SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Disgust me? It wouldn’t have disgusted me!’

  ‘I didn’t know that. I still don’t know that. She could have been anyone, George. She could have been a prostitute or a drug addict, a murderer, even-’

  ‘She was somebody’s daughter,’ she said, appalled that he could think that she was so shallow that his mother’s plight would put her off him. ‘However she ended up there, she was just a girl—how old was she?’

  He shrugged. ‘Early twenties, they thought, maybe younger?’

  Her eyes flooded again. ‘Poor, poor girl. She must have been so terrified. And she must have loved you—she tried to protect you, shut you away in a public place where a man couldn’t get to you without drawing attention to himself, and it cost her her life.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it did. And I’d spent three years hating her for something she hadn’t done. I didn’t realise how much it had changed me, thinking I’d been abandoned, that she hadn’t loved me enough to keep me. Why not? What kind of vile child had I been that I wasn’t I lovable? But then I heard the truth, and I just needed to find out all I could about her, but there’s nothing. I still don’t know who she was, and nobody’s launched any kind of official search for anyone answering her description in all this time.’

  ‘What about DNA?’ she asked, finally on solid ground. ‘I know it can’t tell you much, but it can tell you something about where you’re from.’

  ‘Northern Europe, probably England. No more than that. And if nobody’s looked, then the trail’s lost and I’ll never know who she was, or who I am. And that’s the worst thing. I have no idea who I really am. My name, my place and date of birth—not even what nationality I am. Just speculation, all of it.’

  ‘No! You know who you are,’ she said fiercely. ‘And I know who you are. I’ve always known. It wouldn’t have made any difference to me where you’d come from, what you were called, what date you were born. You were you, and you’ve always been you, and it’s you I loved. You should have told me, Sebastian. You should have trusted me.’

  He turned his head slowly and looked at her, his eyes bleak. ‘But I did trust you. And you left me.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it again, because it was true. She had left him. She’d walked away and left him, when she’d promised to love him forever.

  Well, that hadn’t been a lie. She loved him still, but she’d left him when he’d needed her the most, and it tore her apart.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said brokenly. ‘I had no idea what you were going through. I wish you’d told me, shared it with me. I would never have left you if I’d known. I loved you so much, I’ve always loved you. You’re a good man, and you always have been, and you must never doubt that—look what you did for Josh and me over Christmas—but still you didn’t let us into your heart. You gave us so much, and you didn’t need to do that, but you held yourself back like you always do, because everyone you’ve ever loved has let you down, haven’t they, one way or another? No wonder you don’t trust your feelings or give your heart to anyone, least of all me.’

  ‘I gave my heart to you,’ he said quietly. ‘I gave it to you thirteen years ago, and you still have it. That offer stands.’

  She shook her head. ‘But I left you. I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Yes, you do. I was a nightmare. I know that. But I needed you, and I loved you, and I still do, Georgia. And I know you love me. What I don’t know is if you can forgive me, or if you can live with a man from nowhere.’

  ‘Oh, Sebastian. Of course I can forgive you. And whether or not I can live with you is nothing to do with where you’ve come from so much as where you’re going and how. That was what changed. That was the problem, the thing I couldn’t live with.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. But there was a reason I was so driven.’

  ‘A reason you didn’t share with me!’

  ‘I know. I should have.’

  ‘You should. I could have helped you with the DNA research. It’s my field, Sebastian. I might have been able to find out more.’

  ‘I doubt it. I’ve paid a fortune for the best advice-’

  ‘The best isn’t necessarily commercially available. And I’m on the inside. Don’t overlook that.’

  He nodded. ‘I won’t. But it can’t alter the way I was then, how driven I was—still am. After I found out what had actually happened to my mother, the emphasis changed. I needed to make more money—much more, not for me, but to make sure it couldn’t happen again, that there’d be somewhere safe for women to go. I support various charities, for women and children who are victims of domestic violence, and I set up a refuge which I fund and maintain. I had to, to stay sane. I couldn’t just let it go, and it was eating me up, but now I’m doing something, and making a difference, and I feel I’ve got my priorities right.’

  ‘You have. You’ve settled down.’

  ‘Grown up?’ he said drily, and she laughed.

  ‘Probably. I prefer to think you’ve developed a more mature and balanced perspective. And I have, too, so before you start worrying, I’m sure I can live with you now even if I couldn’t then.’

  ‘You can?’

  ‘Of course I can—and I could have done then if you’d shared this with me. I think it’s a fabulous cause, and I would have supported you and worked with you on it, but you never gave me a chance.’

  His eyes were filled with shadows. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to say it, and the longer it went on, the harder it got. And after you went I was so hurt and angry that you’d left me, there was no way I was going to tell you. Then I heard you were married, and I thought you’d moved on.’

