Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  Fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the living daylights out of her, he pulled back and gestured for her to take a seat, then sat the other side of the small, round table, Mozart lying by his feet. “How’s the stomach?”

  “Better.” She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled it. “I wonder what it is that makes a woman so nauseous during early pregnancy?”

  “Some sort of hormone, I guess.” He knew so little about the whole process. Why hadn’t he paid more attention in the Life Education classes at school? He vaguely remembered talking to the wife of a friend some years ago—she’d just found out she was pregnant, and she’d talked about having to take some kind of vitamins to help the baby to develop properly. “Is there, er, anything you should be taking?”

  “Joss gave me some vitamins that include folic acid—apparently it helps brain and spinal cord development.”

  A spinal cord? The realization jolted within him. The bundle of cells inside her held the promise of a child, a real person. Had she thought of that? Could she picture a baby in her arms, or was she refusing to think of it as anything but a fetus?

  She cleared her throat and picked up her tea. “I was thinking while I was in the bath and getting dressed. Owen, maybe I should return to the sleep-out tonight. I need some time on my own, away from you, to decide what to do. I know it’s very early in the pregnancy, but I want to make this decision soon, before it becomes…real, you know?”

  He nodded, his insides twisting.

  Looking away, across the inlet, she rested her head tiredly on the back of the chair. “I can’t think clearly when I’m near you. You were right—I shouldn’t have come back here last night. But I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry you didn’t hear about it from me.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “No, I suppose not.” She crunched her toast absently, still looking at the view.

  Owen picked up his own toast and bit into it. He wasn’t hungry, but his stomach felt delicate from a combination of the swirling emotions and a slight hangover, and hopefully the toast would help to settle it.

  They sat quietly in the summer morning, watching the boats sailing up the river, heading out into the Pacific Ocean to fish and tour the Bay of Islands. It could be like this every day, Owen wanted to say to her, just me and you, and Mozart, and the baby. I love you, Skye, and I want to be with you forever. Please don’t leave me, and please, please, please have this baby, because I think it’s something that would satisfy a longing we’ve both had but never realized.

  He didn’t say it, though. Instead, he sipped his tea, crunched his toast, and watched the fantails prancing along the bannister, showing off their fine tails.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “This ring I give to you as a token of my love and devotion to you. I pledge to you all that I am and all that I will ever be as your husband. With this ring, I gladly marry you and join my life to yours.”

  Skye bit her bottom lip hard, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears that had been pricking her eyes for the past ten minutes from tipping over her lashes.

  Trying to clear her blurred vision, she watched Kole push the gold band onto Tasha’s finger. She couldn’t believe he was finally getting married.

  It was the perfect setting for two people who had no wish to play the prince and princess, or to have a huge ceremony with lots of pomp and circumstance. Instead, the quiet lawn outside the boutique hotel comfortably housed the fifty or so guests. To either side, several huge pohutukawa trees with their Christmassy red flowers framed the view of the harbor. The water sparkled in the summer sun, boats quietly heading to and from the piers, while seagulls called in the distance.

  Kole looked fantastic in his suit. He wore trousers of a mid-gray color with a black morning coat, a silver waistcoat that had grey swirls threading through it, and a matching silver tie. He’d even brushed his hair and polished his shoes. Skye was impressed, considering she was sure he didn’t own a comb.

  Most eyes, however, were on Tasha, who’d taken Skye’s breath away when she first saw her dress. For a girl who refused to wear skirts ninety-nine percent of the time, who preferred to wear black, and who Skye had never seen in anything strappy, glittery, or sexy, Tasha looked like a million dollars.

  She wore a beautiful summer wedding gown that was simple, elegant, and demure. Skye had suspected Tasha wouldn’t choose a meringue or anything too elaborate, but she was surprised how feminine and delicate the gown was. Pleats of fine tulle streamed over a full-length skirt, ending in a slight train at the back hem. The strapless structured bodice was covered by a sheer tulle neckline embroidered with flowering branches that curved up to one shoulder. Her normally wild black hair had been tamed into a neat bun and studded with sparkling pins, with a pretty fingertip veil pinned just above it. The red roses in her bouquet complemented the pohutukawa flowers around them, and they also matched the gorgeous silky red dress that Maisey wore as her bridesmaid.

  When Tasha had appeared at the entrance to the garden on Fox’s arm, Skye had watched her brother’s reaction. Tasha had played the game well, giving him no idea as to what she was going to wear and hinting she might be rebellious and wear something un-bridal, so he obviously hadn’t known what to expect. Joss had spotted her first, and he’d nudged Kole, who’d turned, his gaze falling on her. The look on his face had been priceless, and it was one of the few times Skye had seen her brother get choked up. Joss had put his arm around his shoulder and said something in his ear that had made him laugh and rub his nose, but it had been clear that he’d been blown away by how beautiful his wife-to-be looked.

  The ceremony had been short but touching, and as she watched Tasha take Kole’s ring from Joss and repeat his words, ending with, “I gladly marry you and join my life to yours,” more tears spilled over Skye’s lashes.

