Snowy Christmas Read online

  Snowy Christmas

  Paw Prints on Your Heart #3

  by

  Helen Scott Taylor

  *

  Copyright © 2015 Helen Taylor

  Cover design © Helen Taylor

  *

  The right of Helen Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act, 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner.

  Chapter One

  Emily Tiptree stared through the slashing windshield wipers into the gloom as she drove home from her disappointing job interview. She'd thought her ten years' experience as a chef would let her walk into the job at the pub in the next village. She hadn't counted on the owner thinking she was overqualified.

  Churning out glorified pub grub wasn't what she wanted to do anyway, but she couldn't be picky when it was difficult to find a chef's job in the middle of the Cotswolds in rural England. She had to earn some money quickly, or she'd default on her credit card payments this month. Then she'd have to ask her brother for a loan and admit what an idiot she'd been.

  Something white caught in the beam of the headlights, jerking Emily out of her thoughts. With a shriek of surprise, she slammed her foot on the brakes and swung the car to one side, away from whatever had been in the road. When the car skidded to a halt on the wet asphalt, she sat still for a few seconds, recovering from the shock, her hand pressed over her pounding heart.

  It had been some kind of small white animal, she was sure. Had she hit it? Heavens, she hoped not. There hadn't been a bump. Grabbing her phone from her handbag, she switched on the flashlight app and stepped out of the car she'd borrowed from her brother to go to the interview.

  Her best black pumps sank in the road's muddy grass shoulder, and cold water ran into her shoes. Her years in warm, sunny Spain seemed like a distant memory now, even though she'd only left Malaga two days ago.

  Turning up her coat collar against the chilly rain, she pointed the flashlight at the woods beside the country road. At first she saw nothing, and wondered if whatever it was had gone. As she moved the beam of light, two shiny eyes gleamed back at her.

  That gave her a shock for a second before she ruled out anything dangerous. She was in the English Cotswolds. Nothing more threatening than a fox or badger could be hiding under a bush on the Rosemoor Estate.

  Her shoes squelching, she stepped closer to the shiny eyes, half expecting the creature to flee. She angled the light away from the animal, not wanting to dazzle it, and noticed that now she was out of the car, it wasn't as dark as she'd thought.

  She switched off the flashlight. Once her eyes adjusted, she could make out the small pale creature huddled beneath a leafless bush. In the fading light of the dreary day, big dark eyes stared back at her from an adorable fluffy white face. The little dog looked like a Westie.

  "Hey there, sweetie." Emily crouched and held out her hand for the animal to sniff. "Are you hurt?"

  The small dog stretched out its black button nose, and its warm tongue brushed her fingers. Twigs and bits of leaf litter clung to the dog's fur, and it was soaked and shivering.

  "It's all right, little one. I'm going to help you."

  Gently, she reached under the bush and eased the dog out. Her fingers sank through the wet, matted fur to the bones beneath. "Oh, baby. You're hungry, aren't you?"

  Emily eased the small dog closer and drew the wet bundle of fur into her arms. She was a little girl, and there was nothing of her. The small creature trembled harder and licked Emily's hand. Her heart nearly melted.

  The poor little thing needed something to eat, but although there weren't any visible injuries, the first stop had to be a veterinarian in case she was hurt.

  The rumble of a vehicle approaching drew Emily's attention, and headlights cut through the gloom as a huge four-wheel drive pulled up behind her car. It looked like a Rosemoor Estate vehicle.

  The driver stepped out. His tall, square-shouldered silhouette suggested he was one of the Bramwell men. "Is someone hurt?" The upper-class English accent confirmed it.

  "Owen?" she said tentatively, hoping it was her brother's boss. She hadn't seen him since she arrived back from Spain two days ago, but she knew he was a nice guy from what her brother said.

  "No, I'm Owen's cousin Marcus."

