#rust fic

Her lips parted beneath his and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding sensuously against hers, drawing from her a soft moan that had his body tightening even further with desire.

The need for air finally forced him to break away, his breathing uneven as the heat between them lingered heavily.

When he opened his eyes, she was already looking at him. Her pupils blown wide, lips parted, chest heaving.

“Colin,” she whispered, and the sound of his name sent a low thrill spiralling through him.

For years he had trained himself to pull back at moments like this; but here, now, with her so open and warm, the instinct to withdraw simply…didn’t come.

Slowly, he released her wrist, his fingers sliding away only to grasp the edge of the duvet. He shifted it aside removing the last barrier between them. His hand came back to her then, settling gently at her waist as he guided her back against the cushions of the sofa.

She went willingly, trusting him with the movement, her gaze never leaving his.

He followed her down, bracing himself over her, giving her time to object if she wanted to.

She didn’t.

Instead, her hands went to his neck, fingers slipping into his hair before she tugged just enough to pull a low groan from his chest.

He really, really liked that.

Bending his head, he captured her lips in an urgent kiss, driven by the simple, undeniable truth that whatever restraint he’d once relied on no longer seemed to exist.

Again and again their lips met, the heat between them rising with every breath, every touch. His hands began to roam, eager but unhurried, until his fingers skimmed along the hem of her jumper before slipping beneath it. He moved slowly, giving her every chance to stop him as he traced the soft curve of her stomach.

When his hand reached the warm, silky underside of her bra, he stilled.

With considerable effort, he tore his mouth away from hers and looked down at her aroused face. He needed to slow, to think, before the last of his self-control gave way entirely.

“Pen,” he gasped, voice rough. “You need to tell me if you don’t want this. If you want me to stop.”

She gazed back at him, lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and unwavering. Then, very deliberately, she placed her hand over his beneath her jumper and guided it higher, pressing it firmly where she wanted it to be.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she told him with certainty. “I just want you. Now.”

He drew in a sharp breath at her words, then let it out on a slow, unsteady exhale, the last of his resolve slipping away.

He stayed there for a moment longer, hovering over her as he tried to gather himself. The world had narrowed to the warmth beneath his hand, the way she was looking at him and the startling realisation that, deep, deep inside, this was something that he’d wanted for a very long time.

He swallowed hard. He needed to take her in properly.

Not just feel her, but see her too.

He eased back just enough to give them both space and reluctantly removed his hand.

“Colin?” she whispered, uncertainty colouring her tone when he paused.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, with a slight shake of his head. “I just…I want…I mean, I’d like to see you. All of you.”

Her eyes widened slightly and then she nodded. With a slightly self-conscious smile, she sat up and reached for the hem of her jumper. It caught on her head for a moment as she tried to get it off and Colin reached out to help her pull it free. Her curls tumbled down around her shoulders and he discarded the jumper as she reached around her back and deftly undid her bra. That followed her top onto the floor and Colin drew in a shaky breath as he gazed at her full, round breasts, then back up to her eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured and heard her breath catch at his words.

His hands itched to reach out and touch her but before he could, Penelope was reaching out for him instead. Fingers slipped beneath the edge of his jumper causing a shudder to run through him and then she quickly tugged it up and over his head along with the t-shirt beneath. Their elbows knocked as he lifted his arms to try and aid her and she let out a giggle at their eager clumsiness.

He laughed along with her, low and disbelieving that this was actually happening, and from then on it was a blur of hands and clothing as they helped each other strip off completely.

For a moment, neither of them moved as they took in each other’s bodies, all hard lines and soft curves.

“Still okay?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixing on hers.

She nodded immediately.

“Yes.”

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her lips, her cheeks, her neck and lower still. Gentle hands cupped and kneaded firm mounds of flesh before trailing down silky skin to her hot, wet centre. Inexorably, he brought her to completion with dexterous fingers and heated words that had her body clench and arch as a broken sound wrenched free from her.

He held her as she came down from her high, his body straining with urgent need as she quivered under him.

“Condom,” he muttered as he reached for his jeans and quickly pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and took out a single foil pack, then dropped it back on the floor.

He moved back a little and stilled when he saw her eyes lock on it. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face before she smoothed it away and his stomach dropped a little.

“It’s not…I haven’t…” he blurted out quickly, then stopped, exhaling as he shook his head and held up the packet between them. “It’s habit. Anthony drummed it into me when I was younger. Be prepared. No excuses. So, I’ve always carried one around, even though it’s been a bit redundant for the past few years.” A faint, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “Until now…and I’ve never been so bloody grateful that I listened to him for once in my life.”

The tension eased from her shoulders almost immediately.

“Oh,” she said, huffing out a quiet laugh. “Me too.” She propped herself up on one elbow and held out her other hand. “Let me.”

For a second, the offer alone nearly ruined him.

He took her hand instead and pressed a kiss into her palm, lingering there before pulling back with a grin. “I don’t think I’m going to last that long as it is, Pen,” he admitted wryly. “If you do it, I know I won’t.”

She let out a surprised giggle then happily settled back against the cushions again, watching him with unmistakable interest.

The awareness of her look sent another sharp pull straight through him.

As if he wasn’t already hard enough.

He sheathed himself with practiced ease, then settled between her welcoming thighs and lined himself up at her entrance. With a roll of his hips, he finally sank into her moist heat. Both of them let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling of completion.

Of being one.

Of how well they fit together.

She wrapped her legs around him, holding him in and then he began to move. Shallowly at first, then harder, deeper, as they found their rhythm. Penelope writhed beneath him, urging him on with her hands, her body, her cries of, ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘there’. He was drowning in the sensation of her, his climax fast approaching and yet, despite his assertions to the contrary, he managed to hold off long enough to watch her face as she fell apart around him with a sharp cry of his name.

And then his eyes closed as his hips faltered and a loud groan escaped him as the intensity of his own release ripped through him without mercy. Wave after wave washed over him, powerful enough to leave him trembling above her, every muscle giving in to the force of it, all at once.

For a moment he held himself above her on sheer willpower alone, before his arms finally gave out and he sagged down against her, breath ragged, heart hammering. Straight away, he tried to push himself back up, conscious of his weight, a half-formed apology already on his lips.

But Penelope’s arms came around him instead, holding him close.

“Stay,” she murmured, and the single word took what little strength he had left.

He let himself sink into her again, careful as he could be, their sweat slicked bodies pressed together as their breathing slowly began to even out. He nuzzled into her neck placing light kisses there while her fingers traced abstract patterns over his back.

They stayed like that for a long moment. Wrapped together in warmth and quiet, the world beyond the sofa forgotten entirely and then he lifted his head just enough to find her mouth again. He kissed her tenderly and when he pulled back, they were both smiling.

It’d left him quietly undone, this unexpected intimacy they’d shared. Disoriented. Deep down he knew that whatever had just passed between them wasn’t something he could easily dismiss as a momentary lapse. Nor could he simply shrug it off or pretend it hadn’t mattered.

Not after the way it had felt.

Not after how completely it had taken hold of him.

They would have to talk about it of course. However much a part of him might not wish to, he knew he couldn’t simply ignore it.

Much like his body, he realised with a faint grimace.

He didn’t want the moment to end, but he could already feel himself softening inside her and with it came the unwelcome awareness that there were things he needed to tend to.

“I’ll just…” he murmured, already shifting carefully, reluctant even now to break the closeness between them.

She nodded and pressed another quick kiss to his lips as he moved away.

He sat up, and Penelope felt her heart flip when he leaned in again to tuck the cover back carefully around her so she wouldn’t get cold. She watched as he turned aside and deftly removed the condom, tying it off before giving a small, involuntary shiver.

His gaze flicked to the fire, now dulled to embers, the sting of cold air already creeping back into the room. With a soft curse, he rose and crossed to the hearth.

Penelope followed him with her eyes, saying nothing.

He placed a couple of logs onto the dying flames, then used the poker to rearrange them until the fire caught again, flaring brighter. The light outlined his bronzed physique to perfection, tracing the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his back, catching along his sides and the faint curl of dark hair on his chest when he moved. Her skin still tingled from the feel of it against her when he’d held her tight. Muscles rippled as he worked, arms flexing with unselfconscious power, the lines of him relaxed and unguarded.

Penelope bit her lip as her gaze continued to roam hungrily over him. Down to his taut derriere and strong legs, every part of him as she tried to memorise the beauty of his body.

She told herself not to look at him. To not take inventory. To not remember the weight of those arms, the warmth of that chest, the way his muscles had flexed and strained as he’d moved relentlessly and passionately inside her.

But she did.

She had to, because she knew she wouldn’t get another chance like this again.

He turned around and hesitated a moment, glancing down at the used condom.

Her chest tightened. For some odd reason she felt that if he left her to dispose of it, he would come to his senses and the night would be over.

She wasn’t ready for it to end. Not like that. Not yet.

“Leave it,” she urged quietly, then lifted the edge of the cover and shifted aside, making space for him. “You must be freezing. Come and get warm.”

He looked at her then and his expression softened. With a small nod he did as she asked. Climbing back beneath the cover, he settled behind her and slid one arm around her waist, drawing her back flush against him. She let out a slight gasp at just how cold he felt and wriggled against him, trying to lend him her body heat as she arranged the duvet more snugly around them.

She heard him sigh softly as his body eased against hers and found his hand where it rested at her waist, lacing her fingers through his. He responded immediately, drawing her back even closer and nuzzling into her hair, a soft, almost inaudible sound of contentment leaving him as he settled.

She listened to his breathing deepen as sleep pulled him under and told herself that she would be sensible tomorrow. Oh, so very sensible. Because despite what they’d shared, she knew it changed nothing.

She was still leaving.

And Colin did not want love.

This had been an aberration. An interlude. A momentary suspension of reality after a long, difficult day.

Nothing more.

Not for him.

Closing her eyes, she committed the moment to memory; the warmth of him at her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet comfort of being held through the night.

And although she’d never thought it would happen between them, she didn’t regret for a second that it had. Not even a little bit.

She loved him.

And if this was all of him that she would ever have, then she would cherish it.

Forever.

That was the part now clawing viciously at him, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside.

His jaw clenched as he shoved another armful of clothes into the case, cramming them down mindlessly.

Just what in the hell had possessed him?

He’d spent years burying his emotions down so deeply he barely even recognised them in himself anymore, and then one stupid argument had been enough to rip them straight out of him anyway.

And he felt like a complete bloody idiot, because he’d gone and done it again, hadn’t he?

He’d let himself get swept up too quickly in the certainty of it all, in wanting something so badly that he’d convinced himself it was reciprocated.

The thought made him feel sick.

He pulled the lid shut and leaned heavily on his case, dragging in several slow, rasping breaths. It did little to ease the nausea rolling around in his stomach.

He needed to leave.

Needed air. Distance. Anything other than standing there trapped in the aftermath of a conversation he couldn’t seem to escape.

He straightened abruptly then grabbed his coat from the chair before zipping up the case and hauling it off the bed. It landed on the floor with a dull thud and he headed out of the room, not even bothering to close the door properly behind him.

The corridor beyond was quiet, the warm glow from the wall sconces stretching long shadows across the floorboards. The house appeared settled for the night. Then the sound of a door opening in the direction he wanted to go startled him and he instinctively stepped back.

Bloody hell.

He couldn’t see anyone. Not now. Not looking like this.

He turned and hurried toward the narrow back passage used years ago by servants and deliveries, the route tucked away from the more lived-in parts of the house. The staircase there was steeper and dimmer, the old wood creaking loudly beneath his feet as he descended with one hand gripping the banister and the other wrapped tightly around the handle of his case.

Even in his flight, his thoughts refused to still. Every few seconds yet another fragment of their argument came rushing back, making his stomach lurch all over again.

By the time he reached the lower corridor his breathing had turned shallow once more. He paused and took in a shaky breath before fumbling his phone from his pocket with unsteady fingers.

He would call a cab and go back to London then try and figure out how to survive the embarrassment of ever facing Penelope again.

