A New Year Bride

He sucked in a breath. When was the last time he’d done something good? He’d been so wrapped in his own mourning for the last five years he hadn’t really stopped to draw breath. Even when it came to Christmas presents he normally gave his PA a list and told her what kind of things his family preferred. That was as much input as he’d had.

He thought about the prettily wrapped present that Mrs Archer had left for him at reception. He hadn’t even opened it yet.

He kept his voice low. ‘How about Molly gets what she wants for Christmas?’

Karen looked shocked, then offended. He knew exactly how this worked. He shook his head. ‘I work for a big company. Every year they like us to do a few good deeds. A few things that no one else finds out about.’ He pulled the card out of his pocket, still keeping his voice low. ‘There’s no catch. I promise. Give the girl at the desk an address and time for delivery. That’s all.’

Karen sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s good deed.’ He could see her bristle.

He gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Then how about a gift from a fellow Scot who is also missing home?’

Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her throat. ‘Oh…oh, then that might be different.’

He glanced down at Molly and smiled. ‘Good. Just give the girl at the desk your details. I’ll arrange everything else.’

‘I don’t know what to say, except thank you. And Merry Christmas!’

He gave her a nod. ‘Happy Christmas to you and Molly.’

He ruffled Molly’s curls and walked away, not wanting to admit to the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. That was the first time he’d wished anyone Happy Christmas in five years. Five long, horrible years.

What had he been doing? Had he been ignoring people around him like Karen and Molly for the last five years?

He heard an excited laugh and Grace walked through with one of the sales assistants from another room. Grace’s cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and she was clapping her hands together again.

The girl really did love Christmas.

One part of him felt a selfish pang, while the other dared itself back into life. In a way, he’d felt better sticking his head in the sand for the last few years. Some of this Christmas stuff made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Parts of it were making him relive memories—some good, some bad.

But the thing that he struggled most with was feeling again. Feeling.

The thing he’d tried to forget about.

He touched the saleswoman’s arm as she was still mid-discussion with Grace. ‘I need you to add something to the order.’

Grace’s head shot up. ‘What?’ Then her expression changed. ‘Really?’

He gave a nod and gestured to the white rocking horse. ‘The lady in the dark coat, her name is Karen. Can you make delivery arrangements with her?’

The saleswoman shot a glance from Grace, to Finlay and then to Karen, who was still standing in the distance with Molly.

‘Of course,’ she said efficiently, adding the purchase to the bill.

What was he doing? All of a sudden Finlay was feeling totally out of his depth. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Grace abruptly.

She looked a little surprised but glanced at her watch. Did she think he wanted to beat the traffic? ‘Thanks so much for your assistance. I’ll be back at The Armstrong for the delivery.’

She rubbed her hands together again. Something sparked into his brain. The one thing he’d thought to do back at the hotel.

He pulled out his phone and spoke quietly as they hurried back outside to the car. The light had almost gone completely now and most of London’s stores were lit up with Christmas displays. The journey to Harrods didn’t take quite as long as he’d imagined.

Grace gave a sharp intake of breath as soon as the gold lights of the store came into view, lighting up the well-known green canopies.

He touched her elbow. ‘We need to do something first in here before we go to the Christmas department.’

She looked surprised. ‘Do you need some Christmas gifts for your family?’

He shook his head. Thick flakes of snow were falling outside. ‘That’s taken care of. This was something I should have done earlier.’

They stepped outside as the chauffeur opened the door and walked in through one of the private entrances.

A woman in a black suit with gold gilding met them at the entrance. ‘Mr Armstrong?’

He nodded. She walked them towards some private lifts. ‘This way, please.’

The journey only lasted a few seconds before the doors slid open on women’s designer wear. Grace frowned and looked at him. ‘We need to go to the Christmas department.’

He waved his hand. ‘In a few minutes. I need to get something here first.’ He turned to the personal shopper. ‘Do you have anything the same shade as her shirt? And some black leather gloves please, lined.’

