Their One-Night Christmas Gift

‘I just have an overnight bag in the car, but I can manage that myself. As I said, this was a spur-of-the-moment visit.’

‘Ah, yes. The talk. Is this about what happened in London? I must admit it’s been harder to put out of my mind than I’d imagined too.’ He was moving towards her and Harriet’s heart leapt into her throat at the thought of him kissing her again. She wanted it so much but that’s not what had brought her here.

‘I’m pregnant, Charles.’

His outstretched arms immediately fell limply to his sides. ‘Pardon me?’

She sat down on the edge of the bed, wishing it would swallow her up. ‘That night in London... I’m pregnant.’

Charles collapsed onto the mattress beside her. ‘But—but we took precautions.’

‘The first time,’ she reminded him with as much of a smile as she could muster when she was wound up tighter than a drum, waiting for his reaction.

The second time had happened later, when they had both been naked under the covers and he’d reached for her, keen to do things at a slower pace and drive her wild with want before he had his way with her again. The third time, in the early hours of the morning, when she’d reached for him, knowing they would have to part again.

Conception could have happened at any point during those few passionate hours together. They’d simply been too wrapped up in each other, literally, to care. Well, they would now.

He dropped his head into his hands and she waited for him to process the information.

‘Are you sure? Have you done a test?’

‘Yes, Charles. I wouldn’t have driven all this way otherwise.’ She understood this was a shock to him, her too, but questioning her common sense wasn’t going to make the situation go away.

‘I gave up on plans for a family after we broke up. With very good reason. I don’t have time to spare for babies and all the baggage that comes with them.’ He was on his feet now, pacing the room like a caged animal. Trapped and unsure how to get out.

‘Believe me, becoming a mother wasn’t in my immediate plans either but here we are. I only came here to tell you about the baby because I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t say I wanted anything from you. You had no room in your life for me, I wouldn’t expect it to be different for your child.’ If he thought she’d waited until she was at the peak of her career to seduce him, get pregnant and force him back into her life, he’d really forgotten who she was.

‘That night was supposed to be a bit of fun. One last hurrah before we went our separate ways again. A baby means the complete opposite. We’ll be tied together for ever now. If I’d wanted that I would’ve saved us the heartbreak of splitting up twelve years ago.’

‘Okay. You’ve made your point. I don’t think there’s anything left for us to say.’ She should never have come here. Despite whatever flicker of hope she may have harboured for a different response, Charles had proved he hadn’t changed. He still had the capacity to let her down. She’d managed this far on her own and she was sure she could raise this baby alone too. It was preferable to Charles feigning interest, only to have him bail out later and make their child suffer too.

Harriet was pregnant. It was his fault for not protecting her, for getting carried away, and not thinking about the consequences of his actions. Again.

When she’d turned up on the doorstep tonight he’d hoped it was because she’d wanted a replay of that night in London. Perhaps an extended version that would have taken them into the New Year instead of one night. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to get that time together out of his head, but this was a whole different scenario.

He was waiting, hating this ridiculous sweater more than ever, for Harriet to give him some sort of clue what he was supposed to do next. Instead, she slowly rose from the bed, crossed the floor and walked out the door. It wasn’t the response he’d expected but some space would be good. Esme could keep her entertained and when he’d digested the news they could sit down and plan the next move.

Any second now Esme would come bowling up the stairs and deliver a knock-out punch once she heard what had happened. He was surprised Harriet hadn’t done just that after the way he’d spoken to her. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to finding out he was going to be a father and one he’d apologise for once this sank in. He was angry at himself, not her, when his selfish needs had resulted in this life-changing news. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was complicate her life.

Harriet’s response to his outburst was reminiscent of that awful day of his father’s funeral. She hadn’t slapped him then either, the way most women would have. Silently crying, she’d simply packed her things and walked out. He hadn’t seen or heard from her again until that conference.

At the sound of a car engine running outside, Charles rushed to the window in time to see Harriet driving away. It was déjà vu, except he couldn’t claim his actions, or lack of them now, had been in any way for her benefit.

‘Charles, what the hell have you done?’ Esme arrived, as he’d known she would, temper flaring, fists balling, ready for a fight.

‘Not now.’

‘You must have said something to make her leave like that. Are you really just going to stand here and watch her go? Again?’ That was the ultimate question. What they were going to do about the baby, how he felt about Harriet and what they did next were incidental if he let her go without a fight again. She was a successful surgeon in her own right with no need for him or his money. He was the one standing to lose out here.

‘Tell everyone to go home. The party’s over.’ He left Esme to break up the gathering before dashing downstairs to retrieve his own car keys. His child wasn’t going to grow up thinking its father was a disappointment, like the rest of his family had.

