Together Under a Snowy Skye, page 1
TOGETHER UNDER A SNOWY SKYE
LISA HOBMAN
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
More from Lisa Hobman
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
For Mum, Dad, Rich and Gee – for not thinking I was completely crazy when I decided to write books, and then for supporting me when I decided to buy part ownership of a bookshop.
And for Claire – for being an awesome friend who was as excited as I was about owning a bookshop. Thank you for making our dream a reality! Books rule!
PROLOGUE
Millie Treadaway stared out of her second-floor, bay-fronted window, as if doing so would make her fiancé, Harry Rose, arrive home faster. But what was it they said about a watched pot? The June sky was unseasonably dark and stormy, and the street lights were gradually illuminating the rain-soaked Notting Hill pavements.
People dashed around below with umbrellas aloft and heads bowed and Millie was thankful to be in her little slice of paradise, in the Victorian conversion, on Colville Terrace, that she had shared with Harry for almost a year. Notting Hill was such a vibrant place to live, with its painted houses, fresh-produce market and boutique shops. The apartment wasn’t huge, on account of the rental prices in the area, and the interior was almost the antithesis of the building’s characterful exterior: plain white walls with space-age light fixtures and stark modern artwork that, to Millie, consisted of geometric shapes and splotches of bright colours on canvas. She was more of a Henry Raeburn fan herself. Even the kitchen was pristine white and uber modern with glittery white granite surfaces. Definitely all Harry’s taste, but he could be forgiven because, after all, she had agreed to move into his place. It was home now and she couldn’t be happier to be sharing it with the man she loved.
Her mind wandered back to the night she met Harry. It had been an impromptu night out with her friend Dexter – her best friend Jules’ older brother – and Harry had been at the same venue celebrating his brother’s wedding. They say certain things happen for a reason, and as a former victim of the beast that was unrequited love, Millie had almost given up on finding someone who would actually love her back. Fate had other thoughts on its mind, however…
The King’s Head was Dexter’s local and, as well as being a rather upmarket wedding and conference venue in one wing, the public bar had an amazing atmosphere and was a favourite haunt for the friends. Millie had exited the oppressive heat of the bar to get a breath of fresh air and, as if by some wonderful touch of fate, a tall, handsome stranger had stepped out for the same reason. His blond hair and vivid blue eyes had brought to mind one of her favourite actors, Paul Bettany, in his younger days. Millie had formed a major crush on Bettany after seeing his portrayal of Chaucer in the movie A Knight’s Tale. While most of her friends had fallen head over heels for Heath Ledger, Millie had been drawn in by the humour glinting in the eyes of the British actor. And here she was, faced with what could have been his doppelganger.
The man had been wearing a slate-grey, expensive-looking, three-piece suit and a burgundy tie. His shoulders were broad, and she’d guessed at his height being six foot three or four. ‘Too warm for you in there too, eh?’ he’d asked as he’d nodded towards the entrance to the King’s Head Hotel’s function room.
She’d felt her cheeks warming further on hearing his deep voice. ‘Just a bit, yes.’
He’d tilted his head with what appeared to be inquisitive interest. ‘I’m sorry I don’t… Are you a friend of Sarah’s?’ he’d asked, he was quite well-spoken with a hint of West London to his accent.
Millie had frowned, confused. ‘Sarah? Oh… the bride? No… no I’m not actually at the wedding. I’m just out with my friend for drinks. He’s playing pool with some guy we got chatting to, and I came out for some air.’
‘Oh that’s your friend? The bear-like chap?’
She’d nodded.
‘Right, well the guy you got chatting to, and who is currently playing pool with the bear—’
‘Dexter.’
‘With Dexter… is my sister Melanie’s fiancé, Josh. And it’s my brother Jacob’s wedding.’ He’d huffed the air from his lungs through puffed cheeks. ‘Bloody hell, everyone around me is either married or engaged.’
Millie had been unsure whether he saw that as a good thing. ‘Congratulations?’ she’d offered, tentatively, with a shrug.
He’d smiled and glanced at her hand where it gripped a glass of iced water. ‘No ring on your finger.’
She’d tucked her hair behind her ear and shook her head. ‘Nope. Youngish, free and single.’ She’d swapped the glass into her right hand and wiggled the fingers of her left to prove her point, but immediately felt silly.
The man had chuckled. ‘Well, that’s a relief. Not quite everyone is either married or engaged then.’ He’d held out his hand. ‘I’m Harry by the way. Harry Rose.’
She’d reached out, and as her fingers had touched his, her heart skipped. ‘Millie Treadaway.’
‘So, Millie, are you local to these parts?’
‘Cirencester? I am, yes. Born and raised. You?’
He’d shaken his head and glanced around at their rural surroundings. ‘No, no. I’m, a Londoner through and through. Although you wouldn’t think it by the accent. That’s what working in the intriguing world of city finance does for you, I suppose. My accent used to be much stronger. But I tend to soften it when I’m speaking to people from overseas… and evidently those I’ve just met.’ He’d laughed. ‘I think I’m always paranoid they’ll see me as a chimerney sweep like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.’
