His arm was possessive about Callie’s waist. ‘One look at this young lady and I was lost,’ he told his mother cheerfully.
‘You weren’t so pleased at the time,’ Callie teased, at once feeling at ease. There was none of the resentment from Mrs. Carrington that she had heard about in other mothers where their sons were concerned.
‘No,’ he gave a throaty laugh. ‘But I am now.’
‘This calls for champagne!’ His mother’s face glowed with excitement. ‘Logan, ring for Kath and then we can toast the two of you.’
‘Champagne at twelve-thirty, Mother?’ he mocked, ringing for the housekeeper.
‘For breakfast if we want it,’ his mother refused to be daunted. ‘Oh, Logan, you couldn’t have given me a nicer Christmas present!’
It was the perfect opportunity for Callie to give Mrs. Carrington the roses and cut-glass vase, and she in return received a bottle of Chanel from the other woman.
‘I had no idea the friend Logan was bringing with him was going to be my daughter, or I would have bought you something more personal.’ The elderly woman arranged the roses in the vase while the housekeeper left to get the champagne. ‘And talking of families…’ she was looking out of the window into the driveway now.
‘Oh, Mother, you haven’t!’ Logan groaned, closing his eyes.
Mrs Carrington looked flustered now. ‘It’s traditional, Logan, you know that. They always come to me for lunch on Christmas Day.’
‘Yes,’ he sighed his displeasure. ‘It’s the one tradition I always disliked.’
‘Logan, behave yourself!’ he was told sternly. ‘I know you don’t like them, and they know it too, but please just for once try to behave yourself.’
Logan joined Callie on the sofa, scowling darkly. ‘God, I’d forgotten they’d be here,’ he muttered. ‘If I’d remembered we wouldn’t have come. Lord, they’re all I need!’ he finished disgustedly.
Callie was no longer listening to him, her eyes widening with shock as she recognised Sir Charles and Lady Spencer, the anaemic Donald following them into the room.
‘This is—is your family?’ she choked.
He nodded, still scowling. ‘My aunt, uncle, and weak-kneed cousin Donald.’
Callie felt as if she were going to faint, paling even more as Lady Spencer instantly recognised her.
‘You!’ she gasped, her expression as horror-struck as Callie’s own must be.
‘Good God!’ Sir Charles stared at her in disbelief.
‘Caroline…?’ Donald frowned.
She slowly stood up, swaying as she did so. Christmas had suddenly turned into a nightmare, one she might never come out of.
Logan stood up too, his arm coming about her waist. ‘You’ve already met my fiancée?’ he said slowly.
‘Fiancée?’ Lady Spencer echoed shrilly. ‘You mean you’re going to marry this—this person?’
His eyes became steely. ‘Yes, I am. What does it have to do with you?’
‘Logan!’ his mother begged pleadingly.
‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ he said tautly. ‘But Aunt Susan is being rude about Callie, and I—’
‘Caroline,’ his uncle corrected angrily. ‘Caroline Day.’
‘Yes,’ Logan nodded, waving Kath away as she arrived with the champagne. The woman left with a puzzled frown.
‘Very clever of you, my boy,’ his uncle snapped. ‘I could have sworn your lack of interest that day in my office was genuine. I had no idea you intended taking up your idea yourself.’
Logan gave an impatient sigh. ‘What idea?’