He frowned slightly, as though he was analysing her words, then he stood, pulling her up with him, and slipped his other arm around her waist. His eyes stared into hers, then he dipped his head to seize her mouth in a kiss. She tugged her hand free of his so she could reach her arms around his neck, her fingers caressing the soft curls at his nape.
His mouth was insistent, and when his tongue met hers, he tasted of wine and the gaminess of the lamb. His hand moved to the back of her head, cradling it as his lips pressed against hers, almost bruising them, a sweet kind of pain steeped in longing.
When the kiss broke, they were both breathing raspy breaths. “Do you want to go inside?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“God, yes,” she replied. He turned abruptly, clasping her hand in his and led her towards the sliding glass door.
Chapter 20
Lucy
After she and Chloe rang off, Lucy showered and dressed in her Christmas outfit of leggings and an oversized red jumper—even though people always said that redheads shouldn’t wear red. She pulled her tresses into a messy bun on top of her head and slicked on some shimmery lip gloss, then forced a smile at herself in the mirror.
The smile dissolved. With her sore head and the situation with Jules, she felt about as festive as the discount bin at Sainsbury’s on the day after Boxing Day—fifty per cent off some fake Christmas cheer, anyone?
“Come on you,” she muttered to her reflection, “time to be Christmassy.”
Downstairs, amid exclamations of “Merry Christmas” which she half-heartedly returned, Steph ushered her to a place at the breakfast bar in front of a steaming mug of tea. A glance at Will, who winked at her from across the room, confirmed that he’d made it for her. She mouthed “thank you” and gratefully sipped the tea as the ruckus of family festivities buzzed about her. Nate seemed to be in his element as he cooked up a Christmas breakfast feast, aided by Will and Steph—his “sous chefs” he called them.
When Nate slid a pair of pancakes onto a plate and set it before her, Lucy wondered if she could choke them down. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this awful. Bridget, who was seated on her left, passed her the butter dish and a large glass bottle of maple syrup. “Uncle Nate’s pancakes are to die for,” she said right before putting a loaded fork into her mouth.
Maybe a plate of buttery, sickly sweet pancakes was exactly what Lucy needed. She smeared on a pat of butter and drizzled on some syrup. “You’ll need more than that,” said Bridget. “Here.” Bridget took the syrup bottle from her and poured until an enormous pool of syrup surrounded the pancakes.
“That’s definitely enough,” Lucy said, laughing as she took the bottle from Bridget, a momentary and a welcomed reprieve from her glum and queasy state. And Bridget was right—the pancakes were delicious. By the time they’d cleared up after breakfast and moved the festivities into the front room to exchange gifts, Lucy was feeling marginally better.
She’d brought some carefully chosen gifts for Jules’s family that she hoped showed off some of the best of Britain, and handed them out in turn, watching to see if she’d hit the mark. The tartan scarf for Will that she’d bought while on a trip to Edinburgh with her parents, turned out to be perfect, its hues of blue bringing out the colour of his eyes, and she smiled shyly as he kissed her cheek in thanks.
She’d brought a bottle of Eden Mill gin for Nate. “Oh, that’s gonna be great, sweetheart, thank you,” he said, after reading the label. And for Steph and Joe, she’d sprung for a set of Jo Malone home fragrances. She knew it was a little generic, but she loved Jo Malone and every now and then, she’d treat herself to a candle or a bottle of home fragrance to cheer herself up. She’d had to douse the flat in fragrance after Val’s cheesemaking experiment back in July, she remembered, chuckling to herself.
“This is for you, Lucy,” said Will, “from all of us.” Will placed a large gift box on her lap, which she opened to reveal a plush cloth bag. She lifted it from the box and gently pulled open the drawstring. She wouldn’t typically get excited about a handbag, but as she slid the Coach bag from its wrapping, she couldn’t help but coo in awe. Tan leather, a broad base narrowing elegantly to its double gold clasps, and two handles in perfect arches—simple, elegant, and oh so luxe.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. She looked from Will to Nate to Steph, who she just knew had been the one to choose it for her.
“You’re so welcome, honey,” said Steph, patting her knee. The moment was lovely, but it was immediately swallowed up by the noise and bustle around her, and as a mountain of wrapping paper amassed and family members leapt from their seats to give thankful hugs, Lucy started to feel more and more miserable. She was still a little hungover, things weren’t right between her and Jules, and now she had to distance herself from Will.
In that moment, Lucy just wanted to go home.
Somehow, she managed to keep it together, helping clear away the detritus of present unwrapping and playing a lengthy game of Trivial Pursuit in which she came second to Briony, who was, it turned out, something of a trivia savant.
She even put on that ridiculous snowsuit so she could build a snowman in the front garden, like she’d promised herself. Bridget joined her, and they chatted companionably about their