Grace was still frowning. ‘Who is this for?’

He turned to face her. ‘You.’

‘What?’ It was a face he recognised. Karen had worn the same expression thirty minutes earlier. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

Finlay held out his hands. ‘Look at me. I’ve dragged you halfway across London in the freezing cold with snow outside.’ He touched her arm. ‘You’re only wearing your suit and a shirt. You must be freezing. I feel like an idiot standing beside you in a wool coat.’

She tipped her head to the side. ‘Then take it off. It’s too hot in here anyhow.’

She said it so matter-of-factly. As if he should have thought of it himself.

He shook his head. ‘But once we get back outside, you’ll freeze again. You were rubbing your hands together the whole time we were in the last two stores. It was obvious you were still cold.’

The personal shopper appeared carrying a knee-length wool coat in the exact shade of pink as Grace’s shirt. She held it up. ‘Is this to your taste?’

He smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’ He gestured towards the coat. ‘Go on, Grace, try it on.’

She was staring at it as if she didn’t quite know what to say. Then she shook her head. ‘You are not buying me a coat.’

He took the coat from the personal shopper and held it open. ‘You’re right. I’m not buying you a coat. The Armstrong hotel is. Think of it as part of your official uniform.’

She slid her arms along the black satin lining of the coat as he pulled it up onto her shoulders. The effect was instant. The coat brought out the darkness of her chestnut hair and dark eyes while highlighting her pink cheeks and lips. It was perfect for her.

He felt himself hold his breath. Grace turned and stared at her reflection in a mirror next to them. Her fingers started automatically fastening the buttons on the double-breasted coat. It fitted perfectly.

The sales assistant brought over a wooden tray of black leather gloves. Grace stared down in surprise and looked up at Finlay. ‘They’re virtually all the same. How am I supposed to choose?’

The personal shopper looked dismayed. She started lifting one glove after another. ‘This one only skims the wrist bones. This one has a more ruffled effect, it comes up much further. This one has a special lining, cashmere. We also have silk-lined and wool-lined gloves all at different lengths. Do you have a specific need?’

Finlay could tell by the expression on Grace’s face that she was bamboozled. He reached out and ran his fingers across the gloves. Some instantly felt softer than others. He selected a pair and turned them inside out. ‘These ones must be cashmere lined. The leather feels good quality too. Want to try them?’

He had no idea what size or length they were. Somehow he thought his eyes might be similar to Grace’s—all the gloves looked virtually identical. But they didn’t feel identical.

She slid her hands into the pair he handed her and smiled. ‘They’re beautiful…’ She gave them a little tug. ‘But they seem a little big.’

In an instant the personal shopper handed her an alternative pair. Grace swapped them over and stretched her hands out. ‘Yes, they feel better.’

‘Perfect. Add this to our bill, please,’ he said. ‘We’re going to the Christmas department.’

‘But…I haven’t decided yet.’ Grace had her hand on the collar of the coat.

Finlay shrugged. ‘But I have—the coat is perfect. The colour is perfect. The fit is perfect and the length is perfect. What else is there to say?’

He started to walk away but Grace wasn’t finished.

‘But maybe I’m not sure.’ Her voice started to get louder as he kept walking, ‘What if I wanted a red coat? Or a blue one? Or a black one? What if I don’t even like coats?’

People near them were starting to stare. Finlay spun around again and strode back over to her, catching her by the shoulders and spinning her back around to face the mirror.

‘Grace. This is you. This is your coat. No one else could possibly wear it.’ He held his hands up as he looked over her shoulder.

Her dark brown eyes fixed on his. For a second he was lost. Lost staring at those chocolate eyes, in the face framed with chestnut tresses, on the girl dressed in the perfect rose-coloured coat.

There was a tilt to her chin of defiance. Was she going to continue to fight with him?

Her tongue slid along her lips as her eyes disconnected with his and stared at her reflection. ‘No one has ever done something like this for me,’ she whispered at a level only he could hear. She pulled her hand from the leather glove and wound one of her tresses of hair around her finger as she kept staring at her reflection.