  Next to her, Owen nudged her arm, and she glanced over to see him offering her a white cotton handkerchief. She took it gratefully, soaked up her tears, and blew her nose, conscious of Elle and Caitlin doing the same next to her.

  Part of her hoped he’d put his arm around her, but he didn’t, and she couldn’t blame him really. She’d told him she needed some time away from him, and it wasn’t surprising he’d withdrawn from her after that.

  He’d asked whether she still wanted him to go to the wedding, and rather selfishly she’d said yes because she didn’t want to go alone, but now she wondered whether that was a mistake too. Talk about mixed signals—no wonder the poor guy didn’t know if he was coming or going.

  She was glad she’d mentioned returning to the sleep-out. She needed a couple of days on her own to give her situation some hard thought. Only when she’d decided what she wanted could she begin to think about looking forward.

  Still, there was no time for them to talk about anything deep as the past few hours had been busy, and now the vows had been exchanged it would be time for drinks and then they’d proceed to the eight round tables on the other side of the lawn where they’d have the wedding breakfast.

  Waiters brought around glasses of champagne or orange juice while Tasha and Kole made their way through the guests. When Kole reached her, Skye threw her arms around her brother and gave him a big hug.

  “You look so happy,” she murmured in his ear. “I’m so pleased for you.”

  “Thanks, sis.” He kissed her cheek.

  She drew back a little and straightened his tie. “Do you think Harry was here today, watching you?”

  A wistful look crossed his face briefly. “I like to think so. Hopefully he approves.”

  “He always adored Tash—I’m sure he does.”

  Kole glanced across at their parents, who were over to one side talking to Tasha’s mother, before saying, “And how are you?”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

  “I always worry about my sisters, you know that. How did it go last night?”

  Skye sighed, watching Owen walking over to where he’d tied Mozart b
eneath a tree next to Stuart’s boxer, Chaucer. Owen bent to talk to the two dogs, who promptly tried to sit on his lap. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Did he give you trouble? Want me to rough him up for you?”

  That made her laugh. “No, thank you. He’s a sweetie. It’s me who’s the troublemaker.”

  Kole raised an eyebrow. “That I can believe.”

  She gave a rather sad smile. “You haven’t told Mum and Dad, have you?”

  “Fuck, no. Luckily, they’ve had enough on their plates worrying about me jilting Tash at the altar than to think about you being knocked up.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. “You have such a way with words.”

  “It’s a gift.” He followed her gaze to where Owen was sitting on the grass in his suit, talking to Mozart, who was looking at him intently as if he understood every word. “Did he ask you to marry him?”

  “Kole…”

  “I want to know about his prospects.”

  “For God’s sake. Just because you’ve got hitched doesn’t mean everyone wants to, you know.”

  “Then they don’t know what they’re missing. It’s the best thing in the world.” He looked across the lawn at his new wife, his expression softening in a way Skye had never seen before. “Any other guy touches her, he’s dead,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s the law.”

  “It’s not the law, and that’s not supposed to be the actual reason you get married.”

  “Course it is. That ring tells every dude within a hundred miles she’s with me.”

  “Yes,” Skye said with a fond smile, “I suppose it does.” She couldn’t suppress a surge of envy as Tasha turned and met his gaze. The new husband and wife exchanged a secret, private smile before she was distracted by an aunt who wanted to examine her veil.

  Skye had often wondered if being married would feel claustrophobic—whether it would feel restrictive and cloying being with one person who was allowed to make such demands on you. She glanced over at Owen. He’d got to his feet and was probably promising the dogs that he’d see if Fox could spare a piece of bacon. As happened frequently lately, another little piece of her frozen heart melted. She was beginning to suspect marriage with the right person didn’t feel that way at all.

  Kole looked back at his sister, and a determined look crossed his features.

  Uh-oh.

  “You need to sort yourself out,” he said. “Tell Owen you’re staying, that you’re having his baby, that you’re moving in with him, and that you’re getting married in June.”

  “Yep. Totally going to do whatever you tell me, big brother.”

  He grinned, then sighed. “He’s good for you, Skye. I know you better than most people here—we’re more alike than you realize. I understand why you ran—I did too, for a while. But you’re different than you used to be. You’re ready to come back.” His eyes glinted with some of his old arrogance. “Don’t fuck this up.”

  She bit back an angry retort because it was his wedding day, and she didn’t want to upset him, but she did glare at him and say, “All right, enough of the lecture. Your wife’s waiting for you to take everyone to the tables.”

  “Yeah. Think about it, though.”

  “Yes, Kole. Go on.” She pushed him away, and he went off to take Tasha’s hand and lead her to the top table.

  “Everything okay?” Owen appeared at her side, having settled Mozart back down.

  “Yep.” She wasn’t about to tell him the details of her brother’s lecture. “Time to eat, I think.”

  “How’s the stomach?”

  “Fine now, thanks.” I’m starving because I’m eating for two. She stifled a groan and followed him over to find their nameplate on the table. The sooner she sorted out what she wanted to do, the better.

