A Christmas Kiss Read online

Page 6


  Camm dumped the case on the doorstep while Livvie reached inside her bag and retrieved the piece of paper with the code for the keysafe, thankful of the glow from the outside light by the door.

  ‘Right, I’ll go and get the rest,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Course not. But I’ll get this in first, before it gets soaked.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Livvie released the key from the small metal safe and wriggled it into the lock, the cold biting into her exposed fingers, making her wish she’d found her gloves. She pushed open the door to reveal a cosy hallway, softly illuminated by a table lamp on an old oak coffer. Camm lifted the case inside, being careful not to step any further than the doormat, then headed back to the car.

  ‘Wow!’ Livvie took in the old flagstone floor, covered with a large Persian rug, the low-beamed ceiling and the delicious aroma of Christmas, no doubt thanks to the festive pot pourri that sat in a large blue and white bowl the centre of the coffer. There was another door of similar proportions directly opposite the front door, and a further two leading off from the hallway – one each on either side of the front door. The one to the left was set in an uneven stone wall, while the one on the right was set in an ancient, oak partition that had darkened to a rich, deep brown with age. Swags of fake pine branches, decorated with deep red baubles and more fairy lights were draped along the length of it. Her heart pumped with excitement; she’d never been in a house like this before, the sort you usually only see in magazines. ‘Oh, this is beautiful.’

  Already, this trip felt right.

  ‘That’s the lot,’ said Camm, armed with the shopping bags from the boot of her car; the ones she was carrying when she left Blushing Brides earlier that afternoon, full of delicious ingredients for her romantic meal with Donny. The contents had cost her a fortune and there was no way she was going to let them go to waste. ‘And looking at the weather, it’s just as well you came prepared.’ He gave a hearty laugh.

  ‘Yes, it is … and thank you so much for this, and for helping me get here.’ She was beginning to feel very guilty; the poor man was absolutely covered in snow.

  ‘Hey, it’s no problem; I could hardly leave you abandoned by the roadside.’ He paused for a moment, making her feel a little awkward. ‘Listen, here’s my number, if you need anything. It’s our landline – you’ll find that mobile phone signal can be a little, er, unreliable round here.’ He reached inside his jacket, pulled out a small business card and handed it to her. ‘If I’m not in, Molly – my partner – might answer or her son Ben or his girlfriend Kristy.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s really kind.’ She glanced quickly at the card, noting the word “campsite”. ‘Though, I think I’ve put you to too much trouble already.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, it’s what we do out here, help each other out.’ He grinned, rubbing his hands together. ‘Right, time I was getting back to road clearing. Looks like you’ll be toasty enough in there.’ He nodded up to the chimney where the wind was pulling smoke one way, then the other.

  She stepped out and looked up. ‘Ooh, a real fire.’ The thought sent a wave of happiness through her as her mind conjured up an image of flames dancing in a large grate.

  ‘Aye, that’ll be down to Mrs Hoggarth who looks after the place and gets it ready for guests.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad she could get here! And thanks again for all your help, there’s no way I’d have been able to find this place without it; or even get here for that matter.’

  ‘No worries; you get in where it’s warm. Enjoy your stay; and you know where we are if you need us.’

  Livvie headed back in and closed the door, shutting out the cold, suddenly aware that her feet felt like blocks of ice and were soaking wet. Her boots might look stylish, but they were hardly practical for wading through inches of moorland snow. She heeled them off, then tugged at her soggy socks, leaving both by the front door. ‘Ooh.’ Delicious warmth from underfloor heating seeped through the soles of her feet, making her skin tingle.

  Carefully, she pushed open the stripped pine door to the left, revealing a scene of utter cosiness. Soft lighting courtesy of table lamps dotted around bathed the room in a warm glow, along with fairy lights from the Christmas tree she’d spotted from outside. Livvie took a deep breath; she loved the smell of a real Christmas tree, something she hadn’t had since she’d moved in with Donny. He didn’t like them, claiming they were a waste of money, insisting they had an artificial one instead.

