Her Christmas Fantasy & The Winter Bride by Lynne Graham, Penny Jordan
Authors: Lynne Graham, Penny Jordan
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just a matter of hanging them up.â
âJust a matterâ¦â Lisaâs eyebrows rose slightly as she studied the rows and rows of tiny lights, the beautiful and, she was nearly sure, very valuable antique baubles combined with much newer but equally attractive modern ones.
âIt must have taken you hours,â she objected.
Oliver shrugged.
âNot really.â
âItâs beautiful,â she told him, her throat suddenly closing with emotion. He hadnât done it for her, of course. He had already told her that it was a family tradition, something he and his cousin did together. But, even so, to come down and find it there after confiding in him last night how much she longed for a traditional family Christmasâ¦suddenly seemed a good omen for her decision to stay on with him.
âIt hasnât got a fairy,â she told him, hoping he wouldnât notice the idiotic emotional thickening in her voice.
As he glanced towards the top of the tree Oliver shook hishead and told her, âOur fairy is a star, and itâs normally the responsibility of the woman of the house to put it on the tree, so I left itââ
âYou want me to do it?â Fresh emotion swept her. âBut Iâm not⦠I donât belong here,â she reminded him.
âBut you are a woman,â he told her softly, and there was something in the way he said the words, something in the way he looked at her that warned Lisa that the kiss they had shared last night wasnât something he had forgotten.
âWeâll have to leave it for now, though,â he told her. âOtherwise weâll be late for church.â
Â
It had been a cold night, and a heavy frost still lay over the countryside, lending it a magical quality of silvered stillness that made Lisa catch her breath in pleasure.
The village, as Oliver had said, was ten minutesâ drive awayâa collection of small stone houses huddled together on one side of the river and reached by a narrow stone bridge.
The church was at the furthest end of the village and set slightly apart from it, small and weathered and so old that it looked almost as though it had grown out of the craggy landscape around it.
The bells were ringing as Oliver parked the car and then led her towards the narrow lych-gate and along the stone-flagged path through a graveyard so peaceful that there was no sense of pain or sorrow about it.
Just inside the church, the vicar was waiting.
The church was already almost full, but when Lisa would have slipped into one of the rear pews Oliver touched her arm and directed her to one at the front. A family pew, Lisa recognised, half in awe and half in envy.
The service was short and simple, the carols traditional, the crib quite obviously decorated by very young hands, and yetto Lisa the whole experience was more movingly intense than if they had been in one of the worldâs grandest cathedrals.
Afterwards the vicar was waiting to shake hands and exchange a few words with all his congregation, including them, and as they ambled back to where Oliver had parked the car the final magical seal of wonderment was put on the day when the first flakes of the forecast snow started to fall.
âI donât believe it,â Lisa whispered breathlessly as Oliver unlocked the car doors. âI just donât believe it.â
As she whirled round, her whole face alight, Oliver laughed. The sound, so spontaneous and warmly masculine, had the oddest effect on Lisaâs body. Her heart seemed to flip helplessly, her breathing quickening, her gaze drawn unerringly to Oliverâs mouth.
She shouldnât be feeling like this. It wasnât fair and it certainly wasnât sensible. They barely knew one another. Yesterday they had been enemies, and but for an odd quirk of fate they still would be today.
Shakily she walked towards the car, the still falling snowflakes forgotten as she tried to come to
âJust a matterâ¦â Lisaâs eyebrows rose slightly as she studied the rows and rows of tiny lights, the beautiful and, she was nearly sure, very valuable antique baubles combined with much newer but equally attractive modern ones.
âIt must have taken you hours,â she objected.
Oliver shrugged.
âNot really.â
âItâs beautiful,â she told him, her throat suddenly closing with emotion. He hadnât done it for her, of course. He had already told her that it was a family tradition, something he and his cousin did together. But, even so, to come down and find it there after confiding in him last night how much she longed for a traditional family Christmasâ¦suddenly seemed a good omen for her decision to stay on with him.
âIt hasnât got a fairy,â she told him, hoping he wouldnât notice the idiotic emotional thickening in her voice.
As he glanced towards the top of the tree Oliver shook hishead and told her, âOur fairy is a star, and itâs normally the responsibility of the woman of the house to put it on the tree, so I left itââ
âYou want me to do it?â Fresh emotion swept her. âBut Iâm not⦠I donât belong here,â she reminded him.
âBut you are a woman,â he told her softly, and there was something in the way he said the words, something in the way he looked at her that warned Lisa that the kiss they had shared last night wasnât something he had forgotten.
âWeâll have to leave it for now, though,â he told her. âOtherwise weâll be late for church.â
Â
It had been a cold night, and a heavy frost still lay over the countryside, lending it a magical quality of silvered stillness that made Lisa catch her breath in pleasure.
The village, as Oliver had said, was ten minutesâ drive awayâa collection of small stone houses huddled together on one side of the river and reached by a narrow stone bridge.
The church was at the furthest end of the village and set slightly apart from it, small and weathered and so old that it looked almost as though it had grown out of the craggy landscape around it.
The bells were ringing as Oliver parked the car and then led her towards the narrow lych-gate and along the stone-flagged path through a graveyard so peaceful that there was no sense of pain or sorrow about it.
Just inside the church, the vicar was waiting.
The church was already almost full, but when Lisa would have slipped into one of the rear pews Oliver touched her arm and directed her to one at the front. A family pew, Lisa recognised, half in awe and half in envy.
The service was short and simple, the carols traditional, the crib quite obviously decorated by very young hands, and yetto Lisa the whole experience was more movingly intense than if they had been in one of the worldâs grandest cathedrals.
Afterwards the vicar was waiting to shake hands and exchange a few words with all his congregation, including them, and as they ambled back to where Oliver had parked the car the final magical seal of wonderment was put on the day when the first flakes of the forecast snow started to fall.
âI donât believe it,â Lisa whispered breathlessly as Oliver unlocked the car doors. âI just donât believe it.â
As she whirled round, her whole face alight, Oliver laughed. The sound, so spontaneous and warmly masculine, had the oddest effect on Lisaâs body. Her heart seemed to flip helplessly, her breathing quickening, her gaze drawn unerringly to Oliverâs mouth.
She shouldnât be feeling like this. It wasnât fair and it certainly wasnât sensible. They barely knew one another. Yesterday they had been enemies, and but for an odd quirk of fate they still would be today.
Shakily she walked towards the car, the still falling snowflakes forgotten as she tried to come to
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