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

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.

Snowbound with the Heir

Sophie Pembroke

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.

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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

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

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.

‘My turn to drive.’ Jasper held out his hand for the keys to the four-by-four as they strode across the gravel driveway to where she’d parked, an hour or more earlier.

Tori’s fingers flexed around the keys in her pocket, reluctant to give them up. ‘I can drive back.’

‘I know you can. You drove here, after all. Which is why it’s my turn,’ Jasper said, with exaggerated patience.

Tori hesitated, and he sighed.

‘What? Are you afraid I’ll crash? Or steal you away to some secluded inn in some village and treat you to dinner—I am actually starving, though, so that one might happen.’

Depends on the inn.

But she couldn’t tell him that either, so, reluctantly, she handed over the keys.

‘Thank you.’ Jasper’s smile was wide, bright and genuine—the sort of smile only someone raised with advantages rather than disasters could smile.

It just made her resent him more.

‘Come on,’ she said as she opened the passenger-side door and climbed in. ‘I want to get home.’

Home to Flaxstone, that was, where she could put the past firmly behind her again. Not anywhere along the way that might have once held the title of ‘home’.

Because maybe once she was safely back in her bright, light and solitary cottage, she’d be able to stop thinking about the one night she’d spent with Jasper, and forget all about a dark, cosy inn out on the moors that she used to call home.

Jasper eased himself into the driver’s seat and immediately turned up the car’s heating. It was colder than ever out there—chillier even than his father’s reception when he’d returned home to Flaxstone a week or so earlier. And Jasper hadn’t honestly thought that was possible.

The earl, in all his aristocratic glory, had obviously decided that the rift in the family had to be Jasper’s fault, rather than a result of his own behaviour. Jasper had had plenty of time to think about it over the past five years, and the only conclusion he’d been able to reach was that his father’s life hadn’t ever allowed for the possibility of not getting everything he wanted—so he just took it, and to hell with the consequences for everybody else.

Well. One thing he couldn’t just take was his son’s respect. That had been lost five years ago when he’d discovered the truth about his father—and nothing that had happened since showed any signs of the earl winning it back.

But he was done thinking about his father for the day. He’d done what he came here to do.

Coming back to the UK at all hadn’t been his first choice; he was happy with the life he’d forged over in America, with the reputation he’d built up and the portfolio of work he’d created. But then his father had emailed and told him that, given Jasper’s absence, he intended to legitimise his other son as his heir, too. The title was Jasper’s by law, and Flaxstone went with the title, but everything else—the business, the money, the properties—that was the earl’s to distribute as he pleased.

And apparently his illegitimate son by the housekeeper was what pleased him most. The son Jasper had only discovered existed by accident, five years ago, and the reason he’d left home in the first place.

His best friend, Felix.

Jasper hadn’t come back for the money, or the property, or the business. He’d come back for his reputation and, most of all, for his mother.

And it was his mother that had brought him to Stonebury Hall with Tori.

Stonebury Hall would be the perfect home for his mother, if Jasper couldn’t dissuade his father from making a big, public announcement, and the earl went through with his latest, ruinous plan. Jasper wasn’t even sure his mother knew about Felix, or if his father had any intention of telling her before the rest of the country. His mother, lovely and loving as she was, had never really seemed to inhabit the same world as the rest of them, as far as Jasper could tell. She was perfect for opening church fetes, throwing Christmas parties and keeping their little corner of England the way things had been fifty years ago, when she’d watched her mother run her own home in a fashion that was out of date even then, but she’d never really caught up with the changing times—or shown any desire to.

But the changing times had caught up with them.

Right now, the earl was still sticking his fingers in his ears and humming, metaphorically at least, telling himself that an illegitimate son, brought up in the household, with his mother still working at the house, was nothing in this day and age. That no one would care that the boy Jasper had grown up with, whose birthday was just weeks before his own, was actually his half-brother.

That Jasper’s father had been lying to him, and everyone else, his whole life.

People would care, that Jasper was sure of.

Jasper had cared, mightily, the day he’d found out—an accidental glimpse of some paperwork in his father’s office that had turned out to be his updated last will and testament, detailing what he left to each of his sons.

That plural had nearly destroyed him on its own. Hearing the details from his own father, and realising that Felix already knew exactly who his father was—that was what had driven him away completely.

And now the earl was talking about legitimising Felix, handing responsibility for some of the estates over to him, since, as he put it, ‘My other son seems to have disowned us altogether.’

The media was going to have a field day with that. And Jasper wanted to protect his mother from that, even if he couldn’t protect himself.

She needed a retreat, a bolthole, somewhere to hide away from the media, the public, and her husband for a while. Or for ever. And Stonebury Hall would be perfect for that.

Now he just needed to convince the earl to let him make it happen. His father might be the one who decided on the estate’s investments and built up the property portfolio, but the actual work of transforming these places into whatever it was they believed they could be—and make money as—was delegated to others.

And that work, that sort of huge development project, was exactly what Jasper had spent five years managing overseas. He could take it on, make it everything his mother needed. A home, perhaps with a small business involved to bring in income and give her something else to focus on. Perhaps a teashop. Or a stable yard, if the paddock at the back was large enough. He needed to examine the specifications again.

And then he needed to convince his father. Surely, once the sordid truth about him, about their marriage, was out in the world, the earl would understand that his wife needed an escape, a refuge. He wouldn’t begrudge her that, Jasper was almost certain. At least, not when he saw the inevitable backlash and scandal it caused.