‘Just say yes,’ he whispered back.

She blinked, before lowering her gaze and unwinding her finger from her hair. She pulled off the other glove and undid the buttons on the coat, slipping it from her shoulders.

She handed it to the personal shopper. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, then straightened her bag and looked in the other direction. ‘Right,’ she said smartly, ‘let’s hit the Christmas department. We have work to do.’

She wasn’t joking. The Christmas department was the busiest place in the entire store.

And Grace Ellis knew how to shop.

She left the personal shopper in her wake as she ping-ponged around the department, side-stepping tourists, pensioners, kids and hesitant shoppers.

He frowned as he realised she was picking only one colour of items. ‘Really?’ He was trying to picture how this would all come together.

She laid a hand on his arm as she rushed past. ‘Trust me, it will be great.’ Then she winked and blew into her fingers, ‘It will be magical.’

She was sort of like a fairy from a Christmas movie.

He was left holding three baskets and feeling quite numb as she filled them until the contents towered. Lights. Christmas bulbs. Some weird variation of tinsel. A few other decorations and the biggest haul of snow globes. He hadn’t seen one since he was a child.

‘Really?’ he asked again.

She picked up a medium-sized one and gave it a shake, letting the snow gently fall around the Santa’s sleigh above a village. ‘Everyone loves a snow globe…it’s part of our theme.’

Our theme. She was talking about the hotel. Of course she was talking about the hotel. But the way her eyes connected with his as she said the words sent involuntary tremors down his spine. It didn’t feel as if she were talking about the hotel.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe he should have started much smaller. Grace’s enthusiasm for Christmas had only magnified as the hours increased. Was he really ready for such a full-on Christmas rush?

She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Finlay, I need you.’

‘What?’ He winced. He didn’t mean for the response to be so out of sorts. The truth was, he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here, or how he felt about all this.

Five years ago he’d still been numb. Five years ago he’d spent September and October sitting by his wife’s bedside. The year before that he’d been frantically searching the world over for any new potential treatment. On a bitter cold November day, he’d buried her.

Anna had been so much better than him at all of this. She’d been devastated by the news. Devastated by the fact no treatment had worked. But she’d been determined to end life in the way she’d wanted to. And that was at home, with her husband.

No one should have to watch the person they love fade a little day by day. But Finlay knew that every day the world over, there were thousands of people sharing the same experience he had.

Grace was standing in front of him, her face creased with lines. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing. What do you need?’

She nodded to the snaking line in front of them. ‘We’ve reached the front of the queue. I need you to pay.’

Pay. Something he could manage without any thought.

He walked to the front of the line and handed over the credit card. The personal shopper was putting all the purchases into some trolley for them to take to the car. He stopped her as she started to wrap the coat in tissue paper. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Just take the tags off. Grace should wear it.’

There was a moment’s hesitation on Grace’s face as he handed the coat over. But after a few seconds she slid her arms back inside. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

By the time they got outside the air was thick with snow. It was lying on the pavements and surrounding buildings and roads.

Grace fastened her coat and slid her hands into the leather gloves while all their packages were stored in the boot of the chauffeur-driven car.

The journey back to the hotel was silent. He’d started this afternoon with the hope of a little Christmas spirit. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying. But sometimes memories flared. Tempering his mood with guilt and despair.

Grace’s fingers fumbled over and over in the new gloves. She was staring at the passing shop windows. Her face serious and her eyes heavy. What was she thinking about?

When they reached the hotel he couldn’t wait to get out of the car. ‘I have an international videoconference,’ he said as he climbed out.

‘Good.’

He stopped mid-step. ‘What?’

She walked around to the boot of the car. ‘I don’t want you to see anything until I’ve finished. It’s better if you have something to do. I’m going to get Frank and some of the other Maids in Chelsea to help me set things up. I’d prefer it if you waited until I was finished—you know, to get the full effect.’

