‘Yes.’ The affirmation fell from her lips with way too much emphasis. ‘And when I have a family I can tell you the exact Christmas I’ll have. An enormous tree, the scent of pine, crackers, decorated walls, holly, ivy, stockings with a candy cane peering over the top. The table laid with cutlery that gleams in the twinkle of Christmas lights. In the centre a golden turkey and all the extras. Pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, stuffing and lashings of gravy. But most important of all there’ll be children. My family. Because that is what Christmas is about. And that is magical.’
Ruby hauled in breath as realisation dawned that she might have got a tad carried away.
‘Anyway, obviously that is in the far distant future and not something I need to worry about right now.’
It would take time to save enough money to support a family—time to go through the lengthy adoption process.
‘No, it isn’t.’ Ethan’s voice was neutral now, his eyes hooded. ‘And now isn’t the time to dream of future Christmases.’
‘It’s not a dream. It’s a goal. That’s different.’
Dreams were insubstantial clouds—stupid aspirations that might never be attained. Goals—goals were different. Goals were definitive. And Ruby was definite that she would have a family. By hook or by crook.
‘But you’re right. I need to be in the kitchen—or you and Rafael will be eating candle wax for dinner.’
‘Hang on.’ His forehead was slashed with a deep frown. ‘I meant now is the time to think about present-day Christmas. What are your plans for this year?’
His voice had a rough edge of concern to it and Ruby frowned. The last thing she wanted was for Ethan Caversham to feel sorry for her—the idea was insupportable.
‘I’ll be fine. I have plans.’
Sure. Her plan was to shut herself away in her apartment and watch weepy movies with a vat of ice cream. But that counted as a plan, right? It wasn’t even that she was mourning Hugh—she was bereft at the loss of a dream. Because for all her lofty words she had been stupid enough to take her eye off the goal and allow herself to dream. And Hugh had crushed that dream and trampled it into the dust. Further proof—as if she’d needed it—that dreams were for idiots. Lesson learnt. Again. But this time reinforced in steel.
‘But thank you for asking.’
Ethan’s eyes bored into her and the conviction that he would ask her to expand on the exact nature of her plans opened her lips in pre-emptive strike.
‘What about your plans?’
His expression retreated to neutral. ‘They aren’t firmed up as yet.’
Obscure irrational hurt touched her that he didn’t feel able to share his plans with her. Daft! After all, it wasn’t as if she was sharing hers with him.
‘Well, I hope they sort themselves out. Right now I must go and cook. Prepare to be amazed!’
ETHAN HANDED RAFAEL a crystal tumbler of malt whisky, checked the fire and sat down in the opposite armchair.
Rafael cradled the glass. ‘So, my old friend, tell me what it is you want of me?’
‘To negotiate a wine deal. You provide my restaurants worldwide at a cost we negotiate. All except here at Caversham Castle—here I’d like you to donate the wine.’
‘And why would I do that?’ Rafael scanned the room and the slight upturn of his lips glinted with amusement. ‘In the spirit of Christmas?’
‘Yes,’ Ethan said. ‘If by that you mean the spirit of giving and caring. Because I plan to run Caversham Castle differently from my other businesses. As a charitable concern. The castle will be open to holidaymakers for nine months of the year and for the remaining three it will be used as a place to help disadvantaged youngsters.’
For a second, the image of him and Rafael, side by side as they faced down one of the gangs that had roved their estate, flashed in his mind. They had both been loners, but when Rafael had seen him in trouble he’d come to his aid.
‘I plan to provide sporting holidays and job-training opportunities. Run fundraisers where they can help out and help organise them. Get involved. Make a difference.’ He met Rafael’s gaze. ‘Give them a chance to do what we’ve both done.’
After all, they had both been experts in petty crime, headed towards worse, but they had both turned their lives around.
‘We did it on our own.’
‘Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t help others.’
Before Rafael could reply the door swung open and Ruby entered.
Whoa. She looked stunning, and Ethan nearly inhaled his mouthful of whisky. Her dark luxuriant hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, clipped with a red barrette. A black dress that reached mid-thigh was cinched at the waist with a wide red sash, and—heaven help him—she wore black peeptoe shoes with jaunty red bows at the heels. Clearly she was giving the new uniform an airing.
A small smile curved her lips as she glided towards them and placed a tray on the table. ‘Appetisers to go with your pre-dinner drinks,’ she said. ‘Parma ham and mozzarella bites, and smoked salmon on crushed potato’.
‘Thank you, Ruby.’ Attempting to gather his scattered brain cells, Ethan rose to his feet and Rafael followed suit, his dark eyes alight with interest.
‘Rafael, this is Ruby Hampton—my restaurant manager.’
‘Enchanted to meet you.’ Rafael smiled. ‘The lady who knocked me off the celebrity gossip pages.’
Colour leached from her face and Ethan stepped towards her.
‘I... I hope you enjoyed the respite,’ she said, her smile not wavering, and admiration touched his chest. ‘I’m not planning on a repeat run.’
Rafael gave a small laugh. ‘Well said.’ He reached down and picked up one of the canapés and popped it into his mouth. ‘Exquisite.’
‘Thank you. I’ll leave you to it, and then I’ll be back with the starters in about fifteen minutes.’
‘So...’ Rafael said as the door swung shut. ‘You’ve hired Ruby Hampton?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? Because you want to give her a second chance?’ Rafael gestured round the bar. ‘That’s what this is about, right? You want people to be given a chance?’
‘Yes. I do. I want youngsters who’ve had a tough time in life to see there is a choice apart from a life of truancy and mindless crime.’
Images of the bleak landscape of the council estate they’d grown up on streamed in his mind.
‘And I want society to recognise that they deserve a chance even if they’ve messed up.’
Rafael leant back. ‘You see, I think people should make their own choices and prove they deserve a chance. So let’s talk business, my friend, and let me think about the charitable angle.’
‘Done.’
Ethan placed his whisky glass down. Time to show Rafael Martinez that he might have a philanthropic side, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t hard-nosed at the negotiating table—helped by the fact that said table was soon occupied by melt-in-the-mouth food, discreetly delivered and served.
In fact if it wasn’t for the ultra-sensitive ‘detecting Ruby’ antennae he seemed to have developed he doubted he would have noticed her presence.
Once the dessert plates