The Mills & Boon Sparkling Christmas Collection

Now with adult eyes she knew her mother had lost the man she’d loved with a passion. Tilly realised she too had shunned love and passion, scared of the hurt her mother had endured. She’d used the solace of the companionship and friendship she and Jason had enjoyed growing up as a protection against such emotions. She’d been too scared to love him and had denied him what he’d wanted, forcing him into the arms of another woman.

‘As a child, I could never understand why she wanted to be with someone else.’ It was strange how things suddenly looked so different. With just the orange glow from the fire and Xavier’s arms around her she felt safe to talk, safe to explore her past. She carried on. The floodgates had been opened. ‘It’s been over ten years since my father died and I think part of my mother died that day too. I didn’t want to be like that.’

‘Do you still see your father’s family?’ He began to stroke her hair and at first it was soothing, but very quickly the sizzle inside her grew and she moved to look into his face.

‘I haven’t seen them or been back to Tuscany since my father died.’ Not wanting to talk about things that hurt, she focused instead on rekindling the burning need that had claimed her, forcing her to accept she did have passion flowing in her veins. She pressed her lips against his and he responded, pulling her against his hardening body and the conclusion of the kiss was sealed.

* * *

Xavier woke in the early hours, not because of his usual nightmares but because of the warmth of Tilly’s body against his. The room was darker and much colder. Carefully he moved away from Tilly and went to the fire, stoking it before putting on more logs. He watched the flames as they flickered into life, wrapping around the wood. That was what had happened to him. The flames of passion had engulfed him, not letting him go, making him want the impossible.

She’d cast a spell on him, holding him captive, but he wished she’d trusted him enough to have told him she’d been a virgin.

She murmured and he turned to look at her, but thankfully she didn’t wake. As the glow from the fire began to reach the darker corners of the room, it caressed her partially uncovered body. Her golden hair was spread out around her and her face was serene and peaceful.

In an effort to ensure the fire would last as long as possible he put more logs on and made his way back to their makeshift bed.

‘Xavier?’ Her throaty whisper, totally unexpected, almost froze him to the spot.

‘Scusi,’ he apologised as he got back beneath the covers. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

She gave him a sleepy smile and looked into his face as he lay next to her, his head propped on one elbow. ‘How did you hurt yourself so badly?’

Her words slammed into him, instantly killing the lust that had begun to course through him once more. He didn’t want to tell anyone about it, least of all Tilly and certainly not here, not in this haven from reality, where emotions he’d thought dead were being revived.

‘There is nothing to tell.’ He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, keeping his words soft, aiming for distraction, trying to pull them back into the clutches of desire.

It almost worked. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and he relaxed just a little, then she opened those big blue eyes and looked into his, sympathy—or was that pity?—in hers. ‘I’ve seen, Xavier, just now...’

Her words faltered to nothing as he glared at her. ‘Just now what?’

‘I saw the scars. It must have been a really bad accident.’

‘Sì, it was.’ He bit back the anger and guilt cocktail that rushed into his bloodstream at the memories. He could hear again the crunching of metal and the sickening thud that haunted his dreams. He could feel his body being thrown around, smashing into barriers with ferocious force. Pain had robbed him of consciousness, but when he’d come round in hospital it had been to the most dreaded news. He’d made it. Paulo hadn’t. And it had been his fault.

The usual pain spiked his legs and he bit down hard against it. He was naked and exposed before her, every emotion as vulnerable and bare as his body. This was exactly the situation he’d avoided since that day in hospital when Carlota had been so revolted by his injuries. Guilt racked him because he’d sent her away. Frequent dates had earned him a playboy reputation, but Tilly was the first woman he’d spent the night with since the accident.

He still didn’t know if it was his battered body or the guilt hanging over him like a storm cloud that made him cold and uncaring. He didn’t deserve anything remotely warm like affection and sympathy. And Tilly deserved better.

