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SCARLET WILSON wrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. She’s worked in the health service for twenty years, trained as a nurse and a health visitor. Scarlet now works in public health and lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. Writing medical romances and contemporary romances is a dream come true for her.
New York Times bestselling author RAEANNE THAYNE finds inspiration in the beautiful northern Utah mountains where she lives with her family. Her books have won numerous honours, including six RITA® Award nominations from Romance Writers of America and Career Achievement and Romance Pioneer awards from RT Book Reviews. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.raeannethayne.com
MARIE FERRARELLA is a USA Today bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author and has written more than two hundred books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com
One Autumn Proposal
Her Christmas Eve Diamond
Scarlet Wilson
The Holiday Gift
RaeAnne Thayne
Christmastime Courtship
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09882-3
ONE AUTUMN PROPOSAL
Her Christmas Eve Diamond © 2012 Scarlet Wilson The Holiday Gift © 2016 RaeAnne Thayne Christmastime Courtship © 2017 Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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
Version: 2020-03-02
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Authors
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Her Christmas Eve Diamond
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
EPILOGUE
The Holiday Gift
Back Cover Text
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
Epilogue
Christmastime Courtship
Back Cover Text
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
About the Publisher
Her Christmas Eve Diamond
Scarlet Wilson
PROLOGUE
30 September
CASSIDY raised her hand and knocked on the dilapidated door. Behind her Lucy giggled nervously. ‘Are you sure this is the right address?’
Cassidy turned to stare at her. ‘You arranged this. How should I know?’ She glanced at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. ‘This is definitely number seventeen.’ She leaned backwards, looking at the 1960s curtains hanging in the secondary glazed double windows that rattled every time a bus went past. ‘Maybe nobody’s home?’ she said hopefully.
This had to be the worst idea she’d ever had. No. Correction. It hadn’t been her idea. In a moment of weakness she’d just agreed to come along with her colleagues to see what all the fuss was about.
‘Where did you find this one, Lucy?’
Lucy had spent the past year whisking her friends off to as many different fortune-tellers as possible. By all accounts, some were good, some were bad and some were just downright scary. Cassidy had always managed to wriggle out of it—until now.
‘This is the one my cousin Fran came to. She said she was fab.’
Cassidy raised her eyebrows. ‘Cousin Fran who went on the reality TV show and then spent the next week hiding in the cupboard?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Oh, great,’ sighed Cass.
‘I wonder if she’ll tell me how many children I’ll have,’ murmured Lynn dreamily. She stuck her pointed elbow into Cassidy’s ribs. ‘She told Lizzie King she’d have twins and she’s due any day now.’
‘I just want to know if Frank is ever going to propose,’ sighed Tamsin. ‘If she doesn’t see it in the future then I’m dumping him. Five years is long enough.’
Cassidy screwed up her nose and shook her head. ‘You can’t dump Frank because of something a fortune-teller says.’
But Tamsin had that expression on her face—the one that said, Don’t mess with me. ‘Watch me.’
There was a shuffle behind the door then a creak and the door swung open. ‘Hello, ladies, come on in.’
Cassidy blinked. The smell of cats hit her in the face like a steamroller.
She allowed the stampede behind her to thunder inside then took a deep breath of clean outside air, before pulling the door closed behind her. A mangy-looking cat wound its way around her legs. ‘Shoo!’ she hissed.
‘Come on, Cassidy!’
She plastered a smile on her face and joined her colleagues in smelly-cat-woman’s front room. The peeling noise beneath the soles of her feet told her that the carpet was sticky. She dreaded to think what with.
Her three friends were crowded onto the brown sofa. Another cat was crawling across the back of the sofa behind their heads. Cassidy’s eyes started to stream and she resisted the temptation to start rubbing them. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. Cat allergies did that to you.
‘So who wants to go first?’
Cassidy glanced at her watch. How had she got roped into this?
