Page 49 of The Christmas Invitation

Fliss kept her eyes closed, frightened to meet his eyes. Kit was right. She did know it. There had always been part of her that regretted leaving him and, if she was being honest with herself, she had never stopped loving him – her first love. She had loved Brandon, yes, but it hadn’t been with the same intensity she had felt for Kit. She would never have described Brandon as her soulmate, but with Kit it felt as though they were two halves of a whole, as though the universe had designed them for one another, a perfect fit.

Brandon had been a great guy, but he hadn’t been the one. Deep down, she had always known she was settling, and that was why their marriage had failed. Once the initial flush of romance had worn off, the feelings that remained weren’t strong enough to make it work.

But, right now, she didn’t trust her feelings. She was in a vulnerable place, her career up in the air, her whole life on tenterhooks. It would have been so easy to cling onto the life raft that Kit was offering, to throw herself at him and to hell with the consequences. It would have been easy – but it wouldn’t have been right.

Fliss opened her eyes, gazing up at Kit, the man she had truly loved once and in her heart had never stopped loving.

But she couldn’t – wouldn’t – be the reason he ended his marriage.

‘We need to head back,’ she said firmly. ‘I need to shower and get ready before dinner.’

‘Yes.’ Kit nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘But this isn’t the end. We need to talk. Promise me that you won’t go back to New York until we’ve talked properly?’

He drew her to him, wrapping her in his arms, and Fliss felt herself begin to melt once again, pressed against his chest, the masculine scent of him filling her nostrils. Right now, she would have agreed to anything.

‘I promise,’ she murmured.

Kit rested his chin on top of her head, and they stood like that for a long moment, neither wanting to leave. Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart, prepared the horses and headed back to the house.

Chapter 22

Fliss caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length, gilt-framed mirror as she glided down the grand staircase for Christmas dinner. Whilst the ‘opening presents’ part of the day had been very informal, Elizabeth liked everyone to make an effort for Christmas dinner, and Fliss had certainly done that. She was wearing a berry-red silk dress that poured over her body like water. In theory, it wasn’t revealing; it was floor-length, with a high boat-cut neckline and long sleeves – a necessity in the draughty old mansion house, despite the roaring fires. In reality, however, it clung to her body like a second skin. Fliss had never been afraid of her curves, and this one did nothing to hide them.

She wore her hair pinned up, exposing her elegant neckline, emphasised by a pair of diamond drop earrings. Fliss had sprayed herself in a cloud of Chanel perfume, and was wearing the silver necklace that Kit had bought her, just the top of the chain visible around her neck. She looked sensational, even if she did say so herself.

She knew, deep down, that part of the reason she had dressed so carefully was for Kit. She wanted him to look at her, to want her, to feel his eyes roam over her with unbridled desire. She knew that she was playing a dangerous game, but she could still feel what it had felt like to be held in his arms that morning, could still remember his kisses from all those years ago.

He had said that his marriage was over. Was it true, or was it just a clichéd line that she wanted to believe? Fliss told herself that she knew Kit through and through, that he wouldn’t lie to her. He had told her Tara was having an affair, and it wasn’t her first. Fliss wondered who this one was with – Kit had said he had his suspicions.

‘There you are! Oh darling, you look divine,’ Sally exclaimed, as she crossed the great hall on her way to the dining room. She was wearing a long taffeta skirt in a festive dark green, paired with a high-collared white shirt, like an old-fashioned riding habit. She looked chic and elegant. ‘You’ve just missed the King’s Speech.’

‘Oh,’ Fliss faltered. ‘I lost track of time.’

‘Don’t worry, darling, you’re not late. Neville always likes to watch it with an aperitif. Would you mind giving us a hand in the dining room? It’s all hands on deck, I’m afraid.’

‘Of course,’ Fliss agreed, following Katie into the room where Tara was taking out piles of crockery and silverware from a sideboard. Fliss hesitated when she saw her, then told herself she was being ridiculous. This was her old friend, Tara, and she and Kit had done nothing wrong.

‘Right, I’ll pop back down to the kitchen, give Elizabeth a hand. Do you mind coming down when you’re done here? We should be about ready to start bringing things up by then.’

‘No problem,’ Fliss said, a little too brightly, as Katie left the room. ‘I’ll start putting these on the table,’ she said to Tara, as she took a pile of cutlery and began laying out each place setting. ‘You look stunning, by the way.’

Tara was wearing a black dress shot through with silver sparkles that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was tight-fitting and low-cut, showing off her ample cleavage, and Fliss secretly thought it was a little over the top. Once again, she remembered Kit’s words. Tara’s having an affair …

‘Thank you,’ Tara said, shaking out her blonde bob. She looked Fliss up and down, but didn’t say anything apart from, ‘Good ride?’

It took Fliss a moment to realise what she was referring to and then she realised. ‘Oh, yes. It was lovely to get out and see the countryside. So exhilarating. It reminded me of when we were kids.’

‘I heard you weren’t alone.’ Tara fixed her with a piercing look, and Fliss tried her best to act naturally.

‘No, I bumped into Kit in the stables, so we went together. It was such a coincidence …’ Although Fliss was telling the truth, she could hear the false note in her voice. ‘Anyway, that’s the cutlery done. I’ll go and see if they need a hand with anything in the kitchen.’ She turned to walk away but was stopped by the sound of Tara calling her name.

‘Fliss.’ The tone was icy. Fliss turned around.

‘Yes?’

‘I won, remember. I’ll always win. And I will do whatever I have to do to make sure of that.’

Their eyes met for a moment, and Fliss was in no doubt that she was being given a warning. She could have stayed to argue, about how Tara had only befriended her all those years ago because she could use her; because she could bend Fliss to her will and shine more brightly. But it was Christmas Day and she was a guest of Tara’s parents. So instead of biting back, Fliss turned and walked out of the room, her heart hammering as Tara’s words rang in her ears.