‘What are you doing?’ He growled the question out, moving quickly as Tilly pulled the throw away from his legs. There was no point in hiding any more. She’d already seen the marks left on him from that day, so why not let her know it all?

‘Showing you it doesn’t upset me.’ The firmness in her voice only irritated him further. ‘There was no need for darkness, no need to put out the candles.’

He stayed still, ice curling through him as she looked at the livid scars on his legs, the constant reminder that he didn’t deserve happiness after he’d taken it from Paulo’s family with his selfish desire to win.

The silence stretched between them. She was shocked. He could see it in her eyes. Damn it, she couldn’t even find the words to voice her disgust, but after what she’d just given him he owed this much to her.

Slowly she knelt up and trailed her fingertips down his thigh, over the ugly and gnarled skin. He held his breath as she moved below his knee where the pins held him together.

Anger surged through him. He was no longer in control. He was now the vulnerable one. ‘Those scars are nothing compared to the fact that I lived and another man died—and it was my fault.’

Her hand froze and slowly she looked at him, shock in her eyes, in the lift of her delicate brows and those soft sensual lips. The disbelieving whisper of her words told him all he needed to know. ‘Your fault?’

‘I wanted to win—at any cost,’ he said, and scowled at the memories, wanting to shock her, punish her for seeing him like this. ‘It’s my fault. Paulo died because of me, because of my selfish need to be number one. I killed my friend.’

‘No.’ She pulled her hand away from him and sat back against the sofa, clutching one of the throws against her nakedness.

‘It’s not just my injuries that mean I can no longer race. It’s the guilt that another man will never be on the track again.’

She didn’t say anything else, just looked at him, and he knew what they’d shared so briefly was over. Reality had already crept in.

‘As you started the race, did you plan to crash?’ Her tone was serious and strong.

He flung up his hands in exasperation. ‘Dio mio, of course I didn’t.’

‘Then it was an accident. Tragic, yes, but an accident.’ She moved towards him with purpose, pity in her eyes. She reached up and touched his face, the caress too gentle, too caring.

‘No.’ He grabbed her wrist firmly, shock making her gasp.

He couldn’t shake off the past that easily. What if she hated him after this? What if she stayed here with him simply because she didn’t want to be alone in the dark and unfamiliar house?

‘It’s not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘Tonight it’s as if we’ve stepped into another world, away from everyone and everything. Let’s stay there, make the most of it and forget everything. Everything, Xavier.’

She lowered herself over him, kissing him, kissing his scars and smothering the guilt their conversation had evoked. At first he couldn’t move, but fear of her rejection was gradually being replaced by hot desire. As she moved up his body to his chest, he caught her face between his hands and kissed her as if his life depended on it.

As the kiss continued, he closed his eyes against the demons from the accident, desperate to recapture the magic he and Tilly had shared just a few hours ago. Slowly her fingers trailed down his chest, tantalising and teasing, and reality slipped away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS MORNING LIGHT filtered into the room, Tilly stretched under the warmth of the covers, her body languidly replete and her mind full of hot memories from last night. Could that woman really have been her? She’d never known such a passionate side to her existed. Neither had she ever wanted to find out—until Xavier had come into her life. He’d lit the fire of passion within her and now she didn’t want it extinguished.

At that thought the smile slipped from her lips. She’d been scared to let passion enter her relationship with Jason, scared to disturb the friendship they’d had since school. It had been that reluctance that had sealed their fate. He’d never demanded anything from her, had always been the model boyfriend, but a few months before their wedding day something had changed. He’d withdrawn from her, become less interested in planning their wedding, but she’d ploughed on, desperate to stay behind the barriers of safety.

All she’d ever needed had been the safe, comfortable companionship Jason had offered ever since they’d met. Now, after what she and Xavier had experienced last night, she could begin to understand why Jason had had an affair. She only wished he hadn’t left it to the last minute to tell her. She couldn’t forgive him for that.

