The Christmas Holiday: The perfect heart-warming read full of festive magic

by Sophie Claire

  And, of course, Evie.

  He picked his way back through the hall, where the band was still playing and people were dancing. When he’d spun Evie round, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks crimson. She was so relentlessly cheerful, so stubbornly optimistic. His polar opposite. The corners of his mouth lifted – and then there she was, as if he’d conjured her with his thoughts, helping Dorothy to the front door where a taxi was waiting. Jake followed them out into the snow.

  ‘Goodnight, Dot,’ Evie called, and watched the taxi turn full circle and drive away into the night.

  The blue and silver fabric of her dress shimmered in the moonlight. It looked vaguely familiar, though he wasn’t sure why. And she had tied her hair back in an unusually neat, sleek ponytail. It drew attention to her elfin features, her tiny nose and beautiful eyes, and gave her a look of Audrey Hepburn.

  ‘Another good deed done, Pollyanna?’ He admired her thoughtfulness, her kindness. Dorothy and George had told him how generous she was with her time, always quick to help anyone who needed anything.

  She whipped round in surprise. ‘Oh, it hardly counts as a good deed! Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I was glad of some fresh air. It’s getting a bit warm in there on the dance-floor.’

  ‘And noisy,’ he agreed, appreciating the peaceful stillness around them.

  ‘Yes. We’ll all be as deaf as Dorothy tomorrow.’ She smiled.

  His heart picked up in response. She always had this effect on him, he realised, like a shot of caffeine. ‘Nice dress, by the way.’

  She glanced at him as if to check he wasn’t mocking her. ‘Thanks. I was worried.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That it was the wrong shape, the wrong colour. Tim always told me I should wear black.’

  ‘Black? Why?’

  Spots of colour splashed her cheeks and she looked away, embarrassed. ‘Because it makes you less visible … He said I wasn’t slim enough to carry off bright colours.’

  She spoke quietly, but he heard the edge of hurt in her voice. He stopped, irritated that the rat had said such a thing but more so that she was still affected by it. He swept his gaze over the floor-length dress, taking in her shapely hourglass curves. She was pretty, she was feminine, but what was most attractive about Evie Miller was her bright smile and long, thick hair that invited a man’s touch.

  ‘I can’t believe you listened to that idiot. You look beautiful.’

  Surprise flickered across her face. Then her dimples appeared as she flashed him a delighted grin. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. Then cleared her throat. ‘Do you recognise the fabric?’

  He squinted at it. ‘Should I?’

  Her laughter was like bells ringing in the night. ‘Of course you should! It was left over from a bedcover I made for you.’ When he still didn’t twig, she prompted, ‘The guest bedroom two doors along from yours.’

  ‘You’re telling me I paid for your dress?’

  ‘No!’ He suppressed a smile at her affronted expression. ‘I only charged you for the material I used! I over-ordered, so I used the remnants to make this. It worked out cheaper than buying a frock.’

  She was resourceful and talented. He was impressed. But when she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, he frowned. ‘You’re cold.’

  Her teeth chattered. ‘A little.’

  ‘Here.’ He removed his jacket.

  ‘It’s okay …’ she began, but he’d already draped it around her shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and drew the lapels closer.

  He glanced at the front door and the crowded hall. Inside, the drumbeat was loud enough to make the floor vibrate. Out here the white landscape was silent and still, watched over by an almost full moon in a cloud-studded sky.

  ‘Fancy a stroll?’ he suggested, and pointed to the path that circled the hall and led round to the landscaped gardens at the back of the house.

  The moon reflected in her eyes as she looked at him, hesitating. ‘Yes, that would be nice.’

  They moved away, passing the busy dining room, with its silhouetted figures, bowls and plates poised in their hands.

  ‘The food’s delicious,’ said Evie.

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘You haven’t tried it yourself?’

  ‘I wasn’t hungry.’

  Her foot slipped on a patch of ice and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. The path had been scattered with salt, but it was getting to that time of night when any melted snow would turn to black ice in the sub-zero temperatures.

  She nodded.

  ‘Take my arm,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to fall and hurt your ankle again.’

  She slipped her arm through his and he felt an unfamiliar stirring. It was just Evie, he told himself. The pretty, clumsy girl who’d had the courage to stand up to him and had an unusual affinity with his dog.

  ‘You’re not cold?’ she asked, looking at his white shirt.

  ‘No.’ In fact he felt strangely alive, aware of his heartbeat, of the moon hovering in its own halo, and the way its glow picked out sparks of frost.

  They skirted the dining room and rounded the corner of the house, heading towards the Italianate gardens. He led her down the steps and they slowed their pace to weave their way through the formal beds. The plants were all covered with snow, but the outlines of the square and circular beds neatly edged with box hedging were still visible.

  ‘Something wrong, Pollyanna? It’s not like you to be so quiet.’

  She shook her head. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pollyanna.’

  ‘Why not? It’s a compliment.’

  ‘Is it? You always make it sound like I’m an irritation. I talk too much and I’m childish and silly for being an optimist.’

