Page 45 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
I paused, and right before I opened my mouth to speak, the roaring sound of Thomas’ mum’s voice crackled through the speakers with a booming, “Ten, nine, eight—” and I jolted, turning towards the tree to catch the very moment the lights switched on.
“Ooh, the lights!” I said right at the very moment the crowd erupted in a cheer.
The lights began at the bottom of the tree, switching on in a wave that swept the entirety of it until it culminated in the star blinking on. The moment of stillness that crept over the square felt a lot like everyone was holding their breath, and the star slowly pulsed, brightening and dimming for a solid ten seconds before it stilled again.
The distinct cash register sound that announcedI Wish It Could Be Christmas Everydayrang through the air, and both the star and the tree lights flickered with the beat of the song. I vaguely caught Thomas sighing and dropping his chin to his chest out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
The string lights that went from the star to the shops in a canopy over the square were the next to be lit in a whooshing sweep before they joined the little lightshow that was in time with the music. One by shop, the shops around the square flooded to life. It was like a Mexican wave of lights going from one shop to another, and I turned my head back and forth, almost craning my neck to catch the rush of the lights coming to life.
There were reindeer and Santa hats, holly sprigs and sleighs, stars and candles that looked suspiciously like a penis if your mind was so inclined.
Mine was.
The chorus kicked in, and the previously dim lights of the main streets that veered off from the village square all burst into action, and the resounding lightshow was a spectacular two-and-a-half minutes of pulsing and twinkling and chasing lights.
I gazed at the lights with wonder for the entire time. I think I cricked my neck from looking around so many times, but there was something so magical about the way Castleton welcomed in Christmas.
Yes, we were a week into December, but I’d been so busy with the wedding and preparing to travel up here that it didn’t feel like Christmas.
Until now.
The song came to an end, and so did the show. The booming music gave way to raucous cheers that echoed from every inch of the square, and I happily focused on the star and the lights that spread from it to create a canopy over the area.
The feeling that I was being watched tingled down my spine, and I turned to look at Thomas, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back my smile.
He was utterly amused, and he didn’t even need to say a word. The glint of laughter in his eyes was backed up by the smile he was clearly trying to fight.
“Don’t say a word,” I said.
CHAPTER TEN – SYLVIE
I finally stabbed my fork into my waffle. Sure, the chocolate and the cream had melted, but that was my own fault. That’s what happened when I got distracted by pretty, pretty lights.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, turning away, but his gaze flickered back to me several times.
Damn it.
I couldn’t believe I’d just gone happy little Christmas elf around him.
It was Castleton. It was being back here that wasdoingsomething to me—reminding me just how much I adored this time of year. All the lights and the happiness and the general togetherness that people felt. It was almost inspiring.
Of course, the good stuff always went hand in hand with the bad stuff. The greed and expense and materialistic side of Christmas was never fun, but I’d learnt to mind my own business.
You want to spoil your kids? Go for it. It’s your money.
You want to stick to a tight budget for each one? Go for it. It’s your money.
You want to pad their presents with functional items like a new coat or bedding set or pair of shoes? Go for it.It’s your money.
That’s what my parents did. I swear I never got more functional items than I did at Christmas and birthdays. Half my presents were new jeans or slippers or boots or a new scarf. The year I requested a room makeover, I got new curtains and a rug. The year Hazel grew out of almost all her shoes? She had three new pairs under the tree that Christmas.
Gifts are gifts, after all, and I never once complained about toothpaste and shampoo in my stocking, let me tell you.
Thank God I didn’t. Ever since I’d moved out, my mum had sent me a stocking as part of my Christmas gift, and it included toothpaste and shampoo and deodorant and paracetamol and tampons.
And socks.
God, I loved getting socks for Christmas. If my roommates weren’t accidentally stealing them, the washing machine was eating them.