She rolled over in the improvised bed, shocked to discover she was alone. Did Xavier regret last night already? Had her passion been too much? Did he think she was looking for more than one night, even though she’d told him it was on her list? She’d had her romantic fling. It had been amazing, but she wasn’t going to allow him to reject her.

She threw back the throw, the chilled air making her skin prickle and she looked around for her clothes, embarrassment flooding her as she remembered the brazen way she’d discarded them and the hungry way she’d watched Xavier do the same. Quickly she grabbed her bra and jumper and shivered as she put them on.

She remembered the way he’d flinched and watched her as she’d touched his scarred legs and waist. He’d helped her get over the past, even though he didn’t know it, and she’d wanted to help him too, by proving the scars didn’t matter. But from the way he’d made love to her afterwards, without the gentleness of the first time, she knew she’d only angered him.

Just as she’d finished pulling on her crumpled clothes, Xavier returned, looking fierce, his dark eyes holding her captive.

‘Going somewhere?’ The harshness of his tone sent a chill that was colder than the snow outside down her spine. He was still angry. The intensely sexy man from last night had gone.

‘To see if it has stopped snowing.’ She said the first thing that came to mind, unsure what she had been planning on doing next.

He glared at her. Did he regret that not only had he spent the night with his hired help, he’d bared his soul, told her his inner most thoughts? She’d seen the scarring on his legs, something she guessed he didn’t allow many women to see, and her heart had constricted. It had stirred her passion, turning it into something far more intense, and all she’d wanted to do was love him.

A tingle of alarm rushed over her as she realised she’d done the one thing she’d always avoided. She’d lost control of her emotions. But did she love him? No, she’d only wanted a fling, but hadn’t she already admitted to herself he’d taken a bit of her heart?

The questions continued to rush around her mind. She pretended to be busy folding the throws, desperate not to look at his icy-cold expression. Love didn’t happen that fast, she had merely been consumed by what she’d striven to avoid all her adult life. Passion—the emotion linked to pain and loneliness.

Her mother was proof that neither love nor passion could save a person from heartache. Why would anyone want something so destructive? Even as the thought entered her mind, she knew why. The intense passion of loving that she’d discovered last night was the reason and she shut those thoughts away. Her fling was over. Time to get back to reality.

She thought of the hours she and Xavier had spent making love. Her body could still feel every caress, every kiss and every hot spark of desire. But now despair filled her heart. It hadn’t helped her to move on, as she’d foolishly believed. It had only made things worse.

‘Let’s hope we can escape this place today.’ Xavier all but growled the words out. He was putting distance between them. She got the message loud and clear. Last night was well and truly over.

It’s for the best, she told herself as she walked to the window to see if escape, as he’d called it, was possible. One thing was for sure, she had no intention of hanging around for his rejection. He’d turned his girlfriend away, so pushing her away would be easy. She’d been rejected by Jason and she certainly wasn’t going to meekly wait for it to happen again. This time she would do the rejecting.

Feeling suffocated and hemmed in, she roughly pulled open the curtains, her agitation showing in every movement until she froze. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was still snowing. The possibility of leaving today didn’t look good. ‘No, it can’t be,’ she whispered, more to herself than to the man whose brooding presence filled the room.

Behind her she heard the flick of the light switch and turned to face him. ‘The power is still out.’ His eyes, cold and dark, met hers.

Could this get any worse? She’d just spent the night with the man who was effectively her boss, shared secrets they both probably would never have told, and now they were going to be forced to spend yet another day alone in the same house.

‘It’s still snowing.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to take in what this all meant.

She turned to face him, wanting to prove to herself she was in control, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a distressed heap in front of him. Right now she didn’t care what he thought of her. All she cared about was dousing the passion once and for all. It couldn’t happen again.

‘So, we are completely cut off. Snowbound.’ His sharp tone caught her unawares and she couldn’t think what to do now, her mind in a panic.

‘I need to leave today. I have to go.’

She had to get to Vanessa’s, but, more importantly, she had to get away from Xavier.

