Reawakened by His Christmas Kiss Page 11

‘You used to pretend this was your home.’

  ‘That’s all any of it was. Pretence. I wasn’t the girl my parents wanted me to be, they weren’t the great love story they told the world they were, the fortune we spent wasn’t ours to spend. Everything I was and everything I knew was a lie. That’s my truth.’

  ‘Not everything.’

  ‘Everything,’ she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears.

  He’d wanted real emotion and here it was, raw and painful. ‘We were real. That night was real.’

  But she shook her head. ‘No. That night was as much an illusion as the rest. It was cursed, like everything else. Those photos plastered everywhere...me plastered everywhere...something sweet and sacred and special reduced to sniggers and scandal. The things I said to you. Accused you of. Believed. If it had been real how could I have said those things?’

  ‘It was real,’ he repeated. ‘The most real thing that has ever happened to me. You want to know why I came back here? Because this is where I was most alive. I have skied down deadly slopes and climbed mountains and kayaked through rapids and seen some of the most sacred and ancient sights in the world, and not once have I felt the way I felt that night. As if I finally understood my place in the universe. And I let that go. I let you go.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have come here; you shouldn’t have brought me here. I can’t do this, Finn. Not now.’ She jumped to her feet and rushed to the door, the tears falling freely now. ‘You should have let me stay gone.’

  ‘Alex.’ It took three strides to reach her, seconds to touch her, to hold her once again, to pull her in close. ‘I’m sorry. But I’m here now. Let me in, Alex. Let me in.’

  * * *

  It was too much. The past was all around her. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how far she ran, no matter how much she buried herself, it wasn’t enough. She would never be free of the curse.

  But strong arms were around her, pulling her in close. Finn’s scent enveloped her, warm and spicy and safe. The low burr of his voice vibrated through her as he murmured words of comfort, of reassurance.

  For ten years she had stood alone, needing no one, trusting no one, wanting no one. No dates, no relationships, no one-night stands. Just work and purpose and desperately trying to appease whatever malevolent spirit had taken her world and destroyed it, freezing her in pain and loneliness.

  She sometimes thought that if she hadn’t met Harriet, Emilia and Amber she just might have given up, slipped away into nothingness. Her friends anchored her, and she allowed herself to care for them—but she accepted nothing in return except some company. And she was right to do so, because Harriet and Emilia would soon be moving on, and she couldn’t believe that sweet, warm hearted Amber would stay single much longer. Amber yearned for a family, and she deserved one, deserved to be loved.

  And then Alex would be alone once more. She knew it, and she was prepared for it. Accepted it. At times she thought she deserved it. But right now it was hard to remember that. Hard to remember why she needed to stand alone when there was someone giving her strength and support. Someone she could lean on.

  Not someone. Finn. The boy she’d loved. No longer a boy, a man. A successful man. A good man. A man with a life and commitments she couldn’t imagine. Commitments whose needs superseded hers.

  Slowly, reluctantly, Alex disentangled herself from Finn’s clasp, blinking back still unshed tears, trying to put her mask back in place.

  ‘Finn...’

  But then she made the mistake of looking up. Looking up at a face she knew as well as her own, older, honed by life into something more than handsome, more real than the youthful good looks she’d once crushed on. At a firm mouth she knew to be capable of tenderness, dark eyes full of sympathy, yes, but more than that, blazing with heat and want. Heat and want for her.

  It had been so long since anyone had looked at her that way. Since he had looked at her that way. Right here, in this cottage, when she had slipped out of her dress, feeling like a goddess seeing the awe in his eyes, like a supplicant when he had first reached out to run a finger down her arm and she had really, truly known his touch.

  She’d wanted him since she was fourteen, but he’d pushed her away, the two years separating them a chasm. But at eighteen she’d been an adult, and he had been powerless to resist her any longer. And she’d never been able to resist him. So how could she now?

  ‘Finn...’ she repeated, but this time it was a plea. For him to let her go or to hold her tighter? She barely knew herself.

