Christmas Kisses With Her Boss

Employing someone from his past was nuts—he should have known that. The woman next to him triggered memories of times he would rather forget—of the Ethan Caversham of a decade ago, driven to the streets to try and escape the harsh reality of his life, the bitter knowledge that his mother had wanted shot of him made worse by the knowledge that he could hardly blame her.

Shoving the darkness aside, he unclenched his jaw and reminded himself that Ruby was the right person for the job.

But it was more than that.

The quiver in her voice had flicked him on the raw with the knowledge that she was scared—he’d looked across his desk at Ruby and images had surged of Tanya...of the beautiful, gentle sister he’d been unable to protect.

Of Ruby herself ten years before.

A far scrawnier version of Ruby stood in a less than salubrious park trying to face down three vicious-looking youths. He’d seen the scene but the true interpretation of the tableau had taken a moment to sink in. Then one of the youths had lunged and sudden fear had coated his teeth as adrenalin spiked. Not fear of the gang but fear he wouldn’t make it in time.

Once he got there he’d take them on—bad odds but he’d weathered worse. Flipside of growing up on a gang-ridden estate meant he knew how to fight. Worst case scenario they’d take him down but the girl would escape. That was what mattered. He couldn’t...wouldn’t be party to further tragedy.

The element of surprise helped. The youths too intent on their prey to pay him any attention. The jagged sound of the girl’s shirt rip galvanised him and he launched knocking the youth aside.

‘Run,’ he yelled at the girl.

But she hadn’t. For a second she had frozen and then she’d entered the melee.

Ten vicious minutes later it was over—the three youths ran off and he turned to see a tall, dark haired girl, her midnight hair hacked as if she’d done it herself. Her face was grubby and a small trickle of blood daubed her forehead. Silhouetted against the barren scrubland of the park, she returned his gaze; wide sapphire blue eyes fringed by incredibly long lashes mesmerised him. Their ragged breaths mingled and for an insane second he didn’t see her there—instead he saw his sister. The girl he hadn’t managed to save.

He held his hand out. ‘Let’s go. Before they come back with reinforcements. Or knives.’

‘Go where?’ Her voice shaky now as reality sunk in.

‘Hostel. You can bunk in with me for the night. You’ll be safe with me. I promise.’

She’d stared at his hand, and without hesitation she’d placed her hand in his, that damned hero worship dawning in her brilliant eyes.

Present day, and the end result was he’d offered her a job. Because every instinct told him that Hugh Farlane had done her over somehow. Because he would not leave her prey to the online bullies. Because—somehow, somewhere that protective urge had been rebooted.

The dual carriageway had reduced to a single lane. Dusky scenery flashed past the windows—a mixture of wind turbines and farmland that morphed into a small Cornish hamlet, up a windy hill, and then...

‘Here we are,’ he said, and heard the burr of pride as he drove down the grand tree-spanned driveway and parked in the car park.

He turned to see Ruby’s reaction—hoped she would see in it what he saw.

She shifted and gazed out of the window, her blue eyes fixed to where the castle jutted magnificently on the horizon. ‘It’s...awesome. By which I mean it fills me with awe,’ she said.

He knew what she meant. Sometimes it seemed impossible to him that he owned these mighty stone walls, these turrets and towers weighted with the history of centuries, the air peopled by the memory of generations gone past.

Ruby sighed. ‘If I close my eyes I can see the Parliamentarians and the Royalists battling it out...the blood that would have seeped into the stone...the cries, the bravery, the pain. I can imagine medieval knights galloping towards the portcullis—’ An almost embarrassed smile accompanied her words. ‘Sorry. That sounded a bit daft. How on earth did you get permission to convert it into a hotel? Isn’t it protected?’

‘Permission had already been given, decades ago—I have no idea how—but the company that undertook the project went bust and the castle was left to fall into disrepair. I undertook negotiations with the council and various heritage trusts and bought the place, and now...’

‘Now you’ve transformed it...’ Her voice was low and melodious.

Lost in contemplation of her surroundings, she shifted closer to him—and all of a sudden it seemed imperative to get out of the confines of the car, away from the tantalising hint of cinnamon she exuded, away from the warmth in her eyes and voice as she surveyed the castle and then him.

‘So, let me show you what I’ve done and hopefully that will trigger some ideas for you to think about.’

‘Perfect.’

The gravel of the vast path crunched under their feet as they walked to the refurbished ancient portcullis. Ethan inhaled the cold, crisp Cornish air, with its sea tang, and saw Ruby do the same, her cheeks already pink from the gust of the winter breeze.

They reached the door and entered the warmth of the reception area. A familiar sense of pride warmed his chest as he glanced round at the mix of modern and ancient. Tapestries adorned the stone walls, plush red armchairs and mahogany tables were strategically placed around the area, with Wi-Fi available throughout.

‘This is incredible,’ Ruby said.

‘Let me show you the rest.’

Ethan led the way along the stone-walled corridors and into the room destined to be the restaurant.

‘We believe this was once the banqueting hall,’ he said, gesturing round the vast cavernous room also with stone walls and floor.

‘Wow...’ Ruby stepped forward, her eyes wide and dreamy. She walked into the middle of the room and stood for a moment with her eyes closed.

Ethan caught his breath—Ruby got it. She felt the thrill of this place and that meant she’d do her best.

Opening her eyes, she exhaled. ‘I can see how this hall would have been in medieval times. Jugglers, singers, raconteurs—a great table laden with food...’

‘Let me show you the other rooms.’

Ruby paused outside a large room adjoining the hall. ‘What about this one?’

‘You don’t need to worry about that one.’

Ethan knew his voice was guarded, but he had no wish to share his full vision for the castle with Ruby. There would be time enough to explain, as and when it was necessary. Right now she was on trial.

‘But it looks perfect for a café. Your guests won’t always want to dine in splendour—they might just want a sandwich or a bowl of soup. I could—’

‘I said you don’t need to worry about it.’

Seeing the flash of hurt cross her face, he raised his hand in a placatory gesture and smiled.

‘Right now I want you to see the parts of the castle that I have renovated—not worry about the ones I haven’t. Let’s keep moving.’

Another length of corridor and they reached a bar. ‘I want the castle to be representative of all periods of history. This room shows the Victorian era,’ he explained.

‘It is absolutely incredible!’ Ruby enthused as she stood and gazed around the room before walking to the actual bar, where she ran a hand along the smooth polished English oak.

Ethan gulped, mesmerised as her slender fingers slid its length. He turned the sound into what even he could hear was a less than plausible cough. ‘Would you like a drink? The bar’s not fully stocked yet, but I do have a selection of drinks.’

‘That would be really helpful.’

‘Helpful...?’

‘Yup. Lots of your guests will sit in here before coming into the restaurant. I want their movement to segue. So if I can just soak up the atmosphere in here a bit that would be helpful.’