* * *

Xavier marched to the window and looked out at the white landscape. Snow was plastered to the sides of trees and bushes as if someone had painted them with a brush. They could be stuck here for several days.

How were they going to move on from their conversation in the early hours of this morning? He’d opened up to her, believing they would be parting the next morning. He couldn’t spend the day with her after that revelation. What if they were stuck here? What would happen tonight?

He remembered every detail of last night as the blizzard had done its worst outside. Her total innocence and how he’d let her into his mind. But as dawn had broken, reality had begun to creep back stealthily.

‘We should have tried to go yesterday.’ She dragged her hands through her hair and instantly he recalled how his fingers had slid through its thickness last night.

Enough, he berated himself. It had been exactly that sort of emotion that had lowered his defences, allowed her to touch his heart. The heart he’d kept frozen for the last three years.

He looked at her face, at the horror of their situation reflected in her eyes. He knew she thought he was blaming her. But he wasn’t. He’d messed up enough lives with the accident and now he was messing up hers, opening up wounds he’d never known she’d nursed, wounds as big as those he was trying to heal.

‘It’s not going to help to stand here, apportioning blame. After breakfast I will walk to the road to see what the situation is.’ He was back in charge, back in control, which was more than he’d been last night.

‘I’m coming too.’ The firm statement left him in no doubt that she intended to do just that. ‘I’ve seen more boots and coats in one of the back rooms.’

‘Va bene.’ He could see any kind of refusal was useless. Thankfully, minute by minute, he was regaining control, not only of his emotions but the situation.

The strong, hot coffee, brewed on the gas stove, had further infused him with discipline, so that by the time they were making their way through the deep snow he was in a more amenable mood.

Just as when she’d arrived, Tilly wore her red woollen hat and scarf. Her cheeks were flushed from the freezing wind and a worried look haunted her eyes. Was it really that important to get to her friend’s house? A real friend would understand. These thoughts cluttered his mind, filling it with questions, until Tilly stumbled into a windblown patch of snow, which was far deeper than she’d expected, and with a squeal of shock she flung out her arms.

He caught her instantly, his reactions quick and precise. But instead of letting her go as soon as she was steady on her feet, he held her close. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and that strange sensation filled his chest, squashing almost all the breath from him. Despite their bundled layers he could feel the heat from her body infusing his and the urge to kiss her was so strong he had to grit his teeth against it.

Again she was testing him. Dio mio. What had she done to him?

He’d pushed her boundaries, knocked them down, all for his own selfish needs, had divulged all his secrets, but he still wanted her.

‘We should continue,’ he managed to say over the thrum of lust. ‘The sky is looking more threatening, as if more snow is on the way.’

* * *

‘So much snow.’ Tilly couldn’t believe it. More snow meant not only being unable to get to Vanessa’s but also being here longer with Xavier. That was something she couldn’t do, especially when he looked at her with such intolerance in his eyes. He didn’t want to be here with her, much less be reminded of the mistake they’d made last night.

Their passion had been all-consuming, totally undeniable. She’d always thought passion caused trouble, that unhappiness was just a kiss away—and it had certainly proved to be true. One kiss had led to last night and now he could barely look at her.

‘We will see what the lanes look like then decide what to do.’ The command in his voice was strong, adding weight to her theory that he now despised her. She’d pushed him to talk, forced him to reveal not just his scars but his feelings. He was shutting himself away, becoming unreachable.

She pulled away from him, away from the burning anger that sparked so vibrantly in his eyes. ‘Even if the lanes are clear, I’ll never get the van out of here.’

Despair flooded through her. Her mind was so full of anxiety she wanted to drop to the snow and give up, but that would be showing weakness and you never let your enemy see that. He may well have been her lover for just those few short hours, but the way he was treating her now he was as good as her enemy.

‘Maybe not, but we could try and get you to the main road and public transport.’

So he was that desperate to be rid of her and the problem created by last night’s passionate encounter that he would pack her up and put her on a bus.

