A New Year Bride. Scarlet Wilson

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      As soon as they stepped outside the lift Grace almost started skipping. She handed him a basket and picked up a few delicate glass and white tree decorations. Then, she walked over to the counter. ‘I phoned earlier about a special order. Wreaths and garlands—you said you’d put them aside for me.’

      The clerk nodded. ‘They’re through here. Do you want to see them before you pay?’

      Finlay let Grace work her magic. She was loving this. This wasn’t the vulnerable woman that he’d seen on the rooftop. This was in control and in her element Grace. Within a few minutes he’d handed over the company credit card and heard her arrange for delivery in a few hours’ time.

      Grace let out a squeal. ‘My favourite ever Christmas song—“Last Christmas”—let’s sing along.’

      He looked at her in surprise. ‘This is your favourite song? It’s not exactly cheery, is it?’

      But Grace was oblivious and already singing along. A few fellow shoppers gave him an amused stare. She really was singing and didn’t seem to care who was listening. The fleeting sad thoughts disappeared from his head again. Grace had a little glance at her lists and made a few random ticks before folding them up again and belting out the main part of the song.

      The pink flush in her cheeks suited her. But what caught his attention most was the sparkle in those dark brown eyes. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. But it was. He sucked in a breath. If he didn’t watch out Grace Ellis could become infectious.

      Grace came back and pressed her hand on his arm. ‘I’ve seen a few other things I like. You stay here or it’ll spoil the fun.’ She waved her hand. ‘Have a look around. I’ll only be five minutes.’

      He frowned as she disappeared. Fun?

      He wandered around, watching people gaze in wonder at all the decorations. The garlands in store were beautiful. They had a whole range of colours and they covered walls, shelves and the Christmas fireplaces that had been set up in store. Next to them was a whole range of wreaths: some holly, some twisted white twigs, some traditionally green decorated with a variety of colours. He stopped walking.

      He was looking at wreaths and not automatically associating them with Anna. Guilt washed over him. Shouldn’t she always be his first thought?

      But she hadn’t been. Not for the last few months. It was as if his head was finally lifting from the fog it had been in these last five years. But Christmas time was a little different. It seemed to whip up more memories than usual. It made the thought of moving on just a little more tricky.

      A little girl walked into him as she stared at a rocking horse. He bent down to speak to her. She was like something from a chocolate box. A red double-breasted wool coat, a little worn but clearly loved, dark curls poking out from under a black hat. She hadn’t even realised she’d walked into him—her eyes were still on the white rocking horse with a long mane decorated with red saddle. She let out a little sigh.

      ‘Come along, Molly,’ said a harassed voice. ‘We just came here for a little look. It’s time to go.’

      He lifted his head instantly. The woman looked tired—her clothes even more so. Her boots were worn, her jacket was missing a few buttons and the scarf she had wrapped around her neck looked almost as old as she was. But it was her accent that drew his attention.

      He straightened up and held out his hand. ‘Hi, Finlay Armstrong. What part of Scotland are you from?’

      She was startled by his question and took a few seconds to answer. He could almost see the recognition of his own accent before she finally reached over and shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Karen. I’m from Ayrshire.’

      There was something in the wistful way she said it that made him realise this wasn’t a visit.

      He kept hold of her hand. ‘Have you been in London long?’

      She sighed. ‘Three years. I had to move for work.’

      He nodded his head towards the rocking horse. ‘Your little girl was admiring the rocking horse.’

      Karen winced. ‘I know. I asked for one every year too as a child.’ She glanced down at her child again then met his gaze. ‘But we can all dream.’

      He sucked in a breath. When was the last time he’d done something good? He’d been so wrapped in his own mourning for the last five years he hadn’t really stopped to draw breath. Even when it came to Christmas presents he normally gave his PA a list and told her what kind of things his family preferred. That was as much input as he’d had.

      He thought about the prettily wrapped present that Mrs Archer had left for him at reception. He hadn’t even opened it yet.

      He kept his voice low. ‘How about Molly gets what she wants for Christmas?’

      Karen looked shocked, then offended. He knew exactly how this worked. He shook his head. ‘I work for a big company. Every year they like us to do a few good deeds. A few things that no one else finds out about.’ He pulled the card out of his pocket, still keeping his voice low. ‘There’s no catch. I promise. Give the girl at the desk an address and time for delivery. That’s all.’

      Karen sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s good deed.’ He could see her bristle.

      He gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Then how about a gift from a fellow Scot who is also missing home?’

      Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her throat. ‘Oh…oh, then that might be different.’

      He glanced down at Molly and smiled. ‘Good. Just give the girl at the desk your details. I’ll arrange everything else.’

      ‘I don’t know what to say, except thank you. And Merry Christmas!’

      He gave her a nod. ‘Happy Christmas to you and Molly.’

      He ruffled Molly’s curls and walked away, not wanting to admit to the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. That was the first time he’d wished anyone Happy Christmas in five years. Five long, horrible years.

      What had he been doing? Had he been ignoring people around him like Karen and Molly for the last five years?

      He heard an excited laugh and Grace walked through with one of the sales assistants from another room. Grace’s cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and she was clapping her hands together again.

      The girl really did love Christmas.

      One part of him felt a selfish pang, while the other dared itself back into life. In a way, he’d felt better sticking his head in the sand for the last few years. Some of this Christmas stuff made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Parts of it were making him relive memories—some good, some bad.

      But the thing that he struggled most with was feeling again. Feeling.

      The thing he’d tried to forget about.

      He touched the saleswoman’s arm as she was still mid-discussion with Grace. ‘I need you to add something to the order.’

      Grace’s СКАЧАТЬ