This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances...

by Clare Connelly

  Including her.

  She tried to pay better attention as the famous morning show personality who was serving as Master of Ceremonies for the event went through the last items. Then, finally, with a heart that was fluttering in her chest, she listened her own introduction.

  “Finally, our beautiful founder and host of the evening, Lady Elizabeth Sanderson, who has worked tirelessly since the tragic loss of her husband, Lord Sanderson, to cancer five years ago tonight. Lady Sanderson has a tradition of putting herself on the auction block and tonight is no exception. To quote the best musical movie of all time, The Rules are, There are No Rules! Lady Sanderson is available to paint, draw, cook, read, sing: her services are limited only by your imagination. So dig deep, and help Elizabeth donate a truly outstanding amount for Cancer Research.”

  Elizabeth stood, the applause adding fuel to her nervous fire. Worse was the way she was aware of Antonio’s sardonic stare the whole way from her table to the elevated podium.

  “We’ll start the bidding at a rather modest one thousand pounds. Do I have one thousand pounds for Lady Sanderson’s company?”

  Bidding began immediately. To his credit, Rupert started things off, as he always did. They had a secret agreement that he’d go up to twenty thousand pounds for her. Though if he won, he’d threatened her with a game of chess – something she’d always managed to avoid. The knowledge that he had played it with Alastair had always made her reluctant to take up the opposite chair at the chess table.

  She watched as the crowd continued to bid on her. Spectacularly, bidding had reached fifty thousand pounds in the blink of an eye, and the select members of the press who were taken on as approved media partners were in a frenzy, snapping photographs of each person who bid. She was by far and away the most successful lot to be auctioned off – a fact that both humbled and terrified her.

  “We have fifty seven thousand pounds. A remarkable amount. In the box seat, the dashing Ewan Chester, otherwise known as the man who won us back the Ashes last Summer,” the MC enthused, earning wild applause from the cricket-mad crowd.

  “Do I have any other bids? Going once? Going twice?”

  And above the raucous cheering, a voice could be heard, clear and determined, and shocking, too. “One million pounds.”

  The MC actually dropped her microphone to the floor, so that the PA equipment emitted a large high-pitched squeal. A single flash bulb went off, but other than that, the room was silent, and everyone was still.

  The MC recovered quickly enough and scooped the microphone back in her hand. “I’m sorry, can we have confirmation that’s a genuine bid.”

  Antonio stood from his chair, his eyes locked only on Elizabeth. “One million pounds. I think you’ll find I’m good for it.”

  A small titter of laughter went through the room, but there was still an over-arching sense of surprise and confusion.

  “One million pounds.” The MC nodded then moved to Elizabeth. She covered the netted top of the microphone. “Are you sure this is legit?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off Antonio. “He has the money. If he wants to bid…”

  “All right, ladies and gents. In a stunning turn of events, we have an offer on the table for one million pounds. Ewan, you might have won the ashes but I’d say you’ve lost a Lady tonight.”

  Again, more laughter from the crowd. As the gavel fell on the heavy timber lectern, Elizabeth jumped.

  Antonio had bought her at auction, and she couldn’t imagine why. But it wasn’t the action of someone who didn’t have feelings for a person. Was it?

  It was well after midnight when the last of the limousines left Ravens Manor. Elizabeth slipped her heels from her feet and padded bare foot to the podium, where Miranda was sitting, cradling a well-earned champagne.

  “Well, you did it,” she said, as Elizabeth sat down beside her, in a froth of black silk.

  “We did it,” Elizabeth corrected. “Thank you, Miranda, for all your help. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  “You know I have as much reason as you for this line of work.”

  Miranda’s mother had died when she, Miranda, was only ten years old. An aggressive form of ovarian cancer had stripped her of the right to see Miranda graduate high school, meet her husband, have her baby. Yes, her motivations were just as strong as Elizabeth’s.

  “We’ve certainly set ourselves a target to beat for next year,” Elizabeth said with a droll smile.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Miranda said enthusiastically. With all the PR you’re bound to get from that spectacular bid, we can attract even more A-list auction participants. I’ve already started putting together a list of who to approach. Several of them have the same agent as the chef who was here tonight.”