  But it didn’t matter, because he took it as an invitation. Strong hands cupped her face, fingers burning into her cheeks, branding her, claiming her, as he searched her face. She had no idea what he was looking for or what she was showing him, but whatever it was he seemed satisfied. A wolfish smile spread slowly over his face, his eyes heating even more until she was dizzy with the want slowly filling her, warming her, bringing her back to life.

  ‘Finn,’ she said again, and this time it was all plea. A plea for something, anything, to happen. She couldn’t take the anticipation any longer. It was twisting her stomach, making her pulse pound through her body, a rhythm of need.

  ‘Welcome back,’ he said softly, and bent his head to hers.

  The moment their mouths met the years rolled back and she was once again an eighteen-year-old in the fierce grip of first love. His kiss was as firm and as sure, as overwhelming, and she melted into it, into him. And, as she’d known he would, he caught her, his grip solid and real. That kiss in the woods had been one of pity, of solace. This was a kiss filled with desire. And she succumbed to it. All the reasons, the good reasons, to pull away had flown. There were no thoughts. Her head was blessedly empty of anything but him.

  Slowly, skilfully, he increased the pressure, and her mouth opened to him greedily. Heated back to life, back to action, Alex wound her arms around his neck, angling herself until she could deepen the kiss, her hands gripping the sensitive skin at his nape, pulling him into her. Desperately she moved closer, until every inch of her was pressed to every inch of him, ten years of suppressed need and desire and want spilling out of her. It wasn’t close enough.

  Finally, finally, his hands slipped from her shoulders, travelling with devastating slowness down her ribcage, caressing the curve of her breasts until they came to rest momentarily at her waist. His mouth left hers to skim butterfly kisses along her jaw, down to her neck, and she tilted her head to allow him access, shivering at his languorous journey.

  Couldn’t he feel her burning up? She didn’t want a slow, sweet seduction. She wanted hard and fast and right now, please. To feel and to live.

  Impatient, she wriggled even closer, taking a moment to enjoy his tortured groan before slipping one hand down to where his shirt met his trousers, allowing it to explore the hard planes of his stomach, before dipping it lower to the waistband.

  He groaned again. ‘Alex. Not so fast.’

  ‘Why? Why wait?’ She pulled back to examine him, confused. Didn’t he want this? It certainly felt as if he did.

  ‘I’ve waited ten years to do this again,’ he said with a crooked smile. ‘I want to savour every minute.’

  ‘But,’ she pointed out, ‘we could do it fast, and then start again and do it slow.’

  His eyes flared and her stomach quivered at the look in them, as if he wanted to devour her whole.

  ‘I knew you were still in there somewhere,’ he said, gravelly and low-voiced.

  For one second Alex wanted to retreat. To deny the part of her sparking into life, hungry and eager and ready. She had been hiding this girl, this woman, for so long, afraid of what might be unleashed if she allowed her to feel and to do. But she was so tired of hiding her. She had told her story and Finn had borne witness. He had looked into her and found her, denied her emptiness and coaxed her back to life. She would not run and she would not hide. Not toda
y.

  ‘I want you, Finn Hawkin.’ Alex spoke clearly, enunciating every syllable.

  Slowly he reached out and took her hand, strong, cool fingers entwining with hers. ‘I want you too. I think I have since the moment you got out of that car, all professional and cold and so damn desirable. I nearly kissed you that same evening. But you weren’t ready...’

  ‘I’m ready now. Less talk and more kissing.’

  He looked at her, really looked, as if he could see beyond the practical clothes emblazoned with his trademark, could see inside her skin to her beating heart and thundering pulse and aching need.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Tugging her hand, Finn led her to the door which she knew concealed the staircase leading up to the bedroom. Last time she had led him, overcoming the last vestiges of his doubt, proving that she was grown up, a woman. Now it was him leading the way, but she had no doubts. Her blood thundered round her body as she followed him up the stairs. Home at last.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU doing?’

