Vic approached them, breath puffing in the cold air. “Well?” she asked, trying for casual but visibly vibrating with pride. “Success?”
“It’s wonderful,” Alex said sincerely.
Vic’s eyes shone. “It didn’t… it didn’t go wrong.”
“No,” Alex said softly. “It went exactly right.”
Vic swallowed hard.
Julia kissed her cheek. Vic pretended not to melt.
Erin nudged Alex’s side. “You all right?” she murmured.
Alex nodded, throat tight. “Just… watching everything. Feeling very lucky.”
Erin brushed her gloved fingers over Alex’s just enough to sayI see you. I’m here.
Alex let her fingers linger.
There had been so many days in the last year when she wondered if they would ever find this again — this ease, this quiet joy, this closeness that came without trying.
Erin’s eyes were warm. Soft. And behind them, the same longing she’d seen in their bedroom this morning.
Later, Alex thought again, pulse quickening. Later we’ll have our moment.
Reindeer time lasted an hour — feeding them, stroking their coats, watching them flick snow with their hooves. Even Hyz abandoned her notepad after a while and simply watched them breathe in the cold.
When the handlers finally led the reindeer back toward their stables, all four children waved dramatically, as if seeing off royalty.
“They were perfect,” Matilda declared.
“They were noble,” Hyz added.
“I want one,” Frank said.
Florence stared at him. “Frank, you once cried because a pigeon looked at you. You can’t have a reindeer.”
Frank looked offended. “I was small. And it was a scary pigeon.”
Alex bit back a laugh.
The dogs chased snowballs the whole walk back inside, while Vic narrated the morning like a wildlife presenter with too much caffeine. Erin kept brushing snow from Alex’s shoulders when she thought no one was looking.
It was… lovely.
Truly.
By lunchtime, the castle smelled unbelievable.
Roast vegetables, honeyed ham, something rich and herby and unmistakably Mrs. MacLeod.
When Alex entered the dining room, the sight nearly made her breath catch.
A long table — imperfect, slightly chaotic, absolutely beautiful.
Candles flickering. Holly garlands draped along the centre. No dramatic centrepiece. Just simple green and gold that suited Balmoral better than any polished display.
Mrs. MacLeod bustled past carrying a tray. “Don’t touch that yet, Your Majesty. It’s hotter than sin and half as forgiving.”
