A Christmas Romance in the Scottish Highlands (Scottish Highlands #6)

Chapter 19

19

ALEX

Alex stood back from his easel so he could study the sketch he’d been working on. The lines were almost there, and he was happy with the progress he’d made. He’d already used charcoal to sketch the outline of the landscape he planned to paint – and Henry had given him pointers on improving the perspective, helping him to establish darker and lighter shades for depth. Now it was time to start the real thing. But dread gnawed in the pit of his stomach. What if he got it wrong, what if his father hated it? Then again, why did he still care so much about his opinion? Alex didn’t have an answer, but suddenly he wished Ella was here – maybe she’d have an idea?

He hadn’t seen her for three agonising days. He knew she’d been working in the studio because her easel was covered in a long sheet, obscuring her new project. Also, a bag had appeared yesterday, which she’d left hooked over a chair – Henry had checked it and found a duster, coat, her glass slippers and a random sock. The artist had mentioned her coming in at odd hours, fitting in her art whenever she could, and Alex knew she’d been painting because the brushes on her table were sometimes still wet. He’d tried to catch her a few times – arriving in the studio extra early or late after Henry had gone to bed, to no avail. Yesterday, he knew Ella had been in early because when he’d arrived, her cup of coffee was still warm. He’d gone to search for her in the kitchen, but Aggie had told him she’d had to leave.

Alex pressed his fingers to his lips, conjuring the kiss they’d shared on the stage the last time he’d seen her. They hadn’t spoken afterwards – Hunter had been circling, and Blair had insisted they both try on costumes while Mae had wanted them to go through the ballroom scene. But he could still remember the feel of Ella’s lips, recall the way his heart had pounded and how he hadn’t wanted their encounter to end.

The feelings had surprised him, humbled him – and left him wanting more. Did she feel the same? And was he crazy for having such a strong attraction to someone he barely knew? To someone who made him feel vulnerable? His father would say he was.

He paced towards Ella’s easel and reached for the sheet – perhaps her new painting would give him some answers? Some idea of what she was thinking and how she might feel.

‘I don’t think the lass wants anyone to see her work in progress.’ Alex jumped and dropped the material as Henry suddenly spoke. ‘She told me the picture is meant to be a surprise. I understand that. It’s how I feel about my own,’ Henry growled. Alex spun around as the artist emerged from the stairway, his cheeks splattered with paint. Henry wandered towards his own easel which was also covered in a white sheet. He stared at it, his expression pensive. ‘Aye, some things aren’t for everyone. Some work is private – meant for one pair of eyes.’

‘Okay,’ Alex said. Although he didn’t have a clue what the older man was talking about. But if Ella’s picture was only meant for one person, who was it?

Henry walked across the room and came to gaze at Alex’s work. ‘You’ve made good progress, lad, but you’re going to have to get started on that soon or you’ll be leaving Mistletoe before it’s done.’

‘I know,’ Alex sighed. ‘I’m just…’

‘Afraid of getting it wrong?’ Henry guessed. ‘Aye.’ He looked over at his canvas again and winced. ‘I know that feeling. How do you feel about what you’re going to draw?’

‘Pretty good.’ Alex took in a deep breath. He’d been waiting for Henry’s question and already knew what he was going to say. Something had shifted since his conversation on stage with Ella – perhaps a result of all her compliments? How she’d made him feel like he wasn’t a failure for the first time. His tongue had untangled itself and the reticence he normally felt about sharing his thoughts had eased. At least a little.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing what my da thinks,’ he admitted as he imagined his work enjoying pride of place in the reception of Charming Capital Management. ‘He wanted something powerful, and I think I’ve got it right. The colours will be strong and vibrant, and the addition of snow makes me feel?—’

He pursed his lips, because offering these insights was easier, but it still went against everything he’d been taught. How he shouldn’t give anything away because it was like handing over ammunition. How keeping your feelings to yourself was the only path. He took in a long breath.

‘It makes me feel like I want to build a snowman,’ he said, letting the air out of his lungs as a memory flickered into his mind. Of icy mornings at boarding school when he’d sneaked into the gardens with Stan when no one was looking. He could remember building snowmen and the squeals of delight when one of them threw a snowball and the other retaliated, the subsequent battle of ice and laughter. He’d loved those days.

All that childhood innocence and sense of wonder he’d forgotten – all those emotions Alex was only starting to acknowledge now. He’d never be able to reminisce about any of it in front of Michael Charming, though. His father considered snowball fights – or play of any kind – a waste of time.

‘Bravo, lad.’ Henry winked. ‘I knew you’d bleed eventually.’

Alex thought about Ella again, about the feelings she was helping him recognise and expose. ‘I hope not,’ he murmured.

The older man grinned before the smile dropped and he looked serious. ‘I’d like to tell you that you’re developing as an artist. I think meeting Ella and being in the pantomime has really helped to bring you out of yourself.’ His tone was earnest, but Alex waited for the catch. ‘I’m intrigued to see what you’ll do with your painting.’ Henry’s attention strayed back to Alex’s sketch. ‘You have skills lad – I’m proud that you’ve been brave enough to let them show. That I had a part to play in that.’

Alex blinked as he absorbed the praise, shocked by the power of Henry’s words, a little baffled at how much they affected him. ‘Thanks,’ he said eventually, his voice raspy as he realised it was the first compliment he’d received in a very long time – unless he counted the ones from Ella.

He couldn’t articulate how much it meant, but Henry must have known, because he nodded once, then swiped his hands over his black Rolling Stones T-shirt as if scrubbing away lingering emotions. ‘You’re welcome, lad. Now enough with the compliments, you need to get on with proving me right.’