‘You go first, Cass,’ said Lucy, who turned to smelly-cat woman. ‘You’ll have to do a good job, Belinda. Our Cassidy’s a non-believer.’
The small, rotund woman eyed Cassidy up and down. Her brow was as wrinkled as her clothes. ‘This way, dear,’ she muttered, wandering down the hallway to another room.
Cassidy swallowed nervously. Maybe it would be easier to get this over and done with. Then at least she could wait outside in the car for the others.
The room was full of clutter. And cats.
As Belinda settled herself at one side of the table and shuffled some cards, Cassidy eyed the squashed easy chair on the other side. A huge marmalade cat was sitting in pride of place, blinking at her, daring her to move him.
Her gorgeous turquoise-blue velvet pea coat would attract cat hairs like teenage girls to a Bieber concert. She should just kiss it goodbye now.
‘Move, Lightning!’ Belinda kicked the chair and the cat gave her a hard stare before stretching on his legs and jumping from the seat, settling at her feet.
Cassidy couldn’t hide the smile from her face. It had to be the most inappropriately named cat—ever.
Belinda fixed her eyes on her. How could such a soft, round woman have such a steely glare? Her eyes weren’t even blinking. She was staring so hard Cass thought she would bore a hole through her skull.
She looked around her. Books everywhere. Piles of magazines. Shelves and shelves of ornaments, all looking as though they could do with a good dust. Another allergy to set off. One, two, no, three … no, there was another one hiding in the corner. Four cats in the room. All looking at her as if she shouldn’t be there. Maybe they knew something that she didn’t.
‘So, what do we do?’ she asked quickly.
Belinda’s face had appeared kindly, homely when she’d answered the door. But in here, when it was just the two of them, she looked like a cold and shrewd businesswoman. Cassidy wondered if she could read the thoughts currently in her head. That would account for the light-sabre stare.
Belinda shuffled the cards again. ‘We can do whatever you prefer.’ She spread the cards face down on the table. ‘I can read your cards.’ She reached over and grabbed hold of Cassidy’s hand. ‘I can read your palm. Or …’ she glanced around the room ‘… I can channel some spirits and see what they’ve got to say.’
The thought sent a chill down Cassidy’s spine. She wasn’t sure she believed any of this. But she certainly didn’t want to take the risk of channelling any unwanted spirits.
The TV special she’d watched the other day had claimed that all of this was based on reading people. Seeing the tiny, almost imperceptible reactions they had to certain words, certain gestures. Cassidy had come here tonight determined not to move a muscle, not even to blink. But her cat allergy seemed to have got the better of her, and her eyes were a red, blinking, streaming mess. So much for not moving.
She didn’t like the look of the cards either. Knowing her luck, she’d turn over the death card—or the equivalent of the Joker.
‘Let’s just do the palm, please.’ It seemed the simplest option. How much could anyone get from some lines on a palm?
Belinda leaned across the table, taking Cassidy’s slim hand and wrist and encapsulating them in her pudgy fingers. There was something quite soothing about it. She wasn’t examining Cassidy’s palm—just holding her hand. Stroking her fingers across the back of her hand for a few silent minutes, then turning her hand over and touching the inside of her palm.
A large smile grew across her face.
The suspense was killing her. Cassidy didn’t like long silences. ‘What is it?’
Belinda released her hand. ‘You’re quite the little misery guts, aren’t you?’
‘What?’ Cassidy was stunned. The last she’d heard, these people were only supposed to tell you good things. And certainly not assassinate your character.
Belinda nodded. ‘On the surface you’re quite the joker with your friends at work. On the other hand, you always see the glass half-empty. Very self-deprecating. All signs of insecurity.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But very particular at work. Your attention to detail makes you hard to work with. Some of your colleagues just don’t know how to take you. And as for men …’
‘What?’ Right now, men were the last thing on her mind. And the word ‘insecurity’ had hit a nerve she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was bad enough having parents who jet-setted around the world, without having a fiancé who’d upped and left. The last thing she wanted was some random stranger pointing it out to her.
