Author's Note: These last few see the characters as adults rather than children, so you will be meeting more original characters. The OCs in this story appear in several of my other stories. If you care to learn more about them, begin with Pictures of You about Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Also, it should be noted that I started this story first, and completed it last. In fact, I just finished the final read through. My apologies if it's rough.
Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling.
Dominique: Baby, It's Cold Outside
December 23, 2023
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Dominique asked without looking up.
She sat hunched by the wide sitting room window with her sketchpad propped awkwardly on her knees. Outside, the ground was covered in knee-high drifts of snow, the first rays of early morning sun bouncing brilliantly off the white expanse and filling the cottage with brightness. It was the perfect light for drawing, but lasted only a frustratingly short moment. Turning at the sound of the front door snapping shut, Dominique smiled broadly at her boyfriend, his poor frozen dog sitting at his feet.
"Kettle's on," she said.
"Och, you're a rare lass, Dom. What did I ever do before you?"
By the time the kettle whistled, Campbell Wood had stripped out of his boots and coveralls in the mudroom. Dominique had returned to her sketch, determined not to lose a moment of the good light. She glanced out the window at the house on the hill where Cam's Uncle Oliver and Aunt Katie lived, then selected two red pencils, wondering which most accurately matched the shutters on the old stone and clapboard house.
"What are you drawing, pretty girl?" Cam offered a steaming cup of tea to Dom, peering over the edge of her sketchpad.
Clasping the pad to her chest, Dominique shook her head and tutted, "It's not finished yet."
"You remind me of my nan when you do that," he said with a smirk.
Imitating her maman, Dominique scowled. "Go warm yourself by the fire if you're going to be a pest…but leave the tea."
Cam leaned in and kissed her, the bristle of his red beard scratching against Dominique's skin. He called it his winter beard, and apparently it would last the duration of the snow. Not that Dom minded. He was a mountain of a man with shoulders and height that no doorway seemed to accommodate. His pale skin was weathered and pink from working long hours in the out of doors, inked by a tattoo of a stand of trees beginning at his thick wrist and reaching up his powerful forearm towards his elbow. The beard just added to his rugged bearing, which thrilled Dom more than she cared to admit.
"You didn't answer my earlier question," Dom said as she resumed her drawing.
"What's that?" Cam sat with his back to the fire, and scratched behind the Border collie's ears with one work-hewed hand.
Dom glanced at him over her sketchbook. "Are you sure you don't want to come to France with me? I leave tonight, but you could follow. We won't begin celebrations until Christmas Eve."
Every year, her whole family traveled to her mother's childhood home to celebrate reveillon with Grand-mere and Grand-pere. They all donned beautiful frocks and went to Midnight Mass, then returned to the château to consume decadent foods and wines. Besides Papa, Maman, Victoire, Dominique, and Lou, the whole family now included Teddy and Lou's young wife, Amy. Despite being a Junior Auror, even Teddy had only missed one Christmas Eve.
It was so different from the holidays Dom celebrated at the Burrow with her millions of cousins, yet reveillon was a wondrous time. If she were honest, she desperately wanted to share it with Cam, but she had too much pride to admit that aloud.
"So?" Dom wheedled.
"Sorry, love, but a farmer has to get up to milk the cows on Christmas morning, too," Cam replied, shaking his head.
"Couldn't you get one of your uncles to milk the cows? Or your bloody brothers?"
The Woods may not number as many as the Weasleys, but their connections were even more confusing. Cam's dad died during the war, leaving Cam's mother a widow with an infant son, but there was no shortage of family. There were grandparents, dead uncles, live uncles, uncles who were more like fathers, an aunt, a step-father who was more like an uncle, cousins who were more like brothers, half-sisters, and of course, Belle. And that didn't even count Cam's Muggle side!
Dom knew the Wood boys a bit. They were Gryffindors, a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts. Bobby and Rory had been big Quidditch heroes, so everybody knew them. Besides, Bobby had given Dom more than one (well deserved) detention. It was no surprise that he was Auror now.
