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‘Another one for you, Fliss,’ said one of Katie’s twins – Fliss was fairly sure it was Florence – handing her a small jewellery box-sized present wrapped in gold paper.

Fliss frowned as she examined it. The label read, ‘To Fliss, from Santa’, and as she glanced around the room no one seemed to be paying attention to her. Curiously, she peeled back the paper and opened the navy velvet box inside. It was the snaffle necklace, the one she had admired in the silversmith’s window. Immediately, her heart started to race, heat rising in her cheeks.

She looked up and found Kit’s face once again and instantly knew. The necklace was from Kit. Who else could it have been? He gave her a small smile, an unmistakeable warmth shining in his dark eyes.

‘Oh, that’s pretty, what is it?’ Sally asked, coming over to look.

‘Oh …’ Fliss faltered, tearing her gaze from Kit. ‘It’s just a necklace.’

‘It’s gorgeous!’ Sally gushed, taking it from Fliss and holding it up to the light. ‘So delicate and unique. Who’s it from?’

‘Um …’ Fliss hesitated. ‘A friend, from New York. He made me promise to wait until today to open it.’

‘He,’ Sally said with emphasis. ‘Sounds like he thinks pretty highly of you. Why haven’t you mentioned this friend before?’

Fliss tried to laugh it off. ‘It’s nothing,’ she shrugged. ‘I should probably have opened it in my room, not brought it down.’

‘Mum, look!’ Jasper said, holding up a brand-new games console. ‘From Granny and Grandpa.’

‘Jasper, darling, you’re far too spoilt. Have you said thank you to them?’ Sally asked, heading over to her son.

Inwardly, Fliss breathed a sigh of relief. She laid the necklace across her hand, admiring how elegant it looked, the silver perfectly suiting her pale colouring. Then she put it back in the box and closed it, not wanting to invite any more questions. She wondered why Kit had bought it for her, and what it meant. Was it simply a present from an old friend, or something more?

She looked up, their eyes meeting once again. ‘Merry Christmas,’ Kit mouthed, as he opened the cognac, and Fliss felt a rush of heat throughout her body, an unmistakeable surge of desire. She pushed it away, breaking eye contact; she was playing with fire, and she had to be careful not to set the whole house alight.

‘Are you sure you don’t need any help?’ Fliss asked uncertainly, as she walked into the chaotic kitchen. It was a hive of activity, with pots boiling on the hob, mixing bowls full of delicious-smelling concoctions, and an enormous turkey basted and sitting in a giant roasting tin, ready to go into the oven.

‘No, not yet, everything’s under control, and you know what they say about too many cooks!’ said Elizabeth, wiping her hands on her floral apron. ‘You go off and enjoy yourself for a couple of hours. Nearer the time I’ll need help with setting the table and bringing everything up, but I’m fine for now.’

‘She’s got her sous-chefs here to help,’ laughed Sally, who was peeling a small mountain of potatoes. ‘The teens are all on a strict rota of sprout peeling!’

‘Are there any spare carrots?’ Fliss asked.

‘They’re in the pantry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘No need to ask where you’re going,’ she added, looking Fliss up and down, taking in her clothes.

‘It’s such a lovely day I thought I’d make the most of the dry weather and visit the stables before we sit down to eat.’

‘Quite right,’ Elizabeth nodded, as she lifted the heavy tray with the turkey into the Aga and set a timer. ‘You’ll see him again in a few hours’ time, looking distinctly more bronzed I hope!’

‘I can’t wait,’ Fliss laughed. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Have a lovely morning,’ Sally called as Fliss stepped out through the back door that led from the kitchen into the chilly air.

It was a beautiful day. All traces of snow and the early morning frost had melted away, and there was a low winter sun that dazzled, the sky blue and cloudless. The countryside looked impossibly picturesque, the gently rolling hills criss-crossed by hedgerows and dry-stone walls.

There was a spring in Fliss’s step as she walked towards the stables, feeling the necklace which she had put on earlier in the privacy of her room, bounce beneath her jumper. There were a handful of grooms around, who called out to wish her a happy Christmas – the horses still needed tending to, even though it was Christmas – but it was much quieter in the yard than usual.

It would be good to have this time alone, Fliss thought, to take one of the horses out and try to clear her head. Her feelings for Kit were running in a dangerous direction. She could feel the attraction between them and was worried that others could detect the chemistry too. Fliss certainly didn’t want a run-in with Tara, especially not when she was a guest in her parents’ house. It would be a horrible case of history repeating itself.

‘Hey, boy, Happy Christmas …’ Fliss murmured, as she approached Apollo’s stable. He whinnied softly as he recognised her and came over, blowing gently through his nostrils as he nudged at her shoulder. He seemed older than ever, his legs stiff and his mane grey, but he was noble and dignified. Fliss rubbed his nose, her hand sliding over the blaze of white, then delved into the bag of carrots, snapping one in half and holding out her palm. Apollo’s soft, warm mouth with its spiky whiskers found the carrot treat, chomping down with a satisfying crunch, and immediately coming back for more, as Fliss fed him another couple of carrots.

‘But that’s all you’re having today,’ she told him. ‘I know it’s Christmas, but you don’t want to overdo it.’ She clapped him on the neck as he jerked his head up and down, before nuzzling into her shoulder once again.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ said a voice behind her, making Fliss jump.

‘Kit!’ she exclaimed, turning, her body reacting at the sight of him, lips parting, pupils dilating. ‘I thought you’d be up at the house.’ Her pulse was racing as she took in the sight of him in tight jodhpurs that clung to his muscular thighs, his calves encased in well-worn leather boots.

‘I had the same idea as you,’ he murmured, his eyes running over her. She hadn’t brought her riding gear with her, so was wearing exercise leggings that showed off every curve of her legs and bottom, along with borrowed boots and a jacket. ‘I wanted some fresh air before the festive eating begins. Thought I’d take one of the horses out. Why don’t we ride out together?’