against her chest as he turned his head towards her and fixed on her with his sleepy blue eyes. ‘Morning,’ he whispered.

‘Morning,’ she replied automatically. She felt kind of frozen—even though one of her legs was currently dangling out of the bed.

The edges of his lips turned upwards as the phone tune kept going. ‘Or should I say Merry Christmas?’

It was like warm melted chocolate spreading over her heart. She’d had so many images in her head about this Christmas—all of them focusing on the fact she’d be alone.

This was the absolute last thing she’d expected to happen. Waking up in bed next to Finlay Armstrong in a castle in Scotland would never have found a way into her wildest imagination. She almost wanted to pinch herself to check she was actually here.

She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Merry Christmas, Finlay,’ she said in a voice that squeaked more than she wanted it to.

He stretched again and pushed the covers back. If she’d been prepared—and if she’d been polite—she wouldn’t have been caught staring at his abs and chest muscles as he jumped up in a pair of shorts and reached over for his T-shirt. He slid it easily over his head. Giving her a smile as she watched every movement. ‘I take it the heating’s kicked in at least. Not as warm as I might have hoped. The fire in here last night made me too warm. We’ll need to try and find a happy medium.’

She swung her leg out of bed and stopped dead. She was facing the window—the one she’d removed the dusty curtains from last night. For as far as the eye could see there was thick white snow. It clung to every bump of the terrain. Every tree. Every fence. Every path. She stood up and moved automatically to the window. ‘Oh, wow,’ was all that came out.

She felt his presence at her shoulder and tried not to think about the fact there wasn’t much between her and those taut muscles. ‘You wanted snow,’ he said quietly.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I did.’ She turned her head towards him. ‘Just how wet are we going to get?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘How wet do you want to get?’

The air was rich with innuendo. She could play this either way. But she couldn’t forget how they’d ended up here. She just wasn’t sure where she was with Finlay. All she knew was that the more those deep blue eyes looked at her, the more lost she felt.

‘It’s snow angels all the way,’ she said safely. ‘But how about we find the Christmas decorations first?’

He nodded. ‘Let’s get some breakfast. Then, I think I might have a turkey to stick in the oven before we hit the hills. I know where the Christmas decorations are stored—but I’ve no idea what state they’re in.’

Grace shrugged her shoulders. ‘No matter. I’d just like to have Christmas decorations up when we eat dinner tonight. We’ll need to clean up the sitting room too.’

He hesitated. ‘Are you sure? This isn’t a busman’s holiday, you know. Just because it’s the day job, doesn’t mean that I expect you to help clean up around here.’ He stuck his hands on his hips as he looked at the white view. ‘I should probably get a company in.’

Grace shook her head. ‘You can do that after Christmas—for the rest of the house. The kitchen is fine. I can rehang the curtains in here, and I’m sure between us we can sort out the other two rooms. It’s just a bit of dust.’

It was more than a bit of dust. They both knew that. But Grace was determined to show Finlay that she wasn’t a princess. Last night had been a bit of a dream. Ending up at a castle made her seem like a princess. But emotions ran deep.

This was her first Christmas without her grandmother. It was always going to be tough. But Finlay had already made it a bit easier. The change of scenery. The fact that someone had actually thought about her, and considered her, meant a lot.

Today would be hard. Every Christmas aroma would bring back memories of her gran. She’d worked so hard up until now to try and push the reality of today into a place there wasn’t time to think about.

Past Christmases with her gran had also been a panacea for something else. It didn’t really matter what age you were—being ignored by your mother would always cut deep.

It didn’t matter that she’d reached adulthood intact and totally loved by her grandmother. The big gaping hole was always there. She could never escape the fact her mother had all but abandoned her to make a new life for herself. What kind of person did that?

In a way, it had strengthened the bond between her and her grandmother. Both of them trying to replace what the other had lost. But it also made it hard for her to form new relationships with other people. Grace struggled to make friends easily, because she struggled to trust. The girls from Maids in Chelsea were the closest friends she’d ever made. As for men? It was easy to blame her gran’s illness and juggling jobs to explain why she’d never had a truly lasting relationship. She could just say it was down to poor taste in men. But the truth was, she’d always found it hard to trust anyone, to believe that someone would love her enough not to abandon her. It was easier to keep her feelings cocooned. At least then they were safe.

But now? Her biggest problem was that every second she was around Finlay she became a little bit more attached. Saw another side of him that she liked, that she admired, that she might even love a little. But he was her boss. They lived completely different lives. Her heart didn’t even know where to start with feelings like these.

So why had they ended up here together?

Finlay’s fingers intertwined with hers as they looked at the snow together. The buz

z was instant, straight up her arm to her heart. There was so much she could say right now. So many tumbling thoughts.

‘Let’s get dressed,’ said Finlay as he turned and walked away.

Grace folded her arms and smiled out at the untouched snow. This Christmas was shaping up to be completely different from what she’d ever imagined.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it from her bag. Sophie.

Where are you? I dropped by the flat.

Grace pressed buttons quickly, knowing exactly the response she’d get.

With my boss. In Scotland.

She smiled, added a quick, See you all at the Snowflake Ball, and tucked the phone into her bag, knowing it would probably buzz for the rest of the day.

* * *

It was like having someone with boundless energy next to you all day. Grace didn’t seem to know how to sit down. Five minutes at breakfast was her record. After that, she’d rehung the curtains, then started to power around the dining room.

Meanwhile he’d been in the place he clearly wasn’t destined for.

Finlay frowned at the instructions. They must have got a little wet in his pocket. They were a bit smudged. He’d found a suitable tray for the turkey and followed Alec’s instructions. But this basting thing looked complicated. Would he even get to leave the kitchen at all today?

Grace appeared with a smudge on her nose, laughing, watching him squint at the instructions. ‘How’s the turkey?’ She smiled with a hand on her hip.

He shook his head. It was too, too tempting. His thumb was up wiping the smudge from her nose instantly, the rest of his hand touching the bottom of her chin.

Whatever she’d opened her mouth to say next had been lost. She just stared at him with those big brown eyes. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t inhale.

Every thought in his head was about kissing her. Tasting those lips. Running his fingers through her soft hair, tied back with a pink ribbon. She’d changed into a soft pink knit jumper and blue figure-hugging jeans. Her face was make-up-free, but, although she was as beautiful as ever, today she looked different. She looked happy. She was relaxed.

He could almost sense a peaceful aura buzzing around her. His stomach turned over. He’d done the right thing. He’d done the right thing bringing Grace here—both for him, and for her.

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