"Uncle Oliver and Rory both have matches on Christmas," Cam replied. "And Bobby pulled the midnight shift, not that I could trust either of those sods with the farm."
"What about your granddad?" Dom knew she was grasping at straws.
"He's got a bum leg. Nan's got him swaddled to within an inch of his life, and he's going stir crazy, but I'd be mad to cross Nan on this."
Dom didn't bother to mention Liam, Cam's step-dad who he good-naturedly referred to as a "city wizard". Some of her disappointment must have shown on her face because the next thing she knew, Cam was looming over her and pressing kisses against her lips.
"Don't fret," he murmured. "I'll be at the Burrow with you on New Year's, I promise."
"Of course," Dom replied.
"I'll make breakfast, you finish your sketch. You've only another twenty minutes of good light I would guess."
oOo
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Cam trudged into his cottage expecting it to be empty, but finding his mum in the kitchen. The smell of bannocks frying on the stove and the sight of Catriona Wood Williamson's righteous red hair took Cam back to his childhood. The dog whined, echoing Cam's feelings exactly.
"Leave your wet boots in the mudroom, and come have breakfast," Mum said by way of greeting.
"Mum, I've lived on my own for the last eight years, I know how to keep house," Campbell complained.
She smirked. "Well, you'd think you would have learned how to decorate for Christmas in all that time."
"I put up a tree," Cam protested as he hung his coveralls on the peg and set a drying charm on them to keep them from dripping on the flagstone.
"Throwing a few kernels of corn at an evergreen does not count as Christmas spirit. You should have let your little girlfriend decorate."
Cam snorted at that. Dominique was six feet tall; nobody called her little, not even his mum who was rather tall herself. Unless, of course, they were referring to the nearly six years that separated Cam and Dom in age.
"Where is Dom?" Mum asked, floating the bannocks onto a platter and over to the table.
"France," Cam replied, retrieving two plates from the cupboard.
"Without you?"
"Are you meddling? Where are the girls?"
It was only last week that he'd seen his half-sisters, Sophie and Haddie, when they returned from Hogwarts. They were teenagers now, which seemed like an impossibility to Cam, yet true. He could remember being that age, all he'd wanted to do as soon as he got off the train was go directly to Diagon Alley to meet up with his school mates.
"Up at the house with Katie and Belle," Mum replied. "Don't change the subject."
"From decorating the tree?"
"No." Mum gave him a look. "From Dominique. Why aren't you in France with her? Didn't she invite you? I got the impression that you two were quite serious."
Resigning himself to the coming interrogation, Cam sat at the table and plopped some bacon onto his plate. From his first Hogwarts girlfriend, Mum had taken a very hands-off approach to the subject of Cam and girls—unless he counted the countless lectures on contraceptive charms and chivalry. Dominique was a different story. Mum wasn't off the mark about how serious things were between Dominique and Campbell, and at an alarmingly quick pace. But it was more than that. Dom was the daughter of Cam's late father's best friend. Mum felt protective of Dominique, even referring to her more than once as "Bill Weasley's little girl."
"I can't just take off to France whenever I want, can I?" Cam told his mum. "I was thinking of putting in a window seat in the sitting room."
"With bookshelves on either side, that would be nice," Mum agreed. "You should get your granddad down here to supervise, he'd be grateful for an excuse to get out of the house. Now don't change the subject! Are you telling me you are in Scotland rather than France to milk those bloody cows?"
"And collect the eggs and feed the sheep and that devil horse you keep up here. I'm a farmer, Mum, I don't get days off. Best for Dom to learn that now."
She gave him a withering look. If he'd been sixteen, Cam would have cowered. Now, he just tucked into eggs to avoid it. They were right on schedule: first the food, second the pointed questions, third the dirty looks, and lastly would be the sage advice that Cam didn't really want but listened to anyway.