  “Miranda, Miranda, Miranda.” Elizabeth laughed. “You’re amazing, but let’s have a week off. We can start planning in the new year. Come. It’s after midnight and we both have excited little children to open presents with in the morning.”

  “Don’t remind me. My little threenager has been waking at four thirty all week. It’s almost like he knew I had this ball coming and just wanted to make sure I was exhausted for it.”

  “Kids can be so considerate,” Elizabeth concurred with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Go home. The cleaners will be here in a few hours. I’ll just go and find Antonio to thank him.”

  “Mister Moneybags, you mean.” Miranda looked at her seriously. “Just what’s he playing at? Making such a generous donation?”

  Elizabeth had been wondering that same thing all night. But he’d disappeared after the auction and she hadn’t seen him again. In fact, almost an hour after Miranda had left, and everything essential had been seen to in order to secure the ballroom, there was still no sight of him.

  She pulled her phone out of her clutch and thought about calling him, but then, what would she say? The fact that he’d bought her at auction didn’t really mean anything did it? Hours before he’d made the generous gesture, he’d arrived to the ball with a date. Hardly the actions of a man madly in love.

  Not that she wanted his love, she reminded herself forcefully. She groaned in annoyance with herself and her ambivalence and walked barefoot across the ballroom. It had been a big year of organizing and it was over. She deserved a rest.

  “Going so soon?” His voice arrested her immediately. She spun around, trying to find him in the dimly lit room.

  He was leaning against the wall, his jacket discarded, his white bow tie loosened and hanging from his neck. His eyes were hooded and his expression was hard to read. The sight of him made her veins coarse with fast-pumping blood and adrenalin spiked in her chest. “So soon?” She queried, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

  He grunted, pushing away from the wall. “Don’t I at least get a dance with the lady of the hour?”

  She lowered her eyes, so that her dark lashes fanned against her cheeks. “Where’s your charming date?”

  He laughed. “I deposited her back in London once it became clear that she could barely stand on her own two feet.”

  “Hmm, then she certainly wouldn’t entertain you in your bed, so I suppose she had no purpose to you any longer.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Very true.”

  “So you really did bring her here because you were going to sleep with her?” Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for him to answer.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he lifted his hands and reached around behind her neck. Deftly, he removed the necklace she wore and tucked it into her shaking fingers. “I do not want you wearing jewelry from him. Not tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?” She asked wearily, rubbing her neck where the choker had been. Strangely, her throat felt more constricted now than it had with the jewelry in place.

  “The last time we sleep together.” His lips tilted. “Think of it as a sort of good bye thing.”

  A familiar ache formed behind her eyes. She knew it well. Tears. But she’d only cried
for Alastair in the last five years. No one else.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

  He was watchful, waiting for her to continue. “Is that why you spent a million pounds? Because you thought I’d sleep with you? What? Out of gratitude? Or a sense of obligation?”

  “No.” He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. Hair that was now short and elegant and none the less wild. “Not for either of those reasons. Because you want to. I know you don’t want to feel this way, but admit it to me, Elizabeth. You haven’t stopped thinking of me.”

  Self-preservation was a funny thing. It often lingered past the point it was necessary. For Elizabeth, it was wrapped around her now like a death-defying cloak. “From the first moment I met you, I thought you were arrogant and self-important. And you really are. This day isn’t about you and me. It’s about remembering Alastair.”

  “Alastair,” he shouted into the ballroom. “I’m sick of bloody Alastair.”

  She winced at his words, but he didn’t heed her reaction.

  “Basta. You are using the poor man as an excuse and unless he was a total stronzo I’m certain he would be the first person to tell you to pull your head out of your perfectly shaped rear end and start enjoying your life once more. My God, Elizabeth, you’re an incredibly passionate woman with everything at your feet, yet you are determined to walk through life with a frown, and a closed heart and closed mind. Aren’t you sick of it? Aren’t you sick of pushing people away? And living in fear?”

