Snowkissed: Christmas Kisses with Her Boss / Proposal at the Winter Ball / The Prince's Christmas Vow

‘Obviously I read the papers, and I’ve seen the accusations that you are a gold-digger who used your position at Forsythe’s to attract Hugh Farlane. At Caversham you would be on the front line, liaising with my clients, so I need to trust that you will be delivering customer service without an eye on their wallets. You haven’t denied any of the allegations in the press. Could you clarify the situation for me?’

He leant back and waited for her to do just that.

Instead the smile plummeted from her lips with maximum velocity. Her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles clicked in protest, the sound breaking the depth of silence.

Then, ‘No comment.’

CHAPTER TWO

RUBY BRACED HERSELF as his brown eyebrows rose. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to expand on that?’

What was she supposed to do? Frustration danced in her tummy even as her brain scrambled for a way to salvage the situation. She knew she was innocent, but logic indicated that she could hardly expect Ethan to give her the benefit of the doubt without some semblance of an explanation.

But there was no way she could risk discussing Hugh Farlane—she knew the power he wielded. All it would take was for Ethan to go to the papers with her ‘story’ and whoomph—her life would go further down the toilet.

But, she wanted this job. The thought of a return to her solitary apartment for another ice-cream-eating stint was not an option. However much she liked double-double choc-chip.

Ugh. How had this happened? Ah—she knew the answer. The reason she was in this mess was because she had been a fool—had allowed herself to do the unthinkable and dream. Again. Dream that she could have it all—love and a family. Stupid. Dreams were fantasies, fiction. In real life she had to concentrate on real goals. Such as this job.

The drumming of Ethan’s fingers on the cherrywood desk recalled her to the fact that he was awaiting a response. The slight slash of a frown that creased his brow looked more perplexed then judgemental.

Come on. Answer the man.

‘I would like to expand further but I can’t risk it. Anything I say could be twisted, so it seems best to me that I say nothing. If you decide to quote me, or post something on social media, it will spark off another barrage of hatred.’ And consequences from Hugh that she didn’t want to contemplate. ‘And I... I don’t want that.’ She hated that quiver in her voice; she didn’t want Ethan to think her scared. ‘But I give you my word that if you give me a chance I’ll do a fabulous job for you and won’t let you down.’

His frown deepened. ‘And I give you my word that I won’t betray your confidence. There is no way that I would aggravate the situation.’

A shadow crossed his eyes and for a second Ruby saw a depth of pain in his eyes that made her want to stretch her hand across the desk. Then it was gone, and yet the deep sincerity of his words echoed in her brain.

For an insane second she felt the urge to tell him the whole truth. ‘I...’

Stop, Ruby.

Had she learnt nothing from the debacle of Hugh Farlane? She’d trusted him and look where it had landed her—up to her neck in metaphorical manure.

Yet it was impossible to believe that Ethan Caversham was cut from Farlane cloth. The man had saved her life ten years ago.

Yes, and then he’d vanished from her life without trace. Cut and run.

But he’d also bothered to call her for an interview.

Head awhirl, she hauled in breath. It wasn’t as if she’d be a contender for any Best Judge of Character awards right now. There were times when she still felt enmeshed in the illusions and lies Hugh had woven. So the best rule of all was Trust no one.

‘Okay.’ Ethan raised his hands. ‘Think about what I’ve said. If we’re going to work together there has to be an element of trust. On both sides. Now let’s consider another of my concerns. I need to know that you would be fully committed to this job.’

That was easy. ‘I would be. All yours. One hundred per cent.’

For an instant his gaze locked on hers and the double entendre of her words shimmered over his desk. She gulped.

‘Yet you left Forsythe’s after just two months.’

A flush heated her cheeks. ‘That was what I believe is known as “a career mistake”.’ Of monumental proportions. ‘I’d got engaged, and at the time it seemed like the right course of action. The Forsythe sisters were very understanding.’

‘I get that. Most women would get carried away by the lifestyle of fiancée to a Hollywood movie star compared to working in an all-hours pressured job. I saw the press coverage of those swish parties—you’re clearly a natural partygoer.’

‘No!’

The world might believe that of her, but she felt affront scrape her chest at the idea that Ethan should join that bandwagon of opinion.

‘I loathed those parties. I’m so used to fronting events or serving tables that being a guest was hard. All that glitter and glam and there was nothing for me to do except—’ She broke off.

Except play the part of Hugh Farlane’s besotted girlfriend.