"Well," Mum said and sat back in her chair with a cup of tea. "You're a grown man, I reckon you know what's best."
Now this was new.
Cam narrowed his eyes. "Are you having me on? I sense a trap in all of this."
"If you want to bollocks things up with Bill's daughter, go right ahead. I certainly can't stop you. Stubborn as an old goat."
"Aye, and where did I get that from?"
"Your father."
"And since he died when I was a wee bairn, forgive me if I don't believe you. Your ruddy Patronus is a goat."
Mum snorted.
oOo
"Dom, come play chess with me."
Stopping in the hallway, Dominique peered around the door into her parents' room at the château. Papa sat by the hearth with a chess set perched on top of a spindly-legged table before him. One corner of his mouth tugged into a grin that she thought was meant to be friendly, but looked more like that of the fox before he ate the hen.
"I'm supposed to be getting ready for tonight," Dom said, not budging from her spot.
"That's hours from now," Papa scoffed as if he didn't have more than twenty years of experience with Fleur Weasley's pre- reveillon beauty regiment.
Dom poked her nose into the air and affected her mother's accent, "And beauty does not happen in an instant, you silly man."
"It does for you. C'mon, humor your old man."
Dom stalked into the room, and sat down across the table from him. "Well, I was intending to save Amy from Maman's clutches. Be it on your head if Lou's wife runs screaming from the house."
"I will assume full responsibility."
"I wasn't likely to distract her without Vic's help anyway. When will she and Teddy get here?"
"After her final performance," Dad replied, and instructed a pawn to move. "With luck, they'll make it just in time for Mass."
It was easy imagine her beautiful sister rushing from the stage of the London Wizarding Philharmonic, Teddy in tow, for a last minute international portkey. Never let it be said that Weasleys didn't do things in a frenzy, even if that Weasley was now a Lupin. Although, Dominique wasn't sure if she really missed her sister or not. It would be just one more happy couple stuffed into the château.
Dominique had never really noticed just how romantic this time of year was, which was utterly ridiculous. Of course it was romantic; it was bloody France! They were in a lovely home surrounded by the most delicate of snow, a Christmas tree in every room, and wine practically flowing from the spigots. It's not like Dom had missed the fact that mistletoe hung over every door, or that her parents, and even grandparents, spent the day exchanging giggling kisses. With exceptional violence, Dom took her father's rook.
"You're drawing blood early," Papa commented over steepled fingers. "It's almost as if something were bothering you."
Dom glared at him, but Papa just smirked and trapped her bishop.
"So," Papa drawled some time later when he had most of Dom's chess pieces in a dusty pile of debris. "I was hoping Campbell would be joining you this year."
Dom eyed her knight, unsure if she wanted to move him or not. "So did I."
"Is that why you keep giving Lou and Amy dirty looks?"
"She feeds him off her fork, it's utterly disgusting."
Papa chuckled, his cheeks turning a bit red. "Some might say it's sweet."
"And some of us are trying to keep our supper down."
"You sound like your Aunt Ginny."
Giving into the inevitable, Dom told her knight to move—no point in trying to protect the queen, this game was done for. She didn't need her father's needling to remind her that she was being overly sensitive about her brother and his wife. It was lowering to admit that she was jealous. Propping her head against her fist, Dom watched the destruction of her queen with dispassion.
Christmas Eve dawned with the recognition that Cam had somehow managed to condition her to rise before the sun, and that he wouldn't be coming to France after all. Dom reckoned she'd been holding out hope that he would change his mind. It's not like she'd never been able to talk him around to her way of thinking before, but Cam knew his own mind. And, Dom had to concede that the farm did take precedence. It's not like he could pick up and leave town on a whim, which was something Dom had taken for granted in her life.
"So, are you just jealous that you don't have anybody to snog in a dark corner?" Papa asked as he replaced all of the pieces on the board.
"No! Maybe a little." Dom leaned back in her chair, frowning. "It's not like that. For one, Cam doesn't fit into corners, dark or otherwise."
