Christmas at the Castle

Why?

Because, kilt or not, this place wasn’t fantasy as much as tragedy. Black tragedy. His mother had pleaded with him not to come, and she’d be devastated if he extended his stay.

And he did not want a family Christmas. He didn’t do Christmas. Had Louise’s death and his mother’s tragedy taught him nothing?

He was watching Holly stomp back across what had once been the site of a drawbridge but was now a snow-covered cobbled path and something inside him was twisting. He watched the determined set of her shoulders and he thought how she’d walked all the way from the village in canvas trainers to apply for a job he didn’t want to give.

He should have said no to Ben.

He shouldn’t even have come himself. He’d been stunned by his mother’s reaction, her emotion as raw as if the tragedy had happened last week rather than over thirty years ago.

‘Don’t go near that place. Sell it fast, to the highest bidder. You don’t need it. Give the money to charity—I don’t care—just get rid of it, Angus.’

But he’d wanted to see.

He was the new Earl of Craigenstone. He had no intention of taking up the title, but still he wanted to see what he was letting go—as his half-brother and -sisters wanted to revisit what they were letting go. They’d lived in this place until three years ago. Their father had barricaded the place against them when their mother left, but they’d have memories and they wanted to see.

Please... The plea had been heartrending.

This wasn’t about him, he thought savagely. The old Earl had had four children. Why was it just him making the decisions?

So... He’d just been offered staff. Why refuse? Personal selfishness? Just like his father?

He was watching Holly McIntosh march away from the castle with as much dignity as she could muster and he was thinking of his father’s reputation. Mean. Selfish.

He was not like his father. Surely.

This was only for three weeks and then it’d be done. Surely his mother could cope if he explained. Surely it was time they both rid themselves of demons.

Decide now, he told himself, and he did.

‘Holly...’ His voice rang out over the crisp white snow, and she heard even though she was two hundred yards away.

She turned and glared, her hands on her hips. This was no normal employee, he thought. If he hired her, he’d be hiring spirit.

Christmas spirit? Holly. The thought had him bemused.

‘It can be two jobs,’ he conceded, but her hands stayed on her hips and her belligerence was obvious.

‘Wages?’ she called, not moving.

‘What’s the standard wage around here for a cook?’ he demanded of Stanley and Stanley glared at him as if he was proposing spending Stanley’s money instead of the estate’s. The figure he threw at him sounded ridiculously low.

And...I’m a chef.

Holly’s words had been an indignant claim to excellence and pride had shown through.

If he employed her he’d have a chef for Christmas. And a housekeeper. Christmas. He thought of his father’s reputation and he looked at Stanley’s dour face and he thought that some things had to change, right now.

‘I’ll pay you three times basic cook’s wages and I’ll hire you and your grandmother as a team,’ he called. And then, as Holly’s expression didn’t change, he added, ‘I’ll pay the same rate to you both.’

‘My Lord!’ Stanley gasped, but he was ignored. Holly’s expression was changing. She was trying not to look incredulous, he realised, but she was failing. ‘Each?’

‘Yes.’ He grinned, seeing her inner war. ‘Eight-hour days and half days off on Sunday. It’s three weeks of hard work, but the money will be worth it. I can’t say fairer than that.’

She took a deep breath. He could see she was searching for the indignant, assertive Holly he’d seen up until now, but his offer seemed to have sucked all indignation out of her.

‘Are...are meals and accommodation included?’ she ventured, sounding cautious. Very cautious. As if he might bite.

‘I guess. But why do you need accommodation?’

‘We don’t have a car,’ Holly told him. ‘And, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing and your driveway is a disgrace. It took me half an hour to trudge up here and Gran’s not as young as she used to be.’ She tilted her chin and met his gaze head on. ‘And our accommodation has to be heated.’

‘Heated!’ Stanley gasped, as though the word was an abomination, and Angus thought of the freezing, musty bedrooms throughout the castle, and the great draughty staircases and how much effort and expense it would take to get this place warm by Christmas. The snug had the only fireplace that didn’t seem to be blocked.

But Holly was glaring a challenge and all of a sudden he was thinking of his half-brother and -sisters, who’d lived for years under these conditions, with the old man’s temper as well, and he thought...maybe he could put the effort in. Maybe he could make the place less of a nightmare for them to remember. He was not his father.

‘Done,’ he said. ‘With one proviso.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you come in now, dry out and tell me why you’re wearing those stupid sodden shoes.’

‘I need to get back to Gran.’

‘We’ll drive you back in a few minutes,’ he said, goaded. ‘But I’ll dry you out first. I believe I just hired you. You’re therefore my employee. You can sue me if you’re injured on the way to and from work, so I’m looking after my investment. Come into my castle, Miss McIntosh, and we’ll talk terms.’

‘And have some of that fruit cake?’ For heaven’s sake, he thought, stunned. She sounded hungry!

‘I believe that can be arranged.’

‘Then your offer is gratefully accepted,’ she said and trudged back towards them. She reached the front steps and Angus walked down to meet her. He held out his hand to steady her as she climbed the icy stone steps. She stared at his hand for a long moment and then she shook her head.

‘I’ll do this on my own terms, if you don’t mind,’ she said briskly. ‘I need your job. I’d also quite like your fruit cake, but I don’t need anything else.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing.’ She peeped a smile at him and he saw the return of a mischief that he suspected was a latent part of this woman. ‘So any thought that you might be having your wicked way with the hired help, put out of your mind right now, Lord Craigenstone. Just leave that dark side you’re talking about outside. I might be coming to live in your castle, but I know my rights. Also, I’ve just been burned. Ravishment isn’t in any employment contract I intend to sign, now or ever.’

CHAPTER TWO

INSIDE, ENSCONCED IN one of the huge fireside chairs in the snug, her hands cradling a mug of hot chocolate, Holly seemed even younger than first impressions. And even more cute. Once she’d ditched the army greatcoat, he could see even more of her. Her cropped copper curls rioted as soon as she took off her beanie. They matched her cheeks which, in the warmth of the snug, grew even more flushed than they’d been when she was losing her temper out in the snow.

She concentrated on her hot chocolate and fruit cake. She ate three slices while Angus reread her résumé and then read her grandmother’s.

This might work. According to the résumés, Holly could definitely cook and her Gran could definitely clean. They might even have the skills to provide him with a decent Christmas.

But her appearance didn’t fit. He glanced again at her résumé. She was a cook—no, a chef—but she was looking like something the cat had dragged in. The little dog had sidled across to her when she sat down. He’d leaped up on her knee and she was fondling him while still cradling the last of the warmth from the hot chocolate.