Page 74 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘I liked it when Imogen got her voices muddled up and made Catherine Morland sound like she smoked forty fags a day.’
Dexter turned to glare at Harry, who had watched all the performances with his smug, Italy-tanned features, safe in the knowledge that, because he and Sophie were hosting the festivities, they didn’t have to perform themselves.
‘I’d like to seeyoutry,’ Dexter said, without much heat.
Harry shook his head. ‘I’ve had much more fun watching you. It was very … illuminating.’
‘We could try again?’ Imogen was appalled that they’d done such a horrible job.
‘You do that,’ Fiona said, ‘in the comfort and isolation of your own homes.’
‘Isn’t isolation part of the problem?’ Valerie added crossly. ‘When they don’t have an audience, they get up to other things instead of rehearsing.’
‘Now hang on,’ Dexter said, ‘that’s a bit personal, isn’t it?’
All the chatter and tittering in the room evaporated, and everyone turned to look at Dexter. He hadn’t even sounded angry, but they were all so used to him being entirely amenable – helpful and generous and laid-back – that it was a shock to see him taking a stand. People were gaping, and Harry looked vaguely concerned, but May, Sophie and Jazz wore matching expressions of delight.
‘I don’t care what you say about me,’ Dexter went on, ‘but Imogen doesn’t deserve your idle speculation.’
‘You’venotbeen carrying on together, then?’ Frank asked.
‘What Imogen and I may or may not have been doing is none of your business,’ Dexter said firmly, which elicited a couple of gasps. ‘We might not be up to scratch with our scene, but we still have a few days to get it right, and, aside from that, what we do in our own time is not up for discussion.’ Imogen sucked in a breath at his commanding tone, then he ruined any chance he had of losing people’s interest by taking her hand. ‘Imogen has given a lot to this village already, and she’s only been here a short time, so I don’t want her subject to the usual gossip, OK?’
‘We can still gossip about you, though, eh?’ Gerry with the wispy hair quipped.
‘I’ve been here all my life, so I’m used to it,’ Dexter said bluntly. ‘Is someone else having a go at rehearsing, or is that it?’ He walked off the makeshift stage, dragging Imogen behind him.
When Jazz and Mary took their places to rehearse their Hallmark spinoff, a lot of people were still looking at her and Dexter. ‘I’m not sure your plan worked as well as it could have,’ she murmured, trying to communicate without plastering herself against him and adding fuel to the fire. Dexter ran a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t really thinking.’ He glanced at her. ‘I might have rendered my statement null and void by grabbing your hand, is that what you’re going to say?’
‘Maybe,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m not sure anyone here is any less convinced that we’ve…’Been seeing each other?Was that the right terminology?
‘Been sleeping together?’ Dexter finished, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.
‘It isn’t even “been sleeping together”,because we’ve only done it once.’ Her whisper was low, and she hoped that, even if people were still looking, they weren’t also listening. ‘Once if you count that it was all within the same window,’
Dexter corrected, ‘not if you consider the play by play.’
Imogen gasped, pretending to be shocked. ‘You’ve been doing that a lot, have you?Consideringit?’
‘Alot.’ His voice was low and gravelly. ‘Lucy’s staying at Amber’s again tonight, so if you wanted to—’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said, a little too loudly, and someone shouted, ‘Get a room!’ just as there was a lull in dialogue, while Jazz and Mary wrestled an imaginary Christmas tree into their imaginary car. Laughter rippled across the hall. Dexter sighed, stared intently at Imogen for a second, then said, calmly, ‘That’s what we’re planning to do, just as soon as the rehearsal’s over.’
Imogen tried to avoid late-night snacks, because her mother always said that if you didn’t have a proper break from food before bedtime then all sorts of things would go wrong: your metabolism, your sleep patterns, your focus the next day. But when Dexter had pulled her inside his dark hallway, they’d kissed for a good five minutes, and then, as if that wasn’t delicious enough, he’d led her into the kitchen where a batch of cranberry mince pies were waiting on a cooling rack, and offered one to her with brandy cream on the side.
Now they were sitting across from each other at the island, their legs tangled together around the side, the livingroom lights off so only the Christmas tree twinkled, while they dug their spoons into crisp pastry and sharp, spicy fruit, the cream silky and rich on Imogen’s tongue. Right now she didn’t care about her metabolism or getting enough sleep. Being here, with Dexter, she didn’twantto sleep.
‘You gave up back there.’ She scooped cream onto her spoon and ran her tongue over it.
Dexter watched her, his eyes narrowed. ‘If you could see you right now, you wouldn’t find that remotely surprising.’
She laughed. ‘What do you mean?’
He sighed. ‘I just thought, if everyone’s talking about us anyway, why bother denying it? I don’t want to hide you away, Imogen. I don’t mind if the whole of Mistingham knows we’re spending time together, and I don’t care if they’re speculating about what we’re doing with it.’
‘Apart from when they’re annoyed that we’re not rehearsing.’
‘We’ll get there. Nobody needs to know whether we were wearing clothes while we perfected our lines.’
