Last Christmas Read Online Free Page A

beautiful cream farmhouse with a thatched roof and a duck-egg blue door. Hanging in the middle of the door was a decadent wreath, decorated with diagonally sloped red ribbons, white glossy pearls and fluffy old man’s beard. Either side of the door were two pillars made from wooden beams. Misteltoe had been diligently wrapped around each pillar and it looked wonderfully festive. Ella walked down the gravel drive and onto the path that led to the front door. All the plants in the flowerbeds either side of the path were covered in a glittering film of horst frost which twinkled as she passed.
    As Ella stepped onto the path, she took a deep breath and thought about what state Libby might be in with the imminent arrival of her ex-boyfriend, Marcus. She could see that the house was full of guests already; the glow of old antique lamps inside illuminated the shapes of marshmallow-sized Christmas coats and the light buzz of jingly Christmas music escaped the cracks of the old and drafty windows.
    Ella was just about to reach the last step on the path when she lost her footing. Her left boot slipped on the frosty edge of the stone and as her body fell from underneath her, she felt panic surge through her body. Ella attempted to shift her body forward, hoping to grasp onto the left hand beam and grab at the mistletoe twines in front of her to steady herself, but as she lurched forwards, her right foot slipped too. After a wobbly dance on the ice, which even Michael Flatley would have been proud of, Ella fell. She closed her eyes ready to embrace the fall, hoping that the temporary darkness could numb the pain.
    But the fall never came. She felt pressure on her right arm, a squeeze around her bicep and a hand placed on her left hip. Someone had caught her. She looked up, with strands of hair across her face, into the blue eyes of the Brown Haired man. Electricity ran through her; she knew this face. It was the stranger from the supermarket. He loosened his grip on her arm but kept his arms on her shoulders so she had a moment to steady herself. Ella blew the hair from off her face and took a step back from him.
    “Th-thank you,” she whispered. Regaining her composure, she straightened the edge of her denim hem and said in a louder, more confident voice: “I think I saw you earlier in Waitrose.”
    The man stared at her so intensely that it made Ella feel nervous.
    “That could have been a disastrous fall,” he replied finally. This was the first time that Ella had heard him speak. He was incredibly well-spoken but his voice had a touch of coarseness to it as if he had been a smoker or heavy drinker all his life. He was wearing the same brown suede jacket he had been wearing in Waitrose and somehow, he seemed more attractive now, perhaps because of the faint whiffs of his musty cologne Ella smelt on the bitter wind.
    James Dean. That was who he reminded her of. He looked just like a brunette version of James Dean with his slightly quaffed hair, rusty stubble and enchanting eyes which were set back above light puffy bags. He even had the full seductive James Dean lips that looked like they should be hosting a Lucky Strike cigarette.
    Ella realised she hadn’t replied to him and had been staring hopelessly into his eyes.
    Say something you idiot!
    “Yes it could have been. I should have been more careful on the ice.”
    I should have been more careful on the ice? That’s hardly exciting. Think, Ella.
    Ella felt intimidated by the way the Brown Haired man stared at her.
    Aware that this was the third time that day that she had stood in silence opposite this stranger making a fool of herself, Ella decided to throw herself into the situation and introduce herself.
    “I’m Ella, Ella Moore.” She smacked red lipstick-covered lips together and narrowed her eyes, waiting for the reply from this man. He took a step closer to her and as he spoke, she could see his breath on the air.
    “I am Fergus, Fergus Lamb.”
    So the Brown