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Chapter One
After a twelve-hourflight from Seattle to the United Kingdom, with a two-hour layover at Heathrow, Ella’s final flight touched down at the Manchester airport and was taxiing to the gate.
Ella Roberts exhaled, relieved and excited to be on the ground in Manchester, her return flight not for two weeks. For the first time in years, she was taking a proper vacation over the Christmas holidays. Soon, she’d be reunited with her sister, Cara, whom she hadn’t seen much since Cara moved to the UK a year ago—with the exception of Cara’s gorgeous, intimate August wedding in the San Juan Islands.
Ella was very much looking forward to spending her Christmas holiday with Cara and her husband, Alec, at Langley Park, Alec’s ancestral home. She’d be staying in the same stone cottage Cara had last year when she met Alec, a successful, wealthy businessman who spent the majority of his time in London but did return to Derbyshire for the holidays.
Last December, Alec was Viscount Sherbourne, but with his father’s death during the late spring, he’d become the Earl of Sherbourne, making Cara a countess, which amused Ella to no end. Probably because Cara was the least pretentious person Ella knew. Cara was warm and kind. Grounded. She was someone who truly cared about the well-being of others and was no doubt the reason why Alec fell in love with her, despite Cara being American and not a proper wife for an aristocrat. These differences sent Cara home from Langley Park heartbroken last December, but then Alec proved to be a true hero and appeared in Bellingham at the Roberts family home on New Year’s Eve to win her back.
It had been a truly romantic gesture and, after a seven and a half month engagement, Alex and Cara married in a lovely American ceremony, and were now hosting a reception at Langley Park for all the friends and families who couldn’t make the actual wedding. Ella had come to represent the Robertses, as well as spend time with her much-loved big sister. She probably should have brought her computer with her and done some work. But at the last moment, Ella left it home, determined to relax for the next two weeks. She hadn’t felt relaxed in years, not since starting her graduate program. She was a half year away from earning her PhD and she had a heavy schedule of teaching and reading papers, never mind finishing her dissertation, but she didn’t have to think about any of that, not until she returned to Bellingham.
The bell chimed on the plane, alerting everyone the aircraft had parked and the seatbelt light went off. Ella rose, gathered her carry-on luggage, and joined the passengers amassing in the aisle. Ella was too happy to be irritable. She was so looking forward to exploring the area with Cara, who had bought tickets for them to tour the great houses, Chatsworth and Haddon Hall, beautifully decorated for Christmas.
It was said that Chatsworth had been Jane Austen’s inspiration for Mr. Darcy’s Pemberley Hall, and as an English literature scholar specializing in nineteenth-century fiction, specifically gender roles in nineteenth-century fiction written by women, women such as Austen and Alcott, Ella could justify an Austen-focused holiday. Last year, she’d spent time in Boston and Concord Massachusetts where Alcott had lived and later died. It only seemed fair to devote equal time to Jane Austen.
Or, she rationalized as she packed some travel books for sightseeing, if it worked out. If not, the village of Bakewell, an easy walk from Langley Park, would prove to be diverting with all of the holiday decorations.
As the queuing passengers slowly inched forward toward the plane exit, Ella turned her phone on, and checked for reception. Not yet. Cara had warned her it might take a while. Untroubled, Ella put her phone into her pocket, shouldered her backpack and changed hands on her carry-on suitcase. She’d need to collect her large, checked suitcase and then they’d be off. The Manchester airport wasn’t far from Langley Park, just an hour if there was no traffic, which meant they’d arrive at Langley Park just after noon and still have all day to talk and explore the house and village.
Ella felt a bubble of happiness fill her. Her luggage appeared quickly, and as she’d cleared customs in Heathrow, it wasn’t long until she made her way to arrivals, her gaze sweeping those who’d gathered outside security looking for Cara’s shoulder length blonde hair, and there were blondes waiting, but no one that looked remotely like her sister.
She walked more slowly through the throng, still looking for Cara, but wondering if perhaps Alec had come instead. But no, she didn’t see Alec, either.
And then she saw her name on a sign. Ella Roberts. Ella looked at the man holding the sign, and her stomach fell.Baird?
Adrenaline rushed through her, making her legs weak. Baird MacLauren was the last person she’d expected to see at the airport. She suspected he would be included in the party Alec and Cara were throwing Saturday, but that was still days away.
Heart thudding, she walked toward him, bags heavy, and getting heavier.
They’d had a thing in August, a very brief thing, at Cara and Alec’s wedding, culminating in the hottest kiss of her life. She’d heard about intoxicating kisses but had never experienced one, not until the gorgeous, sexy awful Scotsman had shown her just what a kiss should feel like.
Truly, it had been a kiss to end all kisses, the kind of kiss that came after a glass of champagne on the most beautiful summer night. She hadn’t fallen in love with him—he’d made sure of that—but those twenty minutes behind the boathouse, in the shadows and moonlight, had made her imagine a life she’d never known, a life with someone who’d passionately love her, a life with marriage, babies—
And that was when he stepped away, and apologized.Apologized.
He’d made a mistake.
He asked for her forgiveness.
He’d forgotten himself.
And then worst of all. He wasn’t exactly single. Not entirely.
One more apology and then he walked away, and she leaned against the boathouse and fought tears and rage. How dare he kiss her like that when he wasn’t available? How dare he make her feel so beautiful only to destroy it all?
She didn’t see him the rest of the evening and when she woke up the next day, head aching, eyes gritty from lack of sleep, she discovered he’d taken a water taxi back to Seattle at dawn to make a flight home.
Ella was glad she wouldn’t have to see him because she, who dated often and rarely felt anything, realized that she’d come awfully close to falling in love with the Scotsman.
“How was your flight?” Baird asked, closing the distance between them to take her two rolling bags from her.
She nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Uneventful.”
“Is this everything?” he asked, gesturing to her suitcases.
She nodded again, avoiding meeting his eyes because she felt foolish with her heart racing and her emotions swirling—so many emotions, unexpected emotions. She’d worked hard to block him from her mind and now he was here, and she felt caught off guard in the worst sort of way. She didn’t like feeling so… so everything.
“My car’s not far,” he said, walking. “But if you’d prefer for me to collect you at the curb?”
