The Mills & Boon Sparkling Christmas Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
parents suggesting they spend New Year’s Eve celebrating, he’d have said no.
At least once they were here he would be safe from the temptation of this bright and bubbly blonde, the first woman who had tempted him since the accident.
‘When do you expect your staff to arrive?’ He hoped it was soon, because right now he wanted to kiss her, just as he’d wanted to in the dining room. He still couldn’t comprehend that within less than an hour of her arrival he’d been forced to hold back the need to feel her lips beneath his.
That sort of loss of control was not him. He was calm and precise in all he did, paying attention to every small detail. He knew well enough exactly what one moment of recklessness could do. To want to kiss this woman was irresponsible in every sense of the word, but he liked to get what he wanted—and right now that was Natalie Rogers.
She glanced at the clock, then back at him. ‘They should be here just after lunch.’
‘Va bene,’ he replied, as he moved towards the table and closer to Tilly, unexplainably drawn to her. She looked warily at him, reinforcing the boundaries she’d already subtly laid down. So why did he want to challenge and test them?
All he needed to do was avoid the kitchen until her staff arrived. If he locked himself away in the small lounge he’d chosen as his study he could finish the reports he’d brought with him and avoid giving in to the primal call this woman was making to him. It was something he’d never known before and adrenalin flowed through him, making him feel alive and powerful. Exactly the way he’d always felt sitting astride his bike at the beginning of a race, when the desire to win had been all that had mattered.
Not that he’d ever race again. Those days were over—finished by an accident which lingered in his mind by day and haunted his dreams by night. Instead he’d increased production at his bike factory in Milan and set up a scholarship school, touring Europe in the hope of teaching young riders to race safely.
His heart thumped and in his head unbidden memories lurked, threatening to overwhelm him. He leant on the back of a chair, waiting for the pain in his legs to pass, a constant reminder of the months he’d spent in hospital after the crash. He gritted his teeth against his anger.
For the last year he’d been free of moments like this—at least during the day. He knew exactly why it was happening again. Because it was Christmas. The time of year he thought of a family missing that one special person—the rider he’d brought down by his reckless riding. His friend, damn it.
A warm hand touched his arm. The feel of it through his shirt and cashmere sweater brought him back from the edge of the guilt-filled hole he’d been looking into, which had been threatening to drag him back into its hellish depths.
‘Are you okay?’ Tilly’s soft voice, full of concern, hauled him back the rest of the way. He lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes, which were as blue as the sea on a summer day.
‘Sì,’ he growled and pushed back from the chair, severing the contact of her touch. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. He didn’t need her soft touch and concern. If she knew the truth, knew all the damning facts about the accident, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer her compassion.
He sensed her draw back. Saw her step away, anxiously catching her bottom lip with her teeth, but still the anger and guilt he’d carried since the accident raged inside him. Tilly was doing exactly what Carlotta had done the first day she’d visited him in hospital—backing away in disgust. Carlotta had despised him because of what had happened. The unwritten message in her face had fuelled his guilt and anger.
‘Are you sure?’ Tilly’s voice, hesitant and gentle, cracked the bubble of agony he was in, but anger at the vulnerability she’d exposed remained, tormenting and weakening him.
‘Of course I’m sure.’ The harsh words snapped from him ungraciously. He needed to get the hell out of here, before her concern tipped him over the edge and he submitted to the urge to confide in her about the guilt he’d carried alone for the last three years.
She didn’t say anything but returned to her unpacking, apparently unfazed by his display of anger. She hadn’t deserved that. He should apologise, but afraid that would make her question him further he stalked from the kitchen adamant he would remain out of Tilly’s way for as long as possible.
Those painful memories began to subside, until he walked past the Christmas tree. He couldn’t acknowledge Christmas, not any more, which was why he’d insisted the tree be removed.
All it represented to him was three fatherless children facing another Christmas. His selfish desire to win had done that. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the only rider not to change tyres, not to heed the warnings of the wet track. None of that mattered, not when he thought of those children. Paulo’s children.
With a heavy sigh he walked on towards the lounge he’d commandeered for the duration of his stay. Once the door was shut he allowed himself to give in to the guilt-laden memories of the day he’d smashed just about every bone in his legs and taken out his friend in the process.
He sat at the desk and turned on his laptop. Would he ever be rid of the horror of that day? Would the guilt that he’d survived ever lessen? He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, refusing to let memories claim him.
When he opened them again he looked out of the old windows at the grey sky, each pane of glass forming a frame for the large flakes of snow that now fell in a swirling dance past the window. The quiet peaceful scene soothed him and eased the physical pain, reminding him of his happy childhood.
* * *
Tilly had worked frantically for the last hour or so, anxious she hadn’t discussed fully the menu changes with Xavier that morning as planned, but his sudden change of mood had made it impossible. At one time he’d looked as if he’d been in terrible pain and instinctively she’d gone to him, only to have her concern hurled unceremoniously back at her.
Now more pressing issues dominated her thoughts. Where were Katie and Jane? They should have been here by now. Tilly walked to one of the three tall sash windows of the kitchen and looked out. Big flakes of snow were falling against the backdrop of a heavy grey sky. Not good. What if they couldn’t get to Wimble Manor? How would she cope tonight on her own?
She grabbed her coat from the chair she’d left it on earlier and went through the passage to the back door. The heavy wooden door protested as she pulled it open and snow whirled in with a rush of cold air.
‘Oh, my goodness.’
Her little white van and Xavier’s sleek black car were nestled beneath a deep blanket of snow. The courtyard cobbles, which this morning had only been dusted with white, were now completely covered. A strange and heavy silence hung around the buildings as the flakes fell thick and fast. It should be peaceful and calming, yet the silence seemed to scream at her, as if warning of trouble.
‘I don’t think you should try going anywhere right now.’ Xavier’s accented voice broke through her turmoil and she spun round to look up at him.
‘I hadn’t planned to, but I do need my staff to be able to get here.’ Panic returned as she wondered how she was going to manage without the girls. They’d become a practised team and had worked for her since she’d started Tilly’s Table almost twelve months ago.
‘Have you heard anything from them?’
‘No, I’ll check my phone.’ Her words were sharp with exasperation at herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? She’d seen the snow flurrying past the windows but had been too caught up in the excitement of preparing the meal—and avoiding the man who disturbed her equilibrium.
Irritated by his practical approach, she moved past him, back along the passage and into the kitchen. Unable to quell her panic, she lifted her paperwork and uncovered her mobile phone to see she’d missed Katie’s call. With ominous dread settling as fast as the falling snow, she dialled into her messages and heard Katie’s anxious voice explaining the roads were so bad