‘Of course I do,’ she answered, her staunch words helping disguise the distracting flutter of her emotions. ‘We’ve already had the discussion. You don’t want to be involved with family life and I’m cool with that, for all the reasons I gave before. Nothing has changed. I enjoyed last night and I hope you did too—’
‘You know damned well I did,’ he growled.
‘Well, then.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s not to like? Has the snow melted? Because if so, I can be on my way and out of your hair.’
Jumping out of bed, she grabbed the nearest velvet throw—which just happened to be scarlet—and wrapped it around herself, before padding over to the window, aware of Maximo’s gaze burning into her, watching every move she made.
Part of her wondered if it had all been a dream and the snow nothing but a figment of her imagination. Hadn’t she feared that this morning she would look out onto the dull greys and browns of a midwinter garden? But the scene which greeted her was as frozen and as beautiful as it had been the day before. A completely impenetrable world of white. Deep down Hollie knew it would probably be best for everyone if she could make her escape, but she couldn’t help the sudden leap of her heart when she realised that wasn’t going to be possible. Who could blame her for wanting to eke out this sensual liaison for as long as possible? ‘Oh, dear.’
‘Oh, dear what?’
‘Bad news, I’m afraid. There’s no sign of any thaw and it looks like there might even have been a fresh fall during the night. The road out of here is blocked, all right.’ She turned back to face him, wondering what had caused his face to darken like that. ‘Looks like my departure is going to have to be delayed.’
‘You sound almost disappointed, Hollie. Are you so eager to get away?’
Hollie gave him the benefit of her brightest smile. Perhaps she was better at acting than she’d thought. Maybe her relationship with Maximo—if you could call it a relationship—was a bit like Christmas. There was all this amazing stuff on the surface, which made you feel fantastic at the time, but after a day or two it was all over, as if it had never happened.
And thinking of Christmas... Hollie sucked in a breath. Just because Maximo had set himself up as some kind of modern-day Scrooge, didn’t mean she had to copy him, did it? They might not have a tree, or fancy baubles, but wasn’t adaptable her middle name? She knew what the score was, which meant that she didn’t have to try to impress him. She could just be herself, which she knew from some of her girlfriends wasn’t always the case when you were with a man. Wasn’t that a liberation of sorts?
So she shot him another smile. ‘The only disappointment would be if we weren’t going to celebrate Christmas, but that’s not going to happen.’
‘It isn’t?’ he questioned, with a frown.
‘Certainly not.’
‘But there’s nothing here. The castle doesn’t run to fairy lights,’ he said sarcastically. ‘And I told you. I don’t like Christmas.’
‘Maybe you don’t, but I do. There’s no need for us to forgo the festivities, just because we’re lacking a few resources—and I don’t intend to. Just leave it to me.’
The darkness in his eyes had been replaced by a sudden smokiness which Hollie recognised and it was with a feeling of falling—or failing—that she felt her body’s instant response.
‘I don’t care about the damned festivities,’ he ground out. ‘All I care about is having you back in my bed again. Now come over here, Hollie Walker, before I lose patience.’
Hollie had never been quite so aware of her own power and for a few brief moments she revelled in it. ‘Why don’t you come and get me?’ she said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘OKAY. YOU CAN open them now.’
The soft hands which had been covering his eyes were removed and Maximo grew still as he stared at the scene in front of him, unable to believe what he was seeing. He shook his head a little, but nothing altered. What the hell had happened? The previously bare room now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a glittering and shimmering spectacle. Because Hollie had decorated the long table in the castle library for a late Christmas lunch. No. She’d done much more than that. She had actually decorated the whole damned room so that it resembled something you might see on the movie channel throughout the month of December.
Gleaming silver discs and squares hung from the ceiling, suspended by almost invisible pieces of thread. More dangled from a large branch of conifer, which somehow managed to resemble a miniature Christmas tree. And there were sprigs of holly just about everywhere—lying on empty bookshelves and decorously placed on the mantelpiece—plus an enormous bunch which had been stuck into a pottery jug as a centrepiece for the table.
As for the table...
Maximo been entertained many times during his life with no expense spared, because when a woman made you dinner, she seemed to think she was auditioning for a permanent role in your life.
But this was different.
He narrowed his eyes. Echoing the bright holly berries, the table was spread with what looked like the scarlet velvet throw which had adorned her naked body that very morning. Matching red ribbons were tied in festive bows around two snowy linen napkins and everywhere there were candles. Tall candles and squat candles. Some which were near the end of their natural life and others which were clearly brand-new. Their flames flickered upwards and wove intricate shadows against the walls, while more flames came from the fire which was burning brightly in the grate. His gaze moved to the window where outside dusk was falling on the pristine snowy scene, and the contrast with the illuminated interior of the ancient room made the place look almost...magical.
‘What have you done?’ he husked.
She shrugged. ‘I played around with what we had. The candles I found in the scullery. The shiny things hanging from the ceiling are cardboard, covered with silver foil which I discovered in a drawer in the kitchen—and the cotton comes from a sewing kit in my handbag. The napkins were in those hampers you ordered, as were the ribbons—and I found the rest of the stuff in the garden.’ She chewed on her lip, anxiety suddenly creasing her brow. ‘You do like it?’
‘It’s...it’s a surprise,’ he admitted at last. ‘It’s...well, it’s remarkable.’
She looked at him a little uncertainly, as if unsure whether or not that was a compliment. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she suggested. ‘And I’ll bring the food in.’
‘I’ll help.’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘You won’t. Humour me, Maximo. You waited on me at dinner last night and now it’s my turn. I’m perfectly capable of carrying a dish or two. You can open the wine if you like and pour yourself a glass. I’m just having water—obviously. So let me go and fetch the food.’