Papa chuckled. "We'll have to check the Wood line for giants."
"He knew Teddy at Hogwarts, and he's met most of the Weasleys, but I wanted to show him this part of my world," Dom admitted. "I wanted to introduce him to Grand-mere and Grand-pere."
"It's that serious?"
"It was that serious before I ever knew his name."
"Then you told him how important this was to you, I assume?"
Dom glared, and Papa smirked.
"Ah, I see. He was meant to read your mind, was he?" Papa shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, love."
She crossed her arms and huffed.
"Dom," Papa said more seriously, his blue eyes pinning her down. "I know something about the Weasley pride. It's never done anything but cause pain—if you don't believe me ask your Uncles Percy and Ron."
"I know, Papa."
"Do you? I don't think you do. I like Cam, and I would rather not watch you bollocks this up. Do us all a favor: swallow your pride and tell the man how you feel."
The truth of what Papa said made Dom squirm in her chair. She hated it when he was right, but it scared her, too. She was being forced to recognize just how immature she'd been in not telling Cam why she was so desperate to have him come to France, or even that she was desperate. It fed into all of the misgivings Cam had about their relationship from the beginning, and this was one area she didn't want to see him proven right.
oOo
The magical tape measure flicked from one wall to the next, shimmering red numbers appearing in the air that Cal Wood jotted down on a piece of parchment. Cam leaned on the back of a winged chair and watched. It had only occurred to him to build a window seat a few days ago when he'd seen Dom drawing by the window. Now there was a stack of lumber in his sitting room and his Granddad was taking measurements. Proof, Cam was sure, that the old man was bored out of his gourd with the enforced convalesce he'd been enduring since he fell off his broomstick a week ago.
"Make us a cuppa, would ya?" Granddad winked. "And put some whisky in it."
"Aye, sir."
"Better make enough for three, that's yer Uncle Oliver coming down the lane now."
Not five minutes later, Uncle Oliver strode into the cottage complaining about 'women' and 'not a minute's peace' and 'giggling'. Cam knew that the big house had been invaded, besides Aunt Katie and his cousin Belle, there was Nan, Mum, and his two sisters. The Wood family home had rarely seen so much estrogen at once. Handing Uncle Oliver a mug of whisky fortified tea, Cam couldn't help but smirk at his uncle's harried expression.
"And you are their favorite topic of conversation," Oliver said and sipped his tea. "Another splash of whisky, I think."
"Me? Why are they talking about me?" Cam started to pour the whisky, but his uncle took the bottle. At that rate, it would be more booze than tea.
"Generally, all the lassies agree that you're an idiot."
Cam scowled.
Granddad chuckled and took the bottle off of Uncle Oliver. "Don't look so cross, lad, there's not a man worth his salt who hasn't made an arse of himself over a woman."
"Aye, when I was at Hogwarts, I once broke the nose of a rival Quidditch Captain because he insulted Katie," Oliver said. "And that was more than three years before we got together."
"And how do ya think I came to fall off my broomstick? I was trying to prove to yer nan that I wasn't that old. I've been walking around with this thing ever since." He waved his cane in the air and frowned at it.
"So you're saying it's genetic?" Cam asked dryly.
"Have a seat, lad," Granddad said, and hobbled over to the settee.
The grin fell from Cam's face. He sensed a lecture in the offing, and he didn't much appreciate it. Prior to Dominique, he'd had two girlfriends serious enough to bring home, but neither of them invited this level of meddling from his family. Cam wasn't sure how he felt about this. On one hand, he reckoned that it meant his family liked Dominique, which was a good thing. On the other, they all seemed to think he was a ham-fisted prat who didn't know how to handle his own business, and that rankled.
"I think I'll stand, thank you," Cam grunted.
"Suit yerself," Granddad said with a shrug. "Yer mum seems to think yer trying to prove a point to Dominique."