It was possible that the whole announcement was just a ploy to get him back in the country, Jasper mused as he eased the car onto another tiny back road that led to another back road, and another, until they finally reached something wide enough for two cars to pass without one of them ending up in a hedge. Maybe it was all a cunning plan to appeal to Jasper’s pride, or even his greed, by threatening to give away his inheritance, responsibilities and status to Felix.

Which just showed how little his father knew him. He had plenty of money of his own these days, thanks to a lucrative career and some canny investments with his inheritance from his grandparents. And he took pride in the career and the life he’d forged for himself away from Flaxstone. As for the responsibilities, Felix was welcome to them, too. Living a life free from expectations, except the ones he placed on himself, had a lot going for it.

But he couldn’t leave his mother alone here to be humiliated and, worse, hurt. That was a step too far. If his father was going public, Jasper needed to be there when his mother found out the truth, and he needed to protect her, spirit her away from everything that followed. Preferably to Stonebury Hall.

And he was still thinking about his father.

Shaking his head, Jasper forced himself to focus on the road, the snowflakes starting to fall in earnest outside. The woman sitting next to him.

Anything except what had brought him home.

Although, he had to admit, the line in his father’s email about Tori had only added to his certainty that he urgently needed to return. He hadn’t imagined she’d still even be working for his father after all this time. And just one sentence—a note about how Felix had been working closely with her on estate business—had sent his mind spiralling back to that one night they’d spent together.

The night he’d found his father’s will.

The night before he’d confronted his father and learned the full, awful truth.

He’d left the country without speaking to her again, which was, he had to admit, a pretty shoddy move on his part. But then, she’d clearly regretted their night together because she’d got up early and crept out of her own bedroom, in her own cottage, to avoid him the morning after, so it wasn’t entirely on him.

‘So, shall we take the boring route home or the scenic one?’ he asked, grinning with a jollity he really didn’t feel.

Tori looked up from her phone, eyes wide. The silent journey so far apparently hadn’t bothered her at all—no surprise there, really. Tori Edwards was the most closed-off woman he’d ever met, so unlike all the other women he spent time with. Well, almost all the time…

He allowed himself a real smile at the memory of the one night he’d managed to slip under her defences and find the real woman hiding behind them. Tori had more battlements than Stonebury Hall, Jasper decided, remembering a time before his life had fallen apart, when trying to breach those defences had been a kind of game for him and Felix. A challenge. Something that niggled at him until he couldn’t help but strive to get her to react, to show something of her real personality—rather than those closed doors behind her eyes.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the one time he’d succeeded was the night he’d felt more wounded and open than ever before.

Maybe it was all the thinking he’d been doing about his father, or maybe it was the snow and the enclosed space, but suddenly Jasper wanted to see if he could break through those battlements again—even if only for a moment.

‘Given the snow, I’d suggest sticking to the main roads,’ Tori said, her voice even, uninterested. At least, if a person weren’t listening carefully.

Jasper was listening very carefully. Which was why he caught the faint tremor underneath her words. She cared, one way or another, and suddenly he wanted to find out which.

He needed a new challenge—a distraction from his disintegrating family. Persuading Tori Edwards to open up a little could be the perfect entertainment for a snowy afternoon.

He smiled, and began his campaign.

‘The snow isn’t that heavy,’ Jasper pointed out, his lazy voice easy with lack of caring. ‘And the main roads will be packed with drivers avoiding the more interesting routes. We could cut across the moors and make it home before the real weather rolls in.’

Tori glanced out of the car window. The clouds above definitely suggested that there was a lot more snow to come.

‘The weather can be different on the moors.’ She bit down on her lower lip to dispel the memories. ‘The snow might have already hit there.’

‘Or it might miss it entirely.’

That didn’t sound likely. But he was irritatingly right about how busy the main roads would be in this weather. If they could make it across the lesser-used moor roads it would be quicker—unless the snow was heavier, or too many other people had the same idea, or there was a rogue tractor or sheep blocking the road…

They were idling now at the crossroads, the junction where Jasper had to choose which path to follow. Any minute now another car would come up behind them and start beeping its horn—not that Jasper seemed bothered about holding other people up. She wasn’t sure he’d ever realised that it was human to worry about anyone else’s feelings.

Normal, empathetic people didn’t leave the country for five years after sleeping with a person, and then never mention it again.

‘Don’t you ever take a risk?’ he asked, that wicked grin she remembered too well on his lips.

That grin had got her into trouble before. Well, that grin and half a bottle of gin—stolen from the earl’s drinks cabinet, of course—and a bad day that had lowered her defences, if she remembered correctly.

‘Unnecessary risk is the height of foolishness.’

Of course she took risks. That was a normal part of doing business. But personal risk? That was another matter. She’d taken enough of those in the past to know what happened when the risk didn’t pay off. Okay, she’d taken precisely one. But that had been more than enough to teach her a lesson.

Her single night with Jasper had just been an extra reminder. She’d known better than to get involved, however fleetingly, with someone for whom romance was basically a sport. But she’d put her fears aside and let herself believe that there might be more to him, that he might think more of her, only for him to prove quite comprehensively that she was as unimportant to him as she’d always imagined.

She didn’t need reminding again.

‘This risk is necessary,’ Jasper announced. ‘I’m starving, and I want to get home for dinner.’

‘Your stomach is not an emergency.’

‘Maybe not to you.’ Jasper pulled on the handbrake and leant closer, looking into her eyes. ‘Are you worried about the snow? Because if it’s bad we’ll turn back. Or find that secluded inn I mentioned and have some dinner while we wait it out…’

Tori tore her gaze away from his. She wasn’t even going to imagine what he was imagining could happen between them if they did that. Jasper’s determined campaign of flirtation had always been distracting, however much she knew better than to let herself fall for it. ‘Not happening. Fine. Just get us home in one piece, okay?’