  Alex jumped as the clear voice sang through the air, and as she did so her feet slipped in opposite directions. She yelped, desperately trying to get them back under control.

  ‘Have you done that before?’ Saffron padded through the snow to peer down at Alex’s feet, strapped securely into long, slim skis.

  ‘Believe it or not I used to be very good, but I haven’t skied since I was seventeen. I’m hoping it’s like riding a bike and that when you get your balance you remember how to do it.’

  Alex peered down the gentle but lengthy slope which led from the very back of the formal gardens down to the fields that formed the working farm part of the estate. She’d not skied this slope since she was much younger than Saffron. It had been far too tame for her. Now she wasn’t entirely sure she could get all the way down.

  ‘Can I have a go?’ Saffron looked wistfully at the skis.

  Alex nodded. ‘If you look in the cupboard in the boot room, you’ll find some boots and skis about your size.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Your uncle mentioned it. There’re several pairs of boots, so make sure you get your size. Go on, go and get them, and if I make it down in one piece I’ll show you how I did it.’

  The boots and skis were Alex’s own, long since grown out of and discarded, just as this pair had been. A fraction of her old possessions, her old life, still here in the castle, reminding her of who she’d used to be.

  But the memories didn’t hurt the way they’d used to. Being at Blakeley didn’t hurt the way she’d expected now she was starting to feel again. Instead there was a kind of peace at being here; she’d come full circle. Come home. Back to Finn.

  Oh, she was no longer the besotted teenager she had been back then. She had no romantic dreams or hopes of a happy-ever-after. A few happy hours couldn’t change a girl that much. Her life was in London, at the agency, building her career. Finn’s was here. He had responsibilities she couldn’t imagine: to his nieces, to his employees, to the village. Responsibilities she didn’t have any share in and didn’t want any part of. Better not to dream of any future and leave on Christmas Eve as planned.

  But there were still a few days before that happened. A few days of negotiating her way around Finn.

  Alex couldn’t stop the smile curving her mouth, and her hands gripped the ski poles as she remembered the taste and the feel of him, the fire and heat and life. It had been five days since their tryst at the cottage. Five days since he had breathed new purpose into her. Five days since she had held and kissed him. Since he had kissed her. Since she had touched and been touched.

  Because of course he lived with his nieces, so she couldn’t come to the castle, and she worked for him, so he couldn’t come to the cottage, and it was much better to chalk their afternoon’s lovemaking up to emotion and nostalgia and aim for a mutually agreeable professional friendship. Or something.

  Only... Alex had seen the way Finn looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. And she certainly couldn’t stop fixating on his wrists, his throat, the firm line of his mouth...

  Their business was still unfinished. She knew it and he knew it. The knowledge gave every interaction between them a certain edge, and she couldn’t help thrilling to it just as she had all those years ago, when she had sent him those photos.

  Full circle, indeed. Luckily she was older and wiser now. The only photos she would be taking were for the Hawk social media accounts...

  ‘Got them!’ Saffy appeared on the path, arms laden with boots and skis. ‘What do I do now?’

  Alex surveyed the girl critically. ‘Good, you’re in waterproof trousers. That will make falling down a lot easier.’ She laughed as Saffy glared. ‘You will fall down. A lot! So, first things first. Sit on that bench...’

  She pointed with her pole to a bench perched on the top of the hill, so passers-by could sit and enjoy the view in more temperate weather.

  ‘And change your boots. Whatever you do, do not put your foot on the floor in just your socks or you are going to have icy toes. Make sure you do the boots up as tightly as possible and then give me a shout to let me know you’re ready. Okay?’

  She waited for Saffy’s nod and then turned to face the hill again, bending her knees experimentally, tilting her body forward. It instinctively knew what to do.

  ‘Like riding a bike,’ she murmured as she pushed herself off, keeping her feet tilted slightly together to slow her down as she found her balance again. ‘Oh, yes, that’s the way.’

  She wasn’t going to win any prizes for style or speed, but Alex made it to the bottom in one piece, even turning to stop rather than exaggerating her snow plough.