His thumb had only just unlocked the screen when the door to Anthony’s study opened and his brother stepped out.

Colin froze and stared at him in mortification.

Anthony looked equally startled for a second, his hand still on the doorknob before his expression changed into something almost sheepish.

“Ah,” he said lightly, casting a quick glance back into the study. “If Edmund starts asking where his drumsticks are tomorrow morning, I trust you saw absolutely nothing.”

Under any other circumstances, Colin probably would have laughed.

Instead, he just stood there gripping the handle of his case even tighter whilst his pulse continued hammering wildly.

Anthony’s faint smile faded as he finally looked at him properly, taking everything in. His case, his coat…his red rimmed eyes.

“…Everything okay?” he queried cautiously.

“Fine,” Colin replied far too quickly.

Anthony’s brow furrowed slightly and he carried on watching him in silence for a moment, probably seeing far much more than Colin wanted him to. Then his gaze darted down to the case and back up again.

“Going somewhere?”

“London.”

“At this hour?” his brother demanded in surprise

Colin couldn’t hold his gaze.

“I just need to go.”

The words came out hoarser than he would have liked and an awkward silence fell between them. When he eventually glanced back up, Anthony was looking at him with open concern now.

His eyes flicked once more to the case before he gave a small nod toward the room behind him.

“How about a drink before you disappear into the night?”

Colin opened his mouth automatically, a refusal on the tip of his tongue, but Anthony turned away and walked back into the study as though certain he would be followed.

Infuriatingly, Colin found he still could not quite ignore his brother when he used that tone, even when it wasn’t really an order at all.

With a resigned sigh, he pocketed his phone and followed him inside.

The study was warm and dimly lit, the fire burning low in the grate with the last embers of the day.

Colin left his case by the door and dropped his coat on top of it before moving further into the room. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs opposite the desk whilst Anthony crossed over to the small table beside it where a decanter sat waiting, alongside a set of crystal tumblers.

The clink of glass sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet as Anthony poured a generous finger of whisky into two of the tumblers before turning and holding one out to him.

“Thanks,” Colin murmured as he took it.

Anthony gave a brief nod before taking his own seat behind the desk. The green leather creaked softly beneath him as he leaned back in the chair and lifted his glass in a faint salute before taking a sip.

Then, he simply sat there watching him with that steady, assessing stare of his. The one that always uncomfortably reminded Colin of the solitary time he’d ended up in the headmaster’s office, after bunking off school with a mate when he was fourteen.

He shifted slightly in his seat and cleared his throat before taking a swallow of whisky that burned all the way down.

The silence dragged on.

And on.

Long enough that his already shredded nerves couldn't take any more.

“What?”

Anthony’s eyes didn’t leave him.

“You look like hell.”

“Thank you, brother,” Colin retorted sarcastically.

“I’m serious.”

Colin exhaled slowly and stared down into his drink, watching the amber liquid swirl lazily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Colin shook his head and gave him a very terse, “No.”   

“It might make you feel better,” Anthony suggested, not remotely deterred by his brother’s refusal.

A humourless bark of laughter escaped Colin before he could stop it.

“I very much doubt that.”

Anthony took another sip of whisky, still watching him over the rim of the glass in that maddeningly calm way of his.

“Well,” he began, waving a hand in the direction of the case, “whatever this is, do you really think running away is the answer?”

Colin bristled.

“I’m not running away.”

Anthony raised a brow at that, clearly unconvinced, and the expression irritated Colin almost as much as the question itself.

“Oh really?” his brother challenged mildly. “Because from where I’m sitting, slinking off in the middle of the night with your suitcase and coat does rather suggest otherwise.”

Colin looked away, staring instead at the couple of barely glowing coals left in the grate.

“I just need some space to think, okay?”

“Mm.”

God, that sound was aggravating.

For a few moments Anthony said nothing else, then, in a much quieter voice than before, he asked, “Did something happen between you and Penelope?”

Colin’s head jerked back toward him and he felt his cheeks flush hotly at the question.

“Why would you think that?”

Anthony gave him a faintly disbelieving look.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he countered sardonically. “Perhaps because she resigned completely out of the blue three days ago and ever since then the two of you have been behaving strangely enough that even Gregory has started noticing it?”

“Pen just has things she wants to do with her life,” Colin replied defensively, ignoring the rest of what his brother had said entirely.

Anthony gave him a long-suffering look.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he remarked and put his glass down with a thump on the desk. “But if it isn’t about Penelope, then what else could have got you this upset?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Mm.”

For heaven’s sake, there was that bloody sound again.

“There’s nothing going on,” he insisted.

Anthony pursed his lips, clearly weighing that statement against everything else he’d witnessed over the last couple of days and deciding it was complete nonsense.

“Colin, I saw you very nearly kiss her in the garden yesterday, remember?” he pointed out wryly.

Christ.

Colin held his gaze for a moment, a denial ready on his lips when his phone suddenly went off with a message alert.

Almost before he realised what he was doing, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen.

Pen.

Colin cursed under his breath, switched the phone off without even opening the message and shoved it back into his pocket. The thought of reading anything from her right now made his stomach churn all over again.

Then he looked up and saw the knowing expression on his brother's face. For a second there he’d completely forgotten that Anthony was sitting directly opposite him.

“I think you can probably stop pretending now that this has nothing to do with Penelope,” he stated drily.

“Just leave it, Anthony,” Colin warned, raising his glass to his lips.

He’d just taken a mouthful of drink when, with all the subtlety he’d unfortunately come to expect from his brother, Anthony asked bluntly, “Are you sleeping with her?”

Colin nearly choked on his whisky.

“For God’s sake,” he spluttered, glaring at him in disbelief.

“Well?”

“That is absolutely none of your business.”

“You’re my brother,” he pointed out curtly. “And Penelope has practically been part of this family for years. I’d say that makes it very much my business.”

Colin let out a frustrated breath, wishing desperately for this conversation to end before it got any more unbearable.

Unfortunately, his silence appeared to answer the question anyway. Anthony’s eyes narrowed and he sat forward, resting his forearms on the desk. Giving his brother a stern look, he demanded, “Is that the real reason she resigned?”

Colin looked back at him, genuinely puzzled.

“What?”

“Penelope and you,” Anthony clarified. “Were you sleeping together? Did something go wrong?”

“No,” Colin denied vehemently, the answer coming so quickly he barely thought about it. “It happened afterwards.”

Silence.

Colin blinked.

Oh, for the love of…

Heat flooded straight into Colin’s face again as the full realisation of what he’d just admitted caught up with him.

“Sodding hell,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hand.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Anthony dismissed, “I can’t say I’m particularly shocked. Ever since you got here, I’ve had my suspicions that you’ve finally caught up to what’s been right in front of you for years.”

Colin tensed, feeling unexpectedly exposed. Not because he hadn’t realised it himself already — he had — but because apparently Anthony had seen it too.

And somehow that made him feel even more foolish.

For a few seconds he debated what to say to that. Anthony already seemed to have worked out most of it anyway and, frankly, Colin himself no longer had the faintest idea what he was supposed to do next. It had been a very long while since he'd gone to his brother with something like this, but at the moment he was struggling to think of anyone better to talk to.

“We…argued tonight,” he said looking over at him at last, the memory still painful. “She doesn’t think I know my own feelings.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed on him.

“And do you?”

“Yes!”

His brother seemed to relax slightly at the certainty of the answer.

“But I take it she didn’t believe you?”

Colin hesitated and dragged a hand through his hair.

“She thinks it’s all been too quick,” he said, a touch bitterly.

“Well…,” Anthony began slowly, “she’s not entirely wrong.” At his brother’s frown, he pressed on, “You do have to look at this from Penelope’s perspective, Colin. She decides to leave and then almost immediately afterwards the two of you sleep together.”

The younger man stared at him, aghast.

“That’s not…”

“For all she knows,” Anthony cut in again, determined to get his point across, “this could be your way of trying to keep her around.”

The words hit like a physical blow, sending his mind reeling.

Because somewhere amongst all the hurt and humiliation and panic of tonight, he’d been so wrapped up in protecting himself from rejection that he’d hardly stopped to consider what any of this must have looked like from Penelope’s side at all.

“Jesus, Anthony,” he protested in stunned disbelief. “What kind of arsehole do you think I am?”

Something in his brother’s expression softened.

“One that spent years retreating so far into himself that the rest of us started wondering if we’d ever again see the brother we knew,” he told him plainly. “That’s why I asked Penelope to help at the office in the first place. She was the only person you still let even remotely close to you.”

Colin looked away at that, blinking hard against the unexpected sting of tears before tipping his glass back and draining the rest of the whisky in one go, welcoming the intense burn of it.

“When the hell did you become so bloody perceptive?” he muttered.

Anthony’s mouth curved upwards.

“Kate,” he replied without hesitation.

A ghost of a smile pulled briefly at Colin’s mouth despite himself.

Of course.

“It’s good to have you back, by the way,” Anthony added after a moment.

Colin glanced over at him and swallowed down the lump that seemed permanently lodged in his throat.

“I would say it’s good to be back, but it bloody hurts,” he retorted gruffly.

Anthony could sympathise.

“Yes, I’m afraid that rather comes with the territory.”

Colin snorted and sank back into his chair with a shake of his head.

“You know, for someone supposedly trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a God-awful job.”

Anthony gave him a rueful smile then leaned over to grab his tumbler before standing up.

“For what it’s worth,” he said as he crossed over to the decanter and put the empty glasses down, “I don’t actually think Penelope believes you were deliberately trying to manipulate her.”

Colin felt some relief at that, though it changed absolutely nothing about the mess he knew he'd made of things.

“But,” Anthony continued, turning back to him, “I do think she’s frightened of what all this means. And frankly, I don’t blame her for that. You can’t spend your entire life trying to avoid being hurt, Colin, because that’s not living.” He paused briefly before adding pointedly, “That’s just surviving.”

Colin had no argument for that.

He’d spent years surviving. Using work as a shield to keep everyone and everything at a distance. And now that he was having to face the stark reality of risking the one person he couldn't bear to lose, he felt like he was losing his mind.

The confession sat heavily on his tongue for several seconds before he finally blurted it out, “I’m so bloody scared, Ant.”

His brother was quiet for a moment.

“Of what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, take your pick,” Colin retorted with a hollow laugh. “That she’ll never believe me? That she’ll never forgive me? That I’ve already ruined this before it’s even begun? That I’ll never be the man she deserves?”

For the first time since they’d entered the study, Anthony looked surprised.

“Nothing is ever guaranteed, brother, especially not when it comes to love,” he told him with a frown. “But if you leave tonight, what exactly do you think that tells her?”

The question hung heavily in the room.

Colin stared down at the floor whilst the answer rose almost immediately, brutal in its honesty.

That he was a coward.

That the second things became difficult he’d fallen straight back into old habits and tried to run before he could be hurt any further.

And worse…

That perhaps Penelope had been right to question him after all.

Because if he truly meant what he’d said to her, if he really loved her the way he now knew he did, then leaving Aubrey Hall in the middle of the night without even trying to fix this hardly suggested he believed in them enough to stay and fight for it.

The realisation landed with sickening force.

Anthony could see the play of emotions on the younger man’s face and waited a moment before finally crossing the room to him.

Colin glanced up as he stopped beside the chair and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Colin, but whatever you decide next, just be sure it’s not driven by fear, okay?” he advised seriously. Off Colin’s slightly bemused nod, he gave him a quick smile and stepped back. “I’d better go up. It’s late and Kate will be wondering where I am.”

Colin nodded again and Anthony headed for the door, pulling it shut behind him. He stood outside for a moment, staring at the dark wood before finally turning away and walking slowly down the corridor.

What if she was simply letting herself be swept along by the hope of something she had secretly wanted for years?

Despite what Eloise and Violet seemed to think, she couldn’t quite silence that persistent little voice in the back of her mind. The one that sounded irritatingly like her mother and kept returning to the same explanation no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it.

That this was happening now because she was leaving.

The thought tormented her as she stared into the darkness.