This was one time he could do the right thing without waiting until it was too late. He couldn’t live with any more guilt and regret. Losing his father and brother had taught him not to be selfish, and unless he wanted to lose his child too he had to think about the needs of its mother. That didn’t include being upset by her baby’s father. Not when she’d driven the whole way to Scotland to tell him personally on Christmas Day. Something a person would only do if they had no one else to turn to.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DID YOU HONESTLY expect him to react any differently? What were you hoping for? A happy-ever-after? Stupid woman!’ Harriet chastised herself in the mirror as she drove away.

She’d given him the chance to be involved in the baby’s life and he wasn’t interested. End of story. It was his loss. She knew where she stood and that wasn’t with Charles by her side. She could raise this child alone. It would be better for her and the child. At least it was apparent she’d be parenting on her own from the beginning, unlike her poor mother.

Coming here had been a reminder that night in London had been nothing more than a fantasy. The real Charles was entrenched in family tradition and duty with no room for anyone else in his life. Harriet was an independent city girl. She didn’t belong here. She hated the fact it still hurt that he didn’t want her, whatever the circumstances.

Perhaps she’d convinced herself something had changed between them after their escapade in that hotel room, and not merely on a physical level. Deep down she’d hoped he’d be pleased to see her again because, even before realising she was pregnant, she’d wondered about rekindling their relationship. Sentimentality and lust over common sense, but she hadn’t been thinking with her head lately. That’s how she’d ended up in this mess.

Charles Ross-Wylde had altered the course of her life again, sending her down a road she’d never planned to take. Now she simply had to make the best of it, the way she had the last time. Only instead of becoming a successful surgeon, her next goal was to become a good mother too.

Bright lights began strobing around her, disturbing the pitch-black night. A glance in her rear-view mirror revealed a car, flashing its headlights at her and now blaring its horn. Someone from the house had followed her and was trying to get her attention. Esme, no doubt, had figured out something was amiss and was coming to persuade her to go back. There was no way Charles would’ve told his sister about the baby when he didn’t want it messing up his life. It was likely to be her good heart making her chase after someone who was virtually a stranger now.

Although Harriet had no intention of going back with her, she would put Esme’s mind at ease because she held no bad feelings towards her. She indicated and pulled into the side of the road. The sooner they said their goodbyes, the sooner she could leave Heatherglen behind her for ever.

She stepped out onto the grass verge, but the headlights continued to blind her as she waited for the driver to get out. It wasn’t until the very tall, very male silhouette drew closer that she realised it wasn’t Esme who’d flagged her down.

‘I have nothing to say to you. At least, nothing very ladylike,’ she threw at Charles, hurrying back towards her car. He probably wanted her to sign some sort of gagging order to prevent her from claiming her unborn child had any right to the estate.

Her attempt to open her car door was thwarted as Charles grabbed her arm and spun her around. ‘I’m sorry, Harriet. I reacted badly.’

‘You think?’ She tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp. It was going to be harder to continue hating him if he insisted on touching her, reminding her of an intimacy they could never have again.

‘Come back to the house so we can talk.’ He didn’t let go of her, but he did loosen his grip.

‘Why? You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be part of this.’

‘I’m sorry. It was a shock to the system, that’s all. We both know I was a very willing participant that night, and the following morning.’ His cheeky grin did things to her insides, which apparently shouldn’t be acted on.

Goodness, she needed him to stop teasing her with enough delicious memories to block out the more hideous ones. Twice now he’d let her down in the most callous way. The last time she’d forgotten not to trust him and had let her hormones do the talking she’d ended up pregnant.

‘I should’ve called instead of coming here.’ That was one thing she was sure about and something he’d agree with when she’d spoiled his Christmas.

‘No. I’m glad you came. Look, it’s late and freezing cold out here. Why don’t you just come back to the house? The talking can wait.’

It was tempting when her stomach was rumbling and the tip of her nose was so cold she was convinced it had turned blue. She thought of the lovely roaring fire in the lounge and the banquet of food spread out and going to waste. Pregnancy apparently had lowered the price of her pride. If she went back with him it would be for the baby’s sake. They had things to sort out. It was the whole reason she was here. It definitely wasn’t anything to do with the man still holding her, dressed in that ridiculous sweater his little sister had knitted for him.

‘I don’t have anywhere else to go, I suppose.’ She didn’t fancy traipsing around town, knocking on doors and hoping to find room at an inn.

‘That’s settled, then. You’re coming home with me.’ If only he meant that as something other than a polite host she’d be reassured he’d had a change of heart where the baby was concerned. This was more about him saving face in front of his family and friends. She shouldn’t get too carried away with the idea that he’d finally stepped up to be the man she’d always believed he was deep down. For now, she’d take advantage of the food and lodgings being offered because it suited her and meant she’d no longer be putting her unborn child at risk out here in the Scottish wilderness.

‘Fine.’ She got back into her car, but nothing had changed. Except perhaps his conscience getting the better of him at letting the mother of his child disappear into the night.

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