Page 92 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
And didn’t that just warm my tootsies a little more than it should?
Ugh.
Staying at Castleton Manor was a huge mistake. I could see that. The last thing I needed was for anything that would endear me even more to Thomas. I was already struggling with what I felt for him—this weird, warped, silly little pitter-patter of my heart whenever he touched me was a little too much at the best of times.
And now I had to share a house with him?
And in this ruddy great big manor house, the room I’d been assigned was the one that just happened to be next to his?
Where we’d share a wall?
I caught Emily’s eye right as she guided Beth out of the room, and she faltered for a moment, letting a scheming little glint flicker in her gaze as her lips curled into a smile.
I stared flatly at her.
I knew what she was doing.
She was trying to set us up.
Well, I wasn’t going to buy into her little scheme.
This whole thing of me coming home to Castleton had already ingratiated me into the village society far more than I’d ever intended it to. I was just supposed to come home, do the wedding, stay for the festive period, and then go back home to Dorset to my roommates and one boundary-less cat.
Who was, ironically, the reason I hadn’t gone ahead with adopting a cat myself.
I wasn’t supposed to be welcomed back with these open arms. To a newfound friendship with Thomas, one that bred very real emotions that were a little too alive for my liking.
That’s what it felt like.
My emotions were alive.
They were alive, breathing, taking control of their own actions without me having any kind of sway.
I was afraid of the strength of them.
There was a quiet ferocity to the way I felt about Thomas. It wasn’t a whisper, but it wasn’t quite a roar, either. It was a deep rumble of comfort, the kind of feeling that gasped to life and trundled along without any kind of fanfare, coexisting comfortably but with just enough of a spark that it could light an inferno at any point.
And I was terrified of it. Of what it could be. Of what itwouldbe when I said goodbye on January third and headed back to the place that had been my home for the past several years.
Was it even home now?
I didn’t know.
Castleton had seared itself into my soul once more, and the sleepy little village I’d left behind to pursue my big dreams was reminding me that it was my home. Despite all my protestations about how I’d never truly loved living anywhere, it’d proven me wrong.
It didn’t matter how far I went. It didn’t matter how I succeeded, where I travelled to, what experiences I had.
This little place in the Yorkshire Dales with its stupid snowstorms, runaway miniature pigs, and the pain in the arse that was its duke was, and always would be, my home.
“Do you feel better now? Knowing that your grandparents are all right?”
I jerked my attention towards Thomas, briefly recognising that we were alone again. “I do, yes. I’m glad they have Julian with them.”
He fought a smile. “Not Hazel?”
“What do you think my sister would do in the event of a possible power cut? Panic or prepare?”
“I’ve seen her in a power cut. I know the answer is panic.”