  He could have had no idea how his words wounded her. Every single accusation was like a tiny little barb in her heart. It took all of her concentration, but she didn’t show it. She forced herself to breathe, and to keep her face impassive.

  “If I recall, you are the one who ended our ‘relationship’, such as it was.”

  He slammed a hand onto a nearby table. “Damned right! I was sick of playing second fiddle to a dead man.”

  She angled her face away from him, her eyes stinging with tears. “Don’t.” Her voice was a shaky whisper, a tiny plea into the cavernous space. “Don’t speak to me as though you know me. You don’t.”

  “That’s merda. I know you better than you know yourself, it would seem.”

  Her laugh was a strangled sound of hurt. “Oh? How do you figure? We spent weeks together. That’s nothing. Certainly not long enough for you to claim to actually know me.”

  “How long did you know Alastair before you told him you loved him?”

  “Two weeks,” she said automatically, then whipped her head around to face him. “Are you actually saying…” She twisted her engagement ring around her finger. “Are you actually saying that you love me?”

  “For God’s sake. For a smart woman, you are incredibly slow. Yes, Elizabeth Sanderson. Though I can’t believe I’m actually saying it, I’m madly in love with you. Somehow, you made a man who doesn’t even believe in love fall in love with you. So is it any wonder I don’t appreciate hearing you speak about a man who died five years ago?”

  Elizabeth spun away from him, her head spinning and feeling like it might explode. “You love me?”

  “Si. This last week has been hell.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She twisted her engagement ring around her finger, remembering the day Alastair had given it to her. A frail smile touched her lips and she sighed. “I had no intention of leading you to believe this could ever go anywhere. I thought I was clear about that from the beginning. I enjoyed the sexual side of our relationship, but I was very careful to keep my feelings out of it. I wish you’d been able to do the same. The last thing I wished to do was hurt you.”

  Two pink spots appeared high on his chiseled cheek bones. “You are saying you do not love me,” he surmised, a harsh edge to his voice.

  “Love you? LOVE YOU?” She retorted loudly, twisting her ring so hard it hurt. She enjoyed the pain. It felt appropriate. “How could I love you? It would be like you going from your race car to one of those electric hybrids. A complete let-down. Alastair Sanderson was the most amazing man I’ve ever met. You couldn’t match up to him in a million years. How could you think I would ever love you?”

  She was shaking like a leaf but she couldn’t stay any longer, certainly not to see the stunned hurt on his beautiful face. She pushed away from him and out of the ballroom, downstairs to where her sports car was in its usual spot beneath the wisteria covered pergola. She opened the door but then paused. Nausea rose in her and before she knew it, she’d vomited the exquisite dinner all over the graveled drive way.

  Well, in some ways that felt just about the perfect, messy end to an imperfect and messy relationship.

  Chapter 10

  Rosie’s rendition of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”, while a little off key and quiet, was the most beautiful thing Elizabeth had ever heard.

  She cradled her cup of strong black coffee in both hands, enjoying the warmth that spread through her hands. Other than that, she was numb. She’d had snatched sleep in between cringe-worthy flash backs of what she’d shouted at Antonio the night before. No, earlier that same day, she realized.

  For the first time in her life, she’d understood what a panic attack felt like. She’d been jittery and feverish and shaking; and filled with a total sense of dread, when he’d said that he loved her. Which surely served to underscore that she didn’t love him back. After all, the only other man who had said those words had evinced an entirely different reaction. One of sweet relief.

  And yet, if that was true, why was there a big, scratchy lump in her throat? Something that tasted a lot like regret and grief all mixed in to one? Why did she feel a sense of breathlessness that she had left things like that with Antonio? She might never see him again and that would be his last memory of her. That ugly spiel was how she had chosen to characterize their relationship. Again, she winced silently as she remembered some hastily chosen comparison to cheap cars. How that must have stung him, of all people.

  “I love my bike, mummy,” Rosie came and curled up in her lap, her limbs so long now, her arms slim. Where had the baby fat gone? Where was her tiny little toddler? She was fast becoming the person she was destined to be. Life was moving on, and fast. Did she need any other reminder of the steadfast marching forth of time than the rapid pace growth of her baby girl?