Millie had laughed. ‘But he was only pretending to be a Londoner. And pretty badly if my memory serves.’
‘Hmm, true. I suppose I think people will take me more seriously, in my line of work, if I sound like I’m from somewhere posh.’ He’d exaggerated the word posh and bobbed his head around, which she found amusing.
His self-deprecation had been endearing and she couldn’t help smiling, her interest had been piqued. ‘What is it that you do in the intriguing world of finance?’
His cheeks had coloured pink and he’d winced. ‘Now I hear that repeated back, I think I’ve made it sound pretty pretentious, haven’t I?’ He’d eyed her with mock suspicion and a glint of humour. ‘I’m the financial director for an up-and-coming independent publishing company in the centre of London. Award-winning too, no less.’ He’d tapped the side of his nose, straightened his tie and grinned, before adding, ‘I’m basically a number cruncher.’ He’d glanced around conspiratorially and continued, ‘But I’m trying to impress you.’
As an avid reader, Millie had always been fascinated by books and constantly had a ‘to be read’ pile that almost reached the ceiling. And the fact that he admitted to trying to impress her made her like him even more.
She’d smiled. ‘It’s working. I adore books and my older sister is in publishing too. I always thought it’d mean I’d get an endless supply of free reading material but…’ She’d shrugged.
‘Ah, yes that seems to be the acquiring editor’s privilege only, I’m afraid. What’s your sister’s name? Maybe I know her.’
‘Edie Treadaway. She’s an editorial manager for Cavendish.’
He’d raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh wow. One of the big ones then. And quite a high-flyer by the sound of it.’
Millie had tried not to roll her eyes. ‘Yes. She’s the success story of the family. Well… so far anyway.’
‘So what do you do?’ he’d asked with a tilt of his head.
‘I have my own online marketing company… well, I say company, but it’s just me. I mostly work remotely with small businesses, advising them on how to improve their visibility, producing marketing strategies and materials, helping them to build their online profile, et cetera.’
‘Now, you see, that sounds interesting and creative. And I bet it’s rewarding too.’
‘It can be, yes. I do love it and I get to work with some amazingly talented people. Your job sounds interesting too though.’
He’d cringed. ‘Does it? It’s not all that exciting. I’m basically a bossy accountant. I wish I was more creative, like the authors we work with. Now that would be fun. What could be better than inventing people and worlds?’
Handsome, sweet, loves books, a good job too. Was she about to discover that he had a girlfriend… or a boyfriend? And just as that thought had entered her head, a man had opened the door. ‘Harry, you’re up, mate. Time to do Jake and Sarah proud.’ And with that, he’d disappeared back through the door.
Harry had rolled his eyes. ‘No pressure then, eh? Well, I suppose as the best man, and brother of the groom, I’d better go give my speech. Lots of crap jokes about our childhood, and a couple of old videos of Jake, aged eight, trying to make up elaborate breakdance routines in our family kitchen.’ He’d paused. ‘Yup, he’s going to kill me.’ He’d reached out his hand once again and Millie had taken it. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Millie, but I fear it is my time to shine.’
Millie had giggled, but a hint of sadness tugged at her. ‘It was lovely to meet you too. Good luck with the speech.’
‘I need it.’ He’d released her hand, taken a deep breath and headed for the door. But before his fingers had wrapped around the handle, he’d stopped and turned. ‘Look, this may be totally inappropriate, as we’ve literally known each other for minutes, and it may be incredibly presumptuous and forward of me, but, well, we are at a wedding… that is, I’m at a wedding…’ He shook his head. ‘The point I’m trying to make is, could I possibly get your number? Or… or I could give you mine, then the ball’s in your court?’
Her insides had performed a happy dance and she’d tried hard not to grin like a crazed lunatic. ‘Hand me your phone,’ she’d said without hesitation and he had. She’d typed her number in as a new contact and snapped a quick selfie to accompany the details. Once she’d finished, she had handed the device back. ‘There you go. Ball well and truly in your court.’
A wide, handsome smile had spread across his face and he’d nodded. ‘Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.’
Back in the present, as she watched the Londoners below, Millie surmised that the butterflies in her stomach were definitely wearing hobnail boots whilst dancing a merry jig. She placed a hand over the fluttering. Where on earth is he?
She checked the clock on the kitchen wall for what must have been the hundredth time. It was past 8 p.m., which meant he was officially late. The meal would be dried up if he left it much longer – in fact, it no doubt already was. She wondered if, perhaps, he’d gone out for a drink with his colleagues to celebrate before coming home. After all, she hadn’t told him she was cooking a special birthday meal, deciding on surprising him instead; a decision she now regretted.