‘You’re a clever girl, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right at the end of your nose.’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve got some very fixed ideas, and you’re not very good at the art of compromise. Just as well Christmas is coming up.’
Cassidy was mad now. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Christmas is still three months away.’
Belinda folded her arms across her chest, a smug expression on her face. ‘You’re going to be a Christmas bride.’
‘What?’
The woman had clearly lost her cat-brained mind.
‘How on earth can I be a Christmas bride? It’s October tomorrow, and I don’t have a boyfriend. And there’s nobody I’m even remotely interested in.’
Belinda tapped the side of her nose, giving her shoulders an annoying little shrug. ‘I only see the future. I don’t tell you how you’re going to get there.’ She leaned over and touched the inside of Cassidy’s palm. ‘I can see you as a Christmas bride, along with a very handsome groom—not from around these parts either. Lucky you.’
Cassidy shook her head firmly. It had taken her months to get over her broken engagement to her Spanish fiancé—and it had not been an experience she wanted to repeat. ‘You’re absolutely wrong. There’s no way I’m going to be a Christmas bride. And particularly not with a groom from elsewhere. I’ve had it with foreign men. The next man I hook up with will be a true fellow Scot, through and through.’
Belinda gave her the look. The look that said, You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.
‘That’s us, then.’
Cassidy was aghast. Twenty quid for that? ‘That’s it?’
Belinda nodded and waved her hand. ‘Send the next one in.’
Cassidy hesitated for a second, steeling herself to argue with the woman. But then the fat orange cat brushed against her legs and leapt up onto the chair beside her, determined to shed its thousands of orange cat hairs over her velvet coat. She jumped up. At least she was over and done with. She could wait outside in the car. It was almost worth the twenty quid for that alone.
She walked along the corridor, mumbling to herself, attempting to brush a big wad of clumped cat hair from her coat.
‘Are you done already? What did she tell you?’
Cassidy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not even worth repeating.’ She jerked her head down the corridor. ‘Go on, Tamsin. Go and find out when you’re getting your proposal.’
Tamsin still had that determined look on her face. She stood up and straightened her pristine black mac—no orange cat hairs for her. ‘You mean if I’m getting my proposal.’ She swept down the corridor and banged the door closed behind her.
Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Heaven help Belinda if she doesn’t tell Tam what she wants to hear.’ She turned back to Cassidy. ‘Come on, then, spill. What did she say?’
Cassidy blew out a long, slow breath through pursed lips. She was annoyed at being called a ‘misery guts.’ And she was beyond irritated at being called insecure. ‘I’m apparently going to be a Christmas bride.’
‘What?’ Lucy’s and Lynn’s voices were in perfect tandem with their matching shocked expressions.
‘Just as well Tamsin didn’t hear that,’ Lucy muttered.
‘Oh, it gets worse. Apparently my groom is from foreign climes.’ She rolled her eyes again. ‘As if.’
But Lucy’s and Lynn’s expressions had changed, smiles creeping across their faces as their eyes met.
‘Told you.’
‘No way.’
Cassidy watched in bewilderment as they high-fived each other in the dingy sitting room.
‘What’s with you two? You know the whole thing’s ridiculous. As if I’m going to date another foreign doctor.’
Lynn folded her arms across her chest. ‘Stranger things have happened.’ She had a weird look on her face. As if she knew something that Cassidy didn’t.
Lucy adopted the same pose, shoulder to shoulder with Lynn. Almost as if they were ganging up on her.
Her gaze narrowed. ‘I’m willing to place a bet that Belinda could be right.’
Cassidy couldn’t believe what was happening. The crazy-cat-woman’s disease was obviously contagious. A little seed planted in her brain. She could use this to her advantage. ‘What’s it worth?’
