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“I’m going to introduce you to another English tradition.”
*
It was coldoutside, but it had stopped snowing, and the clouds were parting, giving hints of stars here and there. Cara had dressed warmly and, with the scarf wrapped around her neck, she didn’t feel chilly, just excited to be walking into Bakewell with Alec.
In his heavy coat and cashmere scarf, he looked handsome, and very British, and her heart did an extra quick thump whenever she glanced at him.
“It’s going to be noisy,” he said, his breath clouding on the air, their boots crunching snow and ice. “And probably very crowded. It will thin out a little as we get close to midnight as some will be heading to church, while others will remain until the pub closes.”
“We’re not staying that late, are we?” she asked.
“You’re not a party girl?”
She laughed and pushed her gloved hands deeper into her coat pockets. “A drink or two, and I’m usually good.” She frowned. “What should I order? A beer?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Is that your preferred drink?”
“I just thought because it’s a pub—”
“Bakewell pubs are used to tourists. They offer more than the usual ales and lagers, especially this time of year. I imagine they’ll be offering several special drinks for Christmas, maybe a Winter Pimm’s, or mulled wine.”
“Well, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. Keeps it easy.”
“I’m probably ordering a pint of Chatsworth Gold.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiled at her. “So trusting.”
“It’s just a beer, Lord Sherbourne.”
“As long as you don’t call me that at the Red Lion.”
“Would that be a problem?”
“I just want to be—like everyone. And it’s Christmas Eve, so let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
The Red Lion was packed when they arrived, and the noise was almost deafening, voices, laughter, music coming from a distant corner. She didn’t know if it was a stereo or someone playing live, but everyone was in high spirits and to even get to the bar to order was a crush. Cara hung back while Alec waitedwith the others. It looked like a fairly aggressive push forward until some recognized Alec and made room for him. He nodded and said thanks and then someone on his right asked him a question, and then others were talking with him and by the time he returned with their two pint glasses, he was smiling.
“You made friends,” she said, taking her glass from him.
“I did. Cheers.” He lifted his glass in a salute, and as he did, he clinked his glass against hers.
“Cheers,” she answered, not at all sure if that was the proper response, but he smiled and she smiled back at him.
Bodies pressed them closer as people entered the pub, with others trying to get to the bar. Alec glanced around the pub and shook his head. “I don’t think we’re going to get a table tonight.”
“I’m good standing,” she answered. “It’s fun being here.” She sipped her beer, liking it. “This is good.”
He lowered his head. “What did you say?”
It was loud. She repeated herself. “This is good. I like the beer.”
His blue gaze held hers, creases fanning at the corners, as he smiled into her eyes. “So, when are you going to complain about something?” he asked, his head still lowered, so she could hear him.
He smelled good, and he was warm. She could feel the heat emanating off of him, and mixed with his light scent—whatever that was—made her feel almost dizzy as if she’d had more than just two sips of her beer. There was no way the beer could be going to her head already.
“I’m not really the complaining type,” she said, pulse racing as she looked up into his face, her gaze locking on his mouth.