She’d been there through some of the worst years of his life. Through the aftermath of Marina. Through the long periods where he had quietly withdrawn from almost everyone around him. She’d become an integral part of his life so gradually that neither of them had truly noticed it happening. She was the person who organised his days, navigated his moods and listened when he needed it.

Perhaps losing that was what had unsettled him so badly.

Perhaps it was not really her he was reacting to, but the absence her leaving would create. The loss of something safe and familiar and constant in his fairly solitary life.

And if that was the case, then she could not allow herself to mistake gratitude, comfort or dependency for an imagined affection, just because she longed for it to be true.

She gave a little grimace at the thought and rolled onto her other side, pulling the covers a little higher around herself with a grumble of irritation.

This was doing her no good at all. Lying here endlessly circling the same thoughts was hardly going to provide her with any answers tonight and, at this point, she was beginning to exhaust herself with it.

What she needed now was to forget everything and just get some sleep.

Closing her eyes again, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to relax into the mattress.

Unfortunately, it still wasn’t to be. Her overactive mind clearly keen to bring up the one thing that refused to fit neatly anywhere at all.

The cottage.

More specifically, the night they’d spent together.

“Just stop it,” she groaned to herself in aggravation as everything they’d shared began to play out in glorious technicolour inside her head.

The eager way he’d touched her, the passionate way he’d kissed her, the heated words that had tumbled from his mouth as he’d brought them both to fulfilment.

It had been incredible. But, if she were completely honest with herself, it wasn’t the physical side of things that had shaken her most. It was his care of her afterwards.

She had felt cherished, like it’d meant something - like she meant something.

And that was the part she couldn’t quite explain away no matter how hard she tried.

Because gratitude and dependency did not account for the tenderness of him holding her all through the night as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Nor the look in his eyes the next morning when she told him she did not expect anything from him; that fleeting glimpse of hurt she still could not quite forget.

And perhaps that was why it bothered her so much now. Because every time she tried convincing herself there had to be some alternative reason for his behaviour, her mind returned stubbornly to that night and quietly ripped her whole argument apart again.

A sharp knock against the door startled her from her thoughts and her eyes blinked open in confusion.

Who could that be?

Frowning, she sat up and switched the bedside lamp back on. Glancing at the clock, she winced faintly at the late hour and then her heart gave a jolt.

Had something happened?  Was someone ill?

Slipping hurriedly from the bed, she headed over to the door expecting that she would find either Eloise or Violet standing on the other side.

When she finally opened it, though, she looked at her visitor in shock…and forgot entirely how to breathe.

“Colin?”

He stood before her, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled and face tense. For a moment he simply stared at her and then cleared his throat lightly.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Did I wake you?”

Penelope shook her head. “No. I wasn’t asleep.”

His gaze darted over her, then immediately returned to her face and heat rushed into her cheeks as she remembered exactly what she had on. Her ridiculous nightshirt with ‘Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe’ emblazoned prominently across her stomach in cheerful festive lettering.

For one awful second, silence hung between them before he seemed to relax slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Penelope narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say a word,” she warned.

“I wasn’t going to,” he denied quickly.

“You absolutely were.”

“Not at all,” he countered innocently. “I was simply admiring your…” He paused, visibly attempting to suppress a smile before giving up entirely. “…festive spirit.”

She laughed despite herself but when she glanced up at him again, the way he was looking at her sent a completely different kind of heat rushing through her.

Her smile faded slowly as self-consciousness crept in because she still didn’t know why he was standing outside her bedroom door in the middle of the night.

“What are you doing here, Colin?”

His eyes widened slightly and he shot a quick look each way down the corridor, then took a small step forward.

“Can I come in?” he asked hopefully. “I’d like to talk.”

“Now?” she asked cautiously. “Can’t it wait until the morning?”

“No.” He shuffled a little closer. “Please, Pen, let me in.”

For a moment she hesitated, common sense urging her to send him away before either of them wandered into territory neither of them seemed capable of navigating properly anymore.

But then she looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the tightness around his mouth despite his teasing. At the way he seemed almost braced for her refusal whilst trying not to show it.

At the soft pleading look in his deep blue eyes…

The one she had always been completely incapable of denying him when he looked at her like that.

Letting out a quiet breath, she stepped back from the doorway.

“Fine,” she murmured, feeling a small spike of nerves flutter low in her stomach as he moved past her into the room.

She shut the door behind him and turned to see him come to a stop near the end of the bed.

Penelope gazed at him uncertainly.

There was an odd sort of nervous energy about him tonight. Like he was trying very hard to contain whatever it was that was brewing underneath.

And it made her feel uneasy too.

She watched as his fingers flexed at his side before curling inward again into fists. Then he glanced around the room before looking back at her with an intensity that made her pulse jump.

“Is everything alright?” she asked carefully.

“Yes. No. I mean…nothing’s wrong,” he corrected quickly, and then tutted, clearly irritated with himself. “Christ, I’m making a mess of this already.”

Penelope stayed silent. He clearly had something he needed to say and she could tell he was searching for the right words, whatever they were. She folded her arms across her chest almost in a poor effort to protect herself because now that the moment actually seemed to have arrived, where they might finally discuss what the hell was going on between them, she could feel all her earlier fears beginning to creep steadily back in.

Perhaps this had all been a mistake. Letting him in here. Letting herself hope again.

Colin suddenly drew in a breath before finally saying, “I wanted to thank you.”

A faint grimace crossed his face after he spoke, quick enough she might have missed it had she not been watching him so closely, although she wasn’t sure what it meant.

“For what?” she asked in confusion.

“My journal.”

Understanding dawned immediately.

“Oh.”

He nodded before continuing, “I meant to tell you earlier after I’d finished reading it.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. His gaze fixed on her and this time there was something far more unguarded in it as he took an involuntary step toward her. “Pen, I sat and read every one of your notes.” A faint breath of laughter escaped him, though it carried no real amusement. “Some of them more than once.”

She looked at him in pleased surprise.

“Really?”

He nodded again and closed the remaining distance between them in a couple of strides. Once in front of her, he gave her a small smile.

“Yes, really,” he repeated softly. “What you wrote…it means a lot to me. More than you probably realise.”

She stared up at him, suddenly remembering herself years earlier, sitting curled up with his journal in her lap and scribbling thoughts onto coloured sticky notes because she’d been so absurdly impressed by him. By the way he noticed things. By the way he wrote about ordinary moments like they were something incredibly special.

Then everything with Marina had happened and she’d held onto it not knowing what to do.

Until now.

“I’m glad,” she said softly. “Because I meant every word.”

His mouth parted a little at that and then his smile widened.

“Even the part where you called me brilliant?” he asked lightly, though she could hear the vulnerability that laced his teasing tone.

“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her gaze as warmth flooded her cheeks once more. “Even that part.”

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, Colin lifted his hand and placed a finger gently beneath her chin, tilting her face back up. His touch sent a swift tingle of awareness through her and when their eyes met again, her breath caught.

“Well,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said such wonderful things like that about me before.”

Her folded arms loosened at the quiet honesty in his admission and, as though sensing a softening in her, Colin leaned a little closer. Her hands came up to rest against his chest, not to stop him, more to steady herself beneath the intensity of the way he was looking at her.

His thumb brushed her jaw, the touch so impossibly gentle that she felt herself sway toward him.

“Colin…”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant to say after that. Maybe nothing. Maybe his name alone had been enough because the look in his eyes darkened instantly, the tenderness still there but now mixed in with an unmistakable desire that made her heart stumble, then pick up pace.

His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, and then, as if he could no longer stop himself, he bent and kissed her.

The moment his lips touched hers, every coherent thought in her head vanished.

A faint sound escaped her as his hand moved to cradle her cheek before he kissed her fiercely, as though he had been holding himself back for far too long.

Fingers curling into the thick wool of his jumper, she clutched at him as heat rushed through her so fast it near left her dizzy. He drew her against him with an almost desperate urgency and suddenly she could feel everything; the hard line of his body pressed against hers, the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm, the slight unsteadiness in the breath he exhaled against her mouth.

And when her fingers slid into his hair, a sound so raw and needy escaped him it went straight to her core.

His grip tightened at her waist and the kiss deepened, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour everything he still could not quite say into the way he touched her instead.

The first she realised they’d moved was when the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed. Colin’s arm tightened around her body as he guided her backwards onto the mattress and followed her down.

He caught himself above her, one arm braced beside her head, fingers tangling in her hair, whilst the other held her firmly to him. She couldn’t believe she was in his arms again, heat unfurling inside her as the feel of him all solid muscle and familiar weight pressed her down into the mattress.

His mouth left hers only long enough to trail along her jaw before finding that sensitive spot beneath her ear that made her melt every time.

She felt his hand move, smoothing down her body leaving a trail of sparks in its wake until he edged beneath the hem of her nightshirt, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh as he drew her flush against him.

The unmistakable hardness of him pressed between her legs through the thin barrier of their clothes and a soft, helpless sound caught in her throat as heat pooled low in her stomach. She arched into him, silently asking for more and he exhaled sharply, his breath hot against her throat before he resumed his slow exploration of her neck.

Penelope could not seem to stop touching him in return, her hands moving restlessly over his shoulders and down his back whilst she pressed herself even closer to him with another shaky breath.

“God, Pen,” he muttered, the words roughened with feeling. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

A shiver ran through her as his lips brushed her sensitive skin and she felt his hand starting to glide upwards to where she needed him most.

“Colin…”

“I think about you all the bloody time,” he groaned, the words spilling out of him unchecked before he captured her lips again.

The unexpected confession wrapped itself around her so completely that for a few blissful seconds she let herself believe in it entirely.

But then, somewhere beneath it all, she could still feel it, that awful creeping fear slowly forcing its way back to the surface.

Because this was Colin.

Colin, who had spent years carefully holding himself apart from everyone around him. Colin, who had looked at her tonight with a care and openness she was slowly growing more accustomed to seeing but still barely knew what to do with. Who was now saying things she’d never once imagined hearing from him.

And all of that should have thrilled her.

Because this was everything she had wanted from him for so long and yet, part of her still felt hopelessly behind somehow, trying unsuccessfully to catch up with how quickly everything between them seemed to have changed.

Her chest ached painfully because she wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to. Wanted to stop questioning every look and touch and word from him and simply let herself have this.

Have him.

But the dread of being wrong sat stubbornly underneath it all and before she could stop herself, her body tensed beneath his hands.

Colin stilled before pulling back just enough to look down at her, his concerned gaze roaming over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

He looked unconvinced.

“Pen.”

She let out a small breath and turned her face away, frustration curling inside her because she was so tired of second-guessing every moment they shared.

“I just…” She swallowed hard before forcing herself to ask the question she had been circling around for days. “What are we doing, Colin?”

Obvious confusion crossed his face before he shifted further back from her, the warmth between them easing as uncertainty crept into his expression.

“Sorry, do you not want this?”

“No. No, that’s not…” She let out a soft, exasperated sigh because the last thing she wanted to do was make him feel like he was forcing her into anything. “I do want this.”

Some of the tension left his face at that and he moved toward her again, his hand going to her waist as though reassured by her answer. But before he could kiss her, she couldn’t help but add, “I just don’t know what this is.”

He stopped again and this time drew back from her fully, making her mourn the sudden loss of him. He gazed down at her and she knew him well enough to see from the expression on his face that he was weighing up what to say next.

Finally, he asked carefully, “What do you want it to be?”

His answer grated on her a little, because instead of easing the doubts spiralling around her head, it only seemed to fuel them further.

“I want it to be something you’re sure of,” she replied.

His expression softened and he gave her a faintly puzzled smile.

“I am sure.”

“Are you?” she challenged, unable to stop herself now that she’d started down this path.

His look of surprise was swiftly followed by one of hurt.

“Pen…”

“Because I’m not,” she cut across him, “I have no idea what’s happening between us anymore.”

For a moment he simply stared at her before pushing himself upright and easing back against the headboard, one hand dragging slowly through his hair.