  *

  The rest of the afternoon went beautifully. Fox had surpassed himself with the wedding breakfast, and although she couldn’t drink any of the champagne, Skye enjoyed the salmon and prawn roulade, followed by the sea bass with lemon mash and grilled vegetables. The warm caramelized pear and thyme tarte tatin with vanilla ice cream made her eyes roll back in her head.

  It was pleasant company too—she and Owen sat at a table with Elle, Stuart, and Caitlin, and Fox came over to join them once he was happy that his second chef, Rachel, had everything under control.

  Owen was pleasant, warm, and funny like he always was, but Skye knew him well enough now to feel the distance growing between them. She couldn’t complain because she’d caused the divide, but that didn’t stop her feeling sad.

  You can’t have it all ways, she scolded herself fiercely, but she missed the closeness that had grown between them over the past few weeks. Did the others around the table notice that he didn’t hold her hand or fuss over her as much as he had been? He certainly wasn’t standoffish or cold—she couldn’t imagine him ever being like that, but he’d obviously taken her at her word, and he was doing his best to keep away from her.

  She replied when spoken to, nodded and smiled, but all the while, her brain churned over the problem. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Fear, frustration, panic, and loneliness circled each other like moths around a lamp, and her head began to hurt from the worry. Should she trust her heart, or her head? How would she know which decision was the right one?

  Along with her confusion ran a seam of guilt, too. For the first time, Skye was beginning to understand what Kim and Harry had gone through. Kim had been pregnant, and she’d made the decision to get rid of the baby without telling her partner. Skye had blamed the woman for that for so many years, but now she could see why Kim hadn’t wanted to discuss it with Harry. And because she knew how that would have made Harry angry, it made her feel bad that she wasn’t involving Owen more in the decision.

  It was all so complicated and tied up in such strong emotions. How was she ever going to sort herself out?

  After the meal, the band played their opening song, and Kole led Tasha into the large square of grass reserved for dancing and spun her around to the music while everyone cheered and clapped. Flushed pink, embarrassed to be the center of attention, Tasha beckoned to Maisey, who led Joss into the square, and then everyone began taking their partners to join in with the first dance.

  Skye glanced up at Owen to see him watching the others, his lips missing their customary curve, his frown marred with a brow. I’ve done that, she thought miserably, sad to see him so serious.

  She took a deep breath. “Would you like to dance?”

  He looked down at her for a long moment, and a rising fear grew inside her that he was going to refuse. Eventually, though, his lips curved. “Sure.”

  He offered his hand and she slid hers into it, and he led her toward the grass square. The band were playing ‘It Had to be You’, and as Owen turned her into the circle of his arms and pulled her close, she could hear him humming along, the sound reverberating deep in his chest.

  His left hand was warm in her right, and his other hand sat very properly in the small of her back. Their bodies didn’t touch, but the late afternoon humid summer air had warmed his skin, and she could feel the heat and smell the rising scent of his aftershave. He’d ditched the jacket of his suit early on, but he still wore the waistcoat. He was so gorgeous, she wanted to cry.

  “Please don’t look so sad,” he murmured.

  She lifted her face, surprised he could read her mood so well. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her a little closer to him, so her temple brushed again his jaw. Had he just kissed her hair, or had she imagined it? “Do whatever makes you happy,” he said. “Don’t take any notice of anyone else, including me. If you want to leave—if that will make you happy, you have to do it. I don’t want to be the cause of your sadness, Skye. You’re breaking my heart.”

  Her throat tightened, and she bit her lip hard as emotion welled inside her. This man, this wonderful, gorgeous man… If she left him, she’d never forgive herself.

  Aware of her heart rate doubli
ng in speed, she said, “Owen—”

  He pulled back sharply. For a moment, she thought it was in reaction to the decision that had just passed through her mind, but then he slid his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his pager. “Sorry.” He checked the screen. “I have to make a phone call, Skye.”

  “Of course.” Dammit.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Skye followed Owen across the grass to the tree near where Mozart and Chaucer were lying, and hovered, not sure whether to listen or not.

  He slid his thumb across the screen, pressed a few buttons, and held the phone up to his ear. “Suzi? It’s Owen Hall.” He listened for a moment, then peppered the conversation with questions. “How old is he? Shit, seriously? Yeah, a couple of hours, but it’s going to get dark quickly out there. Er…probably about thirty minutes tops. Yep, I’ll call Marty and we’ll get the team moving. Yeah. I’ll meet you there. I’ll leave now. See ya.”

  He hung up.

  “That was Search and Rescue?” Skye’s heart was racing.

  “The police, actually.”

  “Who’s missing?”

  “It’s a kid—a five-year-old.”

  Skye went cold. “Oh no.”

  Owen ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. The family was having a picnic in Puketi Forest. He wandered off, following a rabbit, they think, and just vanished. Skye, I’m really sorry but I have to go.”

  “Of course.” She put a hand on his arm as he went to walk past her. “Let me come with you.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but we only allow trained people on a search.”

  “I meant to the site. I’ll stay in the car, or with the family. I can help.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know.” Turning, he bent and untied Mozart’s leash from the tree. The dog got his feet, immediately alert as if he knew he had a job to do. “I need to concentrate,” Owen said, straightening to look at her.