‘Your wish is my command, milady.’ Humming a few lines from a Christmas carol, Jasper took off again—heading, of course, for the road that traversed the Yorkshire moors.

Tori hunkered down in her seat. It wasn’t the snow she was scared of—not that she planned to let Jasper know that.

She knew those moors. They were her home, her playground, her life, growing up. But she’d avoided so much as driving through them for nearly eight years now. She’d made her whole life away from them—not too far away, but far enough. This was the first time the earl had sent her to look at property practically on them.

And she knew the road that Jasper would take. Knew the tiny villages and hamlets it would wend and wind through, the landmarks and features it would pass. The inn that would be sitting not far from the side of the road that they would speed past without comment, without recognising the part it had played in Tori’s life. The valley they’d pass through, without any sign of the car that had crashed into the rocks there, and torn her future apart.

The car crash that had killed Tyler, the man who was supposed to be the love of her life. Even if she’d been every bit as responsible for his death as those rocks he’d crashed into.

All of that was part of the life she’d put firmly behind her for ever.

Tori tugged her coat tighter around her, feeling a chill that the fancy four-by-four’s heating system couldn’t hope to warm. She couldn’t wait for this cursed trip to be over.

CHAPTER TWO

OKAY, THIS WASN’T working at all.

Keeping his main focus firmly on the road ahead, and the swirling snowflakes that grew heavier with every moment, meant that Jasper could only spare the briefest of glances at his travelling companion. But even that was enough to realise that any hopes he’d had of Tori opening up or even relaxing a little as they took the secluded, picturesque road through the moors were doomed. Curled up in her seat, her coat wrapped tightly around her slim body, she looked almost like a child having a sulk.

Maybe that was what she was doing. And Jasper had teased Felix out of enough sulks in their childhood to know how to fix that.

Except he wasn’t thinking about Felix. Ever.

Think about Tori. And not crashing the car.

Tori Edwards was an enigma. She’d appeared in his life one day and hadn’t left, and despite their night together he wasn’t sure he knew her any better now than the day she’d arrived.

After his father’s revelation about Felix’s parentage, Jasper had worried briefly that Tori was another of the earl’s illegitimate children, but that fear had been quickly dispelled. And given her colouring—her pale skin, her dark hair, and her bright green eyes—he should have known better anyway. He got his own dark hair from his mother, and his eyes were his father’s distinctive golden brown—the same, he realised too late, as Felix’s.

Jasper and Felix had both been about to start their third year of university down in Oxford when Tori had shown up that first summer, a year into her own business degree at York, and working for the earl during the holidays. He’d claimed he’d plucked her from obscurity at some roadside inn where her talents were clearly wasted. Tori had never denied the story, but Jasper suspected that his father’s desire to appear a patron, a benefactor, to a penniless girl who had just needed the right chances in life had had more to do with harking back to a previous era of aristocracy than anything else.

In truth, Jasper assumed the earl had hired Tori because she was very good at her job, patronage be damned. She’d worked hard all that summer learning the ropes at the Flaxstone estate—dealing with the groups of executives there for team building down in the woods, with the paintballing range and the go-kart track; hosting birthday parties for horse-mad little girls; serving teas and coffees in the farm café and even leading walking tours of the land around Flaxstone, up to the ruins of the old hall that had been crumbling away nicely for the last three hundred years. There had been no job she wouldn’t take on, and before long she’d known more about how the estate was run than staff who’d been there for decades.

The earl, for all his many faults, had at least seen the writing on the wall for Britain’s landed gentry, and had found a way to diversify the assets the Flaxstone estate gave them, making the best use of their aristocratic inheritance by turning it into a business. And once Flaxstone itself had been running consistently in the black as a commercial enterprise, he’d turned his sights on the many estates in the country that hadn’t been so prescient—and done the same for them.

And Tori, from what Jasper could gather, had been a big part of that during his absence over the last five years.

But back when she’d first arrived, she’d been nothing more than another girl to flirt with, a challenge when she didn’t flirt back, and then a puzzle for him to solve when he couldn’t get her to open up at all. He and Felix had spent that whole first summer trying to bash holes in those walls she put up; teasing her, asking every question they could think of, even trying to get her drunk on long summer nights. She’d been just nineteen to their nearly twenty-one, close enough in age that it had seemed natural they’d spent time together, even if she’d lived in the staff quarters with the casual summer staff, and they had been up at the main hall.

She had been there again at Christmas that year, organising stalls for the annual Christmas market, decorating trees and staircases in the hall, and corralling carollers. Jasper had wondered briefly why she hadn’t gone home for Christmas, he remembered now. Later, he’d got the feeling that she hadn’t had a home to go to.

But she’d made a new one at Flaxstone. By the time she’d graduated, Tori had earned such respect from the earl that he’d given her the gatekeeper’s cottage and hired her full time, before she’d even attended graduation.

And two years later, the summer he’d found out the truth about Felix, Jasper had finally broken a small hole in those defences of hers, even if only for one night. Or maybe she’d broken a hole in his.

It had been the night that he’d found his father’s will, read about a potential second son he’d never heard of. His father had been out of town for meetings and Jasper had known it wasn’t a conversation he could have over the phone, so he’d resigned himself to waiting until his return the next day for answers.

But patience had never been one of his virtues.

Felix, he remembered now, had been off with some girl he’d fallen for on the summer staff, and not available for drunken oblivion. But Jasper had found Tori hanging bunting on the pop-up coffee stall she’d convinced the earl to install at the start of the garden walk.