“I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“Did you?” It came out sharper than she’d intended and she felt a pang of guilt when his head snapped back round at the injustice of it, but she pushed it away. Sitting up as well, she tugged the hem of her nightshirt down, acutely aware of her lack of clothing. “Because you came in here tonight thanking me and kissing me and I…” She broke off, shaking her head slightly before adding more accusingly, “I mean, let’s be honest, Colin, before a few days ago, you’d never even given me a second glance.”

He looked astonished at that.

“That’s not…”

Top of Form

“And now you’re saying you think about me all the time and you keep looking at me like…” She broke off mid-sentence, struggling to explain herself. “Oh, I don’t know. I just can’t keep up with it.”

Her throat tightened painfully because none of this was coming out the way she wanted it to.

Staring down at her lap, she tried to gather her thoughts and continued more quietly, “I resigned and everything changed and I don’t know if…” Her voice faltered slightly, the words sounding less certain the further she pushed through them. “I don’t know if this is really about me or if you’re maybe mistaking not wanting to lose me for…for something else.”

The utter silence that followed was awful. Suffocating.

When she finally gathered the courage to look at him again, every trace of warmth had vanished from his face. Gone was the hopefulness that had brought him to her room tonight, replaced instead by the familiar guardedness that had been noticeably absent from him these past few days.

A sick, sinking feeling spread heavily through her chest.

“Colin…” she said softly, reaching instinctively toward him.

But before her fingers could touch his arm, he stood abruptly from the bed and swung around to face her. He looked almost unnaturally composed now, were it not for the rigid set of his shoulders and the way his hands had curled tightly into fists at his sides.

“Is that really what you think this is?” he asked, his voice devoid almost entirely of emotion. “What you think of me?”

Guilt surged inside her and she pushed herself up onto her knees in the middle of the bed. She knew even as the words rose to her lips that they were the wrong thing to say and yet she couldn’t stop herself anyway.

“Oh, come on, Colin, you have to admit this has all been rather quick.”

His eyes widened and then a disbelieving laugh escaped him as he looked away for a second, shaking his head to himself.

“Quick,” he repeated under his breath, like he genuinely could not believe what he was hearing.

Something hot and defensive curled low in her stomach because he was acting as though she had no reason to question any of this.

“You’ve spent years keeping everyone at arm’s length,” she pointed out, frustration and disbelief tangling together in her voice now. “Can you really blame me for doubting all…” she gestured a little wildly between them, “…this?”

“No! Not everyone,” he retorted, the force of it silencing her. His jaw tightened as he held her gaze and, after a beat, he added more roughly, “Not you.”

She drew in a startled breath and for one suspended moment the room felt completely still around them.

Then he let out an abrupt, humourless bark of laughter as he pushed a jerky hand back through his hair, all pretence gone now.

“Although apparently none of that matters anyway,” he muttered bitterly. “Because you seem pretty determined to believe I’m confusing love for a good fuck.”

The stark vulgarity of the word made her flinch instinctively.

“Don’t say that.”

But even as the protest left her lips, the other word finally caught up with her.

Love.

Oh God.

“Don’t say what?” he asked flatly. “Love? Or fuck?”

She opened her mouth, desperate to say something, anything, but no words came. Her thoughts tangled hopelessly together, weighed down by the enormity of what he had just revealed.

He looked away and she saw the shine in his eyes before he closed them, visibly struggling to regain control of himself. Something inside her twisted painfully at the sight of it and every instinct she had screamed at her to go to him, but before she could even move, he was already turning away.

“I have to go.”

She stared at him for a second, her mind lagging uselessly behind the words before the meaning finally landed all at once.

“No, Colin…”

He stopped and for one relieved second, she thought he was going to turn back around. But when he moved again, it was only to reach into the pocket of his jeans.

She watched as he pulled out a small jewellery box and glanced down at it silently before crossing to the chest of drawers nearby and placing it carefully on top without ever looking at her.

“Merry Christmas, Penelope.”

The words sounded uneven, like he was forcing them past something lodged in his throat. And then he left the room, closing the door behind him with an unmistakeable air of finality.  

Penelope remained frozen in the middle of the bed, unable to do anything except stare blankly after him, her mind awhirl.

What the hell had just happened?

Nothing about the last few minutes seemed to fit together properly anymore. Every time she tried to make sense of it, her thoughts only jumbled further around the same impossible thing until she felt completely overwhelmed by it all.

Love.

A shaky breath left her as she pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying desperately to steady herself whilst the reality of that slowly began sinking in.

Her gaze shifted to the chest of drawers and the small jewellery box sitting there, her brow furrowing faintly because he’d already given her a Christmas present, hadn’t he?

Still feeling strangely numb, she finally forced herself off the bed and crossed toward it. With trembling hands, she picked up the box and opened it, a small gasp escaping her the instant she saw what was inside.

She stared down at the delicate bangle in mild bewilderment until her eyes landed on the tiny typewriter charm hanging near the clasp and her heart gave a sudden lurch.

Carefully, she lifted it from the box.

The little charms jangled softly against one another as she turned it over and saw what else was there; a fountain pen, a tiny book…a pendant.

A writer is a world trapped in a person.

The engraved words blurred almost at once behind the sudden sting of tears.

“Oh, Colin.”

The whisper broke helplessly from her as she pressed her hand to her mouth, emotion swelling painfully inside her because this was so unmistakably him.

The real him.

The Colin she had known before all the walls and distance he’d built around himself.

And suddenly all she could see was him standing there trying to protect himself whilst she accused him of not understanding his own feelings.

An urgency seized her then and she clutched the bracelet tightly in her hand before hurrying from the room, barely registering the tears sliding unchecked down her face as she rushed along the corridor toward his bedroom.

His door was ajar and she entered without thinking twice, his name on her lips, but then she came to a shuddering halt. Her gaze darted frantically around as though she might somehow have missed him before it landed on the open wardrobe.

Her stomach dropped, then began churning unpleasantly.

The room was empty.

No clothes.

No case.

Suddenly, a broken sob tore from her throat and the tears came harder than before as her heart rejected what her head already knew.

Colin had gone.

She moved to his head and ran her hands through his hair, feeling for any tell-tale bumps. He tensed further before catching her wrists firmly and pulling them away from his face.

“Penelope, I’m fine,” he assured her.

“But, your mouth…”

He frowned then darted his tongue out to the corner and winced. Letting go of her, he touched a finger to his bottom lip and grimaced when it came away smeared with blood.

“It’s nothing, I must have bitten it when we hit, that’s all.”

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered, closing her eyes in sheer relief. The adrenaline that had been holding her rigid snapped all at once, leaving her trembling. “Okay,” she breathed, though her voice cracked on the word. “Okay.”

And then she started to cry.

Eyes closing, it was quiet at first. Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked and then she gasped, shuddering as the reality of what had happened began to catch up with her as she began to sob.

Colin didn’t think twice. He unclipped his seat belt, leaned across the centre console between them, and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as close to him as he could.

“Hey,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re all right. We’re both all right.”

He held her until the sobs ran their course, his hand moving slowly up and down her back, murmuring soft reassurances until the shaking eased. When her breathing finally steadied, he pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder and leaned back just enough to see her face.

“Better?” he asked softly, running a thumb tenderly across her cheek as a stray tear fell. He looked at her intently waiting for her response.

“Yeah,” she nodded, sniffing as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Good.” He gave her a small smile then glanced out of the windscreen that was rapidly getting covered in snow, “I should get out and check the damage.”

She nodded again and he let her go then opened the door and got out.

The cold hit him immediately, chilling his face as his feet sank into the deep snow. Icy flakes swirled all around him catching in his hair and quickly covering his coat as he slammed the door behind him. Through the window he saw Penelope’s face crumple again for a moment before she visibly got herself under control once more. He turned away and took in a shaky breath, trying to calm his own nerves. Though whether it was the last vestiges of shock from the accident or from the unexpected onslaught of emotions he’d just experienced as she’d run her hands all over him was a complete toss up at this point.

Probably both. 

He shook his head slightly. Now was not the time to think about it. Actually, never would be a good time to think about it, he decided. Focusing back on their current predicament, he took a few tentative steps to the front of the vehicle and grimaced. The bumper was wedged hard against a fallen tree branch, the nose of the car angled awkwardly into the ditch. Even without touching anything, he could tell it wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

He pulled out his phone.

No signal.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “Just great.”

He cautiously climbed up the incline to the road and tapped the screen again just in case the slightly higher elevation helped. It didn’t. Maybe the weather was causing network problems. Hopefully the car’s tracker would have pinged his location automatically when the engine cut, but if not, all he could do was hope someone from his family would be on the case once they realised that they couldn’t contact them.

He looked up and down the narrow lane. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but they could only be about forty-five minutes at the most from Aubrey Hall now. The roads were all similar on the best of days but under a blanket of snow it made it impossible to tell.

Behind him he heard a car door open, then moments later, Penelope joined him, hands shoved deep into her pockets. Her eyes were still puffy, but she seemed more composed than when he’d left her.

“How does it look?” she asked, the wisps of her hot breath carried away in the cold air.

“Not good. It’s stuck fast,” he told her, then held up his phone for her to see. “And I don’t have signal so I can’t call for help. What about you? Do you have anything?”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen, then shook her head.

“Nothing for me, either,” she replied, contrition written all over her face, “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I should have…”

“No.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument as he cut her sharply off.  “Penelope, it isn’t your fault. That idiot was on the wrong side of the road. There was nothing you could have done. They’re the one who caused this, not you.”

His voice had risen the more he’d talked, the fear of what could have happened rapidly turning into anger. The prat hadn’t even stopped for Christ’s sake. What if she’d been alone? He swallowed hard, the thought of it making him feel sick.  

“Thank you,” she said quietly, offering him a small smile. Then she shivered quite noticeably.

He was feeling the cold starting to seep into his bones as well. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall ill over Christmas.

“Let’s get back in the car. I’ll see if the engine starts and we can get the heater going at least.”

“No, wait!” Penelope reached out and grabbed his arm before he could move, a hopeful look lightening her face. “I’m sure I saw a for sale sign on the road back there about a half a mile before we crashed. Maybe there’s someone who could help?”

He glanced down the road, but the rapidly falling flakes made it impossible to see clearly. He’d been asleep so hadn’t seen anything but if it wasn’t far, perhaps he should check it out.

“I’ll go take a look,” he decided. “You wait in the car.”

“I will not,” she told him, annoyance flashing in her eyes.

“Penelope…”

“No, Colin, I’m going with you,” she insisted. “What if you fall in a ditch or something?”

“It’s a road…”

“Well, what of a car comes along and you have to – to jump out of the way and slip and hurt yourself?”

“I wouldn’t, I’d flag it down…”

“Even more reason for me to go then because we’d both be saved quicker,” she countered irately. “Look, I’m coming with you whether you like it or not and that’s all there is to it.”

He stared at her mutinous face for a moment and shockingly felt his heart stutter. As cliché as he knew it was, she was stunning in her anger. Sky blue eyes shooting sparks, cheeks flushed, full lips parted, her breath coming out in short gasps.

He’d noticed it earlier that day too, but had been so enraged himself that he’d not given it any real significance.

But now, with the ambient glow from the fresh snow laying all around them lighting up the darkness, her red hair glistening like it was adorned with diamonds from melting flakes and her looking so…so alive, she took his breath away.

He frowned and looked away not liking where his thoughts were going. It must be the accident, he reasoned. They’d had quite a smack. Maybe he’d hit his head as well and just not realised.

A fright like that was bound to be unsettling and probably why she wanted to go with him. She’d clearly been shaken too.

“Fine,” he acquiesced brusquely and gave her a curt nod, “but just be careful. We have enough to worry about without you falling over and hurting yourself.”

Penelope rolled her eyes as he turned away and opened the boot of the car to retrieve a torch. Sometimes he could be the most infuriating man. She marched over as he shut the boot and opened the rear door to retrieve her handbag.

“Might be easier if you don’t carry anything for now. The road could be slippery,” he advised, then raised a brow as she stared right at him and slung it over her shoulder. Remaining silent, he locked the car then nodded in the direction they would be headed down the lane and walked off.