  “I’m glad, sweetie.” She placed a kiss on her forehead and sighed. Yes. Life was moving on. It was only Elizabeth that seemed resolutely stuck in the past. In that all too brief period of time where she had loved and been loved back.

  “Grandpapa, perhaps you could take Rose into the corridor to show her how to use it,” Marianne said, entering the room with yet another present in her hands. There was something vaguely familiar about the wrapping, though it didn’t match any of the other paper that was strewn haphazardly across the floor.

  “Another present?” Elizabeth enquired with an arched brow. Marianne’s expression was unfathomable, her lips tight in her makeup-less face. She waited until Rupert had wheeled a gleefully squealing Rose from the room before she sat down beside Elizabeth on the comfortable chesterfield sofa.

  She lay the gift down on her lap and then took Elizabeth’s hands in hers.

  “Bessie, you know what a shock it was to lose Alastair when we did.” She flinched at the memory. “This time five years ago, we were all reeling from his death. We never got around to presents.”

  Yes. That was true. It had been a terrible shock – the timing of it all. They’d decided to save all of the presents and open them the following year instead. And that Christmas had been so different. Rose’s first – a beacon of hope in a small family torn apart by sadness.

  “With everything that happened, I forgot about this one altogether.” She furrowed her brow. “I would have forgotten about it still except Rose was asking for her father’s old binoculars. When I went to find them, I found this as well.”

  “What is it?” A strange sense of presentiment was tingling in Eliz
abeth.

  “It’s something Alastair asked me to give you.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flew wide. “Al?”

  “Yes. He said that you’d agreed not to buy one another presents, but,” her voice cracked, “he wanted you to have this.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Bess. I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “Don’t be silly, Marianne.” But her fingers crept forward and wrapped around the book-sized gift unsteadily. “Of course you forgot. None of us knew which way was left.”

  “Still. It would have meant so much to you to have, I’m sure.”

  “I think it might mean more to me now,” she said honestly. Slowly, she slipped her finger under the paper edge. When Marianne moved to leave her in privacy, Elizabeth reached out a hand and stilled her. “No, stay. This is a present to both of us, I’m sure. I always think Alastair had some heavenly guidance in his life. There’s a reason we’re opening this now, five years after we lost him. Stay with me.”

  Marianne sat back down silently, her heart swelling with pride for the woman Alastair had chosen to love, right at the end of his days.

  When Elizabeth eased the paper off and revealed the gift, she laughed unsteadily.

  “A book on marine life? What in the world?” Marianne asked, a little disappointed that the gift should be so strangely confusing after all this time.

  But Elizabeth was laughing and crying all at the same time, as she clutched the book to her chest. Then, she lifted the heavy, hard cover and ran her fingers over Alastair’s spidery scrawled writing, emblazoned over the inside flap.

  It had been so long since Marianne had seen his writing that she gasped. There it was, filled with the sound of his voice. “What did he write?” She asked urgently, all sense of privacy and decorum gone.

  Elizabeth didn’t mind. She would happily have shared anything with Marianne. They were both missing a part of their hearts. “Darling Elizabeth, the Rose-loving angel who has brought me such happiness. Every day is a struggle now, and I know it’s almost time for me to go.” Elizabeth paused to wipe her eyes. “I’m ready. My only regret is that I will not get to grow old with you. You will be a beautiful pensioner, one day.” A small laugh. “In marrying you, all my dreams came true. Don’t let me be your last dream. Live and love for both of us. Your life is ahead of you and it should be better for our love, not diminished by it. Don’t mourn me. Well, mourn me a while; my ego will be hurt if you don’t, and I’ll know, and I’ll haunt you.” Elizabeth could imagine the way his lips would have turned up at the corners as he teased her. “But don’t mourn too long. This is the end of a chapter (underlined three times) in your life, not the end of your life. Take second chances whenever they are offered. Go and swim with the dolphins. You only live once.” She sobbed again. “Smell the roses and remember me from time to time, but always remember with a smile. I love you, darling.”