‘Don’t you ever stop working?’ he’d asked her, leaning against the nearest tree to watch her work. She’d been methodical, focussed, and the bunting had dipped and hung at precise intervals from the tin roof of the stall.

‘When it’s all done, yes,’ she’d replied without looking at him.

‘When it’s done, I need something stronger than coffee. Join me?’

She’d turned then, looked him in the eye for a long moment, and then nodded.

He hadn’t expected her to say yes, not after so many years of telling him no at every possible opportunity. But maybe she’d seen something desperate in his eyes that evening. Seen that he’d needed her. Or perhaps she’d had her own reasons—if so, she’d never told him what they were.

They’d stolen a bottle of the earl’s finest gin from his healthy drinks cupboard, and drunk most of it while talking about nothing at all. But underneath the inconsequential, and in between them, every now and then there had been glimpses, moments when her armour had slipped. Seconds when he’d been able to see that she was hurting too, even if she’d never tell him why.

Then the alcohol had taken over completely, and soon they’d been giggling their way back to her cottage, pausing only to kiss against the trees that lined the path.

And then when he’d woken up the next morning she was already gone.

Did she ever think about the night they’d spent together? She’d certainly never mentioned it again. Not that she’d had much chance. She’d crept out of her own cottage before he was even awake, and avoided him for the next day. He’d confronted his father about the will the moment he’d returned, and his world had imploded. He hadn’t been thinking about anything beyond the lies he’d been told his whole life when he’d decided to leave Flaxstone, and in the end he’d left in such a whirlwind he hadn’t even seen Tori again. He’d barely said goodbye to his own mother, but that was partly because he couldn’t bear to lie to her about Felix, but couldn’t hurt her either. She couldn’t have known what sort of a man she’d married, he was sure. And if she had…then she’d been lying to him too.

He couldn’t face that possibility right then. So he’d run as far and as fast as he could, until the pain had started to recede.

Since he’d returned to Flaxstone, Tori had barely acknowledged his existence, until today, when she couldn’t possibly avoid it.

Jasper’s gaze darted to the left again to take in her profile, pensive as she stared out at the snow. Then he focussed back on the road again.

One night. Just a few hours. That was the only time he’d ever seen behind the mask. And even now, so many years later, he couldn’t help but wish he could see it again. The real Tori Edwards.

Because that flash of the real woman behind the defences had been more potent than the weeks, months or even years he’d spent getting to know anyone else.

Of course, maybe that was just because he’d spent his time getting to know the wrong women—or not properly getting to know far too many of them. But after his teenage experiences of love, that was enough for him. He still winced at the memory of Juliet Hawkes, the object of obsession for his teenage heart that could have ruined romance for him for life.

Still might, actually, coupled with the rubbish example his father had set him.

And now he was back to thinking about his father again. Perfect.

‘The snow’s getting heavier,’ Tori said, suddenly sitting up straighter beside him.

Jasper blinked, and let his eyes see the falling snow, rather than blocking it out to concentrate on the road.

It really was getting heavier. A lot heavier.

He’d only picked this road because it was the first thing he’d said all day that had got a real reaction out of her, and that curious, need-to-know nature of his had made him push it forward, to see where it went, in case it led him to a better understanding of Tori Edwards.

Now, looking out at the snow, he was starting to wonder if that was the best choice.

Then he saw the tail lights of the stationary cars ahead, and the blue lights flashing beyond them, and knew that it really, really wasn’t.

Tori insisted on being the one to go and find out what was happening.

This was her land, her place, even if Jasper didn’t know it. Despite the swirling snow she knew exactly where she was. Recognised the rises, the scars in the land disappearing under that blanket of white. She knew that tree, dead and black her whole life, but now covered in the blossom of snowflakes. She recognised that uneven stone wall, bracketing the road on one side, meandering along in nothing like a straight line.

She knew where that wall led. Knew the land it marked out. If she squinted, she could almost see the building it belonged to, rising out of the snow a little way further along the road.

The Moorside Inn.

Or, home, as she’d always known it.

Tori shivered, looking pointedly away from where she knew the inn sat, and focussing instead on the treacherous and slippery path ahead of her. It was hard by now to see where the road ended and the grass verge began, and the ground seemed to shift and move under her feet as she stepped from one to the other.

Maybe she should have let Jasper investigate instead. But more than anything she’d needed to get out of that car, breathe fresh air, and step away from his curious gaze.

Did he even remember that they’d once slept together? She wasn’t sure. He certainly hadn’t mentioned it since his return, and there had been a significant amount of alcohol involved that night.

She’d never understood what had made that night so different for them both. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew why she’d felt different that night. An unfortunate clash of an anniversary she’d been trying to forget and too many reminders that wouldn’t let her. When he’d looked at her with that lost look, one she’d never thought to see on his confident and assured face, for a moment he’d reminded her of Tyler.

Later though, after much alcohol, as he’d leaned in to kiss her for the first time, she hadn’t been thinking about Tyler at all. Only Jasper. Something else to feel guilty about.

Anyway. Whether he remembered or not, it was better for all concerned that they pretend it never happened, so she definitely wasn’t going to bring it up.

But that didn’t stop her wondering.

Not right now, though. Right now she had to figure out what the hell was going on with this road and get off the moors before Aunt Liz or Uncle Henry came out to see what was happening on the road outside the inn.

With hindsight, she really, really should have stayed in the car. And apparently she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

‘If you’d get back in your car, please, miss.’

A uniformed police officer approached, looking cold and very fed up. She couldn’t blame him, to be honest. She felt much the same and she’d only been out in the snow for a few minutes. ‘Someone will be coming along to speak to all drivers in turn.’