Penelope trudged after him, glaring holes in the back of his head as she tried to keep up with his longer strides.  

“Didn’t realise it was a race,” she muttered irritably.

He didn’t acknowledge her, but she noticed that he did check his pace and slowed enough that she was soon alongside him.

Snow was still falling, thicker now, and the wind had picked up, stinging any exposed skin. The only sound was the crunching underfoot as they kept on going. Their hopes of another car coming along dwindled fast as it became apparent that even though it was barely nine o’clock, it seemed everyone else had decided to be sensible and stay inside to ride out the weather.

Penelope squinted down the lane, toward where she remembered she saw the sign.

“I think we’re nearly there,” she said.

At least she hoped they were. Every step felt like three as the narrow country lane sloped gently, then sharply. Icy patches grew more frequent the farther they went as the temperature dropped and the wet road froze under the fresh snow.

At one particularly bad patch, Penelope slipped and automatically flung out her hand and grabbed onto Colin’s arm to steady herself for a moment before continuing on. She slipped again a few minutes later, hard enough that he reacted on instinct, reaching out first this time to steady her with both hands.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly, breath clouding in the air.

“Yes,” she huffed, though her cheeks were flushed from cold and embarrassment.

His hands lingered a moment then he nodded and they set off once more. At her third stumble he caught her again and this time, didn’t let go. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers and silently guided their hands into the deep pocket of his coat, anchoring her to him as they walked.

Penelope looked up at him wondering what he must be thinking. He was completely focussed on the road and frowning slightly, but she assumed that was more about navigating the treacherous conditions than anything else. Although, if it wasn’t for her deciding to leave, they would be safe back in London right now. A pang of guilt flashed through her just as his tongue darted out to run lightly across the corner of his lip, over the spot he’d bitten in the crash.

Her gaze caught on the movement, and the memory of their kiss hit her with dizzying force. It had been nothing like she’d imagined it, all those nights alone when her mind strayed to him as her hand strayed down her body. No. It had been so much better.

So much more.

When he’d played along with the mistletoe, she’d thought it’d just be a brief peck and, at the first gentle brush of his mouth, she still believed he would pull back and that would be it. She’d been completely unprepared for the moment he’d pulled her in tighter, deepening the kiss with a heat that had stolen all the breath from her lungs. And then everything had blurred into sensation. The strength of his arms around her. The warmth of his body pressed to hers. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating and…the ache of knowing it wouldn’t happen again settled low in her chest.

It hurt.

“What hurts?”

She blinked then raised her eyes to see that he was looking back at her with a concerned expression. Her pulse skyrocketed suddenly as she realised that she must have spoken aloud.

“Your lip!” she blurted out. “I said, does your lip still hurt? From the crash. When you bit it.” She gestured vaguely toward his mouth, praying he bought it. “Does it?”

“A bit.” He looked at her consideringly, his gaze dropping down her body and back up again. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

She gave him as bright a smile as she could manage seeing as her face felt almost frozen in place.

“Of course. What else could it be?” she challenged.

His gaze lingered on her face a moment longer, then he shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re hurt and you don’t want to tell me.”

He wasn’t wrong, she supposed. It just wasn’t physical.

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a more genuine smile this time. “I was just w…oh, look! There it is.”

She stopped and pointed ahead of them. Colin looked around and saw a large estate agent sign a few feet away on their side of the road, snow stuck fast to the board, obscuring the writing.

“Thank God,” he said and started walking again, all but dragging Penelope along with him. “Hopefully someone will be in and we can get some help.”

The sign was placed at the top of a fairly long drive. As they began to head down, it was obvious that whoever lived there hadn’t been out recently because the snow was completely unblemished.

Colin’s hope of someone being home faded the nearer they got to what appeared to be a modest sized cottage. The windows were dark with no signs of life from within.

“Brilliant,” he muttered under his breath then pulled their hands out of his pocket and let her go. “I’ll check the door.”

The brown paint was peeling in a couple of places which made him think that the property had been on the market for a fair while. He thumped his fist against the tired looking wood and waited a moment. When he didn’t see any movement behind the opaque window panels, he decided they’d have to get in another way.

“Should we try around the back?” Penelope suggested from behind him. Her answer was the tinkling sound of glass shattering and then the door creaking as it swung open. “Colin! What are you doing?”

“Breaking in,” he replied matter-of-factly. He stood back and gestured for her to go in before him. “After you.”

“You can’t do that,” she admonished, looking at him aghast.

“I just did,” he pointed out, holding up the torch that he’d used to smash in the window. “Now, are you coming in or going to stand out here and freeze?”

She hesitated a moment longer, then a particularly icy breeze blew a gust of snowflakes into her face and she hurriedly stepped over the threshold, straight into the lounge.

Her shoes crunched on the broken glass that littered the carpet and she gave a little shiver. In truth, inside didn’t feel any better than the outside apart from the lack of wind. It was cold, damp and stale with the unmistakable feel of a place that hadn’t been lived in for months.

Colin closed the door behind them then swept the torch around as they brushed the excess snow off their coats. The cottage was furnished, although everything seemed well used and a little worse for wear. A large worn sofa, small coffee table, a couple of mismatched chairs. They were likely aiming for eclectic but it merely came off messy. He located the light switch and flicked it on, relieved to find it worked. They had electricity at least.

Penelope blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness and looked around now that she could see everything more clearly. It was open plan with the usual basic magnolia walls and the furniture all chintz. Despite the neglected air, it still felt cosy in a way.

“Looks like it was a holiday let,” she surmised just as few flakes blew in from the broken window and swirled around in a mini tornado before landing at her feet. “I’ll look for something to block that up,” she added, giving him a mildly reproving look.

Colin merely nodded and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ll see if I can find the boiler and get some heat into this place.”

They went about their tasks quickly. Penelope found a cupboard that still had some basic cleaning products and essentials. She emptied a box that had some tattered Christmas decorations in and flattened it down then set about trying to wedge the cardboard into the broken pane the best she could. It wasn’t completely successful, but it blocked out the worst of it.

Colin, meanwhile, had found the gas boiler but as with the rest of the house, it was an older model. After several attempts at trying to ignite the pilot light, he assumed that it was either broken or the amenity had been cut off.

Probably wise if no one was using the place, but incredibly frustrating, nonetheless.

“The boiler’s no good,” he announced as he went back into the lounge, then froze.

Penelope had removed her coat and was on her hands and knees gingerly picking up the shards of glass that were stuck in the carpet by the door and placing them into a dustpan.

The jumper she wore was riding up a little showing off her black clad thighs and backside. The leggings she wore clung lovingly to every curve as his gaze roamed avidly over her form. Feeling his heart began to pick up pace, he determinedly dragged his gaze away but then saw her wince and let out a soft pained cry as she jerked her hand back.

“Ow!”

“What have you done?” he asked, going over to her quickly and dropping to one knee as she sat back.

“Nothing, I just caught my finger on a bit of glass, that’s all.”

She put her finger to her mouth and sucked on the blood that had started to seep out.

“Let me see,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

Penelope was about to object again but she recognised that stubborn tone of his and knew he wasn’t going to be swayed.

“It really is nothing,” she muttered, even as she showed him her cut. “See? It’s pretty much stopped already.”

Colin ignored her and checked the wound thoroughly to make sure there wasn’t any glass still in there. Satisfied it was clear, he stood up and pulled her with him.

“Why don’t you have a look around upstairs and see if you can find any blankets or something. We’re going to need them to keep warm.” He gestured to the floor. “I’ll finish up here and then I’ll go back to the car and grab some of our things and leave a note in case anyone happens to drive by.”

“You’re not going alone,” she told him, turning to grab her coat.

He reached out and took a gentle hold of her wrist, then released it just as quickly when his heart gave a little jolt at the contact.

Christ.

“Yes, I am, Penelope, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be a lot quicker by myself.”

He hadn’t meant it to come out quite as abrupt as it had and the brief flicker of hurt in her eyes brought with it a pang of remorse. He turned away. It felt like this whole day had been one long assault on his very existence and he just needed to get out and get himself back under control. Bending down, he quickly cleared up the rest of the glass then straightened and turned to see her holding out a piece of paper to him.

He could see by the perforated edges that it had been torn out of a notebook and had her familiar neat penmanship on it.

“I’ve written the note out for you, so you don’t have to do it there,” she told him curtly. “Save you a bit of time in case the weather gets worse.”

He looked down at the paper and back up at her again, that feeling of remorse kicking back in.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking it from her carefully so as not to touch her again. He scanned it quickly, then folded it up and put it into his pocket.

She nodded then turned and walked away, a brisk, “Take care,” floating back to him as she disappeared upstairs.

He stared after her a moment, jaw tightening as he fought the urge to follow.

What the hell was happening to him?

Shaking his head, he stalked into the kitchen and dumped the glass into the bin. He could hear her moving about upstairs and almost called up to let her know he was going but decided against it.

He’d already told her what he was doing for God’s sake.

He headed towards the door then paused when his gaze fell upon the fireplace. There was some wood in the basket by its side, not much, but enough to get a fire started at least and he could look for more outside when he returned.

Glancing back at the stairs, he told himself it was for the benefit of both of them. He’d need the warmth after going out in that weather for a second time, especially with the temperature dropping as the night crept on.

Getting the torch out of his pocket, he crouched in front of the fireplace then checked to make sure that the flue was open. Grabbing a couple of small logs from the basket, he found a few crumpled up pages of newspaper underneath that would be perfect for kindling.

Quickly arranging it all in the hearth, he looked around for some matches and after a short search, found a box in the cleaning closet. He struck one and cupped his hand to shield it from any draft then touched it to the paper. The dry pages flared immediately and he leaned in, giving the flames a few soft, steady breaths until the kindling began to crackle.

He stood up and watched for a few seconds to ensure it continued to burn, then heard a creak on the stairs behind him.

Penelope was coming back down.

His heart gave a tiny, traitorous jerk and he tensed.

There it was again. That flicker of something unwelcome that had been slipping under his defences all bloody day.

Suddenly, the room felt stuffy, the meagre heat from the fire stifling.

He began to move before he even realised it, his feet carrying him outside into the freezing night. The door slammed shut behind him and he took a few steps before stopping, hands fisted at his sides as he gulped down a breath of icy air, then another.

Every inhale burned, but it was a pain he understood and it was far easier to manage than whatever the hell had been happening to him inside that cottage.

His mouth curved up into a derisive smile. Whatever the hell had been happening to him ever since she’d handed in her resignation, if he was honest with himself.

His glanced back toward the dim glow of the window. Penelope would be down by now. He could almost see her there: curled up by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, cheeks rosy, red hair glowing…

He shut the thought down hard, jaw clenching.

No.

Not doing this.

Not with her.

Not with anyone.

Never again.

Turning away, he walked off into the darkness, letting the night close around him like the armour he’d placed around his heart.

Armour that alarmingly, for the first time in years, didn’t feel quite so impenetrable anymore.

And yet…he also knew that he couldn’t simply ignore what had happened between them.

He grimaced slightly.

His head was a whirl of confusion but his body…his body knew exactly what it wanted.

And it wanted it urgently.

Reluctantly, he forced himself to move away from her. As much as he would enjoy waking her up in the most pleasurable way imaginable, he knew he shouldn’t.

What he should do was get up. Put some distance between them so that he could think properly.

“Colin,” she murmured on a soft sigh, shuffling back against him before falling silent once more.

Bloody hell.

Pinned against the back of the couch, he couldn’t move away again. He closed his eyes for a moment and he willed his body to calm down.

Then he stilled.

Had he heard something outside?

He opened his eyes, a frown gathering at his brow as he raised his head and listened intently.

There it was again. Snow crunching, muffled voices and then, suddenly, a couple of loud, sharp raps on the door.

“Police,” a man called out. “Is anyone in there? We found your car.”

The cocoon of warmth and light shattered all at once as reality came crashing back down around him. Every sense alert now, his arm tightened reflexively around Penelope for the briefest second before he began to move.