Uncle Oliver whistled. "You're in trouble there, lad."
Color rose up in Cam's cheeks. He felt like he was a child being called onto the carpet. He didn't like it. Since he was eighteen, he'd managed his life, his business, and his love affairs on his own. It's not as if he didn't ask for help when he needed it because he did. When he wanted to sink the money his parents had so carefully set aside for him into turning the family estate into a farm, Granddad and his uncles had helped him clear the land and build fences. Aunt Katie had taught him to do the books and set up accounts. But none of them presumed to tell him what crops to plant, or what livestock to buy, because Cam had turned himself into an expert in those matters.
The farm had been his dream since before he went to Hogwarts. He might have been lucky enough to have the land and money to create it, but that didn't mean it hadn't required a lot of hard work to get here. Just learning the every day charms used in farming had been a grueling task. And in the end, no witch had wanted to settle down to the life of a farmer's wife with its constant demands that began before dawn each day of the year.
"I'm not trying to prove anything," Cam denied, his fingers so tense around his mug that the knuckles were white.
"You know your ears turn red when you lie," Oliver said.
"Ollie," Granddad admonished quietly.
Perversely, Cam was glad he wasn't the only one being scolded.
"What's the problem, son?" the old man asked, leaning back into the cushions of the settee.
Cam gave in, and sat down in the chair next to his uncle's. "Dom, she's young, a lot younger than me. She's flush with the excitement of new love right now, but what happens when that wears off?"
"You think she'll fall out of love with you?"
Did he? Down deep in the pit of his heart, the answer was no, but there were several layers of fear over that. At first, Cam had thought Dom was a high-flyer. Accustomed to partying and glamour, things that were not a part of Cam's life. Of course, she'd proven him wrong. Dom was just as at home in Nan's garden, or playing board games with his sisters as she was in a sequined skirt and high heels. Still, he kept waiting for her to tire of rising with the cockcrow or going to bed with the sun or the mud caked on his boots. All the others had.
"She's just so young," Cam repeated, because it made an easy excuse.
"You think she doesn't know her own mind," Granddad said, and took a sip of his tea.
"Katie was younger than your Dom when I married her," Uncle Oliver offered.
"Because you got her pregnant," Cam reminded his uncle.
Uncle Oliver turned red, and Cam dearly hoped that was the end of that conversation. He would be disappointed.
"And yer parents were just twenty when they married," Granddad said. "I've rarely known two people so in love. And of course, yer nan was just twenty-one when I tricked her into marrying me, and there's nearly as many years between the two of us as there is between you and Dominique. A good woman is not something you let slip away if you can help it."
"That's all good and fine," Cam argued. "But what if Dom doesn't want to be here?"
"And what if she does?" Uncle Oliver returned.
Cam had just about all of this conversation as he could stomach. He was beginning to think this would be a very long holiday if all anybody wanted to talk about was his love life and how he couldn't manage it. If Granddad was on him about Dom, Cam could just imagine what Nan would have to say on the subject.
"Regardless, I still don't have anybody to look after the farm," Cam said.
"Well then, it's a good thing your old mum was raised on a farm wasn't it?"
All three men looked towards the mudroom from which Catriona had just materialized.
"What about Liam and the girls?" Cam argued. "You'll want to have Christmas morning with them."
"And so I will," Mum replied. "Liam's been called off to some emergency in the Auror department, so the girls and I will stay here while you, my son, skiv off to France."
"Problem fixed," Uncle Oliver said happily.
"This…this reveillon is a formal affair. What would I wear?" Cam blustered, wide-eyed and breathless.
"That's what a kilt is for, lad," Granddad replied and chuckled.
"And how will I get a portkey to France at this late notice?" Cam demanded.
"Good thing I have connections in the Department of Magical Transportation," Oliver grinned.
For a moment, Cam sat like a lump in his chair. He didn't know how he felt about this turn of events. Te couldn't remember ever being so annoyed with his meddling family. Still…he could be with Dom in just a few short hours.
