Christmas at Thornton Hall. Lynn Marie Hulsman

Stop that, I told myself. He’s not yours.

      “I’m not a monk, you know,” he said. “If you’d respond to what I think have been my considerable efforts,” he said softly, “I would gladly turn a blind eye to the various offers around me.”

      I wondered what offers he meant…he rarely left the grounds. “Who…?” I began to ask, then thought better of it. Stop the drama, I told myself. If I was going to be with Ben, I was going to be with Ben. I’d invested so much, the ship had sailed. It was the sensible thing to do. And you love Ben, I reminded myself.

      “Sorry…” I whispered and I genuinely meant it. “If it weren’t for Ben…”

      “I get it. You can’t blame a man for trying,” he said, twisting his mouth into a wistful smile. He stirred his curry.

      “Edward,” I began.

      “Let’s just change the subject,” he said, cutting me off. “You should always try for what you want, and if that falls through, readjust. Learned that in the military. Let’s stick with the cooking.”

      Edward and I continued to work together, but became very careful with each other after that. Gentle, even. It worked for a while. But then came the stint when I was engaged to help at yet another of the Hall’s weddings …

      We’d had a wonderful morning together. It was a clear June day, and we’d sneaked off together to get fresh eggs. I’d seen very little in my lifetime that was as picturesque as the grounds of Thornton Hall when the weather cooperated. The grass was electric green and, the sheep beyond the fence looked so white and fluffy, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been shampooed and blow-dried.

      “Race you to the barn,” Edward had shouted, tearing off into a sprint.

      “Totally no fair!” I screamed back, chasing him. “You had a head start!” I burst into a run, but I caught my shoe on the jutting root of an oak tree and went down, face first. I felt the wind knocked out of me, and by the time I caught a deep breath, Edward had doubled back and was helping me to my feet. My cheekbone was throbbing where it has smacked down on a flat rock.

      “Maybe we should take you to Dr. Dearden.” He looked concerned.

      “No, this is nothing. But I bruise like a peach, and know in advance, I’m blaming it on you,” I said, laughing it off. We ambled the rest of the way to the barn, and wound up talking, of all things, about how much we both wanted to see the Aurora Borealis someday.

      Later that day, we were goofing around making a practice cake for the wedding, which we’d feed to the delighted staff. At one point, Edward shoved a slice of the trial wedding cake into my face while we were mock-fighting. It smarted where I’d hit my face in the fall. Involuntarily I cried out, “Hey!” Rose had come in at that moment and said, “Oh, look at the bride and groom, quarreling already.”

      “Mark my words, it won’t last a week!” I’d joked, joining in. “My mother warned me about his type. Told me to marry a lawyer.”

      After that, Edward became very cold with me, and wouldn’t look me in the eye. That day and the next passed with such tension that I thought our days of being able to work together were through. He ignored all my little jokes and refused the sandwich I put in front of him, even though he always said that sandwiches taste better when someone else makes them for you. I brooded about it, then eventually threw myself on the grenade.

      “Edward,” I’d said, the first moment I could get him alone. “I’d like to offer you the option of hiring another assistant. I’ll give notice, and make my excuses.”

      “Unnecessary, Juliet. I was in the RAF Regiment. I’ve endured far worse than idle flirting from a woman who doesn’t know her own mind.”

      “Listen…” I interrupted.

      “There’s nothing more to say. The fault is entirely mine. Now, if you’d be so kind as to wash and mince the parsley, we can get on with it.”

       Chapter Five

      Snapping back to the present, I realized I’d let the fire die down in my little cottage. I tossed a log onto the dying flames and gave it a jab with the poker. Blame it on the cold and the darkness, but alone was the last thing I’d wanted to be right then.

      Forgetting about Edward and all our history together had been easy enough when I was in London and didn’t have to lay eyes on him. But being here at Thornton, with him standing in the flesh before me, right in the kitchen where we’d met, a million moments we’d shared together came back to mind.

      Something knocked softly up against the old wooden door of Dove’s Nest. A branch? Or was it just the wind? I walked over to the window, and pulled the curtain aside, but it was too dark to see. I heard the knocking again, louder and deliberate. Someone was at my door! Edward? My heart skipped a beat as I turned the knob.

      “Juliet, I need to ask you something,” Jasper Roth said, pushing past me and closing the door.

      “Now?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I could count the number of times people had come to my cottage while I was in it on one hand.

      “I know it’s late. I can see you’re ready for bed.” He looked me over. “I was going to catch you up at the house, but you slipped out the back.”

      I was keenly aware that we were both standing there in our pajamas. Alone.

      “I didn’t slip out. I just came to my cottage, nothing wrong with that.” I felt weird, like he’d read my mind, because I’d just been thinking about slipping out to take Edward his handkerchief.

      “Anyway, I had to wait until everyone left the kitchen before I could come.”

      “Why?” I asked, though I knew full well. “You’re my boss and you just came to ask me a question, right?”

      He raised his eyebrow, and gave a wry smile. “It’s past midnight. People will talk. Speaking of which, what was Terrence getting at in the kitchen tonight?”

      “Do you want to sit down?” I asked, gesturing to the little table, with its two ladder back chairs.

      He crossed past me, and sat on the bed. I let myself imagine, for a second, how it could be if things were different. But things weren’t different. He was my boss. More to the point, he was married, for better or for worse. “I can’t stay long.”

      “Obviously.”

      “So what does Terrence know?”

      I pulled a chair out from the table, and sat on the edge, taking care not to relax. “What is there to know?”

      He sighed. “Nothing. There’s nothing to know. Of course.” He looked at me very seriously, and then smiled. “Tell me what he thinks he knows.”

      I hesitated. “Well,” I began slowly, “he saw us. The last time I worked here.”

      “Saw us what?” His eyes were amused.

      “He saw us drinking together in the dining room, the night we had the port.”

      “Ah.”

      “But I told him nothing happened! I mean, we didn’t even kiss…” My cheeks were getting hotter and hotter, despite the chill of the room. Why did I say the word “kiss”? He sat listening, like he had all the time in the world.

      Was he going to admit to his part in that moment that was so intimate, even Terrence could spot it, or was he going to leave me twisting in the wind? I felt like he knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth, which was fair enough, because I wasn’t. When Terrence had grilled me the following night, I’d caved under his expert interrogation …and half a bottle of wine. I’d filled Terrence in on