It was almost as if somehow she had switched gears from her sombre mood in the car. Grace seemed back on point. Focused again. Ready to complete her mission.

And right now all he felt was relief. He could retreat into his office. He could stop asking himself why he’d bought a stranger’s child a rocking horse and an employee a coat and gloves that were way outside her pay range.

Two of the doormen from the hotel started lifting all the purchases from the car. One of them gave her a nudge. ‘Frank says there’s a delivery at the luggage door for you.’

She was busy. She was engaged. She didn’t need him around.

Finlay walked back through the reception without acknowledging anyone. He had work to do.

It was finished. It was finally finished. Grime and sweat had ruined her pink shirt and black skirt. She’d swapped back from the stilettos to her lower shoes and spotted a hole in her black tights. Her hair had ended up tied in a ponytail on top of her head as it kept getting in the way. She must look a complete state.

Emma gave a sigh as she looked up at the giant tree. ‘If you’d told me this was what you had in mind when you asked for a hand…’

Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘As if you would have said no.’

Ashleigh was leaning against the nearby wall with her arms folded. ‘I think it looks spectacular. It was worth it.’

Grace couldn’t stop pacing. ‘Do you think so? What about those lights over there? Should I move them?’ She pressed her hands to her chest. ‘What about the colour scheme? Is it too much?’

The girls exchanged amused glances.

But Grace couldn’t stop with her pacing. ‘I’ll need to go and get him. I’ll need to make sure that he’s happy with it.’

Sophie walked over and put her arm around Grace’s shoulder. ‘Well, whoever he is, he’d be crazy if he didn’t like this.’

Ashleigh stepped forward. ‘I hope you’ve been paid for this, Grace. I’d hate to think this guy was taking advantage of your good nature.’

Emma folded her arms across her chest. ‘Who is he, exactly? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming.’

Grace hesitated. She wasn’t even quite sure what to say. She tried to slip the question by giving Emma a big hug. ‘Thank you for coming today. You’re not even a Maid in Chelsea any more. Should I start calling you by your fancy title?’

But Emma was far too smart for that. She returned the hug then pulled back. ‘I’m going to ask Jack if he knows anything about Finlay Armstrong.’

Grace shook her head—probably much too quickly. ‘I don’t think he will.’ She turned and looked at the finished decorations again. ‘I can’t thank you girls enough. I owe you all, big time.’

‘I think that’s our cue to leave, girls,’ said Ashleigh. ‘Come on. Let’s get cleaned up. I’m buying the drinks.’

They all gave Grace a hug and left by the main entrance of the hotel while she went to retrieve her jacket from behind the reception desk.

Should she wait? The hotel reception was quiet. She wasn’t even sure of the time. She’d asked the staff to dim the main lights a little to give the full effect of the tree.

Her stomach gave a flip-flop. He’d asked her to do this. He’d asked her. Surely he’d want to see that she was finished?

She walked slowly towards his office door, listening out to see if he was still on his conference call. She couldn’t hear anything and the office door was ajar.

She gave the door a gentle knock, sticking her head around it. Finlay was staring out of the window into the dark night. His office had a view of the surrounding area—not like the penthouse, of course, but still enough to give a taste and feel of the wealth of Chelsea. It was a wonder they didn’t ask for credentials before they let you off the Tube around here.

He looked lost in his thoughts. She lifted her hand and knocked on the door again—this time a little more loudly.

He jumped. ‘Grace.’ He stood up; his actions seemed automatic. He started to walk around the desk and then stopped, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

‘What on earth have you done with your hair?’

She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten her hair currently resembled someone from a nineteen-eighties pop video.

She glanced down at her shirt too. Random streaks of dirt.

It wasn’t really the professional look she’d been aiming for.

She gave her head a shake. ‘I’ve been busy. This stuff doesn’t put itself up.’ Nerves and excitement were starting to get the better of her. ‘Come and see. Come and see that you like it.’

He raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smile still present. ‘You’re already telling me I like it?’

‘Only if you have exceptionally good taste,’ she shot back.

He had no idea how much her stomach was in knots. This was the guy who hated Christmas. This was the guy that had pulled down a single strand of lights she’d put in his room.

This was a guy that was trying to take steps away from his past Christmas memories. If she’d got this wrong…

She stepped in front of him. ‘It might be better if you close your eyes.’

‘Nervous, Grace?’ He was teasing her.

‘Not at all.’ She made a grab for his hand. ‘Close your eyes and I’ll take you outside. I’ll tell you when you can open them.’

For a moment she thought he might refuse. She wasn’t quite sure how long she could keep up the bravado. She stuck her hands on her hips. ‘Hurry up, or I’ll make you pay me overtime.’

He laughed, shook his head, took her hand and closed his eyes.

His hand in hers.

She hadn’t really contemplated this. She hadn’t really planned it. His warm hand encompassed hers. Was her hand even clean?

The heat from his hand seemed to travel up her arm. It seemed to spread across her chest. She shouldn’t be feeling this. She shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like…

‘Are we going?’

‘Of course.’ She gave his hand a tug and started walking—too quickly to begin with, then slowing her steps to a more suitable pace.

Magda at Reception raised her eyebrows as they walked past. Grace couldn’t think straight for one second. This was it. This was where he would get the full effect. The effect that every customer walking into The Armstrong would get from now on.

She spun him around to position him exactly where she wanted him. Far enough away from the traditional revolving door at the entrance way to stop him getting a draught, but still with enough distance between him and the display.

She tapped his shoulder. ‘Okay. Open your eyes.’

Maybe he’d been hasty. Maybe he shouldn’t have made any of the suggestions about Christmas decorations. He didn’t know what he was doing. He’d spent the last few hours trying to get the image of Grace in that pink coat out of his head.

He opened his eyes.

And blinked.

And blinked again.

His hotel was transformed. In a way he could never have imagined.

The lights in the main reception area were dimmed. In normal circumstances the black and grey floor, walls and reception desk would have made it as dark as night.

But it wasn’t.

It was purple.

Purple in a way he couldn’t even begin to find words for. He started to walk forward, straight towards the giant Christmas tree at the end of the foyer that was just pulling his attention like a magnet.

The traditional green tree was huge. It was lit up with purple lights and a few white twinkling ones. The large purple baubles and glass snowflake-style tree decorations reflected the purple light beautifully. The strange-style purple tinsel was wrapped tastefully amongst the branches. Along either wall were more purple lights. It was a strange effect. They drew you in. Drew your gaze and footsteps towards the tree. At intermittent points all along were snow globes of various sizes.

There was a choking noise beside him. Grace’s face was lit up with the purple lights, her hands clenched under her chin and her eyes looking as if they might spill tears any second.

‘What do you think?’ Her voice was pretty much a squeak.

He couldn’t speak yet. He was still getting over the shock.

Christmas had come to The Armstrong hotel.

She’d captured it. She’d captured the Christmas spirit without drowning him in it.

The tree was giant, but the effect of only having one colour made it seem more sleek and exclusive than he’d expected. The intermittent snow globes were focal points. Something people could touch, pick up and hold.

The dimmed lights were perfect. It bathed the whole area in the most magical purple light.

‘Finlay?’ This time there was a tremor in her voice.

He kept looking, kept looking at everything around him, before finally turning and locking gazes with Grace.

‘I think Santa got everything wrong,’ he said.

Her eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’

Finlay laughed and opened his arms wide. ‘His grotto. Clearly, it should have been purple.’ He spun around, relishing the transformation of his hotel.

He didn’t just like it. He loved it.

Never, even in a million years, did he think he’d feel like this.

He picked up Grace and swung her around.

She was still in shock. She put her hands on his shoulders and let out a squeal. She was still looking for verification. She needed to hear the words out loud.