A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

Climax of Act III

What woke her up seemed to be the ringing of a phone; and since it was something with a lot of bass, the gizmo wasn't hers. And then she realised that it was a phone ringing - and her eyes flew open.

Dair carefully moved her off him and stretched to his jacket folded on the floor next to their 'sleeping bag cocoon.' Judging by the pale light in the room, it was around seven o'clock in the morning.

He answered the call; and Billie heard loud, rapid speech on the other end of the line. The actor glanced at her; their eyes met; and he gave her an apologetic smile. She nodded and burrowed lower in the cloud of warmth inside the bag.

The conversation was in Italian and didn't appear to be particularly nice. Soon, Dair was furrowing his brow. His voice had dropped; the usually lilting notes in his native tongue were now more of a growl; and then he barked something harsh and finite, and hung up.

His lips moved silently; and then he took a slow breath, grounding himself.

"The phone's working," Billie pointed out - and his eyes widened.

"I r-reckon," he muttered and slowly turned to her.

His expression was guarded. Billie snorted. Did he think she'd wake up, gasp, and shield her 'perfumed breasts' like a bashful heroine, staggered and flustered by seeing him in the harsh light of the next day's morning?

"Hi," she said, shifted to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

She might have heard a relieved exhale. He slid down, next to her, and pulled her closer.

"Sh-should we call someone?" he asked, his tone clearly signalling his lack of enthusiasm towards this course of action.

Billie settled in his embrace and closed her eyes.

"We could, of course..." She trailed away. "Or we can just idle away for a tad."

"Let me s-see if I've got any messages," he muttered, lifting his phone above his head. "And m-maybe text Rhys."

Billie rubbed her nose to his neck. He stilled - and then tossed his mobile onto his jacket again.

"Maybe later," he said firmly and snogged her.

***

They were 'rescued' two hours later by James Whitlaw on a snow plough.

Thankfully, they'd gotten dressed again by then; so when three massive construction workers barged in, they found Billie and Dair snuggling in front of the wood burner, Billie reading the Pride and Prejudice that he'd given her, out loud. Admittedly, although the book was technically in her hand, her mouth had been 'occupied,' so she had hardly gotten past the second paragraph.

"Where should I drop you off?" Whitlaw asked.

Dair glanced at Billie questioningly. She appreciated him nonverbally consulting her, but she would like to know her options. She looked at her Mother's watch on her wrist.

"We're supposed to be at the Hall right now," she said as if pensively. "But we aren't particularly presentable, innit?"

"No one's working today," Whitlaw answered. "Don't think you're needed at work today. So, where to?"

Dair was still silent, and she leaned to him and whispered, "I desperately need a shower, but I'm not sure I can face my Aunts and sisters right now."

Mostly, she wasn't quite prepared for the onslaught of her relatives' interrogation and reaction to what had happened between her and Dair, and to what it could possibly mean for the 'Harewicke legacy' in the long run. After all, Billie herself hadn't made up her mind on the subject.