Page 233

The door opened and Kai stood there, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, still in his jacket and boots. His gaze was very direct as it met hers. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said without preamble. ‘I should not have said that to you.’

Her throat closed and her heart squeezed. It really should be her apologising to him, but she didn’t want to bring the subject of Neve up again, so she gave him a bright smile. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’m over it now.’

He didn’t smile in return, his silver brows twitching as he studied her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh, yes, completely.’ She pushed herself off the bed, shoving her hurt and anger and concern to the furthest reaches of her mind. ‘I have another idea for Christmas decorations. Do you have oranges?’

He gave her a blank look. ‘Oranges?’

She went over to where he stood. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

Fifteen minutes later, after finding oranges in the pantry, Libby showed him how to cut them up into slices and dry them out in the oven so they could be threaded onto some string in little garlands. Then they gathered up the paper snowflakes and paper chains they’d made and began the process of hanging them on the giant tree.

Once it was done, Libby stood back, surveying the finished tree with some satisfaction. It looked pretty, though there wasn’t much sparkle to it. That was fine, though, at least it wasn’t completely bare.

Kai was frowning critically up at the top of the tree. ‘Isn’t there usually an angel or something at the top?’

‘Yes. Or a star.’

He turned towards the dining table still strewn with the detritus of the decoration making. ‘Wait a moment,’ he said and strode over.

Libby watched him, mystified as he began drawing something on a piece of paper with bold, unhesitatingly strokes. She wandered over to see what he was doing and her breath caught sharply when she saw what it was.

He was drawing her an angel, the way he’d drawn one for her all those years ago.

He didn’t look at her as he finished drawing, merely picking up a pair of scissors and cutting it out. Then he turned and glanced at her. ‘One angel,’ he said, the ghost of a smile turning his mouth.

She couldn’t help herself, the words just came out of her. ‘You drew an angel for me once,’ she said huskily. ‘In fact, it was you who showed me how to cut out snowflakes and make paper chains, and when I said our tree didn’t have an angel, you drew one for me.’

His expression flickered, then it blanked and he looked away. ‘Did I?’ He went past her back to the tree without waiting for an answer.

She could have kicked herself. Why had she brought it up again? After she’d sworn to herself that she was going to leave the past behind? It wasn’t her place to question him, and yet…

Who else is there? Does he have anyone else at all?

Pain wound around her heart. Neve had isolated him all his life and here he was, a grown man, and he was still isolated. Still alone. Did that matter to him? Did he care? Or had he taught himself not to?

She watched him place the angel at the top of the tree, his height allowing him to put it there without too much of a reach. Then he turned and smiled at her, a ghost of the smiles he used to give her back when he’d been a boy, and something inside her shifted.

The heart of that boy was still in the man. She could see it in that smile. It was in the little things he did for her, and the way he sat and patiently let her show him how to cut out a snowflake. In the way he touched her, too, and in the kiss he’d given her out in the snow.

She couldn’t let that heart stay frozen. She couldn’t let him remain this detached, icy, passionless man. The man Neve had turned him into. A man he was never meant to be.

No one else was here to rescue him. All he had was her.

‘You loved Neve, didn’t you?’ she asked softly.

His smile vanished. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘I just…you said you asked her to marry you.’

‘I did, yes. But she refused.’ He turned back to the Christmas tree. ‘Said she didn’t need a husband.’

‘That must have hurt.’ She stared at the perfect lines of his aristocratic profile, her own heart aching at the thought of a young, passionate Kai, in love with a woman who would never love him back.

‘At the time.’ His voice had gone cold. ‘I got over it.’

‘Do you still love her?’