“Pen, wake up,” he urged as he propped himself up on an elbow behind her and looked down at her face. When there was no response, he touched her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Penelope,” he said, raising his voice a little.

She finally stirred and made a small, questioning sound as she opened her eyes and blinked rapidly against the bright light flooding the room.

“What…?” she murmured groggily.

The knock came again, louder this time, shocking her awake.

Again, the officer called out, and Colin knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Coming,” he called as he eased himself out from behind her and sat up. 

Swinging his legs off the sofa, he drew in a sharp breath when the cold air hit, goosebumps rising along his skin. The room felt frigid now, the fire having burned down long ago. He pulled on his underwear, then reached for his jeans on the floor, grimacing at the stiff, chilled denim as he dragged them up.

Penelope sat up slowly, clutching the duvet to her chest, eyes wide now as understanding dawned. She watched as he fumbled with his t-shirt and jumper, still tangled together from the night before, another couple of sharp thumps sounding against the door as he worked them free.

Swearing quietly under his breath, he finally sorted out his clothing and dragged them over his head.

“Colin?” she ventured self-consciously.

He glanced over at her, relief flickering across his face at seeing her awake. Moving closer, he lowered his voice.

“It’s all right,” he reassured her with a quick smile. “Just stay there, okay?”

She nodded and drew the cover more snugly around herself as he went and answered the door. Opening it slightly, he used his body to block whoever was there from seeing past him into the cottage.

She only half listened to the murmur of voices, her mind racing as her gaze darted around the room. The harsh morning light washed over everything: her abandoned clothes on the floor, the champagne, the snacks…the sight of his discarded pleasure from what they had shared only hours before.

Heat curled low in her stomach at the memory. The way he’d held her. Touched her. The way it had felt to surrender to him so completely, if only for a night.

She closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself.

One night. That was all.

She couldn’t afford to forget that.  

She would not be foolish enough to read more into it.

“Penelope?” His voice snapped her out of her internal musing and she looked up to see him standing in front of her, his expression caught somewhere between apology and frustration. “They want me to go with them to the car and show them what happened,” he explained, running a hand through his messy hair. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Of course,” she replied a little too quickly and shifted as though to stand before thinking better of it.

He hesitated, clearly wanting to say something else. He took a step towards her, then stopped again, indecision written plainly across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “I wish…I wish we had a bit more time.”

Her fingers tightened on the duvet.

“So do I,” she said, though it came out quieter than she intended.

He nodded once, as though bracing himself, then tried again.

“I-I think we should talk. About last night.”

Her heart missed and she automatically shook her head in negation. They absolutely should not. Obviously, that was why he looked so conflicted. She didn’t need to have him spell it out to her. She could save herself the pain of that rejection, at least.

Unable to quite meet his gaze, she raised her hand and quickly blurted out, “No! It’s fine. Really. I know it didn’t mean anything, so you don’t need to worry.”

There was a moment of silence and then he exclaimed sharply, “What?”

The sound of his surprise didn’t even register as she ploughed on, determined to give him no chance to say words she couldn’t unhear, “And I’m not expecting anything from you, Colin. I know how you feel.”

She felt, rather than saw, him stiffen.

“You do?”

His voice had taken on a strangely hoarse quality that had her look at him despite herself. Her stomach dropped. His face was back to the familiar, impassive mask he wore, but his eyes…his eyes told an entirely different story that took her aback.

Confusion, perhaps?

Disappointment?

Or was it hurt?

Before she had a chance to work it out, he blinked, and whatever she’d glimpsed vanished.

“Yes,” she said, though the certainty she’d felt moments earlier wavered. “I do.”

He seemed to retreat further behind his mask of indifference and then glanced towards the door, the unspoken pressure of waiting time stretching between them.

“Right,” he said at last, the word clipped. “Of course.”

He turned away before she could say anything else, bending to retrieve his socks and boots. He pulled them on jerkily, eyes firmly fixed on his hands as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Once done, he reached for his coat then gestured vaguely towards the door.

“I should go,” he muttered, his gaze finally meeting hers again.

“Okay,” she replied with a semblance of a smile.

He hesitated again at the threshold and opened his mouth as if to speak but another knock sounded reminding him of the time and he was gone.

Penelope sat there for a long moment after the door closed, listening to the crunching sound of their footsteps fade.

Only then did she let out a loud groan of mortification.

That had gone…

To be honest, she really had no idea how it had gone. She’d never had an awkward morning after to navigate before. She’d only had one boyfriend. It had been at university when Colin was getting serious with Marina and she’d decided for the umpteenth time that she also needed to move on. He’d been a nice enough chap who had taken her virginity in her dorm room. It had been awkward and unsatisfying and although they’d continued to see one another for a while afterwards, it had never gotten any better.

It had never been anything like it was with Colin.

She gathered the duvet around herself and swung her legs carefully over the side of the sofa, wincing faintly as she stood. The reminder of their passion still very much with her.

She looked around again and sighed. The room was a mess, but she would deal with that later. Right now the cold was starting to get to her and she really needed the toilet.

She picked up her clothes and quickly put them back on before heading to the bathroom.

Once she’d used the facilities, she splashed cold water over her face at the sink, the chill sharp enough to clear the last of the lingering haze. When she straightened, she paused and studied her reflection for a moment longer than necessary.

Did she look any different?

After spending the night with the love of her life, surely she must.

Perhaps her eyes looked a little brighter. Perhaps there was a new awareness in their depths, a softness that hadn’t been there before.

Or perhaps she was simply looking too hard, wanting there to be something. Some small, visible proof that the night had meant as much as it had felt it did.

She let out a quiet breath. Of course there wasn’t.

The only real change had happened on the inside, where her heart now belonged to him more completely than ever.

She turned away from the mirror, unwilling to linger any longer. Whatever she felt, however deeply it ran, it was hers to deal with and she would.

Eventually.

But right now, she had other things that needed to be done, like tidying up.

Back in the sitting room, she moved quickly. The opened bottle of champagne was poured away - she would have to buy another one. Crisp wrappers were gathered and discarded. She dealt deftly with the condom as well, refusing to let herself dwell on it, clearing away the last tangible evidence of the night with hands that were a little unsteady. Piece by piece, the room was returned to something approaching order.

Soon the only thing left to do was to take the duvets back upstairs. She gathered up the one they’d used and lifted it from the sofa. The movement revealed a half-eaten bar of chocolate at one end of the cushions and she realised that Colin must have dropped it when they…she had kissed him.

Penelope let go of the duvet and picked up the bar, intending to take it to the bin and throw it away but she paused for a moment. Before she could think better of it, she broke a piece off and put it into her mouth.

The milk chocolate bloomed instantly, rich and sweet and impossibly smooth as it melted against her tongue.

She closed her eyes. It brought back thoughts of Colin with startling clarity. The warmth of his mouth. The way he had tasted when he kissed her…

Abruptly, she opened her eyes again and shook her head.

No. No. She wouldn’t do this to herself.

It was one night, she reminded herself firmly. Just one.

With that in mind, she crossed the room and dumped the rest of the bar into the bin. Reaching for one of the bottles of water she’d placed on the counter, she twisted the cap and drank deeply, as though she could rinse her mouth clean of the memory as well as the taste.

It didn’t quite work.

Screwing the top back on, she put the bottle down with a thump. Feeling mildly irritated with herself, she headed back into the lounge and gathered up both of the duvets. She took them upstairs and put them back into the cupboard she’d found them in then had a quick look around in the daylight.

The cottage had two decent sized bedrooms that were light and airy. Floral wallpaper adorned the walls and there were odd pieces of furniture dotted about. A wardrobe, a bedside cabinet, a chair. With a bit of work, it could be a lovely place she decided.

She checked the bathroom to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, then went downstairs to wait for Colin to return.

It was only around ten minutes later that the steady crunch of footsteps sounded outside.

The door opened and Colin stepped in, followed by a blast of cold air. Penelope rose from the couch and he gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement before his gaze swept the room, taking everything in.

Clean couch, clean table…clean floor.

His jaw clenched as a pang of guilt sliced through him.

That should have been his job, not hers.

Annoyed at himself for not having dealt with it the night before, when he finally spoke, it came out harsher than he’d intended.

“There’s a taxi on the way. The police are still outside, they said they’ll wait until it arrives.”

Her face fell at his tone and another stab of guilt followed hard on its heels.

“Of course,” she replied then turned away and walked into the kitchen. Moments later she returned wearing her coat and carrying the bag.

Colin moved before he could overthink it. He might not have been handling this whole situation particularly well so far, but he’d be damned if there weren’t still remnants of a gentleman left in him. He met her halfway, took the bag from her without comment, and went to open the door.

The two policemen greeted her and asked a couple of questions as he shut the door behind them, before they all began the careful walk up the drive. Although the snow had stopped, the road was still treacherous, ice packed hard beneath their feet.

When she slipped slightly, Colin caught her arm to steady her and kept hold of it until they reached the road, his grip firm. Once there, he knew he ought to let her go and yet he didn’t.

And the reason bothered him far more than he cared to admit.

Irritatingly, the one of the officers had taken a distinct shine to Penelope and seemed very determined to make it known. He regaled her with the story of how he’d been the one to radio in and arrange assistance for them, as though it were something he’d done especially for her.

As he listened to the younger man chatter on, Colin’s hand tightened possessively around her arm before he had time to stop himself.

Penelope glanced up at him then, a small crease appearing between her brows, clearly puzzled. The look brought him up short. With a quiet exhale, he loosened his grip and let his hand fall away, schooling his expression back into neutrality.

A moment later, both officers were called aside, their radios crackling. As they stepped away, the younger one cast Penelope a quick, almost sheepish smile.

Colin shifted closer without thinking, a fraction of an inch that spoke louder than any words.

The older officer caught it. His mouth twitched faintly as he clapped his colleague on the shoulder and steered him away.

“We’ve got to go,” he said, turning back briefly. “But your cab shouldn’t be long now.”

Colin relaxed as he watched the men head back to their car leaving him and Penelope alone. He glanced over at her then looked back at the cottage before his gaze drifted to the for-sale sign by the side of the road. He took out his phone and snapped a photograph.

“So I can get in touch with the owners,” he explained in answer to Penelope’s curious look. “Make sure I can pay them for the damage I caused.”

She nodded, then looked away and they slid into silence.

Colin clenched his jaw in aggravation. He hated this. There had never been a time that he’d felt such a distance between him and Penelope. Not even when everything had blown up with Marina and he’d shut himself off from the rest of the world. She’d baked him his favourite biscuits and simply sat with him in the quiet, not pressing, not demanding explanations, just there.

She had always known how to reach him without forcing him to open doors he wasn’t ready to walk through. Had always been a place of ease. Of friendship.

And now, standing beside her in the cold, wrapped in this strange, brittle silence, it felt as though he’d somehow broken that. As though he’d taken the one thing that had always been simple between them and made it complicated.

It sat badly with him.

He shifted his weight and shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, wishing he could think of something, anything, to say just to smooth the tension. But the right words refused to come, tangled up as they were with thoughts he hadn’t yet sorted through himself.

So he stayed silent, and the distance between them stretched a little wider.

Thankfully, their cab arrived a few minutes later, cautiously crawling along the still-icy road.

Colin opened her door first. She brushed past him as she climbed in and he shut it firmly behind her, determinedly ignoring the little shiver of awareness her closeness had caused.

The driver acknowledged them briefly as they settled into the back, then Colin leaned forward.

“Could you stop by the car just up ahead here, please?” he requested as they pulled away. “I need to grab our luggage.”

The cabbie nodded and pulled up a few minutes later. The Range Rover looked worse in the daylight and Colin heard Penelope draw in a sharp breath at the state of it. There was now a large POLICE AWARE sticker slapped on the rear window and the angle of the incline seemed steeper than what they’d actually climbed.

Colin got out, bracing himself against the bitter chill once more. The brief respite of warmth in the taxi made it feel even colder. He popped the boot, grabbed his bag and her suitcase and took them back to the cab.

The driver helped him put them in the boot then they both got back into the car.

