Читать книгу Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada - Katie Oliver - Страница 31

Chapter 24

Helen stared after Colm in consternation, then struck out after him. It wasn’t easy going, with two foot of snow on the ground and more coming down. But it was bloody cold, and she’d no intention of standing here and freezing to death on the grounds of Draemar castle.

‘Colm!’ she called out a moment later, out of breath as she struggled through the snow. ‘Wait, damn you.’

He stopped and turned around, scowling. ‘Why in hell did you ever leave the castle? You should’ve stayed there. You’ll never get back up the hill now. You’ll lose your way in this whiteout, and they won’t find your body until spring.’

‘Then I suppose you’ll have to force yourself to be hospitable,’ she snapped, ‘if you can manage it, and invite me inside until the snow lets up, won’t you?’

He didn’t answer, but turned away, still scowling, and made his way to the front door of the cottage. He disappeared inside, leaving the door open, and didn’t look back to see if she followed.

Helen, half-frozen and teeth chattering, was nearly to the door when he reappeared.

‘Taking your time, aren’t you?’ he accused. ‘I just threw some logs on the fire, so if you’ll kindly stop dallying and get inside, I can close the bloody door.’

She bit back a sharp retort – she really couldn’t speak, at any rate, her teeth were chattering too badly – and brushed past him into the cottage. True to his word, a fire burned in the fireplace and threw out a heavenly wall of heat. Helen pulled off her gloves. As she reached up and struggled to unbutton her jacket, her frozen fingers made her efforts clumsy.

‘Here, let me,’ he grumbled, and pushed her hands out of the way. ‘You’re useless.’ Swiftly, he unbuttoned her jacket and turned her around to tug it off, then removed her cap and tossed in atop her coat on a chair by the fire.

‘Th-thanks,’ she managed to say, clutching her elbows and hugging herself in an attempt to get warm. ‘I’m sure you’re quite g-good at removing women’s clothes.’

‘Expert,’ he agreed dourly. ‘I’ve so very much opportunity, living out here in the middle of nowhere.’ He eyed her. ‘Your clothes are damp, it’s no wonder you’re shivering. Take ’em off.’

‘No! I’m most certainly not taking my clothes off!’ Helen sputtered.

‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugged and turned away. ‘Then I’ll just go and run a hot bath for myself, instead.’

He was halfway to the stairs when she gritted her (chattering) teeth and grimly began undoing the top buttons of her blouse. ‘Hold up. I’ll have that bath, if you don’t mind. If you’re going so far as to allow me to use your precious hot water, you can be sure I’m taking advantage of it.’

Colm raised a brow. ‘At last, you’re showing a wee bit of common sense.’ He started up the stairs and called back over his shoulder, ‘There’s a terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. I’ll put your things in the dryer while you’re taking your bath.’

‘Thanks.’ Helen hovered uncertainly at the foot of the stairs, listening to the sound of the water running from the taps into the tub. ‘This is the second time you’ve saved me from freezing to death, you know,’ she called up.

‘Aye,’ he said as he reappeared at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re a daft Sassenach, and no mistake.’

Helen bristled. ‘Let’s get you in London, and see how you manage there.’

‘You’ll not find me in London,’ he shot back, ‘because I like it here at Draemar, and I’ve no intention of leaving. Now,’ he commanded as he came down the steps and brushed past her, ‘go up afore the water overflows the tub and ruins the flooring. Throw your clothes outside the door when you’re ready.’

The thought of being naked, with Colm standing just on the other side of the bathroom door, fully clothed, made her blush. ‘All right,’ she mumbled, and made her way up the stairs. ‘But no peeking,’ she warned.

‘I’ll try and contain myself,’ he retorted, and followed her.

She turned away and bit back a smile. It was rather a funny situation, in an awkward sort of way.

She closed the door on him and began, with trembling fingers, to remove her clothes. Blouse, jeans, boots, bra, knickers – she took them off and threw the lot into a pile on the floor.

Just as Colm had said, there was a white terrycloth robe hanging from a peg on the back of the door. She grabbed it and thrust her arms inside the sleeves, not caring that it was miles too big, and knotted the belt securely around her waist. Then she grabbed the damp pile of clothing and cracked the door open.

‘Here,’ she said without preamble, and thrust her things through and into his outstretched hands. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll go and put this stuff in the dryer.’

Her eyes met his, just for an instant, and she bit her lip. ‘Thanks, Colm, for...everything.’

‘You’re welcome.’ With a glimmer in his eye he added, ‘Just be sure you don’t use up all the hot water.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she shot back, and slammed the door.

But as she made her way over to the claw-footed tub and gingerly eased herself in, Helen couldn’t quite keep a smile from her lips.

At the sound of a quiet knock on the morning room door later that afternoon, Wren glanced up from her desk. She’d been writing out cheques and welcomed the interruption. ‘Come in.’

Natalie opened the door a crack and peered inside. ‘Hello, Wren. I hoped I might find you here.’ She lifted up a mug of hot tea. ‘I brought you a cup of tea, and ‒’ she patted her pocket with her free hand ‘‒a packet of Hobnobs.’

Wren stood up and held the door wider. ‘Oh, Natalie – how very thoughtful. Thank you! Come in and have a sit.’

After settling themselves on the loveseat angled in front of the fire, Natalie set the mug of tea aside and leant forward to take Wren’s hands in hers. ‘I wanted to apologize. I’m so sorry for blurting out my news about the baby like that, with never a thought for how it might affect you and Tark—’

‘Oh, nonsense.’ Wren squeezed her hands. ‘It’s I who should apologize, acting like such an overwrought ninny. I’m happy for you, Natalie, truly. For both you and Rhys. I want you to know that.’

‘I know you are. Still – I feel badly. I know how much you and Tark want a baby.’

‘Yes, well, if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. If not—’ she shrugged and reached for the mug of tea. ‘Then I expect we’ll adopt.’

‘Have you tried IVF?’ Nat ventured.

She nodded. ‘Yes. It didn’t take. The doctors say there’s no reason we can’t have a child. We’re both healthy. And yet...here we are, still trying. Still childless. It’s just so bloody discouraging, sometimes.’

‘Well, if it’s any consolation at all,’ Natalie said hesitantly, ‘Rhys and I would love it if you and Tark would agree to be our baby’s godparents. It’d mean the world to us if you would. Truly.’

Wren’s eyes welled. ‘Oh, Nat – we’d be honoured! Of course we will. Consider it done.’

‘Good! Then it’s settled. Now,’ Natalie added as she reached for the packet of Hobnobs and held them out to Wren, ‘let’s gorge ourselves on biccies and have a nice long gossip.’