‘It’s snowing, Xavier. Buses will not be running. Not today.’ The spark of fire in her voice shocked her and, judging by the way he looked at her, it had shocked him too. Those coolly assessing eyes held hers and for a moment everything was silent, muffled by the snow and the tension stretching between them.

‘Come.’ The command in his voice was strong and clear, but he held out his hand to her. She looked at it, knowing taking hold of it would change everything. ‘Natalie?’

She took his hand, not knowing why or what she hoped would happen, but she hadn’t anticipated the zing of electricity that zipped up her arm.

‘I don’t like this.’ She’d spoken before she could think. ‘Being stuck here, I mean.’

‘Because of the snow or me?’ He fired the question at her as he strode through the deep snow. Finally they reached the part of the driveway that twisted through the woods and where the depth of snow was less, sheltered by the trees.

‘Both,’ she answered honestly.

They’d reached the small bridge, the stream below, iced at the edges, leaving just a trickle of moving water. He pulled her to a stop, forcing her to face him, but didn’t let go of her hand.

‘What happened last night...’ he began, but she cut him off.

‘No, not now.’ She didn’t want to hear his admission that he’d never meant it to happen, that he’d never intended to make love to her with such passion, because that would be too painful. Last night should have been about just one night. A fling. But she’d let passion rule and with a start she realised she had fallen in love with him.

She had no idea how it had happened, how her feelings had turned to something so powerful, but they had. Now she had to block that out, stop the surge of love that had flowed through her. And she would.

‘Yes, now, Natalie.’ He touched his free hand to her cold face, shocking her into looking at him. ‘Last night needs to be discussed—right now.’

‘No, it doesn’t. It happened. That’s all we need to say.’ She pulled herself free and walked away as best she could through the snow. The shrill call of a blackbird startled by her sudden movement made her falter and he caught hold of her again.

‘Don’t walk away from me, Natalie.’ The gruff harshness of his voice shocked her as it seemed to echo in the snow-covered branches above them.

‘It doesn’t matter if I stand here or walk away, Xavier. Nothing will change what happened. There is nothing we can say that will change that.’

‘Or the fact that it shouldn’t have happened?’ At first she thought he was stating a fact, but the inflection of those last words changed it to a question. Or was that just his accent?

She looked at him, all the fight that had bubbled up inside her evaporating, but he was right. Question or statement, last night should never have happened. Just as she should never have kissed him on New Year’s Eve, they should not have spent last night like lovers. They weren’t lovers and never could be.

‘Last night was a one-off, Xavier. A fling,’ she said firmly, looking directly into his eyes, her strength returning with every breath she took. She’d been scared and had sought comfort in his arms, but had found so much more. She shouldn’t have let her romantic fantasy carry her away, sweeping to one side her ability to think rationally.

* * *

Xavier looked down into her face, watched as the nervous hesitation in her eyes turned to sparks of determination. There were things about last night he regretted, like the fact he’d revealed far too much about himself, but not for one moment did he wish they hadn’t enjoyed the passion that had flowed between them. He didn’t regret making love to her, making her his.

‘A night with a beautiful woman in my arms is not something I am prepared to apologise for, but I can see you would rather it hadn’t happened.’

‘We were seduced by the moment,’ she said quickly, barely acknowledging his last words. ‘Can you honestly say that if we had met at a party in London, we would have spent the night together?’

The reality of those words weren’t lost on him. The fact that they were true didn’t help. It would never have happened.

‘I used you...used last night,’ she continued boldly. ‘I was proving to myself I could move on and now I know I can.’

He let her go, moved away from her, the temptation to kiss her, to taste her lips beneath his just one last time snatched away by her revelation.

‘Then we both got what we wanted.’ The roughness of his words shocked him.

He hadn’t been seduced by the moment, he’d been seduced by her, by her kiss on New Year’s Eve, which had been more than just a kiss. It had held the definite promise of more, much more. But there had been something else too, something new, something he’d never felt before, and it had stirred emotions he’d thought dead.