  "Oh." Emily swallowed. She knew who Marcus was, of course—the lord of the manor in effect. Although he didn't actually hold a title, he owned Rosemoor Hall and most of the surrounding area. She'd seen him from a distance around Rosemoor Village many times while she was growing up, but she'd never spoken with him before.

  "Hi, I'm Emily Tiptree. My brother, Ned, is the dairy manager at Rosemoor Farm. This dog ran across the road in front of me, but I don't think I hit her."

  She couldn't see Marcus clearly because he was silhouetted in the beam of light from his headlights.

  "Have you checked her over to see if she's hurt?" He raised a hand towards the dog and she shrank back against Emily, shaking violently. He quickly pulled back. "I think we need to take her straight to my sister-in-law. She's a veterinarian."

  "Okay. I was thinking she needed to see a vet."

  "I'll give you a ride so you can hold her."

  "What about Ned's car? I borrowed it, and he'll need it tomorrow morning. The keys and my handbag are still in there."

  "Ned can get a ride out to pick it up later. It's only five minutes from the farm."

  Without further discussion, Marcus placed a hand on her back and ushered her towards his vehicle. He opened the passenger door and supported her elbow to help her into the blissfully warm interior. A black Labrador's nose poked between the seats.

  "Stay in the back, Peggy," Marcus said, stroking the Lab's face.

  Marcus grabbed Emily's handbag from Ned's car before he locked it, and climbed into his driver's seat. Emily managed to fasten her seat belt using one hand before hugging the little white dog closer, hoping the contact would reassure her.

  "It's all right, sweetie. We're taking you to someone who'll make sure you're not hurt."

  They drove the five minutes to Rosemoor Farm in silence, Emily smoothing a hand over the little dog's coat, gently pulling twigs off her. Marcus's car smelled new and expensive, with a pleasant hint of aftershave in the air. She glanced his way, taking in his thick dark hair and clean-cut profile.

  He was about five or six years older than her. When she was a teen, the local girls all had crushes on him or his brother, Jonathan, or cousin Owen, but the Bramwell boys didn't mix with the local girls. They'd moved in different circles.

  The tires rattled over the cattle grid at the entrance to Rosemoor Farm and Emily turned her attention back to the poor dog, whispering to calm her.

  Marcus stopped beside a vehicle similar to his near the farmhouse and climbed out. Then he rounded the car and supported her elbow again as she stepped down. He spoke like a gentleman and behaved like one too, a man from a bygone era. A refreshing change after Vicente, her sweet-talking jerk of a Spanish boyfriend.

  Marcus knocked once on the farmhouse back door, then opened it and shouted, "Hello, anyone here? We need Jenn's expertise."

  Feeling a little awkward to be walking into Owen Bramwell's house uninvited, sh
e wandered behind Marcus along the corridor. The door in front of them opened, releasing delicious cooking smells. A slender woman with an obvious baby bump and shoulder-length blond hair appeared with a tall, dark-haired teenage girl behind her.

  "Marcus, what's happened?"

  "Jenn, this is Emily Tiptree. She found what looks like a Westie on the road near Adams Wood."

  Emily had never met Owen's wife, Jennifer, or their thirteen-year-old daughter, Chloe, but her brother had mentioned them.

  "Hi, Emily, nice to meet you." Jennifer gently touched the poor dog and nodded. "Let's take her over to my office." She glanced over her shoulder. "Chloe, wait for the timer to ring, then switch the oven off and leave the door ajar."

  "Can't I come with you?"

  "Not now, love."

  Jennifer pulled an old coat off a peg in the corridor, slipped her feet into waterproof shoes, then opened the back door and hurried across the farmyard.

  Emily hurried after her, Marcus at her side.

  They followed Jennifer into a wooden building. Lights flickered on inside to reveal a reception desk bearing a computer, and a small waiting area furnished with padded chairs and a table holding a heap of magazines. Posters on the wall showed the life cycle of the cat flea, and instructions on how to brush dogs' teeth to keep them clean. The whole place smelled of new wood and fresh paint.

