Page 66 of Christmas All the Way

After a few blissful seconds, she opened her eyes again and saw Raff watching her. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘We were having an important conversation.’

‘We were,’ he agreed. ‘I believe you were about to tell me what you want.’ He hesitated. ‘From Santa’s Secret – and from me.’

Grace grew suddenly still. His black hair was dappled with white, turning him into a magpie, and she watched tiny flakes settle on his long dark eyelashes. His expression was frozen, as though he was holding his breath while he waited for her to answer. ‘What I want,’ she said, and paused to catch her own breath. ‘What I want is everything. Santa’s Secret, a partnership, and you. You most of all.’

He froze, his green, gold-flecked gaze sharp and intent. ‘Do you really mean that?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I really do.’

She was in his arms before the last word was out and his expression was filled with wonder, yet tinged with something more, something altogether more primal. Hunger, she realised as she acknowledged the same feeling in herself. Need. And then he was kissing her, and his cold, cold lips tasted of mountains and meltwater and wanting. Snow landed on her hair, her hands, her eyelids, but she did not mind its chill. She drank in his kisses, pressing into him and feeling the warmth of his body as he drew her even closer. Her fingers sank into his damp hair, cradling his head to her own as the snow tumbled around them. The world fell away, and they might have been cocooned in their very own snow globe. But at last they broke apart, and Grace gasped as torrents of melted snow ran down her cheeks and over her lips.

‘We should probably go back inside,’ Raff murmured, teasing a strand of damp hair from her forehead and brushing it back into place.

Grace looked around and was amazed to see a thin blanket of white now coated the ground surrounding them. They were all alone. Everyone else had vanished. ‘Probably,’ she replied, and turned her face towards his. ‘But kissing in the snow is terribly romantic. Can we do it again?’

Smiling, he lowered his head to hers. ‘You can have anything you want, Grace,’ he whispered, his lips soft on hers. ‘Anything at all.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Forgiveness is the greatest gift, after all.

The Merriest Month, ELIZA NORTON

As much as Keeley liked the idea of a white Christmas, she was relieved to wake up on Monday morning to find the snow that had covered Freezy Tye since the previous Tuesday night had gone. The weather had played havoc with the final tours of Juniper Cottage, with several disappointed ticket holders unable to get to the village, and refunds had been issued. She had continued to watch the weather forecast with some anxiety, hoping the promised thaw would actually materialise and allow the trustees, volunteers and selected guests to travel to the cottage for the planned wrap party on Monday afternoon: a drinks reception in the library followed by an intimate, candlelit reading from The Merriest Month. Malcolm had assured her that someone from the BBC would be there but Keeley was not holding her breath. Most people would have other things to do three days before Christmas, even as early as four o’clock.

Elspeth had insisted on reprising her role as Sally for the event and there was much delight among the trustees when she opened the front door of the cottage to greet them in character. ‘Keeley, my dear, you have excelled yourself,’ Malcolm exclaimed as he moved past Elspeth and took in the tree and the decorations. ‘The reviews from the tours have been glowing, an absolute triumph. I can’t tell you how thrilled we are with the work you and Xander have put in. A dream team in every respect.’

She smiled politely, trying not to react to the mention of Xander. ‘Thank you. I can honestly say we’ve loved every moment of the tours. I hope we’ll be able to offer them again next Christmas.’

‘Oh, indubitably,’ Malcolm replied. ‘Especially with you know what in the pipeline.’

‘Of course,’ she said, and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Is the producer from the BBC coming today?’

His expression grew suddenly regretful. ‘Alas not. Family commitments, you understand. But we shall make very merry in her absence and arrange a meeting early in the new year to get the ball rolling.’

It was no more than Keeley had expected but she still felt a stab of disappointment at the news. ‘Well, we’ve laid out chairs in the drawing room for the reading and lit the fire. Perhaps, once everyone who’s coming has arrived, we can gather in there.’

As the hall started to fill with guests, Keeley left it to Jenny and Isobel to mingle and slipped along the corridor to the drawing room. Grace was already there, laying specially printed commemorative sheets on chairs laid out in a horseshoe shape around the Christmas tree. ‘How’s it looking?’ she asked, when Keeley closed the door behind her. ‘Are they all here?’

‘Not quite,’ Keeley said, pulling a face as she explained that the BBC producer would not be joining them.

‘It is Christmas week,’ Grace pointed out. ‘I only got away from work early with special permission.’

Keeley smirked. ‘Who says seducing the boss’s son doesn’t have its perks?’

Grace blushed a deep rosy pink. ‘I did not seduce him!’ A smile tugged at her lips. ‘Well, maybe I did, a bit.’

Keeley raised her eyebrows. ‘Even a blizzard wasn’t enough to dampen your ardour.’

‘It didn’t feel like a blizzard at the time,’ Grace objected.

‘That’s because you were too busy having your wicked way with the poor man.’

‘Oh, stop it,’ Grace huffed in mock-defensiveness. ‘Shouldn’t you be practising your reading? We’re due to start in ten minutes.’

Perhaps there was time for one final read through, Keeley thought with a sudden ripple of anxiety. She’d spent most of the previous evening going over the selection she’d chosen, and had it almost word perfect, but there was always room for improvement. She settled in the wing-backed armchair that faced the horseshoe and began to run through it again.

She was startled by a knock at the door and looked up to find she had the room to herself. When had Grace left, she wondered as she called out to whoever had knocked. ‘Come in.’