As they set off, Colin absently answered the driver’s questions about their obvious crash, his attention only half on the conversation. His gaze kept drifting back to Penelope, to the quietness of her beside him, to the fact that she had not once looked his way since they’d started moving again.

She sat angled towards the window, her reflection faint in the glass, expression composed, as though she had already put the night they’d shared completely behind her. The finality of it disoriented him more than anything else could have. It didn’t match how it had felt to him.

How it still felt.

He wanted time. A chance to untangle whatever the hell was going on inside him. Something had cracked clean through the armour he’d spent years building, and he didn’t yet know what to do with the mess of emotions that had come spilling out.

His phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket.

Then again. Then once more.

He frowned, pulling it out as the screen lit up with notifications. Missed calls, messages, work, family.

His signal was back.

Beside him, Pen’s phone began to vibrate too, the sound loud in the confined space of the cab.

He felt the familiar reflex kick in, his focus narrowing as he skimmed the screen and brought up an email then tapped out a quick reply. Then another. And another.

Suddenly, he caught himself and stopped, painfully aware of how easily his world had snapped back into place around him.

But was that truly what he wanted?

He glanced over at Penelope and she quickly turned her head away.

She’d been watching him.

The realisation tightened something in his chest. He shifted in his seat and turned to her slightly unable to stand the silence any longer.

“Pen,” he began quietly and then, frustratingly, his phone began to ring.

Letting out a muffled curse, he very nearly ignored it, then glanced at the screen.

Mum.

Damn. He should have called her first.

Tapping the accept, he held his phone to his ear.

“Hi. Yes. Yeah, we’re both fine,” he said, straightening instinctively. “We’re in a cab now. On our way.” A pause. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything when we get there.” He listened again, his expression softening a fraction. “That sounds great, thanks, mum.” Another pause. “Yes,” he said, glancing towards Penelope. “I’ll tell her.”

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Mum’s making us some breakfast,” he said, looking over at Penelope. “She was worried, obviously. Wanted to make sure you’d eaten.”

Her expression lightened and she gave him a small, genuine smile.

“That’s very kind of her,” she said softly.

He huffed a quiet breath of agreement.

“You know she always looks out for you. She loves having you around.”

“And you, Colin,” she replied, without hesitation. She reached out and placed her hand on his, where it rested on his thigh. “She loves having you home, you know she does. She’s going to be so pleased you’re back for Christmas.”

For some reason her words landed more heavily than he expected.

He stared down at her hand, throat tightening a fraction. She was right, of course. His mother had always been there, a steady presence in his life, never demanding anything in return.

It struck him, then, how many times he’d taken that quiet constancy for granted in recent years. Far too many if he was honest with himself - and not just with his mother.

His family too.

Penelope…

His stomach rolled a little.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t like what it said about him.

He turned his hand slightly, meaning to catch hers. To hold it there, if only for a second, but then her phone buzzed.

She glanced down and pulled her hand away before he could grasp it.

“Oh! It’s El,” she said, already unlocking the screen. “I’d better answer her.”

And just like that, the moment, just like her hand, slipped through his fingers.

Colin leaned back in his seat and watched her type, his gaze lingering on her profile as she bent her head. She bit down on her bottom lip and he felt his own press together in response as the sight went straight through him.

He knew that mouth.

Knew the warmth of it, the softness, the way it had yielded beneath his, the way she’d sounded when she forgot herself. It was all there in his head on a never ending loop that he was quite certain was going to torture him for a long time to come.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t realise she’d finished typing straight away.

So it was a surprise when she slid her phone back into her coat and turned toward the window, smothering a yawn she couldn’t quite manage to hide.

“We’ve still got a way to go,” he began, without thinking. “You should try and get some sleep. You probably didn’t get much last night.”

Her head snapped around and she stared at him, her sky-blue eyes wide.

Bloody hell.

“What I mean to say is…with everything that…” He broke off and cleared his unexpectedly dry throat. “Well, the couch can’t have been very…”

He stopped again.

Christ, why couldn’t he just shut the hell up?

“It was fine. I was fine. I was very comfortable,” she blurted out, her voice slightly higher than normal. Then, as though only realising what she’d said, she hastened to clarify, “I mean the couch was, not…” She paused as heat surged into her cheeks and drew in a calming breath. “I think sleep would be a really good idea, actually,” she muttered unhappily, before turning away from him and closing her eyes.

The conversation was over.

Colin let out a quiet breath and forced his attention back to the window.

He didn’t trust himself to look at her again.

But the knot in his chest loosened all the same.

Because if she truly had been as unbothered by what had happened between them as she’d seemed to be, she wouldn’t have just reacted the way she did.

Would she?

He settled back into his own seat and closed his eyes as well. And as the car’s motion lulled him into sleep, he held on to the heartening thought that she hadn’t been quite as unaffected as she’d wanted him to believe earlier.

And that felt…good.

“I know you’ve just had that long journey up to York and back to see your family,” he cut in, a little more brusquely than he’d intended, “So you must be tired and I can help with the driving. Give you a rest.”

Penelope stared back at him unsure what to do. His turning up unannounced had completely thrown her and then to tell her that, not only was he also going to Aubrey Hall, but that he’d take her as well…

She frowned slightly. It all sounded so aggravatingly sensible when he laid it out like that, but the thought of spending nigh on three hours in a car, alone, with Colin was a little daunting.

Especially after she’d just resigned.

“Perhaps, it’s best if I just leave it,” she decided.

“Nonsense. You know my family would rather see you than me,” Colin retorted wryly.

“That’s not true,” she objected swiftly, “They love you.”

“Still doesn’t mean they want Scrooge turning up to ruin all the fun,” he countered a touch bitterly.

“They don’t think of you like that.”

“Please, Eloise has even said it to my face,” he scoffed with a shake of his head.

“She doesn’t really mean it,” she felt the need to defend. “I know that she’ll be thrilled that you’re going to be there this year.”

He gave her a disbelieving look then let out a sigh and took a small step nearer to the door.

“Look, just let me do this as a…a…recompense for the Christmas’s you’ve missed over last few years. It’s the least I can do and if, when we get there, it’s too awkward for you, I’ll make up an excuse and leave,” he suggested lightly. He shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll be expecting that anyway.”

The acceptance in his voice made her heart go out to him and she felt her resolve begin to falter. Maybe if she went then she could ensure that he stayed too.

“They’re your family, Colin, if anyone was to leave, it’d be me.”

As if he could sense she was starting to weaken, he began to smile.

“Hopefully it’ll be neither of us,” he replied, then leaned in closer to her to add persuasively, “Come on, Pen, I really do want you to have this Christmas.”

Pen.

Her heart skipped.

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her that. It brought with it a rush of emotion that was intense. Nostalgia wrapped in yearning and tied up with love. Back to a time before Marina when Colin was always there with a ready smile and silly joke. When he was open and carefree and, just, happy.

The only things that had seemed to bring him anywhere remotely near to showing joy in recent years was a decent whisky and finalising another deal.

Whether he’d done it on purpose or it was a slip of the tongue, it was him using her old nickname that made her mind up. It would be this one last time, she promised herself. What could it hurt?

Well, anymore than it already did.

“Fine,” she muttered, trying to at least sound a little reluctant. “But we share the driving.”

Colin’s brows rose and his smile widened slightly.

“Agreed. Better get going then, forecast says snow and I want to out of London before it gridlocks.”

Penelope gave an inelegant snort.

“It’s not going to snow,” she dismissed as she moved aside and gestured for him to come in. “Let me get my coat and bag.”

He stepped over the threshold and looked down at her luggage.

“Is this all of it?” he asked, bending down to grab her case and holdall.

“Yes, but I can do that,” she told him quickly, reaching out to take her bags.

“I know you can,” he replied, then turned and walked out of the house, luggage still firmly in his grip.

She let out a huff of annoyance and glared at his retreating back for a moment before turning to grab her coat. Quickly going to the kitchen, she collected her handbag and the snacks she’d packed for the journey. Then, deciding she probably needed a bit more now that she was going with Colin, she added some extra bags of crisps, some chocolate, and another bottle of water. She picked up the champagne she was going to give for Violet as a thank-you, then locked up the house, and headed after him.

There was a definite bite in the evening air that hadn’t been there when she’d returned earlier and she pulled her coat more snugly around.

Colin had already put her luggage in the boot and was slamming it shut by the time she got to the car and reached for the door. How he made it there before her, she had no idea but suddenly his hand was there and he pulled it open for her with a quick smile.

“Your carriage awaits,” he quipped.

Penelope gave him a faintly bemused look and got in. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle, unzipping his warm coat as he went. He shrugged it off then got in and threw it over onto the back seat. Her gaze flicked down to his dark blue jumper then up to meet his eyes it so perfectly matched. She knew it did because she’d bought it for him for Christmas the year before.

Suddenly it dawned on her what his unexpected desire to drive her Aubrey Hall was all about. And the jumper.

And her nickname.

Her stomach sank.

Of course.

She really should’ve seen it sooner.

“Your charm doesn’t work on me, remember? I’ve made my decision, so I hope you’re not going to try and change my mind about leaving, Colin,” she told him flatly as she put her seatbelt on.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her smoothly, mirroring her actions and clipping his own seatbelt into place. “I told you, I want you to have a nice Christmas, that’s all.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, not believing him for a second.

He kept his face forward, but she saw a brief smile touch his lips, although he didn’t comment further. Instead, he started the car, popped it into gear and pulled out into the road.

The traffic was light considering the time of day and how near to Christmas it was. With only three days to go, she had thought that they might find it slow going as people went about doing some late shopping for presents.

Colin put on the radio and the car was filled with Shakin’ Stevens’ festive tune, ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’. Penelope absently nodded along and sang the chorus under her breath only to stop when she saw the first white flakes begin to fall.

“It’s snowing,” she stated in surprise.

Colin shot her a puzzled glance.

“I did say it was forecast,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but this is proper snow,” she said as the flakes fattened out and started coming down heavier. “It’s settling. I didn’t think it would.”

She gazed out of the window as he made steady progress along the main road and felt a surge of relief that she wasn’t doing this journey alone now. Around town and even on the motorway her little Corsa would have been fine, but once they hit the countryside where Aubrey Hall sat, the winding lanes would no doubt be trickier, especially by the time they reached them.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” he assured her as he manoeuvred around a delivery van. “Most of the roads are gritted and she can handle anything once we’re off the motorway,” he added, patting the steering wheel.

‘She’ was the Range Rover Discovery they were currently in. Colin’s pride and joy. An older model that he’d had for a few years. It always struck her as odd that for all his wealth and supposed rejection of anything remotely like attachment, he’d never wanted to trade ‘her’ in for something newer.

Perhaps that was the part of the man she hoped was still in there somewhere.

“Just remember to let me know when you want me to drive,” she told him as she settled back into the comfy seat.

With the heater going and her coat still on, she was feeling warm and cosy and a little sleepy.

“I think I manage a bit longer,” he replied wryly, shooting her a quick smile. He saw her eyelids drooping and turned the music down a notch. “You must be shattered with all the driving you’ve already done. I’ll probably stop at some services if the weather carries on like this; grab a coffee or something. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll wake you when we get there?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, barely managing to stifle a yawn.

She was really tired. What with all the travelling and the emotion of the day’s events on top, she was starting to struggle.

“Positive.” He tapped a few times on the touch screen for the radio and connected to his phone. Soon, a soothing ballad filled the air. “Rest,” he ordered in a low voice.

She sighed and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Navigating his way to the motorway, Colin glanced over at her, a slight frown marring his features.

This wasn’t how he imagined his Christmas panning out. If he had his way, he’d be out of the country closing one deal while chasing another. And Penelope would be right there with him. She was invaluable and the thought of losing her had angered the hell out of him.

She hadn’t been wrong when she’d thought that he had an ulterior motive for wanting to drive her to Aubrey Hall. He had intended to try and get her to change her mind, but as they’d talked, he’d also realised that he really did want her to have a decent Christmas for once.