  "Come on in." Jennifer tugged off her coat, dumped it over a chair, and led Emily into a consulting room.

  "I think I make the dog nervous, so I'll wait out here," Marcus said.

  "Okay." Jennifer gave him a smile and pushed the door to the consulting room closed.

  Emily carefully set the small animal on her feet on the examination table. The dog licked Emily's hand, her tail wagging. Then she turned her big dark eyes on Jennifer and licked her hand as well.

  "Oh, you're a sweetie pie, aren't you?" Jennifer ran a hand over the creature while visually assessing her. "She's very thin, and no doubt full of worms and covered in fleas."

  Emily tried not to scratch as she imagined fleas in her clothes, but she soon forgot that as she watched Jennifer check the dog's ears, eyes, and teeth, then feel all over her body, legs, and paws before she took her temperature. Then she lifted her down onto the scales and sighed.

  "The good news is there's no sign of injury, and her temperature is normal. But she's seriously underweight and in poor condition. From her teeth and condition, I'd say she's about eight or nine. She's obviously had a few litters of puppies. I suspect whoever used her for breeding then dumped her when she wasn't of use anymore."

  "Oh, you poor girl."

  "And she's been mistreated." Jennifer parted the fur on the dog's nose to reveal scars. "It looks like someone's hit her with a stick. Judging by her reaction to Marcus, I'm guessing it was a man."

  Tears filled Emily's eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "Poor baby." She stroked the dog's ears, as she seemed to like that. "Will she recover and be okay?"

  "I hope so. With some TLC, she should have a few years left to enjoy life." Jennifer crouched with one hand on her baby bump and stroked the dog's face. "You're a sweet girl, aren't you? All you need is some love." She rose and faced Emily. "I can take her in, if you want. Owen won't mind."

  "No. That's okay." Emily had no home and no money, but she felt an affinity with this poor creature, used by a man and then tossed aside when she'd served her purpose. "I'd like to keep her. I'm staying with Ned for a while until I get myself a place."

  "Oh, well, that's good. You'll be just down the road, close enough for me to keep an eye on her health for you. I'll get you fixed up with wormer and flea treatment, and special food that's full of nutrients and gentle on her digestive system for the first few days, until she's used to normal-sized meals again. Be sure to feed her good-quality dog food. I'll give you a feeding plan to suggest how much to feed her each day."

  Jennifer pulled a card off a stack on a shelf. "She'll need to be bathed and clipped, as well. I'd give her a few days to settle in, and then call this woman. She's excellent, and will do a home visit."

  Emily picked up the Westie and cuddled her as Jennifer gathered the things she needed into a plastic bag. Already Emily felt protective of this poor little girl, and when the dog turned her trusting black eyes up to her, it nearly broke Emily's heart to imagine someone hurting her.

  Jennifer held out the plastic carrier bag labeled Rosemoor Veterinary Surgery with the Rosemoor Estate symbol of an angel in a Tudor rose on it.

  "What will you call her?" Jennifer asked.

  "Snow White, because she was a little lost princess in the woods." Emily hadn't planned on that name. It just flashed into her head as she remembered the poor little dog peering out from under the bush.

  Jennifer laughed and stroked Snow White's head. "Well, hello, little princess."

  Emily hugged her dog tighter as she followed Jennifer out of the consulting room. Marcus had been sitting in the waiting area. He rose when they came in, and dropped a magazine back on the pile.

  "You'll need a bed, a collar, and a leash," Jennifer said, "and some old towels. Be prepared for toilet accidents to start with. It's possible she's used to living in a penned kennel and not a home. I won't charge a consultation fee, but perhaps you can pop back next week to pay for the medication."

  Emily closed her eyes for a moment to hold back the flash of panic. What was she thinking, taking on another responsibility when she couldn't even afford to look after herself? The dog groomer would cost money as well, and so would the dog food.

  "Do you know if there are any jobs available in the village?" she asked.

