Page 2 of All We Want for Christmas
‘No. No, don’t worry …’ Lara smiled, recalling that Flynn was now her colleague and she had to be professional. She was determined to regain control of the situation. After all, she was the one who’d been castle manager for the past year. Flynn was the new boy, even though he seemed perfectly at home already. ‘I’m sure it’s just an oversight.’
‘Lara!’
One of the castle guides jogged across the gravel towards them. The tip of her nose was bright red and she was out of breath. ‘Y-your t-tour party has started to arrive. I said you’d m-meet them in the great hall in a moment.’
‘Thanks,’ Lara said, recovering herself. ‘Please tell them I’m on my way.’ She left Flynn to unload his bike, hurrying through the melting snow and into the castle, trying to tame a maelstrom of emotions.
It had been barely two weeks since Halloween, when Flynn had made a dramatic entrance in a storm, arriving late and walking into the banqueting hall in his leathers. Sparks had flown between them that had nothing to do with the power failure that had plunged them into darkness. However, despite their instant connection, Flynn had ridden off back to his home in Cornwall the following day and Lara had expected to never see him again.
Since that chilly morning, she’d convinced herself it was for the best. Even so, Flynn was the only man she’d imaginedfalling for since the break-up that had led to her own move to Ravendale.
After the heartbreak of the split, she’d vowed to never get involved in a workplace romance again. Now, Flynn’s reappearance – and as a colleague who she’d be living and working alongside at that – had threatened to derail her all over again.
CHAPTER TWO
‘And this, everyone, is the famous Lucky Chalice of Ravendale. It was given to the owners’ ancestor by King Henry after he took shelter here on Christmas Day on his way to London. The Lake District was a wild and dangerous place in the fifteenth century and the king was grateful for the Penhaligons’ hospitality. He told them that the castle would never fall and the Penhaligons would always prosper as long as the chalice remained intact.’
Having temporarily banished Flynn from her mind, Lara swept up the tour party with a winning smile. ‘As you can imagine, we look after the chalice very carefully indeed.’
Every eye was on the simple glass goblet in the display cabinet. A velvet rope kept visitors at a safe distance and – just in case anyone decided to do something weird – the glass was bulletproof and built to withstand a sledgehammer.
‘Bet it’s worth a bomb, eh, love?’ A man in a Santa hat smirked. Even though there was still over a month to Christmas, Lara didn’t blame him for getting into the festive spirit early. Besides, the castle was chilly at this time of year. However, her heart sank at his comment about the value of the chalice.
‘It’s priceless to everyone at Ravendale,’ she replied diplomatically.
‘And has it ever been damaged?’ barked a woman from the rear.
Lara smiled. ‘Not as far as I know. Not bad when you think it’s been here for almost six centuries. Shall we move on to the haunted tower and then to the banqueting hall for mulled wine and warm mince pies?’
She led her tour party down the stairs, savouring the tang of wood smoke and pine wafting up from the banqueting hall where the refreshments had been laid out on the oak table by Ravendale’s catering team.
There were gasps as the guests gazed up at the vaulted ceiling with its coats of arms and floor-to-ceiling tapestries of medieval hunting scenes. The mullioned windows were filled with vases of holly and fir collected from the estate, but it was the tree that drew the biggest ‘wows’ of admiration. A twelve-foot spruce, it stood in the corner of the hall, its twinkling baubles and bows in shades of amber, red and gold. Lara allowed herself a quiet glow of pride, having supervised its decoration herself.
Everyone gathered around the fire, enjoying the refreshments and chattering about the castle. Lara answered countless questions about the legends and ghosts associated with the place, feeling the tension ebb from her body at last, relieved that the first festive tour of the season had been such a hit. She still hadn’t worked out how she felt about Flynn returning. They desperately needed a technical manager, with Gerald now off the scene, and she had no doubtFlynn would do a great job, but working so closely with him every day? How would she cope with that when her every cell zinged whenever she looked at him?
With a professional smile still in place, Lara said her farewells to the tour party, several of whom had booked for the Winter Spectacular on the spot. The catering staff collected the empty glasses and plates, leaving the oak table bare, save for an arrangement of greenery and the pewter candelabra.
Apart from the pop and crackle of the fire, it was blissfully silent. As she’d done many times, she almost had to pinch herself to believe that living and working in such a magnificent place was her job.
‘Lara!’
Fiona Penhaligon strode across the floor towards her, a large vase of holly and ivy in her arms. A willowy platinum blonde in her late sixties, her formal title was Lady Penhaligon but she refused to let any of the staff address her by it. Her husband, Henry, was just as down to earth, considering he owned a massive castle.
Now was the moment to ask Fiona why Flynn had been appointed without her knowledge – as tactfully as she could.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ her boss asked, placing the vase on the table with a concerned frown. ‘I do hope your first tour wasn’t too stressful. I passed some of the hordes on my way out. I must say they seemed very excited.’
‘It went well,’ Lara said, wondering how to introduce the subject of her new colleague. ‘Um, I think everyone really enjoyed themselves.’
‘Phew. That’s a relief, although I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve worked terribly hard to organise all these events.’
‘Thanks. It’s always good to find that a plan works in practice. Christmas treats by the fire were very popular. Would you please thank Henry for lighting it?’
Fiona rolled her eyes good-humouredly. ‘Oh, he loves lighting fires. Sometimes I worry he’s a closet pyromaniac … Now, is there anything else I can help you with?’
Lara smiled again and took her opportunity. ‘Well, I hear that you’ve found a replacement for Gerald.’
‘You have?’ Fiona screwed up her nose in discomfort.