  She looked up to see Saffy waving enthusiastically.

  ‘That was amazing, show me!’

  ‘Okay,’ Alex called as she began to make her way back up the slope.

  This was a lot harder. She was so out of practice she couldn’t help sliding about. Any grace or technique was non-existent, and she couldn’t help but think longingly of the days when she hadn’t even had to think, her skiing technique utterly innate, as had been her horse-riding ability, also long gone. She hadn’t been near a horse since Strawberry had been sold.

  ‘Put the skis onto the ground, one in front of each foot and close together, and put one foot into one of the bindings. It should click in. Leave the other one until I get there. Got it?’

  ‘I think so!’

  By the time Alex reached Saffron the girl had attached one boot to a ski. Alex checked the bindings and made sure each boot was properly secure and nodded.

  ‘Good job. Right, take my sticks and use them to balance while you put the other ski on.’

  She barely remembered her own first ski lesson; she’d been on the slopes and on horseback from the moment she could walk. But she did remember the insistence on self-sufficiency. A good skier knew how to look after her own equipment.

  It took Saffron a few goes, but eventually her foot was in and she stood there, wobbling like a baby duck about to take its first step.

  Alex held up her phone. ‘Smile! Your uncle won’t want to miss this.’

  She snapped the beaming face and then, as she returned her phone to a secure inside pocket, where it hopefully would survive any falls, realisation hit her. She hadn’t seen such open joy in Saffy over the two weeks she’d been at Blakeley. The girl’s smile was infectious, and Alex couldn’t help beaming back as she instructed her.

  ‘Okay. Shuffle forward, tiny steps...that’s it...to the top of the hill. Now I want you to do what I just did: a controlled, slow glide. If you try and point your skis towards each other it slows you. Now, bend your knees...that’s it...and let your weight shift forward.’

  ‘It feels weird.’

  ‘I know, and it’s so tempting to lean back, but don’t! Right. Th
e main thing is to try and keep your balance, but don’t worry if you fall. It’s inevitable. We all fall. It’s how we get up that counts. Right, on the count of three: one, two, three.’

  Alex waited until Saffron set off, in a slow, uncertain half-glide, and followed behind her, shouting encouragement.

  ‘That’s it. Nice and controlled. Lovely! Oh, well done. Right, let me show you how to get uphill and then we’ll do the whole thing over again.’

  * * *

  Laughter was the first thing Finn heard as he walked around the side of the house. Loud peals of pure and unadulterated laughter. His chest tightened and he stopped to listen. When was the last time he had heard Saffy laugh like that? Like the child she was rather than a solemn miniature adult, weighed down by responsibilities and cares he couldn’t persuade her to relinquish. Yet here she was, giggling away.

  He walked forward, the snow crunching under his feet, taking a moment to take the day in. The air was still crisp but the sky was an impossible blue, the snow millions of bright crystals under the sun’s spotlight.

  After a couple of days of typical British travel chaos, with gridlocked roads, cancelled trains and supermarkets running out of bread, the country had returned to sheepish normality. With the temperature cold enough to preserve the snow, but the weather fine enough for the roads to be cleared, Blakeley had enjoyed a steady influx of visitors, coming to enjoy the wintry hiking trails or, for the younger visitors, to meet Father Christmas in his real-life sleigh. Visitors of all ages finished their visit with hot chocolate, coffee or mulled wine and delicious homemade treats in the café.

  The school holidays had started today, and as a result Blakeley was buzzing. Not that it was apparent here, where there were no signposts or trails to lure visitors.

  ‘Saffy?’

  He reached the top of the terrace and looked over the sloping hill leading to the fields of the tenant farm, now snow-covered and bare apart from a scattering of sheep in the distance. To his amazement he saw his eldest niece gliding to the bottom of the hill on a pair of skis, slowly, but with a confidence he hadn’t seen before. Alongside her was Alex, her usually pale cheeks pink, whether with cold or excitement he couldn’t tell, her eyes sparkling.