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Snowbound With The Heir
Sophie Pembroke
Cozying up in a snowstorm… …rekindles an old flame! Stranded together in a snowstorm, Tori Edwards and Jasper, Viscount Darlton, are reminded of their earth-shattering kiss five years ago. Working through the secrets which pulled them apart, Jasper is determined to prove, that this Christmas they deserve a second chance.
Cozying up in a snowstorm…
…rekindles an old flame!
Stranded together in a snowstorm, Tori Edwards and Jasper, Viscount Darlton, are reminded of their earth-shattering kiss five years ago. Back then, Tori almost risked her heart falling for Jasper, but she had to walk away. Now, despite their best efforts, their attraction is as strong as ever. Working through the secrets that pulled them apart, Jasper is determined to prove that this Christmas they deserve a second chance.
SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been dreaming, reading and writing romance ever since she read her first Mills & Boon as part of her English Literature degree at Lancaster University, so getting to write romantic fiction for a living really is a dream come true! Born in Abu Dhabi, Sophie grew up in Wales and now lives in a little Hertfordshire market town with her scientist husband, her incredibly imaginative and creative daughter and her adventurous, adorable little boy. In Sophie’s world, happy is for ever after, everything stops for tea, and there’s always time for one more page…
Also by Sophie Pembroke (#uceda260b-55b8-5c02-b994-7eccd6783552)
Newborn Under the Christmas Tree
Island Fling to Forever
Road Trip with the Best Man
CEO’s Marriage Miracle
Carrying the Millionaire’s Baby
Pregnant on the Earl’s Doorstep
Wedding of the Year miniseries
Slow Dance with the Best Man
Proposal for the Wedding Planner
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Snowbound with the Heir
Sophie Pembroke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09191-6
SNOWBOUND WITH THE HEIR
© 2019 Sophie Pembroke
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uceda260b-55b8-5c02-b994-7eccd6783552)
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For Laurie, with every possible best wish
for your adventures ahead!
Hope this Christmas is your most magical one yet.
Contents
Cover (#ue28275c4-4f2a-5f9e-8885-4c901fee4c5e)
Back Cover Text (#u57704fae-6ac1-5ee5-86e3-27f9952bac6c)
About the Author (#ud7ed1af3-ee96-5e49-8c8e-5610dfb01271)
Booklist (#u43808dae-d80a-54c1-92c8-ddb6166f8052)
Title Page (#ue054bd6c-e9cd-5d2f-a894-390c06175083)
Copyright (#u234fc062-0e99-599b-a215-b6920abe8e99)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u659b3cfa-daf1-53fc-af29-1a934c6644d3)
CHAPTER ONE (#u66bfc466-ea0c-5e59-b370-56c41bace1f3)
CHAPTER TWO (#ue840d9d2-e3c9-5b39-ba4a-39c660781332)
CHAPTER THREE (#u0603f767-801b-5b94-802b-3fd67dc0052f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uceda260b-55b8-5c02-b994-7eccd6783552)
TORI EDWARDS STARED up at the crenellations and chimneys of Stonebury Hall and wondered which eighteenth-century aristocrat had decided to build a house with battlements in the middle of nowhere, on the north-westerly edge of the North York Moors National Park. Who did they think they were defending themselves from out there anyway?
She supposed the answer was probably in the plastic information file she’d been given on arrival, but her fingers were too frozen to open it and check. The agent who’d welcomed them could probably have told her too, but Tori wasn’t here for the guided tour. She was here to judge exactly how Stonebury Hall could be the next link in the Earl of Flaxstone’s chain of profitable estates, since apparently he’d bought it without consulting her, his deputy, anyway. The agent could only tell her what the property had been. She needed to explore it alone to get a feel for what it could be.
That said, maybe she could explore inside for a while, on the off chance it was ever so slightly warmer away from the biting wind. She looked up at the crenellations again. The stonework matched the heavy grey of the sky, and the whole building gave off a ‘go away’ vibe. She had a suspicion that inside would be just as chilly.
Still, she needed to see the rooms too. Get a feel for if this building was itching to be a hotel, or a business centre, or a restaurant and tea room with craft and independent shops around it. Maybe a place for team-building retreats. Or a farm shop and café, if the land around it proved profitable. So many options…and, for once, Tori might actually get to decide what happened to the space next. Her own project, her chance to show the earl how far she’d come in his employ, that she was ready for more—more responsibility, more challenges, more independence. More life.
‘This place is smaller than it looked on the agent’s website.’ A clipped, plummy voice swept in on the cold draught through the windows, before its owner even appeared in the room. Wasn’t it just like Jasper, Viscount Darlton, the earl’s only son, to assume she’d be there waiting breathlessly to hear him talk? ‘Come have a look at the kitchens.’