Her mobile lit up on the window ledge where it sat charging, and she grabbed it, expecting Harry to be messaging her with his whereabouts, or at least an ETA.
Hey lovely. How are you feeling? Better, I hope. Did your wedding invite arrive? J xx
Juliette, or rather Jules, her best friend in the world, now lived on the Isle of Skye and had set a date to marry her handsome Scottish partner, Reid; Millie was excited for them. After Reid’s messy divorce and Jules losing her first husband to cancer, they deserved so much happiness. A December wedding at the pretty Glentorrin church would be incredibly festive, and Millie couldn’t wait to attend. She responded quickly to say that although the invite hadn’t arrived yet, the date was etched on her brain and she wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Another text quickly arrived.
You didn’t reply to my other question!
Millie was just about to respond when the main entrance to the flat opened. She placed her phone back on the window ledge and hurried to the hallway.
‘The birthday king has returned!’ Harry announced with a flourish of his hands, almost knocking himself out with his leather satchel that contained his laptop.
Millie giggled in spite of herself. ‘I’m cross with you. You should’ve been home ages ago. And have you been drinking?’
He stalked towards her with a cheeky grin. ‘I might have had a wee dram,’ he said in an appalling Scottish accent.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t let Reid hear you talking like that.’
Harry placed his bag on the floor, leaned down and kissed her passionately, putting his arm around her and giving her bottom a firm squeeze. ‘You know you love me.’
She could taste the whisky on his lips and playfully whacked his arm. ‘It’s a bloody good thing that I do. Now, come on. I’ve cooked a special meal for you and it’s probably ruined now.’
He pulled away from her and stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Aww, I’m so sowwy. Pwease don’t be angwy.’ His ridiculous voice wasn’t going to get around her.
She shook her head. ‘Go freshen up and come and eat.’
Harry saluted her and disappeared, on unsteady legs, into the main bedroom whilst she returned to the kitchen to serve up the goulash she had prepared. It looked a little drier than it should have, and the smell turned her stomach a little. She placed the food on two plates, ensuring Harry had the larger portion, and served up the shrivelled roast veg alongside. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve been eager to tuck in, but not tonight. Nerves were getting the better of her. She had wrapped Harry’s gift in a box with a ribbon and couldn’t wait for him to open it.
Eventually he returned, freshly showered, wearing his joggers and a Queen T-shirt. He’d had that shirt for so many years, it was faded and had a hole in the shoulder, but he looked so damned sexy in it, regardless.
‘Something smells amazing! Have you made my favourite?’ he asked with a wide smile.
She inhaled the aroma and fought to stop her gag reflex. She pasted on a smile and nodded. ‘Of course. It’s your birthday after all.’
He kissed her cheek and took a seat at the small round table in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Great! Gimme!’ His face took on the appearance of an eager young boy, eyes wide with anticipation and tongue darting out to wet his lips in readiness.
She placed his plate in front of him and took her own seat, trying not to stare at the congealed mass on her own plate. Her stomach roiled again, and she stood. ‘Just going to get a glass of water.’
‘Open a bottle of red while you’re up, sweetheart.’
She scoffed. ‘Maybe later. I think you’ve had enough for now.’ She returned to her seat, carefully sipping the cold, clear liquid from her glass and once again avoided looking at her own serving of food.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ asked Harry with a frown.
Millie rolled her eyes and smiled. ‘I think I’m past it a bit now. I waited so long, I had a slice of toast,’ she lied.
‘Well, you’re missing a treat. This is bloody lush,’ he told her through a full mouth.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I got you a chocolate cake from Jack and Beyond too.’
He paused and grinned, pointed his fork at her and said, ‘You’re the bloody best, you are. Best bakery in London that place. Maybe even the world.’
While Harry tucked in heartily, Millie breathed deeply, trying to quell the nervous excitement bubbling inside of her. The anticipation of giving him his extra-special, and very personal, birthday gift was almost too much.
Once he had eaten, Harry pushed his plate away and patted his belly.
‘I think I’ll save my cake if you don’t mind. Stuffed.’
‘Of course. Are you ready for your gift?’ Millie asked with a clap of her hands.
He huffed out the air from his lungs. ‘So long as you’re not my gift, darling. Even after seeing you in your sexys, I don’t think I could perform with this huge full stomach.’ He chuckled.
She laughed along nervously. ‘Of course not. I got you a proper gift.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Bring it on.’
Millie rose from the table and picked up the box she had so carefully wrapped. She handed it over and he rubbed his hands together.
‘This is a big box. What the heck did you get me?’
‘Open it and find out,’ she replied giddily.
Harry untied the ribbon and began to unwrap the paper, rather too carefully for Millie’s liking. She sat with her hands in her lap, her fingers knotting in anticipation. Inside the box was another box. He glanced up at her and gave a sly grin but continued on. Another box greeted him on opening the second and he laughed. ‘You’re such a bloody tease, Mills.’