How could she have fallen for it? For him? At first she hadn’t been interested in a man with his playboy heartbreaker reputation. Certainly she had wanted zilch to do with his fame, the limelight, his money. But slowly he’d chipped away at her resistance, and then he’d confessed that he needed her, that she was the one woman who could heal him, and his honeyed voice had called to something in her very soul.

After all, she’d failed to heal her family on so very many levels—with heart-rending consequences.

So when he had gone down on bended knee, when he had poured out his desire to turn his life around, her heart had melted and she’d known she would do whatever it took to help Hugh. And if that meant she’d have to embrace a lifestyle she disliked, play the part of the glamorous girlfriend and smile at the paps, then she would do that. After all, playing a part was second nature to her—and Hugh had needed her.

Yuck! Talk about deluded...

‘Except what?’ A hint of unexpected compassion softened his eyes as he picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. ‘Except be Hugh Farlane’s girlfriend? Guess it must have been hard to lose your identity...’

For a second her brain scrambled, mesmerised by the movement and the broad capability of his hand, and shocked by his understanding. For a second the impulse to confide in him returned. To tell him just how hard it had been, and how much worse it had made Hugh’s subsequent betrayal.

Swallowing it down, she met his gaze. ‘If possible I’d like to keep Hugh out of this. I get that I’m asking a lot, but I promise you can trust me. I will do a brilliant job and I will not leave you in the lurch. Give me a chance to convince you.’

This job was perfect for her—exactly up her street—and her fierce desire to achieve this role had nothing to do with the man offering it. At all. All she wanted was to put the last few weeks behind her, to consign the whole Hugh debacle to oblivion and move on.

The pencil thunked down on the table with finality and she felt panic glimmer. She’d blown it.

Silence stretched and yawned as his blue-grey eyes bored into her. Then he blinked, and a slight hint of ruefulness tipped up his lips. ‘Okay. I’ll give you the job. Trial period until the grand opening. Then we’ll take it from there.’

Triumph-tinged relief doused her and tipped her own lips up into a smile. ‘You won’t regret it. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me yet, Ruby. I’m a hard task master and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

‘You will?’ Just peachy—the idea sent a flotilla of butterflies aswirl in her tummy.

‘Yes. This project is important to me, so you and I will be spending the next few weeks in close conference.’

Close conference. The businesslike words misfired in her brain to take on a stupid intimacy.

‘Starting now. I’m headed down to the castle this afternoon. I’ll meet you there, or if you prefer I can give you a lift.’

Common sense overrode her instinct to refuse the offer of transport. The only other alternative was a train journey, where the chances of recognition would be high.

‘A lift would be great.’ The words were not exactly true—the whole idea of time in an enclosed space with Ethan sent a strange trickle of anticipation through her veins. ‘Thank you...’

* * *

Ethan gave his companion a quick sideways glance and then returned his gaze to the stretch of road ahead. Dressed now in a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a soft brown jacket cinched at the waist with a wide belt, she still looked the epitome of professional. Yet his fingers still itched to pull the pins out of her severe bun and then run through the resultant tumble of glossy black hair. Even as her cinnamon scent tantalised...

This awareness sucked.

An awareness he suspected was mutual—he’d caught the way her eyes rested on him, the quickly lowered lashes. So why had he hired her? This level of awareness was an issue—he didn’t understand it, and the niggle of suspicion that it was more than just physical was already causing his temples to pound.

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.’

‘Fine by me. What would you like to drink?’

‘Tomato juice with tabasco sauce.’

Ethan went behind the bar, ridiculously aware of her gaze on him as he squatted down to grab a bottle, deftly opened the tomato juice, shifted ice and peppered the mix with the fiery sauce.

A blink and she stepped away from the bar. ‘You’re a natural.’ Her voice edged with added husk.

‘I make sure I can stand in for any of my staff,’ he said, placing her drink on the bar, unable to risk so much as the brush of her hand. He gestured towards an area near the Victorian fireplace, with two overstuffed armchairs.

Ruby sat down and looked round the room, blue eyes widening. ‘You have done such a fabulous job here—I can’t really find words to describe it. I know I’ve never been to any of the other Caversham sites, but I did do a lot of online research and...’ Slim shoulders lifted. ‘This seems different. I can’t quite put my finger on it but this feels more...personal. Does that sound daft?’

No, it didn’t. It spoke volumes for her intuitive powers. His vision for the castle was personal. And it was going to stay that way. An explanation too likely to open him up to accolades—the idea set his teeth on the brink of discomfort. Even worse, it might pave the way to a discussion as to his motivations and a visit down memory lane. That was enough to make his soul run cold and he felt his mouth form a grim line.

