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Turning back to the miles of lights, she looped more around herself and staggered up another step like an overloaded Christmas tree. There was no way in hell she was going to let her treacherous body and mind think of, or react to, the man who was her brother’s worst enemy: James Hunter-Savage.
Estelle had known about James for years, but had only met him in person twice. From Henry’s description, she’d always pictured an ogre with the social skills of a cocky troll. James was definitely overflowing with attitude, but his self-confidence was not misplaced. Six foot four, a body that rowed Oxford to victory in the Boat Race and looks that would make a male model feel insecure, James had been the most successful broker at Conqueror, the company Henry had worked for in London. He was now living on the other side of the Foxbrooke river which bordered her family’s estate.
The first gong for dinner rang, signalling everyone to move to their tables. Shit! Estelle was almost at the top of the stairs, but her decision to wrap every piece of decoration around her body was slowing her progress.
Forget doing all of it. There’s no time. Just start mending it and work your way back down.
By now, the loops of lights were almost at her eyeballs. She stumbled, reaching for the support of the wooden banister. Be careful! She was barely able to move her arms under the weight of decorations and they were heavy around her neck, making her unbalanced.
Staggering forward, she managed to unhook the first loop of lights and tie it to a railing with one of the wires the dogs had ripped off earlier. It was going to take forever. Pushing a garland of dried fruit to her forehead, she leaned over the support to work out if she could fix it any quicker.
Suddenly, there was the sound of barking behind her and the rumble of feet.
She turned to fend the dogs off, but one of them jumped up, hitting her in the chest. Tangled and weighed down by decorations, her feet left the floor and she toppled backwards over the railing.
Pivoting, she flailed her arms, her fingers making contact with a branch. Time seemed to slow as she gripped it, pain searing into her palm from the holly leaves.
For a brief second, she hung, suspended in air. Then the branch snapped, and she plunged towards a painful and inglorious death. There was no time to think, scream, or brace herself for impact. One moment she was falling, and the next she’d landed.
However the floor was no longer flat and felt very much like someone’s arms.
‘I’ve got you,’ a man’s voice murmured.
She shook with adrenaline, her breath coming in shaky gasps.
‘Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you,’ he repeated.
Estelle opened her eyes. All she could see were strands of lights and leaves.
‘You saved my life,’ she stammered.
‘I don’t know about that. I think I saved a Christmas tree. You just happened to be hiding inside it.’
A nervous laugh burst out of her. The man’s voice was deep and confident. It held her fractured mind together with the same assurance as his arms held her body.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘Me?’ He sounded surprised. ‘Never felt better. Why?’
‘Well, you’ve just caught me and enough decorations for an average-sized house. That’s quite a weight.’
His arms shifted, as if he were flexing his muscles. ‘I’ve benched far more without breaking a sweat.’
A giggle slipped from her lips, and she mentally slapped herself. Stop it! She was being as ditsy as her youngest sister, Summer.
‘Should I get down?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t advise it just yet. I presume the lights are plastic, but a lot of them are broken. I want to make sure they don’t hurt you as we take them off. How do you feel?’
My heart’s pounding and there’s a tingling in my pants, but I think that’s mostly down to you…
‘Are you in pain anywhere?’ he continued.
Estelle took a deep breath. She may not have been able to see her rescuer, but—oh, my god—could she smell him. His scent was hot, spicy, and woodsy, cut with something citrus. Her mouth watered.
‘What are you wearing?’ she blurted.
There was a pause. ‘Clothes,’ he eventually replied. ‘Are you disappointed I’m not also festooned in baubles and garden clippings?’
