British Black Sheep - Lauren Smith Page 0,53

this with her ex-husband.

Alec looked around the clearing at his grandfather’s grave as he squeezed Brie’s hand. “I’m glad you came.”

“Here? Or Merryvale?”

“Both.”

“Me too.” She leaned into his touch. “I’m glad you came home for Christmas.”

Alec looked once more upon his grandfather’s tombstone and blinked in surprise. The brown vines blanketing the base of the monument looked greener now, didn’t they? He had to be imagining it. He grew up hearing about the magic of Merryvale, but he never believed in it, at least not fully.

But maybe…maybe he should believe in it. Magic didn’t have to be about wizards and spells. Sometimes it was a quiet snowy afternoon with a person who made you feel whole again.

He gently touched the skin above the cut on her forehead. “Let’s get you back inside. You should rest.”

“Maybe you could teach me to roast chestnuts? I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Absolutely.”

They returned to the house, holding hands. It would be hours before the others returned and they would have to go back to hiding their relationship. They removed their coats and returned to the kitchens, sitting at a small table in the corner. The cooks had prepared a quick meal of turkey, brie, and cranberry sandwiches on rye bread.

“I’m finally getting to eat you after all,” Alec whispered in her ear. She kicked him in the shin but also laughed.

“Why is my name so funny to you?” she demanded but she couldn’t stop giggling.

“It’s a cheese. It’s hilarious.”

She rolled her eyes and licked cranberry sauce off her fingers. “Okay, show me your nuts then.”

Alec choked on his sandwich. “My nuts?”

She leaned into him and caressed his thigh. “Your chestnuts.”

He laughed so hard that it actually hurt his ribs. He hadn’t laughed like that since… He honestly couldn’t remember.

“Seriously, show me how to roast chestnuts.”

Still chuckling, he collected their plates and put them in the sink before he retrieved a bag of large shiny chestnuts from the pantry and set it on one of the counters.

“Lesson one. You don’t use horse chestnuts; those are for decoration. You want to get the nuts from an ‘eating tree.’ Chestnuts were a great source of carbohydrates in the winter during the middle ages, hence the tradition of roasting them on an open fire.”

“Like the Nat King Cole song.”

“Exactly.” Alec turned the oven on. “You want the oven to be 200°C or 400°F for the Americans in the room.” He set out a roasting tray and started cutting a slit into each chestnut. He placed the nuts flat side down on the tray, then slid the tray into the oven.

“You should cook them for approximately thirty minutes, or until you see the skin crack farther apart. Once it’s done you allow them to cool, then peel away the shell to reveal the brown membrane. Then you can eat them.”

He closed the oven door and set the timer.

“So, we have thirty minutes. Whatever shall we do?” Brie asked, letting her gaze wander along his body. It made him hard all over, but he had to resist. With a concussion, rest was crucial, and he wasn’t about to be selfish. But he knew she was hoping for a distraction, so he came up with a way to do just that.

“I could show you my non-racecar sheets,” Alec offered a low seductive tone. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Brie replied, her voice slightly breathless.

Alec told the cooks to watch the oven time for them and held out his hand. Brie placed her palm in his. He felt like a boy with his first crush.

They stopped in front of his room a minute later and a flutter of nerves filled his chest. He opened the door and glanced around, wondering what she would think of it. She walked in ahead of him and paused by the large windows overlooking the forest beyond. Alec joined her, curling an arm around her waist.

“In the spring I see the fallow deer in the clearing below. The little fawns stumble about all knock-kneed. It’s so bloody cute.”

Brie’s lips curved in a dreamy smile. “The life you have here is special. I hope you realize that, Alec. All of this is a gift.”

He knew she was right, but right now she felt like the real gift.

She turned back to his bed and ran exploring fingertips over the medieval style headboard of his four poster. Lions, unicorns, and heraldry shields were intricately embedded and painted with a master’s touch. The dark crimson coverlet glowed