‘What’s happened?’ she called out anyway, her voice fighting against the wind and snow.

‘The road ahead is blocked,’ the policeman responded. ‘But please, wait in your car and someone will tell you what to do next.’

I know what to do next, Tori thought as she trudged back towards Jasper and the waiting car. Get the hell out of here.

They could turn around. Head back to the main road and take the other route. Yes, it might take for ever, but at least they’d get home tonight. And she’d be far, far away from the Moorside Inn. As long as they got moving now, this didn’t have to be a disaster.

But as she reached the four-by-four, she could already see Jasper leaning against the car, his shoulders and hair coated with snow, talking to another police officer.

‘Ah, the wanderer returns!’ he said as she approached, sounding far too jolly for the circumstances.

‘What’s happening?’ Tori shoved her hands deep into her pockets and wished her smart leather gloves were fleece-lined and warm, rather than just looking good.

‘Road ahead is closed. Too much snow and ice building up, and there’s a risk of rock slides in the valley from the weight of the snow.’

Tori winced. She knew that valley, almost too well. The road grew narrower as it twisted between the low hills, the sharp edges of the rock rising steeply on either side. Too much fallen snow could send rocks and stones battering down.

That valley was where Tyler had died, on a warm spring night totally unlike this one.

‘We’ll go back, then,’ she said, shaking away the memories. ‘Head back to the main road. We should have taken that route in the first place.’ She shot a glare at Jasper to remind him whose fault this all was.

‘Probably,’ the policeman agreed, glumly. ‘But it’s too late now. There was an accident about half a mile back, probably not long after you passed through. No serious injuries, but the road is closed that way too while it’s cleared—in fact, they’ve closed off this whole section from the main road until it comes out the other side of the moors. Too dangerous in this weather.’

Tori swallowed down the panic rising sharply through her throat. She couldn’t afford to lose it—not here, not now, and definitely not with Jasper watching.

‘Then how are we supposed to get out of here?’ she asked, forcing her voice to remain even.

‘Good news on that front, at least,’ Jasper said, grinning even as he blinked away snowflakes from his eyelashes. Those golden-brown eyes of his shone in the light from the headlights and the policeman’s torch. ‘Apparently there’s an inn nearby that’s offered to put up all the travellers caught up in this mess. See, I told you I’d take you to a nice secluded pub for dinner!’

He was so busy congratulating himself, telling the police officer how he was a man of his word, and always looked for the silver linings, that he probably didn’t even notice Tori’s heart sink down out of her feet and bleed into the snow. Or maybe that was just how it felt.

All she knew was that she was trapped. That the past she’d been running from for so long had caught her at last.

And it had brought Jasper, Viscount Darlton, along as well, just for the fun of it.

‘Hell,’ she muttered into the night. ‘I’m in actual hell.’

‘I think that would be hotter, miss,’ the policeman said, with a confused frown. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He disappeared into the night to talk to the next car in the line.

‘Shall we?’ Jasper asked, crooking his elbow for her to hold. ‘I believe it’s this way.’

Tori tucked her hands under her arms and stepped forward without him. ‘I know the way.’

If she had to face her past, she’d at least do it head-on. She owed Tyler that much.

I’m coming home, Aunt Liz.

This whole day kept getting more and more interesting.

Okay, so getting stranded in the snow on the moors wasn’t exactly in Jasper’s original plan for the day, but it wasn’t quite the disaster Tori’s face suggested it was, either. They had a nice, cosy inn to shelter in and wait out the storm, and it wasn’t as if either of them had been caught in a rock slide or car accident.

So why did Tori look as if she would almost rather they had?

‘Looks like we’ll get that dinner at a secluded inn after all,’ he joked again as they trudged their way across a snow-covered field, towards the lights in the distance. Maybe she’d missed it the first time around.

Tori didn’t answer.

‘Maybe there’ll be steak and ale pie on the menu. I love steak and ale pie.’

Still nothing.

‘And I could murder a pint of something dark and hoppy. Since it looks like we won’t be driving anywhere tonight.’

She flinched at that, although he had no idea why.

Jasper sighed. This was going to be a very long night if Tori refused to talk to him altogether.

Maybe it was time to bring out the big guns. Apologising.

‘Look, I’m sorry I brought us along the moors road. You were right, it was too dangerous in the snow, and we should have kept to the main roads. Where we’d probably still be stuck in an epic traffic jam, arguing over which radio station to listen to, instead of heading towards what looks like a really nice inn and hopefully some steak and ale pie. But sorry, anyway.’

He could just about make out the inn through the snow. The sloping roof, the thick stone walls, and the warm yellow lights glowing out into the darkening sky. There was even a giant Christmas tree out front, strung with old-fashioned coloured lantern lights, the sort he remembered from his childhood.

It definitely looked like the sort of place that served steak and ale pie. And now he’d apologised, Tori would stop ignoring him and they could enjoy a nice evening together.

He turned to her, smiling—until he saw the sceptical glare on her face.

‘You honestly think that was a good apology, don’t you?’ she asked.

Jasper blinked away snowflakes, confused. ‘I mean, I said I’m sorry. So…yes?’

‘You said you were wrong and should have listened to me—and then told me why actually I was wrong and you’d made the right decision even now we’re stuck in the snow on the middle of the moors walking towards—’ She broke off suddenly, her gaze jerking away.

‘A…perfectly nice-looking inn?’ Jasper finished for her, more baffled than ever.

