I lay with my head on Luke's chest, threading my fingers through the smattering of blond hair that led to the good bits. We'd had our workout for the afternoon—Luke had certainly put in an effort holding me up against the wall. I was debating whether I could muster up the energy to go down on him when "Nightmare" by Avenged Sevenfold blared out from his phone.

He raised his head and groaned. "Shit."

"Just leave it."

"I can't. It's my mother."

Ah, yes. Mothers. In Lower Foxford, ignoring a call from one was probably punishable with a lifetime ban from the country club. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand and jabbed his finger at it.

"Yes, Mother?"

The woman's cut-glass accent and lack of a volume control meant I heard every word.

"I'm just going to drop Tia off with you. We'll be there in ten minutes."

Luke stiffened. "You can't. I've got company."

"I'm sure she'll be no trouble, darling."

"She's sixteen. Why can't she stay home on her own?"

"The gardener caught her smoking cigarettes behind the pool house again, so she's grounded. I don't trust her to stay put, so she'll have to spend the evening with you."

"She can't come here."

"Don't be silly. She's your sister. Ooh, got to go; Mabel's calling me. It'll be about bridge night."

She hung up, and Luke threw his phone down on the bed.

"I take it you heard all that?"

"I could hardly avoid it. Shall I go out for a while? It would be the easiest thing for everyone."

"No." Luke's tone left no room for argument. "I'm hoping you'll stick around, so Tia will have to get used to you."

Hmm, so he wanted to spend more than a few nights with me? A part of me was happy to hear that. For the first time in weeks, a chink of light shone through the fog in my mind. Today, the simple act of decorating a tree had been fun because he did it with me.

That—dare I say it—happiness competed with worry. My increasing strength meant the journey home loomed on the horizon. I was starting to care for Luke, and if he felt the same way, he'd end up getting hurt when I left. There was also the small matter of having lied to him about my entire existence, but with Tia on the way, I pushed that out of my mind.

"I'd better put some clothes on." I rolled out of bed. "And find my riot shield."

Tia did indeed arrive in the promised ten minutes. By that time, I was in the kitchen, pulling out a casserole Nora had left in the oven.

The demon child stomped into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw me there. Even with my back turned, I knew that, because her footsteps came to an abrupt halt and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What's she doing here?" Tia's voice ended on a shriek.

"She's staying with me," Luke said. "Thanks to you, she doesn't have anywhere else to live."

Oh, the horror on her face as she realised the result of her actions was a joy to behold.

"You're dating her now?"

We hadn't exactly talked about that. We hadn't exactly talked much full stop. Sure, we'd slept together, but fucking and dating were two completely different kettles of fish. Luke looked at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged.

"Yes," he said.

Well, that cleared that up, then.

"B-but...you can't!" spluttered Tia.

"Under whose rules?"

"She's just a stable girl. Mother will go mad."

"But she's not a stable girl anymore, is she? At the moment, she's a lady of leisure. Which is exactly what mother is, so she can hardly complain."

Tia had no reply for that. She stood open-mouthed, hands on her hips.

"Well, are you eating with us or not?" Luke asked, getting the cutlery out.

"I'm not sharing a table with her. Hell would have to freeze over first."

She looked so indignant at having to breathe the same air as me, I stifled a laugh. That earned me a glare.

"Well," I said, looking at my watch. "The temperature's dropping, and the devil's wearing thermals."

"Fine. But I'm not speaking to you."

I set out an extra place, and she moved the utensils to the furthest end of the table. That suited me fine.

While Tia gave herself an aneurysm, I spooned the casserole onto plates. Luke even had a plate-warming drawer in his over-specced kitchen. For a moment I was impressed, but the chances were, I had one too. It wasn't as if I'd spent enough time in my own kitchen to check.

Tia ate in silence, staring daggers at me from across the table. It could have been worse—at least she'd stopped shrieking. I ignored her attitude and chatted to Luke about the ridiculousness of Christmas traditions. When we started discussing who on earth came up with the idea of stuffing bread up a turkey's backside, even Tia giggled. Then she remembered she hated me and went back to glowering instead.

After dinner, I left Luke to spend some brother-sister time with Tia. Judging by the shouting, it didn't go too well. Tension levels in the house rose, so I did the adult thing and hid upstairs with a glass of wine and Netflix. After their mother turned up to ferry Tia home again, Luke trudged into the bedroom, frowning. I reached out and smoothed the wrinkles on his forehead.

"You didn't deserve that."

He sighed. "I don't know what to do about her. I tried to discuss the smoking, and she went crazy again."

"Look on the bright side; at least it was only a cigarette."

His glare suggested I wasn't helping, so I tried again.

"I'm not sure what to say, other than she'll probably grow out of it."

"Did you ever smoke?"

"A long time ago."

"How old were you when you stopped?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen when you stopped?" His eyes bugged out. "How old were you when you started?"

"Twelve, I think." I shrugged. "Maybe eleven. I forget."

"You're kidding?"