He indicated Alex’s canvas and put ‘Honky Tonk Woman’ onto his mobile before connecting it to his speaker and ramping up the volume. Then Henry spun his easel all the way around until his canvas was hidden from view, swiped off the sheet and got to work.

Alex’s mobile went off four hours later and he put his paintbrush to one side. The Rolling Stones were still playing, and he knew if he tried to talk, no one would be able to hear. He quickly trotted out of the studio and down the stairs, pausing when he reached the sitting room. He hadn’t spent any time in this room, but it was a pretty space with a large Christmas tree to the right of the fireplace. Alex headed for one of the high-backed chairs beside it and answered the call as he slumped down.

‘Iceman,’ Stan said. ‘Sorry we haven’t spoken for a while.’

Alex smiled. ‘I know how it is, so many shells, so little time…’ he teased as he made himself comfortable. ‘It’s good to hear from you. I’ve missed our chats,’ he blurted, the words rolling off his tongue before his brain caught up.

‘It’s good to speak to you,’ Stan said slowly, sounding odd. ‘Now can you tell me what you’ve done with Alex Forbes-Charming because he’d never say something like that?’

‘Call it the Mistletoe effect,’ Alex said as the fire beside him spat and he bent to throw another log onto the flames, marvelling at the colours. ‘How’s New Zealand?’

‘The same as it was last week.’ Stanley paused. ‘You sound relaxed – or maybe drunk – so I’m assuming Michael hasn’t mentioned that he fired me today?’

Alex sat bolt upright. ‘He did what?’ His insides churned. They’d only spoken a few days ago and his father hadn’t mentioned a change of plans to him, but they’d been emailing constantly. ‘He promised to give you at least a fortnight before he did anything. He mentioned he was thinking about replacing you, but…Well, you know what he said because I summarised every word?’

He’d mentioned his father’s threats within hours of their conversation. Because forewarned was forearmed. And Stan had told Alex not to worry.

‘Aye. I wasn’t expecting my P45 yet, but I wasn’t surprised. Your da is not a patient man.’ He chuckled, but Alex didn’t know why. It wasn’t funny.

‘What did he say?’ he shot back tersely.

‘The message was brief but decent and I’ve been given a generous payout,’ Stan told him, sounding relaxed. ‘I’m happy – I was ready for a change.’

‘That’s not the point!’ Alex spluttered, rising to his feet so he could pace. ‘You’ve worked for our company for years. What about loyalty to staff? My father promised me that he’d wait—’ The fact that he hadn’t, that he’d ignored Alex’s request was as unsurprising as it was shattering.

‘We both know Michael does what Michael wants and be dammed with what anyone thinks.’ Stan laughed. ‘I’m not upset, Alex,’ he repeated. ‘I called to see if you knew, but also because I’ve got a proposition for you.’

‘I’ll speak to him. Get you un-sacked,’ Alex promised in a rush. Charming Capital Management would be an unthinkable place without Stan. Having him leave wasn’t an option. His father would relent. He rubbed a palm over his forehead, fighting the rush of disappointment and temper.

‘I don’t want my job back, Alex,’ Stan said quietly.

‘You’ll change your mind,’ he snapped. ‘You’re going to get bored of travelling, of searching for shells.’

‘I already am,’ Stan said lightly. ‘That’s one of the reasons why I’m calling.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot and today’s news has made me decide. I want us to go into business together. To do the same as we do now, although we’ll add some heart. I’ve got money my grandpa left me, and I’ve already spoken to some very wealthy people who are willing to work with me. With us.’ He paused as Alex absorbed his words. ‘Don’t say anything now. I’m going to put all the details in an email. Speak to a lawyer. I dinnae know, maybe your artist can give you his perspective. They’re good at that I hear,’ he joked.

‘This isn’t funny,’ Alex said tightly, shaking his head.

‘Read the email, Iceman,’ Stan said quietly. ‘Then we’ll talk.’ With that, his friend hung up.

Five minutes later, Aggie found Alex staring into the fire still trying to calm down. She was carrying a slice of Christmas cake and a mug of tea. ‘Ach, I thought I heard you talking in here earlier,’ she said kindly, offering them to him. ‘I want to ask you a favour.’

‘Whatever you need,’ Alex grumbled, trying to smile at her when he realised he’d sounded angry.

‘Hunter’s not feeling well, and I need to pick him up from school. Ella called to say she’d left some things in the studio the other day.’ She shook her head. ‘Again. She wanted me to drop them by her on my way home, but…’ She stared at him, clearly wanting Alex to fill in the blanks.

‘You can’t,’ he guessed.

‘Aye. Could you go to her house for me please, lad? If I tell her I can’t do it, I know she’ll try to fit it in herself. Her eejit stepbrothers have been running rings around her all week.’ She sighed. ‘Clyde called in sick again this morning, even though I saw him in the café last night.’

‘I thought she was going to speak to her stepmother about them?’ Alex asked, rising so he could pace the room again, trying to burn off his irritation with his father and now his annoyance at Ella’s relatives.

‘Aye.’ Aggie nodded, her face tightening. ‘I believe she did, but the woman’s not interested in anyone criticising her boys.’ She grimaced. ‘The lass has been running herself ragged all week, trying to keep Henry happy by coming to the studio every day, while Clyde and Dane keep calling in sick.’ She blinked. ‘It can’t go on, lad. Someone’s got to talk her into having it out with them.’ She stared at him intently.

‘You mean me?’ Alex asked, reading her expression. ‘Let me get her bag,’ he said, thinking about his father. Ella was in a similar position – beholden to a family who never listened; underappreciated and confused.

He might not be able to fix his own life – but he was going to do whatever he could to help Ella McNally with hers.