Page 52 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

‘Silent night, Holy night

All is calm, all is bright . . .’

Paul loved this old church. He had so many memories — of coming here to Sunday School when he was a kid, and later to Church Parade with the Scouts. And the Christmas carol service — even when he was away with his team he had always tried to get home for it.

All Saints was quite small, but the sound of a hundred voices singing the lovely old Christmas carol rose to fill the high vaulted roof. Built in the thirteenth century from the local hard grey stone, the Victorians had added a square bell tower and a fine stained-glass window over the altar.

There at the front, as every year, was a large Christmas tree on one side of the altar, and on the other beside the pulpit was the nativity scene — the wooden stable, the little plaster figures arranged on the straw, the slightly chipped angel on the roof.

Another memory rose, making him smile. When he and his friends had been about eight or nine years old Alan Cowan had stolen one of the tiny sheep, and tried to cast the blame on Liam Ellis. Tom Cullen had cornered him in the playground at school the next day and forced him to own up and return it.

‘Silent night, Holy night . . .’

Two rows in front of him was the Ellis family.

Diane and Graham, Liam with Cassie and little Robyn, newly returned from their honeymoon to Lapland, Luke and Julia with young Ben.

And Jess, sitting next to her sister, two heads of rich auburn curls gleaming in the soft light spilling from the sconces along the wall.

He still couldn’t figure out what he had done to make her so hostile. That night when she’d come to his house for dinner she’d said they could be friends, even though she didn’t want a relationship with him. He’d reluctantly accepted that.

Then the day after he’d got back from Botswana she’d all but bitten his head off.

For the past couple of days he’d avoided coming down to the hotel, wary of antagonising her further. But perhaps this evening the carol concert might put her in a more mellow frame of mind.

The concert continued with a group of children taking it in turns to read extracts from the Christmas story. A prayer, then another favourite carol, someone read a poem, then the congregation sang their hearts out to ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’.

Finally, Eva brought the service to an end with the traditional blessing, and everyone began to shuffle around, chatting to their neighbours and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas as they filed down the aisle and out into the night.

The snow still lay deep in the churchyard on either side of the swept path, smothering all the graves in white. A single bird had walked across it, leaving its dainty footprints on the pristine surface.

The air was sharp with frost. The sky was smudged with dark grey clouds, obscuring the stars, but the pale moon glimmered though the occasional ragged gap, high, white and stark.

His mum and dad had paused to chat with some of their friends. Tom and Vicky Cullen nodded goodnight as they strolled past, hand in hand. Lisa and Ollie stopped to exchange a few words, young Noah skipping around them impatiently.

And there was Jess, at last, with the Ellises. She was wrapped up in a warm parka, a long red scarf wrapped around her throat, a red woollen bobble hat pulled down over her ears.

He caught the moment when she saw him. She glanced towards him then quickly away. Her cheeks were pink, but that could just have been the cold.

The family stopped to shake hands with his parents and wish them Merry Christmas. Jess held back a little — she seemed to have taken a sudden intense interest in the design of the bell tower.

As everyone began to move towards the old wooden lychgate and out onto Church Road he murmured a brief goodnight to his parents and moved over to Jess’s side.

“Hi. Did you enjoy the service?”

“Uh, yes.” Her shoulders had stiffened, but at least she had replied. “It was very nice. I haven’t been to a carol service since I was a kid.”

Progress? “What are you doing for Christmas?” he asked, trying a smile.

“I’m staying with Julia.”

“Not going to your parents?”

“No.” Her head turned towards him, but then away again. “I might go up to see them both in the new year.”

He hesitated. It was taking a risk to bring the subject up again, but he needed to clear the air. “Ah . . . We haven’t spoken since I got back from Africa.”

“. . . No.”

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asked gently.

“No. It was my fault. I . . . made a mistake.” Her voice sounded strained. “I saw you, with a girl — one of the T-and-T people. She was here with her husband.”

“Ah . . .” Enlightenment began to dawn.

At last she glanced up at him. “I saw you going into her room, and I assumed . . . I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. I’m sorry.”

“It was understandable,” he responded gently. “I can imagine how it must have looked.”