Lucy frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Cassidy smiled. ‘I’ll take that bet. But what’s it worth?’
‘Night shift Christmas Eve. Oh.’ The words were out before Lucy had had time to think about them. She had her hand across her mouth. It was the most hated shift on the planet. Every year they had to draw straws to see who would take it.
‘You’re on.’ Cassidy held out her hand towards Lucy, who nodded and shook it firmly. She had no chance of losing this bet. No chance at all.
CHAPTER ONE
1 October
CASSIDY pulled the navy-blue tunic over her head. These new-style NHS uniforms were supposed to be made from a revolutionary lightweight fabric, designed for comfort and ease of fit. The reality was they were freezing and not designed for Scottish winters in a draughty old hospital. She pulled a cardigan from her locker and headed for the stairs. Maybe running up three flights would take the chill out of her bones.
Two minutes later she arrived in the medical ward. She took a deep breath. There it was. The hospital smell. Some people hated it and shuddered walking through the very doors of the hospital. But Cassidy loved it—it was like a big security blanket, and she’d missed it. It was just before seven and the lights were still dimmed. Ruby, the night nurse, gave her a smile. ‘Nice to see you back, Cassidy. How was the secondment?’
Cassidy nodded, wrapping her cardigan further around her torso. Her temperature was still barely above freezing. ‘It was fine, but three months was long enough. The new community warfarin clinic is set up—all the teething problems ironed out. To be honest, though, I’m glad to be back. I missed this place.’
And she had. But at the time the three-month secondment had been perfect for her. It had given her the chance to sort out all the hassles with her gran, work regular hours and get her settled into the new nursing home—the second in a year. Her eyes swept over the whiteboard on the wall, displaying all the patient names, room numbers and named nurses. ‘No beds?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘Actually, we’ve got one. But A and E just phoned to say they’re sending us an elderly lady with a chest infection, so I’ve put her name up on the board already. She should be up in the next ten minutes.’
Cassidy gave a nod as the rest of the day-shift staff appeared, gathering around the nurses’ station for the handover report. She waited patiently, listening to the rundown of the thirty patients currently in her general medical ward, before assigning the patients to the nurses on duty and accepting the keys for the medicine and drugs cabinets.
She heard the ominous trundle of a trolley behind her. ‘I’ll admit this patient,’ she told her staff. ‘It’ll get me back into the swing of things.’
She looked up as Bill, one of the porters, arrived, pulling the trolley with the elderly woman lying on top. A doctor was walking alongside them, carrying some notes and chatting to the elderly lady as they wheeled her into one of the side rooms. He gave her a smile—one that could have launched a thousand toothpaste campaigns. ‘This is Mrs Elizabeth Kelly. She’s eighty-four and has a history of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She’s had a chest infection for the last seven days that hasn’t responded to oral antibiotics. Her oxygen saturation is down at eighty-two and she’s tachycardic. The doctor on call wanted her admitted for IV antibiotics.’
For a moment the strong Australian accent threw her—she hadn’t been expecting it. Though goodness knows why not. Her hospital in the middle of Glasgow attracted staff from all over the world. His crumpled blue scrubs and even more crumpled white coat looked as though he’d slept in them—and judging by his blond hair, sticking up in every direction but the right one, he probably had.
She didn’t recognise him, which meant he must be one of the new doctors who had started while she was away on secondment. And he was too handsome by far. And that cheeky twinkle in his eye was already annoying her.
After three months away, some things appeared to have changed around the hospital. It was usually one of the A and E nurses who accompanied the patient up to the ward.
Cassidy pumped up the bed and removed the headboard, pulling the patslide from the wall and sliding the patient over into the bed. The doctor helped her put the headboard back on and adjusted the backrest, rearranging the pillows so Mrs Kelly could sit upright. Cassidy attached the monitoring equipment and changed the oxygen supply over to the wall. The doctor was still standing looking at her.