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His wife smiled broadly at him. ‘I hope you like them.’

‘Exactly what I was hoping for,’ Thornton teased.

‘Do they itch?’ Alaric ventured. ‘You promised they might.’

‘I thought about it, but no.’ Her eyes were bright with teasing. ‘When I saw them in the village, I couldn’t resist.’

‘I shall treasure mine.’ Thornton’s expression gleamed with humour. Alaric started to put his away when he suddenly noticed a bit of embroidery upon the sole of the socks. Had she…embroidered daisies on them? When he glanced over at her, she winked.

He leaned in against her ear. ‘And did you embroider flowers on my brother’s socks?’

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Only yours.’

He was starting to realise that his wife had a dangerous sense of mischief. First the snowmen, now the daisies?

‘It’s time for my gift,’ Thornton interrupted. Then he passed a package to Charlotte.

She carefully unwrapped it and found packets of wildflower seeds. Her face lit up with joy, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh, these are wonderful, Thornton. I cannot wait to plant these in the springtime. I hope lavender is among them.’

Lavender, Alaric thought. That was the familiar floral scent that seemed to follow his wife. He hadn’t recognised it at first.

But he reached for a present of his own and handed it to her. Charlotte unwrapped the box and then found a tiered strand of pearls.

‘Those belonged to our mother,’ Alaric said. ‘They are yours now, along with the rest of her jewels. I can show them to you later.’

Although he knew it was expected that he would give her his mother’s jewels, it tangled up his emotions. He remembered seeing Marianne wearing the pearls and how he had played with the pendant as a young child. Many of the jewels held happier memories of the past. And now they belonged to Charlotte and their future.

Her face turned wistful, and she lifted the pearls up. ‘Thank you. Will you help me try them on?’ She lifted a fallen strand of hair from her nape and held out the pearls to him. Alaric came up behind her, taking the strands of the necklace and fumbling with the clasp.

The urge came over him to move slowly, touching the back of her nape as he fastened the strands of pearls. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, and he rested his fingers at her throat a moment longer than he should have.

‘Thank you.’ She turned around, and her cheeks were flushed as she touched the necklace. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He fingered the teardrop pearl at the centre and stared into her green eyes. ‘So it is.’

She didn’t smile, but he could see the rise of nerves as she clenched her hands together.

Thornton cleared his throat. ‘Would you rather I came back at another time?’

A slight laugh escaped her. ‘No, of course not. There are more gifts to open.’ She reached towards the pile and handed him two others.

While Thornton unwrapped the presents, Charlotte returned to her chair. Alaric’s attention was fixed on her and the way she tried to gather her composure. When she glanced over at him, her smile grew strained, and she turned back to her chocolate.

Thornton thanked him for the leatherbound sketchbook and pens before he handed Alaric a gift. ‘For you, Brother.’

He unwrapped a new coat and a pocket watch. The watch had once belonged to their grandfather, and although their father had given it to Thornton, Alaric had always liked it. Thornton shrugged it off as if it were nothing, but it seemed his brother had known what it meant to him. He murmured his thanks.

‘I have other gifts for you,’ Charlotte said. Alaric glanced around, but there was nothing there. ‘I asked Thornton to help me purchase them,’ she continued, ‘but they are not in this room.’

He glanced at his brother, but Thornton’s face was quiet and calm—almost thoughtful.

‘Come and see.’ Charlotte offered her hand, and Alaric took it, with his brother following. His wife led him towards the dining room, and he wondered if it was related to their Christmas feast.

But when he stopped in the doorway, he saw immediately what she’d done. No longer were there empty spaces on the walls. Instead, the portrait of his mother was hanging beside the window, while some of his grandmother’s landscape paintings had been returned to their rightful places.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. How had they found the lost paintings after they’d been sold a year ago? It was as if Charlotte had repaired all the broken memories, resting them upon the walls once again. He turned to Thornton, who merely gave him a quiet nod of understanding.

It was a gift from his brother also, since Charlotte could never have found the right paintings without his help.