Page 25 of Snowfall Over Halesmere House
‘I suppose.’ Max was wearing a T shirt over lounging trousers, and he shivered. ‘It’s pretty late to be out for a stroll. Couldn’t sleep?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Walking usually helps.’
‘I work rather than walk when I can’t sleep.’ He wrapped his arms across his body. ‘Not so easy for me to leave the house.’
‘Of course.’ She thought of his children, cosy in their beds. ‘But doesn’t working too many hours late at night just make you more tired?’
‘Yeah.’ She saw the gleam of his smile. ‘But I’ve got two excellent alarm clocks who like crashing on my head first thing, so there’s not much danger of me sleeping in.’
A gorgeous new image jumped into Ella’s mind, one featuring Max being woken with cuddles and love every morning by Lily and Arlo tumbling over him. ‘You’re not still working?’
‘Just finished. I let Prim out last thing before I head up.’ Max stamped his feet, blew out a breath. ‘It’s freezing. You don’t fancy a hot drink, do you?’
Not wise, Ella, she told herself. Not wise at all. But exactly what she wanted and quite possibly just what she needed. ‘I’d love one. Maybe not coffee though.’
‘No problem. I do a mean hot chocolate, and I could throw in a shot of brandy to warm us up.’
‘Perfect.’ It was, and Prim seemed delighted to be escorting Ella safely into the cottage instead of seeing her back to the silent house.
Chapter Nine
The family room was very different late at night, lit by only the Christmas tree and soft lights in the kitchen; the atmosphere altered without the children’s noise and laughter. Ella only remembered she was still in her cosy pyjamas when she took off her coat to curl up on the sofa. Max was busy in the kitchen and it seemed pointless to offer help for so small a task as hot chocolate.
Prim snuggled down with a deep sigh. Her bed had been moved since Ella was here yesterday and was beside a chair; she assumed it was the one Max had been sitting in. However much he pretended to be grumpy about the dog, he obviously liked keeping Prim close. The stove was burning itself out, the embers a flickering glow behind the glass.
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the large mug he was offering. ‘Candy canes and cream? You’re spoiling me.’
‘Two kids, remember? I have form.’ His smile was wry as he found his phone and turned down the classical music quietly playing, then settled on the sofa to her left. ‘And it is getting close to Christmas.’
‘Well, you’re right, you do make a mean hot chocolate.’ Ella loved the warmth of the mug in her hands, that first taste. ‘This is amazing.’
‘Probably the brandy but I’ll take that, coming from a chef like you.’ Max held up his mug and she did the same. ‘Cheers. This is about as racy as my evenings get.’
‘What, the luxurious hot chocolate or sitting with a strange woman in your house wearing her pyjamas?’ Ella bit her lip. She’d meant it as a joke, but it sounded rather nosy and flirtatious now she’d said it out loud.
‘Oh, the hot chocolate for sure. There’s never been a woman, strange or otherwise, sitting in this house at this hour before. Unless you’re counting my mother.’
‘What were you working on?’ She glanced at his laptop. A more professional question this time.
‘A planting plan for a new client. It’s a difficult site, coastal with very poor soil and a lot of prevailing salty wind.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘I very nearly didn’t either, it’s a lot different to planting London gardens.’
‘I saw your show garden. I thought it was beautiful.’
Ella had checked him out online and seen the exquisite and elegant garden he’d designed for the Chelsea Flower Show, apparently wowing the crowds with his work as much as the television coverage he’d had from the clips and comments she’d found on You Tube. He was clearly very knowledgeable, praising the skills of the team who had built his design and enthusiastic about the role the garden would go on to have with the charity who’d sponsored it. She’d read somewhere there had apparently been an offer of more television work and he’d turned it down.
‘That’s very kind, thank you. It was incredibly hard work with a lot of stress, and every moment was worth it when we finished and could appreciate the final result. And the gold medal, of course. That helped.’
‘Who chose Lion for your company’s name? I thought it was inspired, it suits you. Something about your colouring.’
‘You’re not the first to mention it.’ His laugh was light as he pushed a self-conscious hand through his messy blond hair. ‘Victoria, my wife, suggested it as it’s part of my name.’
‘Oh?’ Ella hoped he would go on.
‘Officially I am Maxence William Lion Bourdon Bentley.’
