Page 43 of Christmas Spirit
Roland coiled his arms around Georgie’s waist, and this time Georgie didn’t pull back, just like he didn’t pull back when Roland’s lips found his. Georgie closed his eyes and savoured every moment. Warm as winter spice, sweeter than marzipan, and richer than brandy butter, it was Christmas in a kiss.
“It’s dark,” Georgie breathed against Roland’s lips. “When did it get to be dark?” He didn’t know, but more than that he didn’t care. He tilted his head back, gazed into the black sky, and gasped. “I’ve never seen so many stars.”
The night sky was alive with twinkling, diamond-bright pinpricks of light, every one of them pulsing, as though breathing with life. He leaned back against Roland, and smiled when the older man nuzzled into his hair.
“Look.” Roland pointed towards the hotel.
The heavy wooden doors were flung wide, and Nicholas was silhouetted in the light that shone from behind him, one arm raised.
“He’s waving us over. Come on, let’s see what he wants,” Roland said.
Georgie let Roland take his hand and lead him forward.
“Gentlemen, I need to leave you alone for this evening. I have a busy night ahead of me, with much work to do.”
“Work?” Georgie said, “but it’s Christmas Eve.”
Georgie peered at Nicholas. Whatever the old man’s work entailed, it was outside, because he wore the same red anorak, and heavy black boots he’d been wearing when he’d rescued Roland and him from their crash. He was even wearing a floppy Santa hat, just like the lifelike plaster model in the lounge.
On the ground next to him was a large hessian sack, bulky with Georgie didn’t know what. Nicholas hefted it onto one shoulder as though it weighed no more than a snowflake.
“Can we help? I feel it’s the least we — or rather I — should do,” Roland asked.
Nicholas said nothing, only smiled, and Roland smiled back. Something, Georgie didn’t know what, and couldn’t even guess at, seemed to pass between the older men but whatever it was, something told him that it was for them alone to know.
“Thank you, but I have plenty of help. I’ve taken the liberty of laying out a light supper for you both. You’ll find it in the lounge, in front of the fire which has been banked up. A very Merry Christmas to you both.”
“But Christmas isn’t until—”
Georgie jumped as deep, rich booms, tinkling chimes and everything in-between burst from the open door behind Nicholas. The ornamental clocks that were in every room rang and beat and chimed their midnight chorus as they heralded in Christmas Day.
“Happy Christmas, Georgie,” Roland said, and Georgie smiled and sighed, as Roland placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, before turning to Nicholas. “Happy Christmas, Nich—oh.” Roland’s greeting stopped dead.
“Where…?” Georgie said, looking from Roland to the doorway of the hotel.
Nicholas was gone, leaving nothing behind him other than the fading echoes of the clocks and the start of Christmas Day.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Roland yawned and stretched. He couldn’t remember feeling so comfortable. The banked up cushions on the lounge floor in front of the fire were more comfortable than any bed. He looked down and smiled at Georgie, snuggled up and dozing against his side.
Georgie felt good in his arms. He felt right.
Roland tightened his hold, and sighed.
He was free. Of the fear and shame and anger, he was free of it all. It was strange, but heady and thrilling, too, to know that the knot that had held him tied and bound had been untied and thrown to the wind. He was free, to live his life without being chained to the past. Telling Georgie his sorry tale had unlocked his heart, letting its rusty catch spring open. But he’d needed help, a push, to make him tell, and it had been Nicholas who’d given him that shove to take his first, stumbling steps to mending what he’d broken with Georgie.
How had the old man known? It had been Roland’s secret, his secret shame, for so long, buried deep within him. He wasn’t ashamed he had fallen in love, or what he’d believed was love, at least at first. No, that wasn’t what was shameful. It was the way he had been seen and treated as something to be exploited.Thathad been his shame, and that he’d not had the strength or will to fight back. Nicholas had known, but he hadn’t looked at him as weak, or pathetic. Instead, the man had opened his eyes, and his heart.
Roland gazed into the glowing red embers of the fire. He wouldn’t question the old man, just like he wouldn’t ask for the name of this strange hotel, or ask where they were. He doubted he would get any answers, and as he lay with Georgie, the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, he didn’t want them, because he wanted only to accept.
“Morning,” Georgie mumbled as he shifted out of Roland’s embrace.
Roland’s heart danced. Adorable. It was the only word to describe a sleepy, fuzzy, soft around the edges Georgie, blinking up at him through smokey grey eyes.
“Good morning, and Happy Christmas.”
“Christmas?” Georgie’s eyes widened as sleep faded, and understanding flooded in. “Of course. I’d kind of forgotten, because all I can feel is how, how…” His brow wrinkled for a moment as he searched for the word. “Content. Yes, that’s it, because of how content I feel. Never felt that before, so it might take a bit of time to get used to it,” he said, his face reddening.