  He stopped and faced her, realising he probably had said it rather derisively the first time he’d met her, but his opinion of her had changed since then. ‘I don’t think you’re childish or silly,’ he said. ‘And being an optimist is a positive trait.’ From her expression, that was the last thing she’d expected to hear. ‘Although I must admit, you do talk more than is necessary,’ he finished with a wink.

  She laughed and punched his arm playfully. Instinct made him catch her hand, which took him by surprise as much as her. His gaze dropped to the slender fingers wrapped in his, and he rubbed his thumb over them, savouring the softness of her skin, remembering how quick and clever these hands had been when he’d watched her sew. She didn’t try to pull away but looked at him questioningly.

  He should release her, he thought distantly, yet something had taken hold of him. He looked down into her eyes, dark against the moonlit snow, as adrenalin rushed through his veins.

  ‘Jake?’

  Her words sliced through his thoughts and he released her hand. ‘Sorry, I – I …’ He didn’t complete the sentence. He couldn’t explain what had come over him.

  He walked on, hastily changing the subject. ‘So, has my party lived up to everyone’s expectations?’

  ‘Your party?’ She was looking a little flustered. A moment later the knot in her brow cleared and her smile returned. ‘Definitely. It’s a huge success. You’re going to be the most popular guy in Willowbrook.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Not that you care what others think of you,’ she added. They walked a couple more steps in silence before she confessed: ‘You know, I thought you were a beast the first time I met you.’

  ‘You weren’t far wrong.’

  ‘Nonsense. Now I know you better, I see a lot of it is for show. Your bark is worse than your bite,’ she added, with a mischievous grin.

  ‘Really,’ he said.

  They stepped onto another path. It had also been gritted, but not so well, and they had to step carefully to avoid patches of ice. To their right the land sloped away and in daylight there were stunning views over the rolling countryside.

  ‘Yes. You just say and do
things to keep people at arm’s length, but beneath it all you’re a good guy with a soft spot for old ladies and vulnerable animals.’

  ‘Stop trying to see the best in me, Pollyanna,’ he said. ‘Your first impression was more accurate than you think.’ His voice took on a warning note. Since Maria’s death, he hurt everyone who tried to get close to him. Like a snarling animal, he was best left alone.

  Nevertheless, she persisted: ‘You care deeply about Smoke, you put this party on tonight—’

  He stopped her before she could go on. ‘Granted, I have a soft spot for my four-legged friend, but that doesn’t make me a good person.’

  ‘It shows you have a heart,’ she said quietly.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ His jaw clenched and he walked on past the long Victorian-style greenhouse. The brittle glass structure had been cleaned and emptied for the winter and now a thick layer of snow blanketed the roof, casting a dark and eerie shadow over the interior.

  He’d lost his heart when he’d lost Maria and, contrary to what people had predicted, it hadn’t healed. Time hadn’t changed a thing. Yet tonight something felt lifted, the pain eased a touch. Why? Was it the party atmosphere? Or Evie?

  Guilt flashed through him. Of course not. Maria was always foremost in his thoughts.

  An icy breeze swept up from the valley and touched his shoulders. He upped his pace a little and Evie’s heels tapped on the stone path as she hurried to keep up. The fabric of her dress swished and whispered as she moved. They reached the end of the greenhouse and the gardener’s tool shed, and passed the sprawling, ancient yew tree. A fat snowflake fell in front of him. Jake frowned as a couple more parachuted into his outstretched hand.

  ‘It’s snowing again!’ squealed Evie.

  ‘Damn. Well, it’s time we went back inside anyway. Come on. This path leads back to the kitchen.’ He pushed open the door in the wall and gestured for her to continue, but she had stopped.

  Snow fluttered down around her, and she tipped her head back and held her hands up to the sky, laughing. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she said, blinking as flakes landed on her lashes.

  ‘It’s cold, and you’ll be wet through before long.’

  ‘I don’t care. It’s magical!’

  She spun on her toes, a blur of glittering blue satin and whirling snow.

  ‘There’s been snow on the ground for two weeks now. Anyone would think this was the first time you’d seen it.’

  ‘Oh, but fresh snow is always special,’ she said, ‘don’t you think?’

  He bit his tongue, not wanting to spoil her delight as she took his hands and pulled him around. Snowflakes showered down, like spring blossom, landing in her hair and on her face, and although the moon had been swallowed by cloud, her smile lit the night. His pulse beat a little quicker.

  This, he thought fondly, was what marked her out from anyone he’d met before: her infectious smile, her awed appreciation of whatever life bestowed on her.

  ‘Maybe the whole village will be snowed in with you tonight!’ she teased.

  He shook his head. ‘I took precautions. I have a garage full of salt now and all the equipment needed to clear the drive. No one will be snowed in here.’

  ‘Oh!’ she gasped, eyes wide. ‘I think I just got a snowflake down the back of my neck!’

  He laughed and drew her into the shelter of the yew tree. ‘Let me brush the snow off you before it melts,’ he said, and swept the flakes off her shoulders and her hair.

  ‘You’ve got some in your hair, too.’ She reached up on tiptoes. ‘And on your face.’