He disappeared back through the doorway, not even waiting to see if she followed. Typical. Jasper always expected women to be at his beck and call—there when he wanted them, and then gone when he didn’t. Just like everything else in his privileged life, she assumed.
She did follow him, though. Not because of his aristocratic manner, or his dark, handsome looks, or even his air of expectation and confidence. Because it was her job.
And because she wanted to see the kitchens. She was definitely leaning towards some sort of culinary enterprise for this place…
‘Huh.’ She looked around what, in a building without battlements, would have been a nice, average, farmhouse kitchen, with space for a dining table.
‘See what I mean?’ Jasper ran his hand over the battered wooden table in situ. ‘This is more like an oversized home than a commercial property.’
A place can be both, Tori thought, but didn’t say. Just those simple words would give away more of her past than she’d be comfortable with Jasper—or anyone in her new life—knowing. It was the sort of comment that would raise questions. Ones she was far happier not answering.
She’d let Jasper get too close precisely once in her life. It wasn’t a mistake she intended to repeat.
‘It’s cosy,’ she admitted instead. ‘But I can still see a lot of potential here. I’m going to go check out the other rooms.’
She’d meant alone, but Jasper followed her all the same, adding his own observations about the property. To Tori’s irritation, she found they often matched her own—which meant she then went out of her way to find evidence to the contrary. Apparently, five years away from Flaxstone hadn’t made the earl’s heir any less irritating or persistent. Or maybe she was just oversensitive to it, given the last time they’d seen each other.
Strange to think that for one night she’d honestly thought there might be more to him than the spoilt playboy he portrayed to everyone else. Stupid of her, really.
‘This would be a fantastic master bedroom,’ Jasper said, once they’d reached the upstairs. He crossed the room to the window—rising from Jasper’s waist level almost to the high ceiling, and wide enough to fit a cosy loveseat beneath. ‘Look at those views over the moors.’
Tori didn’t want to look. Out of that window was just another memory she was working on forgetting. She knew what those moors looked like. She’d grown up there. And she was far happier now she was away from them, she reminded herself, in case nostalgia slipped in again just at the sight of the landscape. Living in the tiny cottage on the earl’s estate, just south of York, was far more pleasant. And more than that, a sign of how far she’d come. How right she’d been to leave.
Whatever the consequences had been.
It was important to always remember that. Especially at this time of year, when the temptation to go back was so strong.
‘Those clouds look heavy,’ Jasper added, squinting up at the grey skies. ‘Did they forecast more snow? I know they’re even talking about a white Christmas.’
‘That’ll be good for the Christmas fair at the estate,’ Tori replied. That was what this season meant to her now. Revenue and marketing potential. It was better that way.
‘I was rather thinking it would be good for snowball fights.’ Jasper turned away from the window with a wicked grin.
Tori rolled her eyes. ‘Your father is hoping for a spectacular event this year.’
Jasper’s grin fell away at her mention of the earl. Interesting.
What had brought the errant Viscount Darlton home to Flaxstone, after five long years away? Tori found herself wondering—not for the first time—as they toured the rest of the upstairs of the house, then made their way back to the wide entrance hall. Before he’d left, Jasper had been the quintessential aristocratic playboy. Laid-back, permanently amused by life, and confidently parading a selection of beautiful women through Flaxstone Hall—and never the same one twice.
He’d also been an incurable flirt, and seen Tori as a challenge, she figured, since she couldn’t imagine why he’d waste time flirting with her otherwise. Not when he had all those moneyed honeys to seduce.
Since he’d returned to Flaxstone, Jasper was still all those things, but with a darker edge to them somehow, one she didn’t quite understand. And it niggled at her, not knowing what had changed.
Not knowing why he’d left in the first place.
If she had more of an ego she’d think he’d left and then returned purely to make her life hell, except she was certain she didn’t rank that high in his thinking or priorities. Except for that one night, just before he’d left. He’d been thinking about her then, as he’d kissed his way across her naked body, whispering her name against her skin in the darkness.
But that night was something she definitely wasn’t thinking about. Ever again. It was another thing that was better left in the past. She’d known better then, and she absolutely knew better now.
‘I think we’ve seen all we need to see,’ Jasper told the agent, who was loitering in the chilly hallway waiting for them, his hands jammed into his armpits to try and keep warm. ‘Right, Tori?’
She tried to think of a reason to disagree, just on principle, but nothing sprang to mind, and it was cold, so she gave a short nod of agreement.
‘We’ll be back in touch to organise our next moves once we’ve shared our findings and ideas with the earl,’ she said, shaking hands with the agent before they left. With the sale in the bag already, he didn’t seem particularly bothered by how long that might take, or what they had planned for the place.
