A New Year Bride. Scarlet Wilson

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      The saleswoman shot a glance from Grace, to Finlay and then to Karen, who was still standing in the distance with Molly.

      ‘Of course,’ she said efficiently, adding the purchase to the bill.

      What was he doing? All of a sudden Finlay was feeling totally out of his depth. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Grace abruptly.

      She looked a little surprised but glanced at her watch. Did she think he wanted to beat the traffic? ‘Thanks so much for your assistance. I’ll be back at The Armstrong for the delivery.’

      She rubbed her hands together again. Something sparked into his brain. The one thing he’d thought to do back at the hotel.

      He pulled out his phone and spoke quietly as they hurried back outside to the car. The light had almost gone completely now and most of London’s stores were lit up with Christmas displays. The journey to Harrods didn’t take quite as long as he’d imagined.

      Grace gave a sharp intake of breath as soon as the gold lights of the store came into view, lighting up the well-known green canopies.

      He touched her elbow. ‘We need to do something first in here before we go to the Christmas department.’

      She looked surprised. ‘Do you need some Christmas gifts for your family?’

      He shook his head. Thick flakes of snow were falling outside. ‘That’s taken care of. This was something I should have done earlier.’

      They stepped outside as the chauffeur opened the door and walked in through one of the private entrances.

      A woman in a black suit with gold gilding met them at the entrance. ‘Mr Armstrong?’

      He nodded. She walked them towards some private lifts. ‘This way, please.’

      The journey only lasted a few seconds before the doors slid open on women’s designer wear. Grace frowned and looked at him. ‘We need to go to the Christmas department.’

      He waved his hand. ‘In a few minutes. I need to get something here first.’ He turned to the personal shopper. ‘Do you have anything the same shade as her shirt? And some black leather gloves please, lined.’

      Grace was still frowning. ‘Who is this for?’

      He turned to face her. ‘You.’

      ‘What?’ It was a face he recognised. Karen had worn the same expression thirty minutes earlier. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

      Finlay held out his hands. ‘Look at me. I’ve dragged you halfway across London in the freezing cold with snow outside.’ He touched her arm. ‘You’re only wearing your suit and a shirt. You must be freezing. I feel like an idiot standing beside you in a wool coat.’

      She tipped her head to the side. ‘Then take it off. It’s too hot in here anyhow.’

      She said it so matter-of-factly. As if he should have thought of it himself.

      He shook his head. ‘But once we get back outside, you’ll freeze again. You were rubbing your hands together the whole time we were in the last two stores. It was obvious you were still cold.’

      The personal shopper appeared carrying a knee-length wool coat in the exact shade of pink as Grace’s shirt. She held it up. ‘Is this to your taste?’

      He smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’ He gestured towards the coat. ‘Go on, Grace, try it on.’

      She was staring at it as if she didn’t quite know what to say. Then she shook her head. ‘You are not buying me a coat.’

      He took the coat from the personal shopper and held it open. ‘You’re right. I’m not buying you a coat. The Armstrong hotel is. Think of it as part of your official uniform.’

      She slid her arms along the black satin lining of the coat as he pulled it up onto her shoulders. The effect was instant. The coat brought out the darkness of her chestnut hair and dark eyes while highlighting her pink cheeks and lips. It was perfect for her.

      He felt himself hold his breath. Grace turned and stared at her reflection in a mirror next to them. Her fingers started automatically fastening the buttons on the double-breasted coat. It fitted perfectly.

      The sales assistant brought over a wooden tray of black leather gloves. Grace stared down in surprise and looked up at Finlay. ‘They’re virtually all the same. How am I supposed to choose?’

      The personal shopper looked dismayed. She started lifting one glove after another. ‘This one only skims the wrist bones. This one has a more ruffled effect, it comes up much further. This one has a special lining, cashmere. We also have silk-lined and wool-lined gloves all at different lengths. Do you have a specific need?’

      Finlay could tell by the expression on Grace’s face that she was bamboozled. He reached out and ran his fingers across the gloves. Some instantly felt softer than others. He selected a pair and turned them inside out. ‘These ones must be cashmere lined. The leather feels good quality too. Want to try them?’

      He had no idea what size or length they were. Somehow he thought his eyes might be similar to Grace’s—all the gloves looked virtually identical. But they didn’t feel identical.

      She slid her hands into the pair he handed her and smiled. ‘They’re beautiful…’ She gave them a little tug. ‘But they seem a little big.’

      In an instant the personal shopper handed her an alternative pair. Grace swapped them over and stretched her hands out. ‘Yes, they feel better.’

      ‘Perfect. Add this to our bill, please,’ he said. ‘We’re going to the Christmas department.’

      ‘But…I haven’t decided yet.’ Grace had her hand on the collar of the coat.

      Finlay shrugged. ‘But I have—the coat is perfect. The colour is perfect. The fit is perfect and the length is perfect. What else is there to say?’

      He started to walk away but Grace wasn’t finished.

      ‘But maybe I’m not sure.’ Her voice started to get louder as he kept walking, ‘What if I wanted a red coat? Or a blue one? Or a black one? What if I don’t even like coats?’

      People near them were starting to stare. Finlay spun around again and strode back over to her, catching her by the shoulders and spinning her back around to face the mirror.

      ‘Grace. This is you. This is your coat. No one else could possibly wear it.’ He held his hands up as he looked over her shoulder.

      Her dark brown eyes fixed on his. For a second he was lost. Lost staring at those chocolate eyes, in the face framed with chestnut tresses, on the girl dressed in the perfect rose-coloured coat.

      There was a tilt to her chin of defiance. Was she going to continue to fight with him?

      Her tongue slid along her lips as her eyes disconnected with his and stared at her reflection. ‘No one has ever done something like this for СКАЧАТЬ