Just because he didn’t like this time of year, it didn’t mean that everyone else felt the same. It bothered him that he’d never taken that into consideration when it came to Penelope.

He’d dragged her around from country to country and she’d never complained. She’d been as dedicated to the job as he was, so he thought, which was why it had blindsided him to find her resignation sitting on his desk that afternoon.

Her reasons had surprised him even more though. He’d spent almost every day with her for the past four years and thought that he knew her well. Very well, in fact. And yet, he hadn’t known of her wish to continue her book.

Nor her desire to meet someone and have a family.

That had caused an unpleasant, sickening sensation to land heavily in his gut.

He hadn’t liked it.

When she’d walked out, it had taken all of his willpower not to go after her, even though he’d had no clue what he would’ve said. Instead, he’d gone into his office and sat at his desk, trying to get his anger under control for long enough so that he might be able think for a damn second.

It had only been when his mother had called that he’d finally been able to calm. She’d offered him a perfect opportunity, and he’d grabbed it with both hands. He hadn’t wanted to deliberate too much on why that may be, he’d simply needed to do it.

And so, he’d made several phone calls moving everything to after the new year then went home to quickly pack, hoping against hope that he would get to Penelope’s before she’d left.

And now…now he was headed to his family’s country home. The place where he’d had the most humiliating time of his life on Christmas Eve, five years ago.

Where his then girlfriend, Marina, had gleefully told him she was pregnant, only to then drop the bombshell that it wasn’t by him. She’d been cheating on him for months while he’d been away on trips and he hadn’t had the slightest clue.

She’d left him that day and come crawling back by new year’s.

There had been crocodile tears. She’d made a mistake. It was his after all. The other guy meant nothing. She loved him and only him.

And what he hated most about himself in that moment when she told him one lie after another, was that he almost caved.

Almost took her back, his child or not, because he thought himself in love.

His mouth twisted derisively.

Love.

An idealistic notion that made a fool of everyone who believed in it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t him anymore. He’d learned his lesson. Hardened his heart and he was all the better for it.

Oh, he loved his family of course, but that was different. They’d never rip his heart into pieces and feed it back to him until he choked.

Beside him, Penelope suddenly let out a long sigh and shifted slightly in her seat. He glanced over just in time to see a little smile appear on her full lips.

She must be dreaming of something nice, he thought, before frowning slightly and shaking his head. He returned his attention back to the road. When had he started noticing how full her lips were?

‘Since forever’, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

He looked at her again, his frown deepening as he focussed back on the road ahead. Uncomfortable though that truth was, it didn’t mean anything. Objectively, Penelope was an extremely attractive woman. Beautiful even. He’d have to be blind not to notice. Just because he shunned anything intimate, it didn’t mean that he was dead.

In fact, his body was very inconveniently reminding him exactly how alive he was as his sleeping companion let out another, rather breathy, sigh that had him unexpectedly squirming in his seat.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Having no sex life and spending so much time with her, it was simply a biological reaction. He had needs obviously, but he just dealt with it himself if the urge became too great to ignore. He’d gotten used to it over the years.

He nudged a button on the steering wheel, turning the music up a bit. Not to drown out the little noises she made while she slept of course, he just happened to really like this song.

Outside the car the weather was steadily worsening, the wipers working harder to clear the windscreen effectively. Thankfully there was a high enough volume of traffic that it wasn’t settling on the road but after only an hour, he was ready for a break. He hadn’t eaten anything all day and his stomach was letting him know quite loudly that it needed something.

It was another few miles before he could pull off into some services and park up. He turned off the engine and the interior lights came on, bathing the car in a warm glow. Penelope still hadn’t awoken and he found himself smiling as he undid his seatbelt and stared at her, completely out for the count. He almost regretted having to wake her. She clearly needed the rest, but when his stomach let out yet another embarrassingly long rumble, he reached out and gently nudged her arm.

“Penelope,” he said quietly. When she didn’t stir, he nudged her a bit more firmly. “Pen,” he tried again a bit louder. “We’ve stopped. I need to eat.” He shook her again and her eyes finally fluttered open.

“What?” she asked, looking around groggily, trying to get her bearings. “What’s happened?”

“My stomach’s happened. I need a coffee and some food.”

That seemed to wake her up and she looked at him in concern.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked in a mildly accusing tone.   

He merely shrugged then leaned toward her as he reached into the back to retrieve his coat. The action brought him close and he heard her take in a sharp breath. He turned his head to look at her to see what had caused the reaction, but her eyes were averted as she stared down at where she was trying, unsuccessfully, to undo her seatbelt.

“Here, let me,” he offered, moving back.

“I think it’s stuck,” she muttered tugging almost frantically at the catch.

He reached down and pressed the button then, with a soft click, the belt slid free. She glanced at him then quickly away, her cheeks reddening as she muttered out her thanks before swiftly exiting the car.

The door slammed shut and he stared after her in confusion. What was that all about? He got out and pulled his coat on as he rounded the front of the car and headed over to her. She was standing a few feet away, eyes closed, head tilted up to the sky as large flakes of rapidly falling snow landed on her face and hair.

“You okay?” he asked as he came to a halt by her side.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, the flakes that had caught on her lashes melting to give the illusion of tears.

“I’m fine,” she replied abruptly and gave him quick smile. “Let’s go and get you fed.”

She turned to go then let out a small cry of surprise as her foot seemed to slide out from under her and she started to fall.

Colin immediately reached out and grabbed her elbow, keeping her easily upright.

“I’ve got you,” he said, then put her hand in the crook of his arm and kept it there. It felt right, somehow. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d better hold onto me until we get inside.”

“No, it’s fine, I can walk by myself,” she objected, trying to pull her hand free but Colin wasn’t ready to let go. He placed his hand over hers and began to move, taking her with him. 

To say it was busy was an understatement as they entered the brightly lit service area. Christmas music played slightly too loudly in the background while people milled around chatting even louder as they looked for seating or used the facilities. The weather had obviously caused problems for staff getting in as only a couple of eateries were actually open which meant that the queues for food were long.

“Chicken or a burger?” he asked, not particularly relishing the idea of either.

“Whatever queue is shorter.”

Chicken was the answer to that and while she visited the restroom, Colin made his way to the back of the line. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his work messages and had fired off a couple of responses by the time Penelope had returned.

“Not got very far then,” she commented in wry amusement as they shuffled forward a couple of steps.

“Looks like we’ll be here a while,” he agreed as he looked at the never-ending queue with a grimace. Maybe he could go a little bit longer before eating, he thought, touching his stomach absently.

Several people near the middle of the line were clearly bored as, suddenly, a bunch of mistletoe appeared and started being tossed around the queue. It was being flung in the air like a bridal bouquet and whoever caught it kissed someone, much to the good-natured cheers and whistles of everyone else.

He glanced at Penelope. She was watching the shenanigans with a delighted smile that abruptly turned to horrified when her eyes tracked the arc of the next throw and he felt something hit his head then bounce off. He automatically reached out to catch it and looked down to see it was the mistletoe. His gaze snapped to hers and she stared at back him wide-eyed.

“Give her a kiss, mate,” a man’s voice called out.

Her cheeks instantly bloomed with colour, and she began to blink rapidly, clearly unsure how to react.

His gaze dropped to her mouth; those full lips parted and oh-so tempting.

What could one little kiss hurt?

A quick taste to satisfy his curiosity.

His heart began to pick up pace in anticipation.

He should just toss the mistletoe away.

He should just ignore the unbidden urge that was unfurling inside him.

What he absolutely should not do is take a small step closer and slowly lift the bundle of green leaves and white berries above their heads.

He heard her sharp intake of breath as her mouth dropped open further and her eyes darted between the mistletoe and his face trying to comprehend what he’d just done.

“It is Christmas, Pen,” he encouraged silkily. “Good luck and all that.”

He saw her visibly swallow and her blush deepen if that were possible, but then, she gave him an almost imperceptible nod of assent.

He smiled and leaned in, shutting down the voice inside his head that warned him it was a bad idea.

He touched his mouth to hers. Just a brush. The lightest of kisses that had no right to ignite the kind of fire that suddenly scorched through his veins catching him completely unawares. Instinctively, his hands dropped to her waist and pulled her closer to him, her soft moan of capitulation fanning the flames even higher as he deepened the kiss.

Somewhere in the back of mind came the stunned realisation that nothing had ever felt like this before.

His brow furrowed as the truth jolted through him, and when she melted further against him, his hands slid from her waist to encircle her completely. Tentative fingertips brushed against the skin at the nape of his neck, sparking an unexpected shiver right down his spine and his arms tightened even more until she was flush against him.

Wolf whistles and cheers erupted around them, shattering the moment with the unwelcome recollection that they were in the middle of a service station being watched by a crowd of strangers.

He tore himself away and stared down at her, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath and dampen down the unwelcome throb of desire that raced through him.

Penelope blinked up at him a little dazed and it took a few seconds for clarity to shine through. When it did, she tried to take a step back, but his arms refused to let her go, as though his body hadn’t yet accepted the kiss was over.

She shifted again and this time he forced his muscles to relax. He let her go, his arms slowly lowering to his sides even as she took a couple of wobbly steps away from him.

“It’s alright, luv, I threw the mistletoe on for you,” an older lady standing ahead of them in the queue told him kindly.

His mind still awhirl from trying to understand what the hell had just happened, Colin merely gave her a blank look.

“You dropped it,” she clarified, looking between them both with a soft smile.

Colin blinked and felt a surge of heat rush to his cheeks. He’d been so distracted by Penelope that he hadn’t even realised.

The lady chuckled and patted his hand gently.

“We used to be like that, didn’t we, dear?” she said to the grey-haired gentleman beside her, who Colin assumed must be her husband.

“Still are, when you let me,” he replied jovially, sliding an arm around her waist and planting a wet kiss on her cheek.

The line moved, taking the couple with it, still laughing. Penelope cleared her throat quietly and stepped forward too. He knew he should say something, but for a man who prided himself on being able to handle any situation, he found he could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

When the couple turned again and began chatting warmly to Penelope, Colin drifted closer, letting their easy conversation swallow him up. It was far easier to respond to strangers’ small talk than face the tangle of thoughts and feelings that kiss had awoken in him.

Once they’d all got their food, they sat and ate together, and by the time he and Penelope were ready to leave, he almost felt in control again.

The snow was deeper when they got outside, though Penelope didn’t ask for any help as she carefully made her way across the car park, and Colin didn’t offer.

When they reached his car, she stood and held out her hand.

“I’ll drive,” she told him firmly.

“You don’t have to,” he replied. “I’m fine to carry on.”

In truth, he needed the distraction of the road; anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where he wasn’t ready for them to go.

“No. You agreed that we split it, Colin. It’s my turn,” she insisted, waggling her fingers at him. “Come on, I’m getting cold.”

Reluctantly, he pulled out his keys and handed them over, forcing himself not to react to the little frisson of awareness that tingled through his fingers where they briefly touched.

He’d tried, really tried, to pull himself back into the safe numbness he lived in now, but the control he thought he’d reclaimed after their kiss had shattered with nothing more than the graze of her hand.

Christ. That was going to become a real problem if he didn’t sort his head out pretty damn quick.

They climbed into the car, and once Penelope had adjusted the seat and mirrors, she nudged the music up a little, just enough to signal she wasn’t up for talking.

He felt a mild relief as the unspoken agreement settled between them and closed his eyes.

He didn’t intend to fall asleep. He merely wanted to dull the awkwardness between them a little. It wasn’t long, however, before the steady hum of the engine and the warm air from the vents did their work and he drifted off.

The next thing he knew, a sharp cry rang out, bringing him back to consciousness.

His eyes flew open just as blinding headlights cut across the windscreen. Fear sliced through him as he realised that a vehicle was bearing down on them from the wrong side of the road.

Penelope yanked the steering wheel, and the car lurched into a skid, tyres losing grip on the hidden ice as it veered off the road. Snow exploded upward in a blinding white flash. The airbags burst open around them, and a violent jolt slammed through him as the vehicle struck something under the drift and shuddered to a sudden halt.

Then…silence.