Christmas at the Island Hotel - Jenny Colgan Page 0,67

unwrapping a parcel.

Even as the commotion continued all around him, he didn’t drop her gaze. In response, she took a step toward him. The light was flaring out behind him; it was quite, quite dazzling.

He. He was quite, quite dazzling.

She took another step. His face had changed, was nervous now. His mouth was closed, a faint smile playing around his curled lips. God, thought Isla. He was so handsome. Had she really not noticed before? Or had she thought, Stupid handsome tosser?

Probably that one. She didn’t think he was a tosser now. Not at all. She thought of those long hands and long fingers and suddenly felt a shiver go down her. This was something . . . this was something. She was sure of it. She took another step.

Perhaps, thought Konstantin. No. He already knew she didn’t like him. She’d made it quite clear. Although . . . He licked his lips nervously.

Normally when he met women—and he met a lot of women—he had a lot of bolsters behind him. He had his money and his name. Most girls he met knew exactly who he was and absolutely fancied a shot at him.

More than that, he’d probably be drunk, and everyone else would be too, and it would just be a natural progression. The girl would do much of the chasing, and he’d be more or less happy to go along with it. For a little while at least.

This was different, and so, so new and strange.

He was standing in front of Isla with nothing—a kitchen boy, really, with no name and no money and not much except a dog who seemed to layer mud wherever he went. He hadn’t been charming with her or deliberately flirtatious. Quite the opposite.

She knew him. She hadn’t liked him . . . at first. But now . . . here she was, stepping forward, to him, with nothing at all. Could that have changed?

He felt a tug at his sleeve and glanced over, assuming it was Hamish wanting reassurance about how brilliant the statue was.

Instead, it was a blond woman with a pointed chin whom he didn’t recognize.

“Uh, hi,” he said, cross at being distracted.

“Hi there!” said the girl, exposing very white teeth. “I’ve heard this is your doing? Wow. Amazing. Candace Blunt. Daily Post.”

AS THE CHILDREN yelled and capered in front of the angel and Lorna started to massively downgrade the amount of her lesson plan she was going to get through the next day, she saw him.

Of course she’d known the boys would want to come down. It was absolutely part of the reason she was here in the first place. There was no point in lying to herself. She glanced around. Flora was looking at her in concern, which was ironic, seeing as it used to be Flora in the dodgy relationship and Lorna trying to be sympathetic. Now Flora was up in that beautiful house with a man and a baby, and she was . . .

Well. No point in feeling sorry for herself; it helped nothing. Saif edged toward her. Perfectly normal, just the village doctor having a brief conversation with the headmistress, business as usual—who could possibly suspect? If they were up to anything they certainly wouldn’t be talking out in public like this, would they? No. So.

Nonetheless, she retreated a little into the shadows out of the great light the angel cast.

“Hello, Lorna,” he said in that low gravelly voice she loved so very much.

“Uhm, hi,” she said, as usual as casual as she could make it, which wasn’t very. “Has this got anything to do with you?”

“No,” said Saif. “But it explains all the electric shock burns in the surgery.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh no, I am joking.”

Saif didn’t usually have to explain to Lorna when he was joking. Everyone else, yes.

“It’s . . . I rather like it,” said Lorna.

Saif nodded. “I saw it from the sky.”

She nodded. “How was it?” she asked, in a voice of infinite tenderness.

He stopped short, realizing suddenly he was about to burst into tears if he talked any further. They could not be casual; they could not just chat about this.

Flora came over. She sensed something was up.

“You guys okay?” she said brightly. “I can watch the boys for half an hour if you like.”

“We just . . . need to talk,” said Lorna, glancing at Saif’s stricken face.

“Sure, whatever,” said Flora blithely, pointedly looking away. But Lorna couldn’t worry about that just now. She glanced at Saif, who understood immediately—and