  Jennifer frowned. "I'm not sure. What do you do?"

  "I'm trained as a chef, but to be honest, I'll consider anything. I want to stay local so I can be close to home to check on Snow White."

  "You could work for me," Marcus said. "I need a housekeeper. If you're also able to cater the events we hold at Rosemoor Hall, that would be an added bonus."

  Emily met his gaze, his dark brown eyes calm and assessing. He had a touch of gray at his temples that she hadn't noticed before. It made him seem even more distinguished.

  "I'd love to cater the events. I've never worked as a housekeeper, but I guess I could learn."

  "Wonderful." Marcus smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor. "How about we give it a month's trial to see if we suit each other? Would you like to start on Monday? That gives you a couple of days to settle Snow White in."

  "Okay, great."

  "We'll discuss the other details on Monday," Marcus said. "Oh, and please feel free to bring Snow White with you. My Peggy loves playing with other dogs."

  Emily felt light-headed with the speed things were moving. Suddenly she had a dog and a job, or at least a trial job.

  Now she just had to persuade Ned to let her keep Snow White in his cottage.

  Chapter Two

  Marcus picked up the pile of letters left by the maid on the table by the front door at Rosemoor Hall, and leafed through them. He was about to drop them back to read later when his lawyer's name caught his eye.

  His heart clenched with a painful jolt of apprehension and hope. Could this be the letter he'd waited so long for?

  His black Labrador, Peggy, pressed her lean body against his legs, obviously sensing his tension.

  "It's all right, girl. Let's see what the lawyer has to say, shall we?"

  Out of long habit, Marcus walked to the bottom of the stairs and sat on the second step between the two carved wooden angels atop the newel posts—the luckiest spot in the house, according to tradition. Not that he set much store in the luck of the Rosemoor angels.

  Peggy sat between his knees as he ripped open the envelope and unfolded the pages inside. He scanned the top page and the words decree nisi jumped out at him. Tears of relief flooded his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. He pressed the side of his fist to his mouth and finished reading.

  He whooped, punching his fist
in the air. His ordeal was finally over. A sense of elation filled him. He was divorced, free of Gabriella at last.

  After so many years of misery, he could finally get his life back. He hadn't dreamed it was possible for one woman to ruin his life so completely. She'd alienated his family, upset his tenants, and burned through his money like a forest fire.

  In the divorce settlement, Gabriella had accepted the London house and a huge cash payout to withdraw any claim to Rosemoor Hall and the estate lands. Thank goodness. She'd contributed precisely nothing to the running of the estate during their marriage, and only managed to be mean to everyone and cause trouble. The woman had been poisonous. Many times Marcus had wondered if he would survive the relationship.

  In the end, he'd offered her the London house, a historic property that had been in his family for over two hundred years, and by rights belonged in the Rosemoor estate and should be passed to his heir. But at least she was now off his back forever.

  He kissed the top of Peggy's head. "Come on, Pegs. Time for a celebratory walk."

  He jumped up. Thank goodness he had his dog. She'd been a lifesaver since he got her three years ago. Funny to think that when his brother, Jonathan, suggested he have a dog, he'd thought he wouldn't cope with one. Now he wondered how he'd have coped without her.

  Taking long walks with Peggy around the acres of garden and estate lands he loved so much had helped him survive the mental trauma and stress. His dog had been there for him, offering unconditional love when he needed it most. Peggy was a better companion than any woman could ever be.

  Today he would walk for the pleasure of it. Sensing his mood, Peggy yelped with excitement, picked up her ball, and raced ahead as he took the corridor to the back of the house. He entered the laundry room near the back door where he kept his dog-walking gear.

  He pulled on Wellington boots and his old coat, scarf, and hat. After taking Peggy's leash off its hook, he stepped out the back door into the crisp, fresh air of a clear winter's day.

  "Perfect." He almost felt like running today, so he did, sprinting across the gravel and along the path to the gate into the parkland, energized and hopeful.