  ‘They’re nothing but a bloody nuisance, and an expensive bloody nuisance at that,’ he’d said. ‘And it’ll be muggins here who’d have to carry the sodding thing up the stairs to our flat, then have the problem of dragging it back down, with needles dropping off everywhere. No, you can make do with an artificial one; they look just as good but without the hassle.’

  ‘Sod you, Donny!’ Livvie said aloud.

  She pushed him out of her mind as her eyes roamed around the rest of the room. Just like the hallway, the ceiling was low and heavily beamed, with the lower part of a thick cruck-frame pushing up through wide elm floorboards, though instead of flagstones, in here the floor was covered by a rustic sisal carpet. To the immediate right ran an ancient wall of dark oak panelling which extended to roughly six feet. Livvie walked beyond it to see a wooden settle built into the other side, it sat directly beside a huge, low inglenook which housed a sturdy log-burner. Thanks to Mrs Hoggarth, flames danced merrily behind the glass while logs were stacked neatly beside it. ‘Ah, so that’s where the smoke was coming from.’

  A large, squishy sofa, piled with plump cushions and a tartan rug over each arm faced the fire. It was flanked by two equally comfortable- looking armchairs. Livvie felt a smile tugging at her lips as she pictured herself stretched out on it in her PJs, a hot chocolate topped with marshmallows perched on the coffee table in front of it, while she lost herself between the pages a good book. Oh, bliss! On the subject of books, her eyes were drawn to a large book-case at the far end of the room, stuffed with a variety of colourful spines. She made her way over to it and was thrilled to see several titles by her favourite authors and some by ones she’d never read before, but had always intended to. Now would be the perfect time to put that right, she thought, pulling one out. ‘This is just getting better and better.’

  The windows were adorable; set low with deep sills. She’d never been in a house with real stone mullions, though she noticed one had been replaced with a Yorkshire sliding sash, its small Georgian panes glinting in the light. It added a quaint and quirky air to the room.

  At the far end, a grandfather clock was keeping time by an L-shaped staircase, it’s ticking low and rhythmic. At the right of the stairs, was another door that had a small sign with the word “snug” written on it. ‘Wow, a snug,’ she said to herself. She flicked on the light switch and peered around the door to find a sweet room fitted with twin beds covered in matching patchwork throws. It too, had an inglenook fireplace – though on a much smaller scale to the one in the living room – but it was currently unlit and the warmth in here appeared to be courtesy of the underfloor heating. This room, too, had a stone mullioned window. Livvie went across to it and drew the curtains. ‘“Snug’s” the perfect name for this room.’

  The kitchen could have been straight from Country Living magazine, thought Livvie, thrilled to find the ubiquitous cream Aga – in her dreams, she had a cottage in the country with a large Aga, where she’d cook mouth-watering casseroles and bake huge fluffy scones. Though the room was sympathetically decorated to suit the age of the house, with its tasteful handmade kitchen and the odd piece of polished copper dotted about, there was no short supply of mod cons, including a fancy coffee machine – which, she noted, also had a setting for hot chocolate. Livvie clapped her hands gleefully; she’d be trying one of those just as soon as she’d looked around everywhere.

  She headed back into the living room and made her way upstairs. On the landing, a small table set with
a lamp and a scattering of magazines was tucked under the eaves, a neat leather chair beside it with a checked woollen blanket thrown over its back. She soon discovered that there were two good sized bedrooms, with cathedral-style ceilings and the upper half of the sturdy cruck frames that reached upwards, meeting in the middle of the ceiling, held together by huge oak pegs. The windows were sweet dormers that would no doubt have amazing views over the countryside during daylight hours.

  The bathroom took her breath away. Like the kitchen, the décor was sympathetic, but was furnished with everything you would find in a contemporary space. And though the room was an awkward shape, thanks to the sloping roof, it had been planned with great attention to detail; it appeared that not a millimetre had been wasted. On one wall was a large roll-top bath with chunky claw feet, above which was the biggest chrome rainfall shower head Livvie had ever seen. While a gleaming white sink was sat on top of a purpose-built vanity unit, next to which was a Lloyd Loom chair in a delicious shade of duck-egg blue that matched the walls. Shelves in what looked like driftwood housed toiletries and trinkets, and paintings with a seaside theme added a tasteful finish to the walls. Livvie released a happy sigh, the sadness of the day’s earlier events temporarily pushed from her mind. She couldn’t wait to have a soak in the bath. ‘Hot chocolate first,’ she said, drawing the blue and white ticking curtains before making her way downstairs.

