A Christmas Escape by Anne Perry Page A

And she loved clothes. She was very beautiful, my grandmama. At least I think so.” She smiled, as if revisiting memories with pleasure. “She loved hats. She used to wear great big ones, the bigger the better. And flowers—I mean in the garden, not on hats. She would walk around the garden and talk to blossoms, tell them they were beautiful.”
    Eccentric, he thought, and happy.
    “I think you could very well grow up to be a lot like her,” he said.
    “I won’t be as beautiful as she was,” Candace said with regret. “You can get away with all sorts of outrageous things if you’re really beautiful, you know.”
    “No, I don’t know,” he said sincerely. “But I think you don’t mean beauty as much as charm.” He looked at her. “And I think you could grow up to be quite as charming as your grandmother. You are well on the way to it now.”
    She walked a step or two, carefully watching where she was putting her feet. Then suddenly she turned and smiled at him. “Do you think so? I mean…really?”
    “I have no doubt,” he answered.
    Half an hour later they stopped for another rest. Everyone was weary, but most especially Isla. She was probably over forty, and very unused to this type of physical exercise. And that, of course, was added upon the loss of her husband only hours ago, and the still very real threat of the volcano. It had remained fairly passive for the last hour or so, but the air was full of ash and dust, and every now and then there were rumbles in the distance. They had traveled quite a long way, but in a semicircle, as the incline of the land made the road easier. They were closer to the sea, but still close enough to the caldera that the danger was real.
    They each took a small portion of food, but thirst affected them far more than hunger.
    “That’s enough!” Bretherton said sharply, when they were all upending bottles to quench their thirst.
    Quinn glared at him. “It’s only water. You’re not in the army now. For God’s sake, man, you can’t give orders to everyone.”
    “And where are you going to get more water, when it’s finished?” Bretherton inquired.
    “From the village well, like anyone else,” Quinn replied.
    “When we get there,” Isla said unhappily. “It’s still an awfully long way. I feel as if I’ve been walking for hours. I know I haven’t, but it feels like it, and it won’t get a lot easier.”
    “Have a little more?” Bretherton offered her his water.
    She stared at it, then reached out her hand to accept.
    Candace turned to Charles and looked at him in amazement. He could see her intense disapproval. There were offers one did not accept. Her expression was momentarily exactly like Finbar’s.
    Isla smiled and pulled her arm back. “Later, maybe,” she said graciously. “I really don’t need it now. But thank you.”
    Candace met Charles’s eyes again and her expression again spoke her entire opinion.
    Charles hid a smile.
    Bretherton kept looking toward the mountain, still spewing smoke and ash. “I think we shouldn’t stop for too long,” he said, putting away the water.
    “The women need a little longer,” Quinn argued. His face was flushed and grimed over with ash. Charles thought he looked frightened—as well he should. They were still in danger. He was glad Quinn had not said so aloud. The last thing they needed now was for Isla to give in to her distress. She may not have loved her husband but she would still find life as a widow very different from the comfort she was used to. All things considered, she was keeping control of herself very well.
    “Do you actually know anything about volcanoes?” Quinn said suddenly, looking across at Bretherton. “Anything more than the rest of us, that is?” His tone of voice was challenging and abrasive.
    “No.” Bretherton stared levelly at him. “Do you?”
    Quinn looked slightly taken aback. Clearly he had been expecting defense, not attack—or perhaps a plea for unity in a time