Fairytale Christmas: Mistletoe and the Lost Stiletto / Her Holiday Prince Charming / A Princess by Christmas

‘My pleasure,’ he said, wrapping his arm around her waist, wanting to keep her close. And it was. Golden curls peeped out from beneath her hat, framing a face lit up, almost translucent in the lamplight.

And, as the strain had eased from her face, the knots deep in his own belly had begun to unravel, at least until that second kiss. At which point they had been replaced by a different kind of tension.

‘I hope the missing elf had as much fun as we have,’ she said. ‘I owe her a lot.’

‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I’ll check with HR first thing to see if there were any messages. Deflect any problems.’

‘Why?’ she asked, her tongue curling out to catch an errant onion. ‘Why would you do that? Any of this?’

Good question.

She looked up. ‘What happened, Nathaniel? On the stairs.’

Another good question.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. That something had happened—something momentous—was beyond doubt. ‘I can tell you why I noticed you.’

‘That’s a start.’

‘It was your hair…The way it seemed to float around your head like a halo. It reminded me of someone.’

Quite suddenly, Lucy lost her appetite. What had she expected him to say? That he’d been captivated at a glance. Lie to her? She’d had enough lies to last her a lifetime.

‘The woman these clothes belong to?’ she asked, pushing it.

‘Claudia. Her name was Claudia. She was my cousin’s wife.’

‘You were in love with her?’ Stupid question. Of course he was.

‘We both were. I met her at university, dated her, but when I brought her home she met Christopher and after that it was always him. It didn’t stop Chris obsessing that we were having an affair when we worked together on the store design.’

She lifted her hand to the bruise at her temple, gently rubbing her fingers over the sore spot, remembering his concern.

‘He was abusive,’ she said.

‘I believe so. She used to brush aside any concern, say she bruised at a touch. Was always walking into things. Maybe she was. She wasn’t eating properly, fighting an addiction to tranquillisers. Then one day I caught her running, terrified. I held her,’ he said. ‘Just held her, begged her to leave him. Not for me. For herself. And then Chris caught up with her, held out his hand to her and, without a word, she took it. Walked away with him. It was as if she had no will.’ He glanced at her. ‘It was just the hair, Lucy. You’re not a bit like her.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m shorter, fatter…’ He frowned and she rushed on, ‘You’re talking about her in the past tense.’

‘There was an accident. Chris always drove too fast, even though he knew it terrified her. Probably because it terrified her. It’s all about control, isn’t it?’ He looked away for a moment, but then looked back. ‘She died instantly. He’s in a wheelchair, paralysed from the neck down.’

She shivered, but not with the cold, and he turned to her, put his arms around her. Held her. Just as he’d held Claudia, she thought and, much as she wanted to stay there, in his arms, she pulled away.

‘I have no reason to protect Rupert Henshawe, Nathaniel. He does not control me.’

‘Doesn’t he?’ He shook his head, as if he knew the answer. ‘Reason has nothing to do with it,’ he said. Then, before she could deny it, ‘It was my fault. I should never have come back. Never accepted the commission.’

‘Why did you?’

‘Family. Guilt. I turned my back on family tradition and it broke my father’s heart. It was a way to make up for that.’

‘And, after the accident, you stepped in to look after things?’

‘There was no one else.’

‘No one else called Hart, maybe. Is Christopher punishing you for what happened to him?’ she asked. ‘Or are you punishing yourself for not saving Claudia?’ He didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t know the answer. ‘Who is it who leaves the rose, Nathaniel?’

‘That’s enough, Lucy,’ he said sharply.

‘It’s him, isn’t it? A daily reminder that she loved him. He can’t abuse his wife any more, frighten her, hurt her, because she’s beyond his reach,’ she continued, recklessly ignoring the warning. ‘So he’s abusing you instead.’

There was a long moment of silence.

So not bright, Lucy Bright.

Blown it, Lucy Bright.

And then he touched her cheek with his cold hand. A gesture that said a hundred times more than words.

‘Bright by name, bright by nature. Good guess, but you’re not entirely right. I’m punishing myself for failing to protect her. But I’m punishing him, too. Even while it gives him pleasure to know that I’ve been jerked back into the family business, robbed of something I loved, at the same time it’s eating him alive to know that I’m in control. In his place.’