For the first time he’d caught a glimpse of a happy future. He’d seen it, tasted it. It would never be possible, not now she’d made it obvious she didn’t want him, that he’d been a chance opportunity to chase away the memory of another man.

If any other woman had told him that, he’d have been relieved, but hearing Tilly say it cut painfully into his slumbering emotions. It didn’t alter the way he felt about her. If he didn’t know better, he’d even go as far as to say it might be close to deeper feelings, the sort he’d vowed not to allow into his life because of his guilt over Paulo’s death.

But Tilly didn’t want him. She’d only wanted one night. He’d had the tables turned on him. He pushed the uncomfortable thought aside. There were far more important things to worry about—like getting back to London and away from Tilly.

The gates he’d driven through two days ago still stood open, snow banked up against the wrought-iron bars. The lane that wound through the trees they’d just walked under was hidden from view beneath a blanket of fluffy white snow several inches deep. Only two sets of footprints disturbed the untouched surface of whiteness. He strode past the gate and out to the road, which was equally unrecognisable. They would not be going anywhere soon, that much was evident.

He turned to look at Tilly as she stopped next to him, the look of utter devastation on her face spiking his already guilt-ridden conscience. Dio mio, as if he didn’t already have enough guilt to carry around.

‘So much for leaving today.’ Her delicate brows rose sharply in a gesture of haughtiness he hadn’t seen in her before.

‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Natalie.’ He turned his back on the snow-covered road and looked down at her. As she glared up at him, her lips pressed into a firm and angry line, he had to fight the urge to kiss them just once more, until they became as soft and kissable as they’d been last night.

‘Tilly,’ she snapped at him. ‘Nobody calls me Natalie now.’

‘Is that what your fiancé called you?’ he goaded her, and could almost see the snow melting beneath her feet as her anger simmered over and towards the boiling point.

She shook her head and sadness crept into her eyes, spiking him with another layer of guilt.

‘Nonna.’ Her blue eyes were glacially sharp as she looked at him and he knew he’d unexpectedly touched a raw nerve, that she was thinking about the grandmother she must have adored as a child.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, moving towards her, remembering their brief conversation about her family. ‘Maybe one day you will see her again.’

She shook her head vehemently. ‘She passed away a few years ago. My mother and I didn’t have contact with any other family in Italy. It’s in the past and the past can’t be changed.’

Just as last night can’t be changed. The words drifted casually through his mind. Would he change it? He wouldn’t change a thing since the moment she’d arrived at Wimble Manor—except her cold rejection this morning.

‘I, more than most, know that is true.’ He thought of all the times he’d wished he could have gone back and changed things, but no amount of wishing would bring Paulo back. Nothing could change that day, erase it from his memory, where it was branded for evermore. ‘But sometimes, cara, you can shape the future to mend the past.’

His philosophical words taunted him cruelly. He hadn’t achieved that miracle yet.

‘If that is true, then we need to use last night’s mistake. You and I both know it would never have happened under normal circumstances, but it did. If I believed in fate, I’d say we were meant to be here like this to heal our pain.’ She looked from him to the snow-covered lane, desolation clear on her face. When she looked back at him everything about her was cool and collected, as cold as the snowy landscape.

‘Is that what you really think?’ He’d asked the question before he’d been able to halt the words. What had happened last night, those desire-filled hours together in front of the fire, had been so wildly passionate, so intense and new. Deep down he didn’t want to turn his back on it. He’d sampled something he might never know again and a part of him couldn’t let that go.

Despite her strong, almost flippant attitude this morning, her sharp words and obvious disappointment at not being able to leave, she too wanted more. She might be hiding behind the taunting admission of wanting a fling, but she couldn’t ignore what drew them together—just as he couldn’t.

‘No.’ She looked at him then began the long walk back to the manor house, forcing him to follow. ‘We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’