  Getting her suitcase up the stairs had been interesting, but she’d managed, and heaved it onto the case-stand in the bedroom she’d chosen; the slightly bigger one that boasted two dormer windows. ‘Right, I just need my jimjams and a pair of fluffy socks; I’ll unpack properly later.’ She rummaged around amongst the messy bundle of clothes and pulled out what she needed.

  Armed with a creamy hot chocolate, Livvie headed to the bathroom, where steam and the delicious aroma of lavender spilled out thanks to the complimentary bubble bath she’d found on one of the shelves. She peeled off her clothes to a stream of Christmas songs that blared out from the Bose system she’d spotted downstairs and put into use; she figured as she was in the middle of nowhere, she was free to play it as loud as she wanted.

  With her mug of hot chocolate perched on the vanity unit, Livvie fixed her curls more securely on top of her head, then stepped into the bubbles. Her body groaned with delight as she slipped into the soothing warmth of the water. ‘Ahh, bliss!’ she said as it lapped over her. She lay her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the joyful spirit of the songs to wash over her, refusing entry to thoughts of Donny.

  8

  Zander

  The weather had taken a turn for the worse as Zander headed towards the North Yorkshire moors. What had started out as sleet was now falling as thick, feathery snowflakes, quickly settling like a dense blanket on his windscreen. As soon as the wipers swept it away, another one took its place. ‘Bugger,’ he said as he increased their speed. ‘Let’s hope we actually get there, Alf, buddy.’

  On hearing his name, Alf sat up and pushed his nose through the dog guard, his wagging tail thudding against the boot. Zander smiled, wondering if there was ever a time when Alf wasn’t happy. The thought was quickly intruded upon by a reminder that, yes, there was a time when he was sad; sadder than he’d ever seen a dog. Zander pushed the horrible memory away; he still couldn’t bear to think of it.

  As the Jeep ate up the snowy miles, he was relieved when road signs for Lytell Stangdale and the surrounding villages started to appear. ‘Nearly there, young man.’ He pressed on with renewed vigour.

  He took the junction for Lytell Stangdale and carefully made his way along the isolated road, full of twists and turns. ‘It’s a different world out here, Alf,’ he said, taking in the rapidly growing snowdrifts that were lining up in the more exposed parts of the moors. By now the snow was really hurling itself at him. ‘Thank goodness the roads have been ploughed; and fairly recently too, by the look of things.’ He didn’t have far to go, but Dale View Cottage was set in an isolated spot on its own out on the moors and Zander was concerned the little lane that led to it would be impassable.

  He didn’t encounter another car as he drove through Danskelfe but as he left Lytell Stangdale, he noticed the lights of a tractor climbing steadily up the steep incline of Withrin Hill. ‘It’s clearly a local farmer who’s clearing the roads, Alfie. Keep your paws crossed he’s done the little side-roads, too, fella.’

  Alf gave his usual reply of a whimper and a wag of his tail.

  ‘Bloody hell, am I pleased to see that.’ Zander had finally reached the turn off for the lane to Dale View Cottage but the icy climb hadn’t been without its scary moments; at one point, he’d found himself sliding backwards towards a sheer drop. Luckily the Jeep had come into its own, finding traction on a stretch of grit and heaving itself forwards, continuing up the hill with dogged determination. ‘I think we owe that farmer a pint; it looks like he’s ploughed along here, too.’

  He wondered at the reason for the lights being on and the Christmas tree being lit up in the garden – a sight which, he had to admit, warmed his heart. He glanced upwards to see smoke billowing out of the chimney and blowing down the dale. ‘Looks like the message about the cancellation didn’t get to Mrs Hoggarth, Alfie.’ It’s probably not a bad thing; at least the fridge should be stocked with basics and the stove’s already lit, he thought.