"Upstairs to pack," Mum instructed, pointing at the stairs. "And I don't want to see you until Boxing Day, is that clear?"
oOo
The stark beauty of a snowstorm in the night was made more so by the fear it brought. Midnight was nearing, but gusts of wind swirled snow before the window where Dom stood, promising exquisite disaster. In one corner, Papa was reassuring Maman. Vic and Teddy weren't here yet, and if they didn't arrive soon, and the weather grew more fierce…
Dom looked away from her parents to the raging storm beyond the glass. She didn't belong here. The realization came on Dom with such a force that she pressed her hand to her aching heart. This year, every year, she belonged by Cam's side at Christmas, and she need to tell him that.
"Maman!" Dom rushed over to her parents, who stared at her with faces pinched with worry. "I have to go, I'm sorry."
"Go?" Maman echoed. "What do you mean?"
"She needs to be in Scotland," Papa replied, his eyes twinkling.
For one moment, Maman looked ready to argue, but then she hugged her daughter tightly. "It is a very good zing zat I know how to create a portkey."
"Isn't that illegal?" Dom asked.
"Bah! Who cares about such zings when true love is at stake."
oOo
Pulling his hood more closely around him, Cam used his wand to light the way as he trudged up the drive to the Delacour home. The portkey had deposited him outside the gates of the estate, but it was still a long walk to the house. With the wind and snow blowing under his cloak, Cam wished rather fervently that he had not changed into his kilt before leaving Scotland.
Arriving at the front door, he applied the knocker with numb fingers, and waited. A few moments later, a portly man with a white mustache opened the portal, staring at Cam as if he were a beggar. Whipping off his dragon hide glove, Cam offered his hand.
"I'm Campbell Wood, sir," he said. "You're granddaughter, Dominique, invited me."
"Campbell?" Fleur Weasley appeared behind her father, her brow furrowed. "Oh, no."
She said something else after that little utterance that Cam had heard Dom say before. He was pretty sure it was French for 'bugger all'. To say the least, this was a bit worrying, but Cam barely had time to reflect on that before he was being pulled into the warmth of the house.
"Fleur, I just got word from Percy and all the portkeys to France were just cancelled due to the blizzard," Bill Weasley said, striding in from another room. He stopped, staring at Cam, then muttered, "Shite."
oOo
While her mother may know how to create (illegal!) portkeys, her accuracy was a bit off. Dom found herself pitched into a snowdrift on the side of a country lane. With the acres of snow and miles of stars surrounding her, Dom wasn't even sure if she were near Red's Wood, or not. However, she was quite positive that her sparkly, navy frock was soaking wet. Clutching her wand in her mittened hands, Dom pictured Cam's sitting room and turned on the spot.
An instant later, Dom popped into the warmth of her boyfriend's cottage. The house was dark just as she expected. Girlish screams, on the other hand, were a surprise. Hastily, lighting the candles on the mantle, Dom found Cam's little sisters starring wide-eyed at her from camp beds wedged between the settee and the chairs.
"Girls! I told you to go to sleep." Catriona strode in from the small guest room, the tip of her wand lit. At the sight of Dom, her eyes also went wide. "Oh dear."
"I came back," Dom blurted.
"I can see that," Catriona replied. "And I've just sent Cam to France."
Dom nearly screamed with frustration.
The next forty-five minutes were spent trying to get her Uncle Percy on the Floo, only to be disappointed by news of the blizzard. There would be no returning to France until the next morning at the earliest. After checking in with Vic and Teddy, whose portkey had been cancelled, Dom flung herself onto the sofa. Catriona had sent the girls to sleep in Cam's room earlier, so Dom was alone in the firelight.
"No luck?"
Looking up, Dom saw Cam's mum carrying two tumblers of Firewhisky.
"None," Dom said, accepting the alcohol gratefully.