“I found out when they were checking out. They left that bottle of whiskey for you, and . . . she explained what had happened. I’m sorry, I would have apologised then, but . . .”

“I stayed out of your way.” He laughed. “I was afraid you’d chew me up and spit out the bones.”

Her smile wavered for a moment. “There’d be a lot to chew.”

“There would.”

They had reached the Memorial Gardens. The Ellises were some way ahead, past the hotel and already turning into their gate.

The Memorial Gardens lay quiet under a blanket of undisturbed snow, glistening like diamonds in the glow of the single street lamp. The flowerbeds were just undulations, casting weird shadows against the smooth white surface.

Jess paused and Paul watched the white clouds of her breath drifting away on the icy wind. There was no one else around, and the snow seemed to deaden every sound but the wind and the sea.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

He was a little surprised at her suggestion, but he wasn’t going to question the whys and the wherefores.

He reached out tentatively and took her hand, and they strolled down the ramp to the narrow strip of beach left by the incoming tide. The wind was whipping the waves into a fury of white foam far out across the bay, dancing in across the sand then ebbing away to be chased by another.

“I love how the sea is so different all the time,” she murmured. “Sometimes so stormy, sometimes as tranquil as a millpond. Every day you never quite know how it will be.”

“That’s part of the fun of living here. Always the unexpected.”

“Where have the beach huts gone?”

“They take them away at the end of October. They’re stored in the car park on the top of the hill until April.”

“Ah.”

They had reached the bottom of the cliff steps and they could go no further as the slope of the beach meant that the sea here ran right up to the cliff wall. Jess climbed the first step, then turned to him. Their heads were level, and she lifted her hands to each side of his face. And kissed him.

He felt as if he’d been tasered. Her mouth was warm and firm on his, her sensuous tongue sliding boldly between his lips, probing its way deep inside.

He’d forgotten to breathe — he’d probably forgotten his own name. His hands slid up into her hair as he kissed her back, their tongues sparring and swirling around each other, their bodies generating enough heat to melt all the snow on Cliff Road.

She drew her head back, her eyes dark as they gazed up at him. “Take me to bed.”

He stared at her, stunned. But her eyes told him that she meant it. Fumbling in his pocket for his key, he took her hand, led her up the steps and across the road to his front door.

Dammit. The keyhole. Why couldn’t he get the key in? Ah, at last. Jess was laughing, teasing him, as he finally managed to get the door open.

He dragged her inside, slamming the door with his heel and shoving her back against it. Then his mouth was on hers, fiercely possessive, as his hands swept up and down her spine, defining every curve, every valley.

She moved against him, her body restless, her soft moans telling him everything he needed to know.

His hands itched to feel her skin. Hunger roared through him and he deepened their kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming everything she had and demanding more.

She gave it to him, surrendering herself to the passion rising between them. Her tongue tangled with his, her breath sighing against his cheek as she met him stroke for stroke. Her hands clutched his shoulders, holding on tightly as she moaned with pleasure.

That soft sound was enough to push him dangerously close to the edge. He tore his mouth from hers, looking down at her through eyes glazed with need. “If we don’t move right now, we’re not going to make it to the bedroom.”

She laughed, a low, throaty sound. “Would you care?”

“The bed’s comfortable, but it’s up a whole flight of stairs.”

Her eyes danced in wicked amusement. “Race you!”

“Right . . .”

She dodged past him, laughing provocatively as he chased her across the hall. They made it halfway up the stairs before he caught her, and they both collapsed, laughing helplessly. His body was hard and aching — he could hardly draw breath without fanning the flames licking at his insides.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” she protested, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.

“So have you.”

Rolling around on the stairs, they tore at each other’s clothes, tossing aside coats and sweaters until they were both down to their underwear.

Wriggling out from beneath him, her laughter challenging him, she scrambled a little further up the stairs, but he caught her ankle, clambering over her to claim her mouth again.

Her taste was intoxicating, her kiss sizzling his brain. Everything in him urged him to hurry, to ease the need surging inside him.

But the urge to linger over every second was just as strong. His tongue entwined with hers once more, and he stroked one hand down over her body, relishing the smooth, soft curves beneath his palm.