Page 51 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
She jolted and turned towards the house, which had come into view while she’d been daydreaming. The object of her fantasies was standing on the front step, waving at her.
‘Are you heading back to the lake fort?’ he asked with a laugh.
‘Dexter!’ She sounded surprised to see him, which was ridiculous since they’d arranged to meet here. ‘You look …’ She was still half in the daydream, imagining their shy exchange of compliments as they met on the red carpet.
His smile was bright but a little bemused. ‘Cold? Harry and Sophie have turned the heating right down, whichmakes sense because they’re away and technically I’m only supposed to be here to check on the place, but—’
‘What about Darkness and Terror? Poor little Clifton?’ She banished the last fragments of her ridiculous fake future. In the real world, Dexter was wearing a navy hoody with the bakery logo over his left pectoral – not that she was gazing at it. ‘Won’ttheyget cold?’
‘Felix and the dogs are staying with Ermin and Fiona while they’re away,’ Dexter said. ‘It’s for some returned favour, though I’m not sure what Harry and Sophie could offer to make looking after Felix worthwhile – perhaps their first-born child? Not that I think they’re having any … Maybe a fifty per cent stake in the manor?’
‘Perhaps that’s how they’ve ended up hosting the Christmas shebang?’
‘I think they offered to do that.’ Dexter held his hand out. ‘Anyway, I thought that, given our partnership is fairly last-minute and I’m not going to be good at this, we could use our advantage and rehearse in the actual venue. The setting might help us with the scene.’
‘Itwillhelp us.’ Imogen took his hand. It was warm and large, his touch all-consuming. ‘Except that I feel like a naughty schoolgirl, like we’re doing something we shouldn’t be.’
Dexter glanced at her. ‘How do you feel about that?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not very good at disobeying rules … They’ve got a beautiful wreath,’ she added, because she could feel heat rising up her neck at her admission, coupled with the way Dexter was looking at her.
‘Sophie and Harry go all out with the decorations. A lot of things have changed over the last year.’ He shook hishead, as if he was still puzzled by it, and pushed open the door. There was a gargantuan tree next to the staircase that hadn’t been there at the wedding, covered in bright baubles ranging from sunshine yellow to deep purple. An ice-white garland was draped over it from top to bottom, thinner than tinsel, and on top was a huge, iridescent star that twinkled in the light thrown out by the golden bulbs twined through the banisters. Nestled in the branches hung lots and lots of mistletoe, the white berries glowing amongst the deep green. The space smelt overwhelmingly of pine, presents sat snugly at the base of the trunk, and Imogen felt like she’d stepped into a scene fromA Christmas Carol. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone in old-fashioned clothes appeared, carrying a giant turkey on a golden platter.
‘Wow.’ She breathed out, then breathed in more pine.
‘Sophie wanted it up for the wedding, but Harry was worried it wouldn’t survive the entire village tromping through after several glasses of champagne.’ Dexter was just behind her: she could feel his warmth at her back.
‘Felix hasn’t destroyed it yet,’ Imogen murmured.
Dexter laughed. ‘It’s only been up a few days, and he went to Fiona’s yesterday. When they’re all back and living here, letting their goat have free rein, all bets are off. Come on, let’s go into the lounge.’
‘Oh,’ she said, when they reached the room where the wedding had taken place. It had been turned back into a living space, with huge sofas arranged around the fireplace and a desk in the far corner of the room, looking out on the trees that crowded the back of the manor.
‘Pretty different, huh?’ Dexter said.
‘This is a wonderful room.’
A gold and red garland was draped along the mantelpiece, a twinkling carpet for four carved wooden robins that stood between framed photos: one of Sophie and Harry together; one of Felix and the dogs, Harry crouched and beaming behind them; another that looked much older, the colours faded, of a couple standing outside the manor. There was a much smaller tree in the corner, this one with decorations in cherry red and gleaming gold to match the garland.
‘This is where we’re practising?’ Imogen asked.
Dexter had crouched in front of the fireplace and was using a firelighter to light crumpled-up newspaper and logs. ‘I can tell them I wanted to warm the place up while they were away, to stop it getting frost on the insides of the windows.’
‘Is that a thing that happens?’ She sank onto a sofa, then jumped when she realized the cushion beside her was actually Artichoke, curled up in a biscuit-coloured ball. The puppy raised her button nose, gave Imogen an appreciative yip, then went back to dozing.
‘It is here, because it’s so big and Harry hasn’t finished replacing all the windows. There are quite a few other places in the village without central heating, and if you’re going to keep doing Story Time with Jazz, then take a whole lot of layers, because those heaters either run too hot or break down, and then you’re sitting in an icebox. There!’ He turned to Imogen with a grin that, along with the heat now licking out of the fireplace, had the potential to melt her into the cushions.
She sprang up. ‘Let’s get started.’ She took sheets of paper out of her bag, two copies of the scene she’d chosen. She hadn’t wanted to bring her beautiful edition ofNorthangerAbbey, and it was easier like this. ‘You’re Henry and I’m Catherine, and this is the scene where she’s staying in his abbey, which isn’t as gothic as she’d hoped, and she’s formed all these notions about his family and what’s going on with them.’
‘OK.’ Dexter unzipped his hoody, revealing a grey T-shirt underneath. It looked soft, strokable, and when he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong, dough-kneading forearms with a smattering of dark hair, Imogen’s throat went dry.
‘So I think if you stand there.’ She pointed like a platform controller, and Dexter moved so they were facing each other, a chest-cum-coffee table between them.
‘And we’ll start?’
‘We’ll start.’ She opened her mouth to say the first line, and—
‘Can I have a copy of the scene?’ he asked gently.