"Told you I was a wild child."

"What did your parents say?"

"Not a lot." Nothing, in fact.

"What made you stop?"

"I met someone who showed me I was worth more."

"Who?"

"That's not important. Now, why don't I take your mind off things?"

Luke lay back on the bed, happy with the change of subject. Tia was quickly forgotten as we continued what we didn't get to finish earlier.

The next week passed peacefully enough. Luke had to go back into the office, of course, but he made an effort to come home on time each day.

"I should've started this delegation lark years ago," he told me on Tuesday evening after we'd done something on the pool table that may have involved balls but definitely wasn't pool. "Although my staff seem slightly disgruntled."

"They'll get used to it. Don't back down."

Don't back down. I used to live by that mantra, right until the moment I'd run to England. I needed to abide by my own rules.

"Not planning to. Not if it means I have more time for this." He flicked his tongue along my lips and I surrendered.

Maybe rules were meant to be broken.

While Luke worked, I took advantage of his gym. With that and the running I'd been doing, most of my strength had returned. The little potbelly I'd developed had shrunk away, and the outline of my muscles became clear again. At least my body had returned to its previous state—now only my head needed work.

Having no responsibilities and nothing pressing to do all day was a novelty at first, but I soon found mid-morning television didn't deliver.

"What's this?" Luke asked as I plonked his dinner on the table in front of him.

"It's supposed to be coq au vin."

Except I'd burned the chicken and drunk most of the wine. Despite Nora's efforts to teach me, I was a terrible cook.

"You don't have to do this, you know. Nora can make us dinner."

"I was bored, so I thought I'd experiment."

"I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but it looks like a science project gone wrong."

Wasn't that the truth? How come I could make a bomb out of store-cupboard staples but not a meal?

"Sorry. I'll find something else to occupy my time. I suppose another job would be the sensible thing."

He reached over and squeezed my hand. "You don't need to work. I've got plenty of money."

That may have been the case, but it didn't mean I enjoyed spending it. I'd always prided myself on being self-sufficient. Sponging off a man didn't sit well with me.

On Thursday, Luke dropped me off in town, and I spent a day rounding up Christmas presents from the list he'd hastily scribbled over breakfast. Wrapping was a bitch, and I got tape stuck to everything. Who did this for fun? Knots were a specialty of mine, though, so I went to town with the curly ribbon, and by the time I'd finished, the parcels looked passable.

But I still had one gift left to buy. What should I get Luke?

According to Wikipedia, The Times Rich List reckoned he was worth sixty million pounds. Glamour magazine had him at a more conservative fifty million in their "UK's 50 most eligible bachelors" feature last year. I could hardly get him a packet of socks and a paperback, could I?

Inspiration hit when I was standing in the den. The skis hanging on the wall reminded me of Luke's past love of winter sports, and didn't he say he hadn't seen snow for ages? I found an indoor ski centre nearby and booked us a session.

Despite time ticking by slowly, I had little to complain about. Luke was good company, and we spent our evenings watching TV, talking, and fucking. Okay, mostly the latter if I was honest. By the end of the week, the lines on Luke's forehead were less pronounced, and my numbness had receded a little more. The only sore point was my continued refusal to sleep in Luke's bed at night.

"Stay?" he'd asked yesterday evening.

"I can't."

He turned his back on me and pulled the duvet up to his chin. "Fine."

I thumped the wall on my way back to the guest room. Why couldn't my subconscious behave? I longed to return to Luke's side, but I'd be risking his life if I did.

The incident with Nick happened almost a decade ago, but when I closed my eyes, I still saw his bruised and bloodied face as if it were yesterday. One touch, that's all it had taken. He'd tried to comfort me as I writhed in the throes of a nightmare, and I'd attacked him. It took two people to pull me off, but not before I'd broken his nose and three of his ribs. One of the people who'd dragged me away was my husband.

Embarrassing much? I'd never even contemplated sleeping in the same bed as a man since.

Other, more disturbing, episodes had followed, and it was more by luck than judgement that I hadn't damaged anyone else. My house had borne the brunt of my night-time rampages, and I didn't want Luke to be next.

Breakfast on Saturday started off frosty, but Luke thawed out over coffee.

"Are you taking Tia to the stables today?" I asked.

"I'm due to pick her up in half an hour, but I can make an excuse if you want?"

"She hates me quite enough already without me monopolising your time."

"I could drop her off and come back. It's not as if she talks to me while we're there."

"She won't see it like that, trust me."

Trust me? I almost choked on those words. I barely trusted myself anymore.

Luke called me mid-morning from his hiding place in the feed room. "George's hired a replacement girl already."

"At least he hasn't shafted Susie and Hayley. What's she called?"

"No idea. I said hello, and she flipped out. Just kept staring at me. I thought she might be having one of those petit-mal seizures, and I nearly called an ambulance, but then Susie walked past and told her to snap out of it."

"Try looking less hot. That would solve the problem."

"You think I'm hot?"