  ‘No. I’ll never move on from loving you. I’ve loved you for thirteen years—I fell in love with you on that first date, too, and I promised to love you forever. That hasn’t changed, even though I couldn’t stay with you then. I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  ‘Even though you were married to David?’

  She shrugged. ‘He was a nice man, and we were both lonely. You wouldn’t let me in, you’d done nothing but shut me out for months. Years later, you still hadn’t contacted me again and I had no reason to suppose you ever would. And if we hadn’t been snowed in together this Christmas, I don’t know that that would have ever changed.’

  ‘No. Maybe not. As I said, I just assumed you’d moved on.’

  ‘Only in a way. Not in my heart. It was a compromise, a rationalisation, and I can’t regret it because it’s given me Josh, but it was only ever a way of finding a measure of happiness. You were my first love, my only true love, but I was never going to have you, and I didn’t want to be alone, and if David hadn’t died, we would have been together forever. But he did die, and we’re talking, at last, and maybe finally sorting out what we should have sorted out years ago.’

  She reached up and cradled his cheek in her hand. ‘I love you, Sebastian. And if you’re asking me to marry you, the answer’s yes.’

  ‘I asked you years ago.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You promised me we’d be together forever, and we talked about being married, but I don’t believe you ever asked me.’

  He gave a soft laugh, and eased off the sofa, landing on one knee at her feet. He took her hand in his and stared up into her eyes with a wry smile.

  ‘Georgia Becket Pullman, I love you now as much as I’ve ever loved you, more than life itself. Without you I’m nothing. With you, I can conquer the world. Marry me. Have my children, to keep your little Josh company and give him a whole host of brothers and sisters. Our dynasty. My very own, real family.’

  His smile faded, and his eyes grew bright.

  ‘Marry me, George? Please?’

  Her eyes filled. ‘Oh, Sebastian—of course I’ll marry you! I’ve already said yes.’

 
‘You made me ask you,’ he accused.

  ‘Only because I wanted to hear you say it,’ she laughed, but the laugh hiccupped into a sob, and she slid off the sofa onto her knees and went into his arms, hugging him tight to her heart, aching for the little boy he’d been and the strong, courageous man he’d become.

  He shifted onto the sofa, lifting her easily onto his lap and cradling her close. ‘It’s a pity you’ve got a job,’ he said.

  She tilted her head and peered at him. ‘Why? It might be useful to you in the future, trying to track your family. I’ve got all the right contacts.’

  A week ago, that would have made his heart race faster. Now, he found he didn’t care, because he had the only thing that could ever matter this much to him.

  ‘‘I could still use your skill and expertise now,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  He smiled. ‘Because my PA’s leaving. She’s getting married and moving to Chicago, and I’ll need someone to fill in until I can replace her. But that’s only short term. Long term, of course, we’ve got a dynasty to work on. Maybe you’d better warn your boss.’

  She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Yes, I better had. The first little Corder is due on the nineteenth of September.’

  He went utterly still, and then he gave a shaky, incredulous laugh and hugged her tight. ‘Really? You’re having my baby?’

  ‘It would seem so. I did the test this morning. It was very faint, but it was positive.’

  ‘Wow.’ He laughed again. ‘I didn’t even think—that night, when I had the dream?’

  ‘When else? There was only the once.’

  ‘And you’re sure? The test can’t be wrong?’

  ‘No. You can have a false negative, but never a false positive. I deliberately got a very sensitive test kit.’

  ‘Have you told your mother?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Not before you. I was trying to work out how to tell you, but I knew you’d go all Neanderthal and insist on marrying me, so I really wanted to talk to you first and get you to open up to me so I’d know you wanted it for the right reasons.’

  ‘And I came to you. You’d better thank Tash for that. She said she wished I wasn’t always sad. I said I wasn’t. She pointed out that I was. I am. I have been for years, and the only time I’m not sad is when I’m with you.

  ‘It’s like you said to me once, when you were talking about David. He was a nice man, and you loved him, but you didn’t feel as if you couldn’t breathe if he wasn’t there. As if there was no colour, no music, no poetry. No sense to your life. That’s how I feel when I’m with you. As if my life has colour and music and poetry, and it all makes sense, and after you’d gone everything was grey and empty and silent. It took Tash to point it out to me.’

  ‘You really owe her a bonus now.’

  He laughed and hugged her closer. ‘I tell you what, they’re going to have a cracker of a wedding present.’

  ‘Good. I hope we get invited to the wedding. I want to thank her.’

  ‘That’s easy.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket, hit a speed dial number and smiled. ‘Tash? My fiancée would like a word with you.’

  EPILOGUE

  ‘HAPPY CHRISTMAS, Mrs Corder?’

  His arms slid round her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. She felt his lips nuzzle her ear, and she laughed and leaned back into him.

  ‘Very Happy Christmas, Mr Corder.’ She turned in his arms with a smile, and found it reflected in his eyes. ‘Where’s Evie?’

