A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

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What the sillanpää?! Is there a very specific order of business with an established schedule for this sort of a thing?!

"I'd have to wait till at least the seventh to see if it's worth the effort."

Billie's eyes boggled. She realised that it was the very first time in her life when her habitual internal lampooning had become external lampooning. Billie Harewicke thought sarcasm; she never spoke it.

Dair snorted. "Worth the w-wait. But you see, cuore," he purred and placed three feather light kisses along her jaw, "my p-plan was to c-convince you after one."

Billie shuddered. "Convince me of what?"

"To p-put your every effort in."

She was starting to pant.

"What's the farm, Federico?" Billie asked, somehow still faking a strict tone.

"That w-won't do, cuore," he rumbled, and suddenly his hand clasped around the back of her neck, hot and controlling. "Only c-call me that when you're angry with me–" He pulled her in and kissed her almost roughly. "Or when you're all in. Agreed?"

Billie stared at him, thoroughly overwhelmed; and he carefully picked her up under her arms and deposited her back on her seat.

"C'mon, l-let me show you," he said and started the car again.

When she was fastening her seat belt, she noted how much her hands were shaking. What she definitely hadn't noted was at what point it had started snowing.

***

He parked and got out of his dreadnought. When he opened the door for her, Billie threw a concerned look up.

"It's properly picking up," she muttered.

She stretched her arms to him, without thinking; and he chortled.

"G-good idea, polpetta. It's d-deep."

He scooped her up; and she saw he sank into the fresh snow that reached his knees.

Billie frowned. "The storm wasn't promised till tomorrow evening."

Dair turned away from the road, and she studied the landscape before her.

"It's the Fergusson farm. Alexander bought it, didn't he? There was all that barney with his older brother, and–"

That was when she noticed several large construction vehicles tucked against a long barn. Dair started walking, confidently 'ploughing' through the drifts, towards the farm house. Billie recalled that it had been damaged in a fire four years ago; but it seemed to have been renovated now.

"Um, Eric, I'm sort of worried about all this snow," she muttered, studying the heavy clouds again.

Several large clusters of snowflakes landed on her glasses and her nose; and she scrunched her face, holding back a sneeze.

"L-let's get inside quicker then."

She expected him to put her down to open the door to the house, and she braced herself for a nasty contact with snow that would definitely sneak under her trousers on her ankles. Instead, Dair bent his right leg, pressed his knee into the wall, and propped her on his thigh like on a bench. She frantically grabbed his shoulder, steadying herself. He dug out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door with one hand, supporting her lower back with his other. There was an alarm box inside; and he swapped the key for his phone, and disarmed the security system. Billie was gently placed inside, and then he stomped his feet and stepped in.

A light switch clicked, and Billie looked around. The house was clearly freshly refurbished inside, but empty. They were standing in a large hall, the only piece of furniture inside was an antique woodburner in the corner.

"Initially, it w-was supposed to be an animal sanctuary. And th-then we thought we could have visitors, and p-programmes for children with special needs. Th-therapy animals, a p-petting zoo, that sort of thing." Dair ruffled his hair, shaking snow out of it. "C-come, there's an office over there."

He took her hand and led her through a side door. The smaller room had a double desk, two chairs, several document cabinets, a safe, and a large board on the wall. Billie gawked at what surely was a 'mind map' of a special education programme.

"When he s-stayed with us in Lucca, we k-kept discussing a p-place like that. He's got ASD, we're both dyslexic. B-being around animals always helped us both."

He walked up to the board and tapped his finger on a photo pinned to it. Billie saw a child, both legs in braces, sitting on a horse. A gasp fell from her lips.

"It's you!"

"I h-had surgeries on both of my knees. I c-couldn't walk, and Babbo found me a place to ride. I'd g-go every day." His gaze was distant. "Th-that was the only way I could sleep."

"Who's Babbo?" Billie whispered.

"My father." Dair's face softened. "You'll l-like him. The only t-time he hasn't got a book in his hand is when he's asleep. Th-then it's under his ch-cheek."

She suspected the joke was well-practised, perhaps an old family chestnut; which only made her heart flutter more. She was being included into the family lore of Rhys T. Holyoake, the Genius Boy Detective, one of her most beloved children's book protagonists!

The little Dair in the picture resembled the man standing next to her more than the boy she remembered from that Summer: he was thinned, his shoulders wide, his arms visibly toned. She remembered his comment about a pull-up bar and being confined to his room for ten months. Her hand flew up to the photo, seemingly without her will; and she brushed the tips of her fingers to the face, both strange and already so familiar.

"N-neither of us is p-planning to work here, but I d-do love horses," he said, watching her intently. "I k-kept up with my riding. There are p-plenty of skilled people in the county. W-we thought we c-could offer sessions for schools, special facilities, and so on. Jackie h-helped us with the paperwork, grant applications, permits. There's an area on the edge of the old field that is a rich wildlife habitat. We've applied for the Site of Special Scientific Interest status. If it gets approved, it'll receive a conservation designation denoting a protected area; which, in turn, will facilitate forming an independent charitable trust later."

The more he talked, the livelier he sounded. He pointed at computer-generated images and photographs on the board, his gestures assured and commanding attention. There was no stammer, either.

"Alexander is communicating with a group of educators from Canada," he continued. "They launched what is called a 'nature classroom' project three years ago in Ontario; and they are willing to collaborate with us on creating a similar programme here. Once we have the facilities and the curriculum, we're looking at day trips; camping; living history, nature, outdoor skill training; team-building."

His enthusiasm was arresting. Billie's gaze moved from one photograph to another, from a sketch to a floor plan; and with his explanations, they weren't just flat images anymore, but the clear and enchanting vision of 'a supporting, peaceful environment that will inspire children to understand and value nature and the outdoors.'

"And then you came to dinner, polpetta, and planted the idea of a library into Rhys' head," Dair added with a laugh. "I sort of hoped something could come out of the two of you chinwagging, but I didn't expect you to–" He gestured, as if chopping the air with his hand; puffed out his cheeks; and then made an exposure-like noise. "Rovesciata!" He guffawed. "You're amazing, cuore! He already got Jackie involved, and the Primary school; and they now think that a library and a SEND media centre might be just what the Monte Cristo Farm needs!"