"You'll be together next Christmas Eve," Catriona said, patting her shoulder.
Dom brightened at that, but she tried not to betray the giddy feeling gathering in her chest. "How can you be so certain?"
"Because Cam is like me when I was first in love with his father. He's a doubter, but he wants to believe in your love so badly he can almost touch it. He'll come around, just wait and see."
"I hate waiting."
Catriona laughed. "I didn't say you couldn't give him a few strategic nudges in the right direction and a wee kick in the arse for good measure." With that, she stood to return to her room. "See you bright and early, love?"
"Yes. Happy Christmas."
oOo
Christmas morning dawned with blue skies over the Delacour home, and Cam met it with singular determination, even if Fleur Weasley did not. She may have been a bit hung over, but more than happy to reunite Cam with her daughter. One portkey and a snowdrift later, Cam found himself striding up the path to his own Scottish home.
It was the kind of morning he was all too used to for its bitterness and its beauty. The snows winked and dazzled like diamonds under the sun's thin winter beams. The cold air was crisp, slapping his face and turning his breath to vapor. Just yards ahead of him, his small cottage stood, its chimney exhaling into the air, and the snow tucked under its windows.
And in the garden, wearing some dusty, green overalls and an orange muffler around her neck, was Dominique. She carried the old wired basket Cam used to collect the eggs, and following happily at her heels was his dog. For a moment, Cam stopped where he was to watch Dom use her wand to whip up snowballs for the dog to chase. He could hear her laughter as the dog careened into the front steps in his pursuit.
If Cam had been searching for a sign, some mystical message that told him it was okay to trust his heart—and hers—he'd been looking in all the wrong places. There was Dominique Weasley on Christmas morning, on his family land, wearing coveralls that had holes in the elbows, performing the endless chores, and playing with the smelly dog. That warm light of hope he'd been carrying for her grew inside Cam's heart until the fears were mere shadows.
Rushing forward, Cam called out her name.
Dom turned, a smile brightening her face. She threw a hand out to stop him from scooping her up. "Whoa! Eggs!" She held up her basket.
"Sod the eggs," Cam replied, going in for a crushing hug only to be stopped again.
"And kitten." Dom unzipped the coveralls to reveal the white and ginger face of a small calico. "Her name is Marmalade and we had a wee chat in which she informed me that she is a cottage cat."
Cam shook his head. He'd told Dom a dozen times that the cats stayed in the barn.
"Dominique." One of his arms meandered around her waist, his other hand twisting in her hair, to pull her very gingerly against him. "Just this one cat."
"I'll let you believe that for now," she replied with a smirk that Cam was happy to kiss off her face.
Leaning his forehead against hers, Cam cleared his throat. "My mum has been good enough to point out that I'm a stubborn git."
"That's funny," Dom replied, pressing her gloved hand against his cheek. "My papa went out of his way to point out that I'm overly prideful."
"I don't think it's something I can overcome, but I'd like to try for you."
"There's an awful lot I'd do for you." Dom leaned her body against his, nuzzling her head into his chest.
Cam wrapped his arms more securely around her. "I see that now."
"But first, I'd like to get warm." Grabbing his hand, and tugging him towards the cottage, Dom nattered on, "My sister is here. She's supposed to be helping your sisters make a proper French breakfast."
"In Scotland?" Cam smiled.
"I didn't say it wasn't going to be a challenge."
Inside, Cam found that Christmas had come home. The tree glowed with a hundred fairy lights, paper chains and painted pinecones hanging from the boughs. Giggles accompanied the smells of cinnamon and baking bread from the kitchen, and Celestina Warbeck was on the wireless. There was even mistletoe hanging in the door. Cam's eyes stole away to Dom.
"What?" she asked, laying her hat and muffler on the bench, her hair sweaty and matted against her forehead.
Taking her hands, Cam maneuvered her under the mistletoe for a lingering kiss.
"Happy Christmas," he murmured against her lips.
A/N2: Please leave a review!