Ruby twirled a strand of hair that had escaped its confines. ‘I’m not trying to pry, but if you do have a different idea for the castle restaurant then I need to know, so I can come up with the right design.’

Time to say something. ‘I feel proud of what I’ve already done here, and I’m sure we can work together to come up with a concept that works for the castle.’

Another glance around and then she smiled at him, a smile that warmed him despite his best attempts to erect a wall of coldness.

‘You’re right to be proud, Ethan—you have come so far. You said ten years ago you would make it big—but this...it’s gigantically humungous.’

There it was again—the tug back to the past. Yes, he’d vowed to succeed—how else could he show his mother, show the whole world, that he was worth something? That he was not his father.

‘I’m truly honoured to be part of it. So if there is anything I need to know, please share.’

Share. The word was alien. Ethan Caversham knew the best way to walk was alone. Ten years ago Ruby Hampton had slipped under his guard enough that he’d shared his dream of success. And instantly regretted the confidence when it had seemed to make her want more—now here she was again with a request that he share, and once again the promise of warmth in those eyes held allure, a tempt to disclosure.

Not this time—this time he’d break the spell at the outset.

‘I do have an attachment to the castle—I think it’s because it does feel steeped in history. That’s why I’ve gone into such detail. You may want to take note of the stone floors. Also the reason the room is predominantly ruby-red and dark green is that there were limited colours actually available then. And did you know that it was only in the eighteen-forties that wallpaper was first mass-produced?’

Excellent—he’d turned into a walking encyclopaedia on Victorian restoration.

Ruby nodded. ‘You’ve got it exactly right with the birds and animals motif, and the faux marble paint effects are spot-on too. As for the fireplace...it’s magnificent—especially with all the dried flowers.’

Clearly Ruby had decided to humour the boss and join in with the fact-bombardment.

‘I love the brass light fittings as well. And all the ornaments. The Victorians loved ornaments.’ She rose from the sofa and crouched down in front of one of a pair of porcelain dogs on either side of the fireplace. ‘These are a real find. A proper matching pair.’

‘They are,’ Ethan agreed. ‘How come you’re so knowledgeable?’

‘We looked into the idea of going Victorian in Forsythe’s.’

That seemed to cover Victoriana, and suddenly the atmosphere thickened.

Rising to her feet, Ruby reached out for her glass, drained it and glanced at her watch. ‘Would it be okay if I clocked off for today? I need to sort out somewhere to stay—I’ve got a list of places to ring.’

For a fraction of a second a shadow crossed her sapphire eyes. Then the hint of vulnerability was blinked away as she straightened her shoulders and smiled at him.

‘I’ll call them, find somewhere, and then grab a taxi.’

Realisation crashed down. She was scared—and who could blame her? Right now the idea of an encounter with the public was enough to daunt the staunchest of celebrities.

That instinctive need to protect her surged up and triggered his vocal cords. ‘Or you could stay here.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘HERE?’ RELIEF TOUCHED RUBY, but before she could succumb she forced her brain to think mode. ‘Why?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘It makes sense. It’s a hotel. There’s plenty of room. You’ll have to make your own bed, and there’s no housekeeping service, but you can have a suite and work more effectively here. I’ll be staying here too, so you won’t be on your own.’

Thoughts scrambled round her brain. Truth be told, she would feel safer here. Because of Ethan. The thought sneaked in and she dismissed it instantly. This was zip to do with Ethan—sheer logic dictated she should stay in the castle. Nothing to do with his aura, or the slow burn of the atmosphere.

‘Thank you, Ethan. If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. Let’s find you a bedroom.’

‘Um... Okay.’ Freaking great—here came a tidal wave blush adolescent-style at the word. How ridiculous. As preposterous as the thud of her heart as she followed him up the sweep of the magnificent staircase to the second floor, where he pushed open a door marked ‘Elizabethan Suite’ and stood back to let her enter.

‘Whoa!’ The room was stunning, a panorama of resplendence, and yet despite its space, despite the splendour of the brocade curtains and the gorgeous wall-hangings that depicted scenes of verdure, her eyes were drawn with mesmerising force to the bed. Four-poster, awash with luxurious draperies—but right now all she could concentrate on was the fact that it was a bed.

For a crazy moment her mind raced to create an age-old formula; her body brazenly—foolishly—wanted to act on an instinct older than time. And for one ephemeral heartbeat his pupils darkened to slate-grey and she believed that insanity must be contagious...believed that he would close the gap between them.