Snowy Christmas (7 page)

He simply smiled and held her tighter.

Peggy and Snow White charged back across the
lawn, and Snow White jumped up at Marcus's legs for the first
time.

"Wow," he said softly. "Do you think she
trusts me now?"

He lowered his hand and Snow White licked his
fingers.

"Seems like I'm not the only girl whose heart
you've won," Emily said.

Marcus slid both arms around Emily again and
stared into her eyes. "I've won your heart?"

The low, sexy timbre of his voice nearly
melted her.

"Yes," she whispered.

• • •

Being with Marcus was so wonderful. For the next few
days, Emily forgot about her depressing credit card debt until the
two statements arrived. With a sinking heart, she picked up the
familiar envelopes stamped with the bank logos from the table where
the maid had left them, and hurried back to her apartment.

Safely inside, she tore open the unwelcome
missives and dropped into one of the chairs in her sitting room to
spread the papers on her lap. At the sight of the amount she owed,
desperation fisted in her chest. She closed her eyes and drew in a
calming breath, fighting back the wave of despair.

The interest on the loan would consume nearly
all her money this month. But at least she did have enough. Lucky
for her, the Rosemoor estate paid its employees in the middle of
the month, so she'd already been paid a month's salary.

Once the credit card companies took their
slice from her bank account, she'd have just enough left to buy
Snow White's food and a few essentials she needed. Her family and
friends would have to be satisfied with homemade fudge for
Christmas, since that was all she could afford. Thank heavens she
didn't need to worry about paying rent.

She rubbed her temples against the dull throb
of a tension headache. Snow White jumped on her lap as if sensing
she was needed. Emily cuddled her close, kissing her head, and
wondered how she had ever survived without the company of her
darling little dog.

It was wonderful having Snow White to console
her, but she really wished she could summon the courage to confide
in Marcus. She'd only told him half the story about Vicente. She
hadn't admitted her money troubles. Marcus wouldn't judge her, but
she was too embarrassed by her stupidity to admit how she'd been
suckered.

A light tap on the door startled her out of
her thoughts. She put Snow White down and jumped up to tuck the
letters out of sight and check her face in the mirror before
pasting on a smile.

Marcus stood outside, smiling, hands in the
back pockets of his jeans, his hair a little ruffled as if he'd
forgotten to brush it.

The sight of his dear face brought tears to
her eyes. She stepped into his arms and buried her nose against his
chest. Swallowing back tears, she gradually regained her
composure.

"What's the matter, Em?" Marcus stroked some
hair back behind her ear with gentle fingers.

"Nothing." She wiped the side of her hand
beneath her lashes. "It's just lovely to see you again."

Confusion crossed his face. They'd only said
good-bye a few hours ago when she came downstairs to shower and
dress for a day's work. He probably thought she was going crazy,
but he let it pass.

"Are you ready to look through the photos we
talked about?"

"Of course." They were selecting photographs
that gave a flavor of Rosemoor Hall at Christmas through the ages
to scan and put on the website.

Emily turned and shouted for Snowy, who had
gone to lick out her breakfast dish one last time.

Marcus enclosed her hand in his large, warm
palm, his strong grip like a lifesaver in a stormy ocean. Little by
little, her distress receded. She would be all right. She'd scrimp
and save, and pay off the debts. It would take her a while, but she
would
free herself of this burden and get on her feet
again.

They walked through the great hall into
another corridor past the library and drawing room. The door to
Marcus's office stood open, and there were three boxes of documents
on his desk.

"I collected the photos together and filed
them properly a couple of years ago when Jon started writing his
books about the area and needed photos to include. Some of the
locals let us make copies of their old images to add to our
archive."

"Looks like you have plenty of photos to
choose from now," Emily said.

Marcus passed her a pair of white cotton
gloves before pulling some on himself. He lifted the lids off all
three storage boxes and pushed one of the boxes her way. "You go
through the most recent ones. We're looking for anything
Christmassy."

The photos were separated by interleaving
tissue paper. Some photographs had original handwritten notes on
the back, or pencil notations on the paper between them.

Marcus held up a photo of his
great-grandfather as a boy, standing in the great hall beside a
huge Christmas tree that was covered in lit candles. "Mega fire
hazard," he said.

Emily smiled, noticing how much he resembled
the little boy. The Bramwell men all looked very much alike.

There didn't seem to be any very recent
photos of the hall at Christmas. She found one of the buildings
clothed in heavy snow with Christmas lights twinkling through the
windows, and turned it over to check the date on the back.

"This is the most recent," she said, holding
it up. "It's dated six years ago."

"That was the last year my mother was here.
She always decorated and hosted a big family Christmas celebration
at the hall." Marcus pressed his lips together sadly as he took the
photo to look at it. "Gabriella wouldn't stay here for Christmas.
We had to go somewhere warm and trendy."

"What about the last two years?" Marcus had
been here alone then.

He shrugged and continued leafing through the
box he was searching. "We all go to the Fat Goose on Christmas Day
now. Shelly cooks for us."

His ex-wife had a lot to answer for. From
what Emily had been told, the woman made Marcus's life a misery. It
had probably taken him two years to recover. She reached for his
hand and squeezed.

He glanced up, a silent moment of
understanding passing between them, leaving her with a warm, fuzzy
feeling.

It occurred to Emily that there would likely
be a photograph of Gabriella in the box she was searching. Much as
Emily despised the woman who had made Marcus miserable, a part of
her couldn't help being curious to see what she looked like.

She started to examine the photos of people
more closely. Finally, she pulled one from seven years ago. Marcus
would have been twenty-eight at the time. He looked young,
self-assured, and incredibly handsome in a dark suit, with a
stunning blond woman at his side.

