The Christmas Sisters: The Sunday Times top ten feel-good and romantic bestseller!. Sarah Morgan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ knowing the danger waiting in those snowy peaks, she was still drawn to them. She could never live anywhere that didn’t have mountains, but she no longer did any winter climbing. She and Stewart took low-level hikes in the winter, and longer, more ambitious hikes in the spring and summer when the weather warmed and the snow receded.

      “Was it selfish of us to move here? Should we have lived in a city?”

      “No. And you need to stop thinking like that.” His voice was rough. “It’s the dream. You know it’s the dream.”

      She did know. She loved living here, in this land of mist and mountains, of lochs and legend.

      “I worry about Hannah.” She turned. “About what being here does to her.”

      “I’m more worried about what her being here does to you. Maybe I’m being haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past.” He put the empty glass down and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “You need to let her be, Suzy. You can’t fix everything, although I know you’ll never give up trying.” The light softened the hard angles of his face, making him seem younger.

      His job kept him fit and lean and there were days when he barely looked fifty let alone sixty. The only clue as to his age was the touch of silver in his hair, the same silver that would have shown in hers if she hadn’t chosen to avail herself of a little artificial help.

      They’d fallen in love when they’d worked together as mountain guides, when life had seemed like one big adventure. All they’d cared about back then was the next climb. The next summit. They’d been together ever since and, for the most part, their life had a comfortable rhythm. A rhythm that was rocked at this time of year.

      The past never went away, she thought. It faded, and sometimes it was little more than a shadow, but it was always there.

      “I’m going to make the lodge as welcoming as possible. Hannah works so hard.”

      “So do you. Your life isn’t all about the kids, Suzanne. You run a successful business and this is one of your busiest times of the year in the café.”

      The source of her anxiety shifted. “And now you’ve reminded me that I still have forty stockings to knit to raise funds for the local mountain rescue team. Thank you for stressing me.”

      Stewart grinned and scooped up his clothes from the chair where he’d left them the night before. “Now, that’s something I’d like to see. The rest of the guys wearing stockings. I’ll be taking a photo of that and posting it on the team Facebook page.”

      Suzanne pulled a face. “They’re not for wearing, you idiot, they’re for stuffing with presents. We sell them for a good profit. And before you mock, I should point out that the profit from last year’s Christmas stockings bought the team a new avalanche transceiver and contributed to that fancy stretcher you use.”

      “I know.”

      “Then why—”

      “I like teasing you. I like the way you look when you’re mad. Your mouth pouts and you have these cute little frown lines and— Ow!” He ducked as she crossed the room and flung a pillow at him. “Did you really just do that? How old are you?”

      “Old enough to have developed perfect aim.”

      He threw the pillow back on the bed, tossed his clothes back on the chair and tumbled her underneath him.

      She landed with a gasp on the mattress.

      “Stewart!”

      “What?”

      “We have things to do.”

      “We do indeed.” He lowered his head and the last thing she saw before he kissed her were his blue eyes laughing into hers.

      By the time they got out of bed for the second time, the first fingers of weak sunlight were poking through the curtains.

      “And now I’m late.” Stewart dived into the bathroom. “I blame you.”

      “And it’s my fault because…?”

      But he was already in the shower, humming tunelessly as the water splashed around him.

      Suzanne lay for a moment, her brain fuzzy and contented, the dream all but forgotten.

      She knew she ought to make a start on those stockings.

      Knitting was the perfect form of relaxation, although it had taken her years to discover it.

      She hadn’t knitted a thing until she was in her thirties.

      To begin with it had been her way of showing her love for the girls. She’d clothe them and wrap them in warmth. When she’d picked up her needles and yarn, she hadn’t just been knitting a sweater; she’d been knitting together her fractured, damaged family, taking separate threads and turning them into something whole.

      Stewart came out of the shower, rubbing his hair with a towel. “Did you want me to sort out a Christmas tree on the way home?”

      “Posy said she’d do it. I thought we’d wait a few more days. I don’t want the needles falling off before Christmas. How many trees should we have this year? I thought one for the living room, one for the entryway, one in the TV room. Maybe one for Hannah’s room.”

      “Are you sure you don’t want one for the boot room? How about the downstairs bathroom?”

      She studied him. “There are still plenty more pillows on this bed that I can fling.”

      But he’d distracted her from her nightmare. She knew that had been his intention, and she loved him for it.

      “All I’m saying is that maybe you should leave a few in the forest.” He threw the wet towel over the back of the chair and then caught her eye and put the towel in the bathroom instead. “Every year you half kill yourself turning this place into a cross between a winter wonderland and Santa’s workshop.” He dressed quickly, pulling on the layers that were necessary for his job. “You have big expectations, Suzanne. Not easy to live up to that.”

      “It’s true that things can be a little stressful when the girls are together—”

      “They’re women, not girls, and ‘a little stressful’ is an understatement.”

      “Maybe this year will be different.” Suzanne stripped the sheets off the bed. “Beth and Jason are happy. I can’t wait to have the grandchildren here. I’m going to hang stockings above the fire and bake plenty of treats. And Hannah won’t need to do a thing, because I plan on getting everything done before she arrives so I can spend time with her. I want to catch up on her news.” She held the sheets to her chest. “If only she would meet someone special, she’d—”

      “She’d what? Eat him for breakfast?” Stewart shook his head. “I beg you do not mention that to her. Hannah’s relationships are her business. And I don’t think she’s that interested.”

      “Don’t say that.” She refused to believe it might be true. Hannah needed a close relationship. She needed her own family. A protective circle. Everyone needed that.

СКАЧАТЬ