Tori sighed, hard enough that he saw her shoulders rise and fall even in her thick, woollen coat. ‘The Moorside Inn serves the best steak and ale pie in Yorkshire. Possibly the world. Henry, the cook, he won’t share the recipe with anyone. You’re going to love it.’

‘Great,’ Jasper replied. But he couldn’t find the enthusiasm for it that his hungry stomach had exhibited just moments earlier.

There was something about her voice. The slow, resigned monotone.

‘So, you know this place?’ Knew it well, he’d guess, given her words. And her reluctance to re-enter it.

Before he’d left Flaxstone, five years earlier, he’d believed he might actually be getting to know Tori Edwards at last. To see the real girl under the mask she put up for his father and everyone else.

Now, staring at her in the snow, outside a Yorkshire inn, he admitted to himself that he didn’t know her at all.

He didn’t know where she’d come from, or why. He didn’t know what had driven her away from her home the way he’d been driven away from his.

But he had a feeling that this might be the night he finally found out.

Tori didn’t answer his question, but then she didn’t need to. They were almost there, now, the windows of the inn changing from blurs of light in the distance into a clear vision of the cosy, wooden-beamed rooms inside.

And as they approached the heavy, wooden front door, it flew open, revealing an older woman in a Mrs Christmas apron, her bright red curls pinned back from her face, and a wide smile on her lips.

‘Welcome, weary travellers, to the Moorside Inn! I hope we can make your impromptu stop a little more comfor…’ Her words faltered mid-sentence, and so did her smile. She peered out into the snow, her gaze fixed on Tori’s blank expression. ‘Vicky?’

Tori sighed again, but at least managed a small smile this time. ‘Hello, Aunt Liz.’

Jasper looked between the two women. Yes, he was definitely going to find out more about Tori Edwards tonight. But the realisation only showed him just how very little he’d known about her to start with.

Maybe it was time to fix that.

CHAPTER THREE

THE MOORSIDE WAS just as she remembered it.

As Tori pulled away from the tentative, uncertain hug her aunt gave her, she took in the inn beyond. Same wooden beams. Same gleaming pumps, polished by Uncle Henry every night after he’d finished in the kitchen, ready to serve local ales to visitors. Same battered, rustic oak tables and mismatched chairs. Tyler’s paintings still on the walls. Same feeling of shame, guilt and of being a disappointment as she stood there.

‘We got snowed in on the road, about quarter of a mile away,’ Jasper said, looking with far too much interest between her and Aunt Liz. Tori curled in on herself, as much as she could when wearing so many layers. This place was her past, another life almost. She didn’t want to share it with anyone from her new life.

Especially not Jasper.

‘Of course, you must be freezing! Come on in.’ Aunt Liz ushered them both inside as if they were normal paying customers.

Jasper took the opportunity to raise his eyebrows at her and mouth, ‘Vicky?’ She ignored him. She supposed it was too much to hope for that he’d missed that use of her old, other nickname.

She was Tori now. That was all that mattered.

The things Vicky had done… She didn’t want to be that person any more. The person who’d caused Tyler’s death.

But family…they always remembered who you were, even once you’d become someone new. She’d always be Vicky to Aunt Liz and Uncle Henry, even if they weren’t actually blood family. They were the closest thing she’d had for an awful lot of years now.

They walked into the bar proper, the one she’d only glimpsed through windows in the door, and suddenly Tori noticed something that was different about the place.

It was packed. Every table, chair, bar stool and window seat was occupied. Tori was certain she’d never seen so many people within the walls of the Moorside Inn ever before.

‘I guess we weren’t the only ones to get stranded, then?’ Jasper said, and Aunt Liz laughed.

‘Not by a long shot! That road out there is treacherous in the snow.’ She shot Tori a look. ‘I would have thought you would’ve remembered that, Vicky.’

There it was. That not so subtle reminder of why she’d left. Well, no. Why she’d never come back.

She couldn’t bear to look at this place without Tyler in it. Couldn’t take the pain and the grief—and most of all the pity. Pity from people who should be hating her, blaming her, and only didn’t because she was too cowardly to tell them the whole truth.

Only now it seemed she had no choice but to be there.

‘That was my fault,’ Jasper jumped in. ‘Tori—Vicky—tried to tell me to stick to the main roads, but I didn’t listen. Always thinking I know best, that’s my problem.’

He sounded so sincere, so disarmingly charming, that Tori could see Aunt Liz melting in front of her. Did he really believe that about himself? She doubted it. But he had at least taken the heat off her, which she appreciated. And it was worlds better than his first attempt at an apology outside in the snow.

‘Well, I hope you’ll know better next time,’ Aunt Liz said, as if she were letting a small child off the hook for something.

‘Definitely,’ Jasper agreed, nodding. ‘Now, I don’t suppose you have any of that steak and ale pie you’re famous for around here somewhere?’

Tori rolled her eyes. Thinking with his stomach. Why wasn’t she surprised?

‘Or perhaps we can help you get everyone here settled and sorted?’ she suggested. ‘I mean, unless you’ve changed things a lot around here I can probably still locate enough blankets and pillows for everyone.’ The Moorside only had a handful of bedrooms it hired out for guests, so people were definitely going to have to share. But if they set up a dormitory sort of arrangement in the restaurant part of the inn, there should just about be enough room for everyone. They’d done it before, Tori remembered vividly, on nights like tonight when the roads were closed by weather or accidents and people got stranded. Including, once, the national rugby team during a particularly violent storm, when their bus had broken down. If they’d all fitted in snugly, so would tonight’s guests.

‘And Jasper here can help Uncle Henry in the kitchens,’ Tori added. ‘Since he’s so concerned about the menu tonight.’