  ‘Sleeping. On my mother.’

  ‘Not mine, then.’

  ‘For a change, not,’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘Come and sit down. You’ve done enough in the kitchen today.’

  ‘I’ve hardly done anything,’ she protested as he towed her down the hall. ‘You wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘You’re a nursing mother.’

  ‘Yes. Not an invalid.’

  He smiled indulgently. ‘Humour me. I like looking after you. I’ve got a lot of years to catch up on. So, how do you think it’s going?’

  ‘Christmas? Brilliantly. Nobody’s had a fight yet, everyone’s enjoyed the food-’

  ‘I should hope so. I let Tash loose on the ordering again, remember.’

  She chuckled. ‘Yes. She’s good at it. Impeccable taste.’

  ‘She just knows what I like.’

  ‘So modest.’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter and hugged her closer to his side. From down the hall they could hear the hubbub of conversation, interspersed with laughter and the occasional raised voice as someone tried to put their point.

  The family were all gathered in the drawing room in front of a roaring fire, playing silly games and getting over the monumental feast that had been Christmas lunch. There wasn’t room in the smaller sitting room for all of them, and even the enormous dining table had been filled to capacity.

  The house was straining at the seams, all ten bedrooms occupied. Both sets of parents had come to share the celebrations, together with her brother Jack and his wife and two children, Sebastian’s brothers Andy and Matt and their girlfriends, and Tash and Craig, who were honorary family members. Including them and Josh and Evie, that made eighteen—nineteen if you counted Tash’s burgeoning bump. Twenty-one if you counted the dog and cat.

  Not bad for a start at family life, she thought contentedly.

  He pulled her to a halt in the hall, next to the Christmas tree. It was decorated with last year’s stock cube parcels and bundles of twigs, fresh gingerbread trees and stars and little home-made angels that dangled around the lower branches.

  The sophisticated glass baubles were safely near the top of the tree, glinting in the light from the enormous crystal chandelier that hung above it, and it looked wonderful.

  She sighed happily. ‘What a lovely tree.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  He glanced up, and there overhead, dangling from the landing bannisters above, was a sprig of mistletoe.

  ‘Well, now, would you look at that?’ he murmured, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and threading his hands into her hair, he lowered his head and kissed her...

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS AT THE CASTLE by Marion Lennox.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘PLEASE, MY LORD, we really want to come to Castle Craigie for Christmas. It’s where we were born. We want to see it again before it’s sold. There’s lots of room. We won’t be a nuisance. Please, My Lord.’

  My Lord. It was a powerful title, one Angus wasn’t accustomed to, nor likely to become accustomed to. He’d intended to be Lord of Castle Craigie for as short a time as possible and then be out of here.

  But these were his half-brother and -sisters, children of his father’s second disastrous marriage, and he knew the hand they’d been dealt. He’d escaped to Manhattan, and his mother had independent money. These kids had never escaped the poverty and neglect that went with association with the old Earl.

  ‘Our mum’s not well,’ the boy said, eagerly now as he hadn’t been met with a blank refus
al. ‘She can’t bring us back just for a visit. But when you wrote and said it was being sold and was there anything she wants... She doesn’t, but we do. Our father sent us away without warning. Mary—she’s thirteen—she used to spend hours up on the hills with the badgers and all the wild things. I know it sounds dumb, but she loved them and she still cries when she thinks about them. There’s nothing like that in London. She wants a chance to say goodbye. Polly’s ten and she wants to make cubby huts in the cellars again, and take pictures to show her friends that she really did live in a castle. And me... My friends are at Craigenstone. I was in a band. Just to have a chance to jam with them again, and at Christmas... Mum’s so ill. It’s so awful here. This’d be just...just...’

  The boy broke off, but then somehow forced himself to go on. ‘Please, it’s our history. We’ll look after ourselves. Just once, this last time so we can say goodbye properly. Please, My Lord...’

  Angus Stuart was a hard-headed financier from Manhattan. He hired and fired at the highest level. He ran one of Manhattan’s most prestigious investment companies. Surely he was impervious to begging.

  But a sixteen-year-old boy, pleading for his siblings...

  So we can say goodbye properly... What circumstances had pushed them away so fast three years ago? He didn’t know, but he did know his father’s appalling reputation and he could guess.

  But if he was to agree... Bringing a group of needy children here, with their ailing mother? Keeping the castle open for longer than he intended? Being My Lord for Christmas. Angus stood in the vast, draughty castle hall and thought of all the reasons why he should refuse.

  But Angus had been through the castle finances now, and he’d seen the desperate letters written to the old Earl by the children’s mother. The letters outlined just how sick she was; how much the children needed support. According to the books, none had been forthcoming. This family must have been through hell.

  ‘If I can find staff to care for you,’ he heard himself say.