"I wouldn't have sucked your cock last night if I didn't."

It was his turn to lose his train of thought. When he located his vocabulary again, he asked if I fancied going to the cinema when he got back.

"Why not? We can make out in the back row like teenagers."

Not that I'd ever done that—I'd be making up for lost time.

"It's a date."

Except that plan got scuppered when the first fat flakes of snow fell after lunch. When it snowed in the US, people hauled their big-ass trucks out of the garage, stuck snow chains on, and kept driving. In the UK, panic set in and the whole country ground to a halt.

Not wanting to break that great British tradition, we stayed at home. I started to make lunch, but Luke's appetite was for something else, and he led me upstairs.

"You can finish lunch after," he said.

"If I can still walk to the kitchen after, you don't deserve lunch."

"Challenge accepted."

Luke aced it, and it was him who ended up making the sandwiches. We ate cuddled in bed, watching the snow fall over his garden through the floor-to-ceiling windows. By mid-afternoon, a thick blanket of white covered the ground. On a hill in the distance, kids dragged their sleds up to the top before riding down, arms and legs flying.

I envied their freedom. I'd been trapped my whole life—first by circumstances, then finances, and finally by work. Living with Luke, my responsibilities got shoved on the back burner, and I had no commitments, just the company of a wonderful man who cared about me. Or at least, cared about the person he thought I was. But I was still shackled to my mind.

What direction would my life have taken if I'd been born into a family with loving parents, a brother or sister, and maybe a dog, instead of having a mother who treated me like the spawn of Satan and spent her days pretending I didn't exist? I'd never have met my husband, the man who taught me life was about living rather than merely existing, but I might have avoided a world of heartache.

What would have happened if I hadn't made the snap decision fourteen years ago to follow him to the other side of the world so he could turn me into what I was today? Would I be with a man like Luke, truly happy and content? Or lying in the gutter somewhere? I'd never know. I could only make the best of what I had now.

And as the snowstorm eased, I had a sudden urge to live my failed childhood. I got up and tugged my clothes on.

"Where are you going?" Luke asked.

"Come on, get dressed. Wear something warm!" I yelled over my shoulder as I ran towards the stairs.

Luke caught up with me as I got outside.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to build a snowman."

"A snowman? How old are you?"

Shit—for a minute, I couldn't remember. There was only one person in the world apart from me who knew my real birthday, so I just went off whatever passport I happened to be using.

"Uh, thirty-two. But I've never built a snowman before, so I think I'm entitled to have a go."

"Never? What sort of childhood did you have?"

"Not a great one," I admitted.

Luke sensed my change in mood and turned serious. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't even want to think about it. If I could erase it from my memory, I would. Can we just build the damn snowman?"

Luke wrapped me up in his arms and kissed my hair. "Sure."

Like I said, he was sweet.

By the time daylight dimmed, we had a rather lopsided snowman sitting in the middle of Luke's lawn, with a carrot for a nose and eyes made from dates. A cashmere scarf from Luke's wardrobe completed the ensemble.

"His head's wonky," Luke said.

He was right. The snowman was looking down at his feet. At least, he would have been if he had any.

"Maybe he's texting?" I suggested.

We gave him a pair of twiggy arms and stuck Luke's phone to them. Yeah, that worked. I took a few photos of the snowman then aimed the lens at Luke. This was one of those rare days I wanted to remember. I hated cameras, but I put up with it when Luke reclaimed his phone and made me pose—today I was determined to have fun.

Snow crunched underfoot as we walked back to the house. I couldn't resist—I bent and scooped up a handful, packed it into a ball, and launched it at Luke. He swiftly retaliated, and any pretence at being grown-ups stopped as we slung snowballs at each other across the garden.

"Where the hell did you learn to throw? Did you play baseball or something?" Luke yelled at me, ducking.

"No, just beginner's luck."

Beginner's luck my arse. It was incredibly useful to know I could throw an object and have it land bang on target, so I'd practised. A lot. I had a party trick with knives and fruit, but it wasn't appropriate to show that one to Luke.

Eventually, he gave up trying to hit me and braved the barrage to stuff snow down my jacket.

"Hey, that's freezing!"

I didn't want to fight back, so I tripped him instead. We both ended up lying in the snow, breathing hard. I rolled over and made a snow angel, flapping my arms and legs to form the wings and dress. Being a child was fun. When we started to get cold, we retired to the den and Luke lit a wood fire. The flames were soon leaping into the chimney.

"You have any marshmallows?" I asked.

Turned out he had a sweet tooth too, so I taught him how to make s'mores.

"Why haven't these caught on in England yet?" he asked with his mouth full.

I shrugged. "Who knows? I'll take these over pie and mash any day."

He squashed closer. "And I'll take you. What do you say we try out this rug?"

Making snacks in front of the fire turned into something rather more interesting as Luke discovered a new use for melted chocolate. The perfect end to a perfect afternoon.

But as with most things in my life, the perfection wasn't to last.