Of course, her altruistic plan also meant she could escape from close quarters with her family and her colleague, something she was sure they’d both noticed. Tori didn’t care. She needed some space—and that, she knew, was hard to come by in the community-spirited world of the Moorside Inn.

‘That would be very helpful,’ Aunt Liz said carefully. ‘Although you’re here tonight as a guest…’

Tori shook her head. She’d never be a guest at the Moorside. It was too much a part of her. ‘I want to help. And so does Jasper.’ She nudged him with her elbow until he nodded.

‘In that case, if you could set up the dormitory in the restaurant, like we did that time they closed the roads and we had the—’

‘England rugby team staying,’ Tori said along with her. ‘Absolutely.’

As she turned away to go and find blankets and pillows, she could hear Jasper talking as Aunt Liz showed him to the kitchens. ‘The England rugby team? Now, that I want to hear more about…’

Tori stepped through to the empty restaurant and breathed in the silence. Perfect.

This was going to be a very long night. She could feel it. And she needed a little personal space before she faced it.

Especially before she had to talk to Uncle Henry.

Tori’s Aunt Liz led Jasper through the mass of people gathered in the main bar, behind the bar itself, and through a door that took them along a narrow passageway and down a short set of stairs into the kitchens. Jasper took in everything as they walked, especially the dramatic paintings that lined the walls—all slashes of dark greens and browns and purples, showcasing the landscape of the moors at its most impressive.

This place felt almost a part of the landscape itself, he realised. As if it had been here as long as the rocks and rises.

He ached to know what could have driven Tori away from it. What secrets she was hiding behind those emotional battlements.

Were they as all-consuming as his own?

And another, niggling question that had been at the back of his mind for five long years, before emerging for re-examination tonight: Did she already know his secrets? She and Felix had always been friendly, far more than she had been with him. Felix had known. Had he told her?

Jasper had to admit to himself that it seemed unlikely. But Tori was good at keeping secrets, that much was obvious. If she did know about Felix, Jasper was sure she was very capable of keeping it from everyone—including him.

‘Henry?’ Liz called out as they entered the kitchens. ‘Brought you some help.’

A large, grey-haired man, broad at the shoulder and his head almost grazing the lower of the ceiling beams, ducked out from a side room that, from what Jasper could see, appeared to be full of freezers and fridges. He was wiping his hands on a clean tea towel.

‘Help? Think I’m too old and slow to do this on my own?’ He smiled as he said it, though, so Jasper was almost sure it was a joke.

‘Not me.’ Liz jerked her red curls in Jasper’s direction. ‘He arrived with Vicky. She thought he might be able to give you a hand down here.’

Henry stilled, the tea towel taut between his hands, his white knuckles giving away his reaction to Liz’s news even though his expression didn’t change. ‘Vicky’s here?’ The words were barely more than a whisper.

‘We, uh, got caught up in a road closure on the moors,’ Jasper explained. ‘A crash behind us and a chance of the snow bringing down rocks on the valley ahead.’

‘I know the place.’ Henry’s words were clipped. ‘Police direct you here with all the others, did they?’

‘That’s right.’

Henry sighed. ‘Too much to think she’d come back of her own accord, I suppose. So, what are you, then? Fiancé? Boyfriend?’

‘Colleague,’ Jasper corrected him quickly. He could just imagine Tori’s face if he let her family believe there was anything more between them.

However much he might enjoy remembering the night when there was.

‘Humph.’ Henry sounded faintly disbelieving. Oh, well, that was Tori’s problem. He’d told the truth. She hadn’t told him anything.

‘So, what can I do around here? Tori’s setting up beds somewhere, I guess.’

‘Tori, is it?’ Henry asked. ‘Well. You can help me pack up these ploughman’s boxes for our unexpected guests. Each one gets one of each of the things set out on the table. Should be simple enough.’ The words ‘even for you’ were unspoken, but Jasper couldn’t help but hear them anyway. He got the feeling that, arriving in Tori’s company, there was nothing he could have done to make a good impression on her uncle.

But that wasn’t going to stop him trying, all the same. After all, how else was he going to uncover some of those secrets Tori was still hiding? If there was even a chance she knew his—and even if she didn’t yet, she would soon if his father got his way—he wanted to know some of hers too. That was only fair, right?

‘I’m sure I can,’ he said with a grin, and picked up the first of the plastic boxes and started work.

Each ploughman’s box got a hunk of bread, some cheese, a thick slice of ham, a small pot of chutney, an apple and some celery.

‘I’ve got a giant pot of soup heating too,’ Henry explained. ‘We can take that up and dish it out in cups, to help people warm through. It’s not much, but—’

‘It’s more than any of us would have got stuck out on the roads in this snow,’ Jasper interrupted. ‘And I’m sure they’ll all be as grateful as I am for it.’ Even if he still lusted after the steak and ale pie Tori had promised was the best in the county. Maybe he could come back another time and try it. In better weather.

‘Humph,’ Henry said again, but this time he sounded more mollified. ‘So. If you’re Vicky’s “colleague” what sort of work have the two of you been up to?’

He was in tricky waters here, Jasper realised suddenly. If Tori hadn’t been home for who knew who long—maybe since she first showed up at Flaxstone—then her aunt and uncle probably didn’t know she was working for the earl. Or that she had stayed so close to home. How much would she forgive him for giving away?

‘We were visiting a property that our…boss is looking to invest in, up at the north of the moors.’ That was neutral enough, wasn’t it? ‘Tori didn’t mention that she had family so close though, or I’d have suggested we stop by without the snow forcing us on you.’