Emily's throat tightened, and she swallowed a
painful knot of jealousy. Marcus and his ex-wife looked so good
together, as if they belonged side by side. The camera loved
Gabriella, but the picture lied because it made her look like an
angel.

Emily, on the other hand, did not take a good
photograph. Her nose appeared massive in photos, and her smile
always looked forced. She'd told herself that Marcus must be the
sort of guy who liked women for their personality, not their looks,
but if he'd married a stunning beauty like Gabriella, that must be
wrong.

He could have any woman he wanted. It made no
sense for him to want her, a penniless housekeeper with only
mediocre looks.

"All right?" he said, concern in his
voice.

"Fine." She slotted the photo of Gabriella
back in the box and unenthusiastically continued her search for
Christmas pictures. Today was turning out to be a depressing
one.

"Did you ever go to work with your
grandmother when she was the housekeeper for Owen's parents? They
used to have a group photograph of all the staff at the Boxing Day
lunch, just like we did at the hall."

"No." Emily shook her head vigorously. "I
don't remember having my photo taken."

A lie, of course. She clearly recalled how
much she'd hated posing for those photos as a fat teen with
unflattering glasses and acne. The last thing she wanted was Marcus
seeing a picture of her like that.

Marcus saved a small corner of cheese from his
sandwich before he put the crumb-covered plate down for Peggy to
lick. Then he crouched and placed the piece of cheese on his
outstretched palm for Snow White. She stared at him from her spot
under Emily's stool at the island in his kitchen. After a few
moments' consideration, she walked across to him and took the
cheese, her tail wagging.

"Good girl. Was that nice?" He stroked the
little dog's ears with a huge sense of achievement at winning her
trust. Although it seemed he'd won Snow White's affection and lost
Emily's.

"Snowy allowed me to pet her," he said to
Emily, but she sat staring into space and didn't respond. She was
right there, but might as well be a million miles away. And she'd
been like this ever since this morning. He kept going over what
he'd said and done in case he'd upset her.

"Emily, have I done something wrong?"

"Pardon?" She dragged her attention back from
wherever it had been, and he repeated his question.

"No. Of course not."

"Well, you're acting as though I have."

"Oh, Marcus. It's not you." She slipped off
her stool, abandoning her untouched sandwich, and stepped into his
arms. She rested her cheek on his chest and hugged him. "I'm sorry.
I'm just feeling down today. It's my problem, not yours."

That didn't really help because as far as he
was concerned, her problems were his as well. He didn't want her
coping with troubles on her own. If she was hurting, he wanted to
be there for her. He circled a soothing hand on her back and
pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She'd become so important to
him so quickly.

"Tell me," he whispered.

Emily heaved a sigh. "I have a couple of
credit card debts, and the statements came in the mail this
morning. They always get me down."

"Can you afford to pay them off?"

"I can afford to pay the interest. It's
nothing to worry about, really. I'm making a fuss." She tried to
pull away, but he didn't release her. It obviously wasn't
nothing
, or she wouldn't be so preoccupied with it.

"Do you want me to pay them off for you?"
Even as he made the offer, he knew she would refuse.

"You don't even know how much they are." She
glanced up at him incredulously.

"Show me the statements then."

She turned away, and he let her go this time.
For a few seconds, she stood with her back to him, her head
bowed.

"Okay," she said finally. "I'll get them."
She hurried out of his apartment with Snow White behind her and
returned five minutes later, some folded papers in her hand.

Sensitive to her strange mood, he kept things
low-key. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist,
his cheek rested on the side of her head as he read over her
shoulder. Both statements were from major banks. He'd expected her
to owe some horrendous amount, but the total of the two figures was
little more than he spent and paid off on his credit cards every
month.

He really could clear this debt for her
without even noticing it, but she'd already said no. So he had to
think of another way to help her.

"They're charging exorbitant rates of
interest," he said. "It'll cost you less if you get a bank loan and
pay off the cards."

"How will I persuade a bank to give me a
loan? I'm hardly a good risk."

"I'll do that for you." All it would take was
a phone call to an old school friend.

She turned in his arms and looked up at him,
the light of hope in her mossy green eyes. "You can arrange my
loan?"

"Absolutely." He'd do anything for her. "I'll
get you an interest rate a fourth of what you're paying now."

Her eyes widened and filled with tears. But
despite that, she smiled for the first time that day. Her face lit
up, giving him a familiar tightness in his chest that made it
difficult to breathe.

"I think I love you, Marcus Bramwell."

His emotions soared, and he grinned back at
her. "Well, that's good, because I love you too."

• • •

For the visit to the bank, Emily dressed in fitted
black slacks and a red blouse, and carried the documents Marcus
told her to bring in her big shoulder bag. He wore a dark suit, a
blue-and-silver-striped tie, and a long navy cashmere overcoat that
made him look like a stockbroker.

They stepped out of the back door, and she
waited while he locked it. They had walked the dogs over to
Rosemoor Farm earlier since Owen and Jennifer were pet sitting for
the day. It seemed strangely quiet and lonely without their
exuberant canine companions.

Emily turned towards the old coach house
where Marcus kept his cars, hoping she might get to ride in his
Porsche today. So far, she'd only seen him use the four-wheel
drive.

"Not that way," he said.

She frowned as he took her hand and led her
up the path to the gate into the huge open expanse of grassy
parkland.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To London, of course."

Emily chuckled, wondering what he was up to.
Then she noticed him looking up at the sky. The distant sound of a
helicopter grew louder, and she followed his finger as he pointed
to the small dark dot against the pale wintery blue sky.

"For us?" she said, suppressing the burst of
excitement.

"For us," he confirmed.

She scooped back her wildly blowing hair
while the chopper landed nearby. As the rotor blades slowed, the
pilot beckoned Marcus, and he jogged over. The two men exchanged a
few words before Marcus came back for her.