  Her touch felt electric on his cheek. Her fingers smoothed his skin and he stilled. Time halted as they stood beneath the branches of the ancient tree. She drew her hand back, but he stopped her. He caught her fingertips and held them against his cheekbone, closing his eyes, inhaling the sweet apple scent of her.

  When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. Something stirred inside him. She looked beautiful. She was fun and kind, and she brightened the lives of everyone around her. He was the opposite. And yet she had somehow wormed her way into his life and kept coming back, despite everything she knew about him.

  He kept hold of her fingers with one hand, and slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her up against him. His body stiffened at the contact – foreign to him after the months and years he’d spent alone. She was all warmth and curves and softness against the wall of his chest. His heart pummelled his ribcage. She gazed up at him with those melting eyes, and he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers in a tentative, unspoken question.

  The contact sent a flurry of sparks through him. His pulse drilled. He drew back, searching her face for a reply, but saw only raw desire. She was dishevelled, and he realised he must have done that in threading his fingers through her hair. Her lips were full and dark. He kissed her again. This time he didn’t hold back, and it consumed him, it blew him away: the heat, the hunger, the urgent pleasure.

  Chapter Nine

  Evie felt as if she’d been whisked away to an enchanted world, there in the moonlit garden with its lattice of footpaths and ice-frosted plants. Away from the crowd, just the two of them. The band’s music was muffled and it was intimately quiet. She heard only their snatched fevered breaths as Jake kissed her. Her heart thudded. Her body, pressed against his, hummed in a way it never had before. Need coiled deep within her, so strong she ached for more. Her fingers tunnelled into his hair, hungrily seeking—

  The sound of the kitchen door creaking open pierced the night. The music suddenly became louder, there was barking – and seconds later Smoke came galloping round the corner, panting happily as he discovered them.

  ‘Smoke!’ cried Evie. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Jake’s brow creased in a sharp frown.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said, bending to pat the overexcited dog.

  The distraction was welcome because her heart was pounding furiously as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Jake’s kiss had been so heated. So unexpected. Where had it come from? She didn’t care. He’d kissed her, and it had been magical. She laughed as Smoke nuzzled her face.

  But when she straightened, the look on Jake’s face wiped away her smile.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I think we should go back inside,’ he said brusquely.

  ‘Oh – okay.’ A rush of cold air hit her as she watched him duck through the doorway in the wall and stride towards the house, his jaw set.

  ‘Smoke!’ he called sharply, although the dog ignored him and bounded around Evie, giddy with excitement. She tried to calm him with quiet words, but all the while she watched Jake’s retreating figure. What had caused his sudden change in mood? What had she done?

  Her stomach knotted as she reached the house. Jake was waiting like a sentry at the back door for the two of them to catch up.

  ‘You’re wet through,’ said Evie, as she stepped past him. ‘You must be freezing.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said tersely. ‘I’ll change my shirt.’

  Confused and hurt, Evie nodded. A moment’s silence hovered uncertainly between them before she slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. ‘Thanks for the loan of this.’

  He nodded and pushed the back door closed, shutting out the snow, the navy sky and the icy air.

  ‘Mr Hartwood?’ The head caterer approached. ‘What would you like us to do with the leftover food?’

  Jake stepped into the bright kitchen to speak to him and Evie slipped away, cheeks burning. When Smoke tried to follow, she told him firmly to sit, then hardened her heart and closed the kitchen door on his pleading brown eyes.

  It was only then that she realised how long she and Jake had been outside: the party was over and people were leaving in droves, climbing into the train of waiting cars and taxis that snaked up and around the drive. As she collected her coat, Evie heard mutterings of ‘Hurry! It’s snowing again …’

  She stepped outside into the chilly n
ight, scouring the crowd for a familiar face.

  ‘Evie!’ George leaned out of his car window and waved. ‘We’ve got space for a little one if you want a lift home?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ She ran over to the car and slid into the back, forcing a brave smile for the couple, Anne and Roy, next to her.

  ‘I wanted to thank Mr Hartwood but couldn’t find him anywhere,’ said Anne.

  Evie said nothing but stared out of the window at the house, feeling hurt, feeling small. Clearly, he’d instantly regretted kissing her, and was that really a surprise to her, the girl who’d always been a disappointment?

  The car in front finally moved off and George followed, turning full circle in the drive before heading down the hill towards the village.

  Back in her cottage, she slipped off her shoes and rubbed her toes, which were sore and tinged blue with cold. Jake had looked annoyed, but he had kissed her. That was what didn’t make sense, she thought, as she ran a hot bath and unzipped her dress. Her mind rewound frantically, searching for clues.

  He’d told her Pollyanna was a compliment.

  He’d told her he didn’t have a heart.

  He’d brushed the snow out of her hair with care, with tenderness. She’d done the same for him – and when he’d looked into her eyes he seemed to have shed his overcoat of grief, and she’d seen only desire. Uncomplicated, fiery desire – for her, Evie Miller.

  She got into the steaming water and waited for the shivering to stop. Her dress lay crumpled on the floor and she tried not to look at it because all she saw was Jake’s icy expression before he’d turned and marched away.