Henry barked a laugh at that. ‘Which is exactly why she wouldn’t tell you, I’d wager.’

‘She does like to keep her cards very close to her chest.’ Jasper watched Henry carefully, looking for the right way in, to get the man to tell him something, anything, that would explain the strange feeling that had settled over the place since they’d arrived.

There was so much to this story that he didn’t know. And Jasper hated not being in full possession of all the facts, always had. Especially since everything had gone down with Juliet, and he’d discovered that everyone else in his world had known a lot of truths about her that he, as her boyfriend, also should have known—but hadn’t. How could he possibly make good decisions if he didn’t know what he was basing them on? Telling Juliet he loved her, for instance, had been a spectacularly bad one.

Especially since it had turned out she had been in love with his friend Fred, and everyone else had known it. At nineteen, it had seemed the worst thing that could possibly happen to a guy.

But right now, he wasn’t thinking about the past. He was trying to decide how far he could push Tori to tell him her story. To let him in.

Maybe it was just the residual instinct to push at those walls of hers, that instinct that had plagued him since they were both barely more than teenagers. Or maybe it was something more—the sadness in her eyes that he’d only really noticed since his return. Or the way she bristled whenever he said anything at all…

Whatever it was, he needed to solve the puzzle of Tori Edwards. And here was her uncle, holding the key.

But all Henry said was, ‘She has her reasons. Heaven knows the girl has never talked when she doesn’t want to. She’d always run away instead, even as a child. Hide in the strangest of places, until…well, until someone found her. Now, are you done with those boxes?’

Jasper nodded, his mind occupied with Henry’s words. And the certainty that he’d been about to say a name there, when he was talking about who usually found her. What had stopped him?

Or rather, who?

‘Let’s carry these up, then.’ Henry hoisted the first, heavy tray of ploughman’s lunch into his arms, and Jasper followed suit with the second. ‘We’ll come back for the soup.’

‘If my arms can take it,’ Jasper muttered, staggering a little on the stairs. But he knew he’d do whatever Henry told him to, really.

He’d do whatever it took to unravel the mystery of Tori Edwards.

The advantage of being on home turf was that Tori knew all the best hiding places. Add in the associated chaos of having far too many people crammed into the building, all needing something all the time, and keeping busy enough to avoid any difficult discussions with Aunt Liz and Uncle Henry, or questions she didn’t want to answer from Jasper, was almost too easy.

Henry had sought her out as she’d laid down bedding in the restaurant. He’d watched her from the doorway for a moment or two, she suspected, before she’d turned around and spotted him. Then, he’d thrown his arms around her and held her tight, whispering into her hair that it was good to have her home.

He’d smelled of spicy vegetable soup and the Moorside kitchens, and the scent was so familiar she could almost believe that she’d never gone away at all. Then he’d stepped away and headed back to the bar without another word, and suddenly she felt every inch of the gulf between her and her family all over again.

A gulf created by her own secrets, and their shared loss.

It had been eight years. Eight years since Tyler died, eight years since she left. Was it time to tell them the truth about why? Tori knew in her heart she wouldn’t. Too many painful memories for them all. The best outcome she could hope for if she did tell them about the last few months of Tyler’s life was that she’d end up tarnishing their memories of him, as well as giving them more reasons to be angry with her. Nobody won anything that way.

Better to keep all those secrets inside, where they couldn’t hurt anyone but her.

At least, with so many people crowded in eating their soup and ploughman’s, there was no need for a sit-down family meal and all the awkwardness that would follow—as much as Tori would have loved one of Henry’s home-cooked meals. She smiled at the sight of Jasper handing out soup from behind the bar, for all the world like one of the college students Liz and Henry used to hire to help out over the summer, before Tyler and then Tori were old enough to take their place.

There were about nine groups of people staying at the Moorside, she counted, watching over the bar. Mostly families of three or four, although there was one multigenerational set of seven, too. A couple of couples, and two sole business people—and Jasper and Tori.

She hoped they had enough beds.

As one of the children in the family nearest to her started yawning, then nodding off into her apple slices, Tori crouched down next to them and asked if they’d like to be taken through to get settled in one of the bedrooms. The largest guest room at the front of the inn would just about fit them all, she decided, and it made sense for those with younger kids to have the actual bedrooms.

The parents smiled gratefully and, clearing their dishes to the bar, followed her up the rickety stairs to the guest rooms.

Tori made a point of not looking down the narrow corridor that led to the family rooms as they passed. For all she knew, Liz and Henry might have converted her tiny single room—and Tyler’s slightly larger room, for that matter—into more guest accommodation, or even an office for Liz to do paperwork in. She’d never know, because she wasn’t going to ask and she definitely wasn’t going to go and look.

Too many memories down that corridor.

By the time she made it back downstairs, Liz had already shown most of the other guests to rooms upstairs, or to the makeshift dormitory in the restaurant. Jasper was wiping down the bar, and Henry was pouring himself a pint.

Tori’s heart contracted at the familiar sight of her aunt and uncle going about their evening, as if nothing had changed in the last eight years. Or even the last day, as the inn had been invaded by stranded travellers. Even Jasper seemed strangely at home in a place she could never even have imagined seeing him before today.

‘Well, I’d better go grab a bedroll in the restaurant before they’re all gone,’ Tori said, as cheerfully as she could. It was late, they were all tired. Surely no one would call her out on wanting to avoid Awkward Question and Family time right now, would they?

But Liz, glancing up from wiping down tables, gave her an odd look. ‘I’ve kept your old room free for you and Jasper,’ she said. ‘I know it’s not big, but it’ll be more private than sleeping with the hordes in the restaurant.’

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