  He decided to park directly in front of the cottage; it would be easier to unload the Jeep, rather than having to lug everything from around the corner where the drifting would no doubt be horrendous. Zander braced himself as he opened the car door. Immediately, the cruel wind threw icy snow flakes at him. ‘Jesus!’ he said, buttoning up his coat and flicking up the collar. Hurriedly, he pulled his suitcase out from the back seat before he went to open the back door for Alf. In a flash, the Labrador leapt out and proceeded to snap at the snowflakes that swirled around them. He spun around in great excitement, bounding all over the virgin snow, before running his nose along it, finishing with a noisy sneeze. Despite the cold, Zander couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Come on, you nutter, let’s get where it’s warm.’

  With his head bowed against the wind, he made his way up the path, which he was relieved to see had been gritted. Mrs. Hoggarth was nothing if not efficient when it came to looking after this place. Alf followed close beside him, unable to resist taking one last snap at the snow.

  Zander hadn’t had time to lift his case in before Alf leapt over the threshold and into the hall, his nose sniffing everywhere. Zander closed the door, relieved at shutting out the cold night. Did Mrs. Hoggarth even have Christmas carols playing for the guests’ arrival he wondered, as Michael Bublé’s dulcet tones filled the cottage? He looked around in puzzlement, glancing at Alf who appeared intrigued by all the unfamiliar scents. ‘What’s up, Alfie?’

  The sense that the house wasn’t empty began to creep over him. Not only was festive music blaring through the cottage but a pair of boots and a soggy-looking pair of socks had been discarded on the floor. Surely Mrs Hoggarth wasn’t still here? After giving the discarded footwear a thorough sniffing, Alf trotted into the living room. Zander followed, spotting a romance book that had been left on the coffee table in front of the wood-burner – which, judging by the flames, had been recently refuelled.

  The sound of tuneless singing wafted down on the soothing scent of lavender. What the hell’s going on? Alf finished his sniffing and shot up the stairs with Zander in hot pursuit. Before he reached the landing, Zander heard a commotion of splashing and a woman screaming at the top of her lungs.

  ‘What the…’ He hurried along to the bathroom to find Alf in the bath, his tail wagging so hard it was sending soap suds flying everywhere. But more importantly, standing up in the bath beside his dog was what he could only describe as a goddess. A completely naked goddess, and she was absolutely stunningly beautiful.

  He stopped for a moment, feeling the punch of arousal in his groin, his mouth hanging open. Alf barked and jumped out, bringing Zand
er back to the present and sending a warm, soapy tidal wave sloshing everywhere. ‘Alf, no!’ Zander knew what was coming next, but before he had the chance to stop him, Alf started to shake his head from side to side, sending water flying around the bathroom. The goddess screamed again while Zander scrunched his eyes tightly shut; he’d just have to wait until the daft dog had finished.

  ‘Alf! Sit!’ Zander, his voice raised to be heard above the music, reined in his sudden bolt of attraction. Alf did as he was bid, his stubby tail still wagging and looking up at his dad as if to say, ‘Look, Dad, I found us a new friend.’

  ‘What the … oh, my God … who are you?’ The goddess hastily tried to cover herself with her hands but Zander couldn’t help but notice the voluptuous curves of her body, the full breast squashed by her arm, its pink nipple peeking over.

  He swallowed, marshalling his thoughts, then cleared his throat. ‘Er, I’m Zander … Zander Gillespie; I own Dale View Cottage. Who are you?’ He could feel a smile tugging at his lips.

  The goddess shot him an indignant look, then realising she was making a useless job of covering herself, sat back down in the bath. ‘I’m Livvie, Livvie Weatherill. Did you say you were the owner?’

  Zander nodded. ‘Yep, the owner.’

  He watched her mull this over. ‘That’s all very well, but why are you here?’

  He couldn’t help but stare at the fullness of the goddess’s lower lip. ‘I, er, I’ve come to stay here over Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, so have I.’

  ‘What? I think you must’ve got the dates wrong. I checked the website right before I set off and there’d been a last-minute cancellation, which meant the cottage would be empty, so I blocked it out and decided to pop here myself.’

  ‘And I checked the website before I set off and saw that there’d been a cancellation and booked it myself. I’ve paid for it and everything – even though I got a discount.’