Page 71 of The Christmas Retreat
Rhys reported that Cariad had fallen asleep only halfway through the poem, in spite of being determined to stay awake until her Christmas stocking was delivered, so she could prove that Santa was really her dad or Timon, pretending.
‘Good,’ Nerys said. ‘You can pop her stocking in on your way to bed, Rhys, and I’ll put the presents out around the tree in the hall in a minute too, now I know she isn’t going to reappear!’
‘Do you need any help with that?’ I offered.
‘No, it’s fine. They’re all in a cupboard in the family sitting room – it won’t take a minute. By the way,’ she added, ‘I hope you’ve all now studied the leaflet in your rooms and knowthere will be brunch tomorrow between nine and ten, instead of breakfast, and then Christmas dinner at around two.’
‘The present opening is right after brunch,’ Timon said. ‘They’re handed out in the hall and then we bring them in here to unwrap.’
I thought we’d be more likely to be helping Cariad carry hers in there. I, for one, certainly wasn’t expecting any presents.
‘It sounds lovely, but I’m so tired I think I’d better go up now, if you’re sure there’s nothing I can do, Nerys.’
It wasn’t just that I was tired, but also I wanted to write up the day’s events in my current sketchbook: the first and probably only Triskelion one!
Evie and Noel were sitting on a small sofa, their heads together in some deep discussion, but she looked up and gave me one of her more roguish grins as I passed.
In the hall I met Rhys, who had taken some empty plates to the kitchen.
‘I’ve just been up and hung Cariad’s stocking on the end of her bed,’ he said. ‘She always looks so unusually angelic when she’s asleep.’
He looked down at me, a glow in those strange amber eyes. ‘I, on the other hand, feel neither sleepynorangelic!’
There was a faint whispering noise from the ceiling and, looking up, I discovered that we were standing right under the largest of Tudor’s bunches of mistletoe, which was slowly revolving in some draught of air.
‘Happy Christmas, Ginny!’ Rhys said softly, and then, before I could move away, pulled me close and dropped a light kiss on my lips, before letting me go.
Then he went past me into the sitting room and I gathered my scattered wits together and went upstairs.
In my room the little glass parcels on my tree jingled as I walked across the floor, reminding me of the small gifts I’d wrapped up to give everyone tomorrow, and wondering if the mistletoe on Rhys’s stained-glass tree hanging was going to give himentirelythe wrong message.
22
Dragon Hoards
I had confused dreams that night, of being lost in a dark wood. I could hear Rhys’s voice calling my name, but whether he was rescuer or something more sinister, I had no idea. I was following a hare that hopped ahead, glowing an amber gold, just as Rhys’s eyes had done last night when he’d kissed me …
I woke later than usual, with the dream fading away like dissolving mist. It must have been sparked off by Rhys’s kiss under the mistletoe, which of course meant nothing. I mean, whohasn’tever been kissed under the mistletoe?
I banished it from my mind and instead dwelled in pleasant anticipation on the day ahead: a proper family Christmas of the kind I’d never experienced before.
Christmas in the cottage had always been cosy and enjoyable, even when it was just me and Mrs Snowboots, but this would be different.
I dressed in one of my new drapey jersey tunics, this one a dark emerald green, a much nicer colour than the snotty pale greens the twins favoured, black velvet leggings, a pair of greenmalachite earrings and a smidgeon of make-up. After all, as Cariad had said, it was sort of a party day!
I assumed Cariad would have woken up hours ago, too excited about her stocking to sleep late, but there was no sound when I opened the door, other than that of the other guests stirring in their rooms, the running of water down pipes and wardrobe doors closing. It was almost brunch time.
I carried all my little Christmas parcels downstairs with me and arranged them under the tree, whose lights had already been switched on. There were a lot more parcels there now than when I had gone to bed last night.
As I straightened up, I could hear Cariad’s voice from the direction of the kitchen, which grew louder when I opened the door to the refectory. There I found Tudor laying the breakfast table.
We wished each other Happy Christmas and then I said, ‘I hope I’m not down too early. I don’t want to be in the way.’
Before he could reply, the door to the kitchen swung open and Cariad whirled out like a small hurricane, followed by the equally overexcited Snookums.
‘Youareup!’ she said. ‘Daddy wouldn’t let me come and wake you to show you my stocking, but I thought everyone must be up by now because it’s so late and they won’t get anything to eat if they don’t hurry up!’
Then, seizing my hand, she dragged me into the kitchen, which smelled of grilling bacon and fresh bread.
