Their Christmas Family Miracle

Well, that sounded like a quote, she thought, and her heart sank. It was bad enough enduring the humiliation of one verbal battering. The last thing she needed was to go back down there now he’d drawn breath and had time to think about it and give him the opportunity to have a more concerted attack.

‘Please, Mummy. He asked—and he promised he wouldn’t be mean to you.’

Her eyes widened, then she shut them fast and counted to ten. What on earth had Edward been saying to him? She got to her feet and held out her arms to him, and he ran into them and hugged her hard.

‘It’ll be all right, Mummy,’ he said into her side. ‘It will.’

If only she could be so sure.

She let him go and made her way downstairs, down the beautiful old oak staircase she’d fallen so in love with, along the hall on the inches-thick carpet, and tapped on the open study door, her heart pounding out a tattoo against her ribs.

He was sitting with his back to her, and at her knock he swivelled the chair round and met her eyes. He’d taken off the coat that had been slung round his shoulders, and she could see now that he was wearing a cast on his left wrist. And, with the light now shining on his face, she could see the livid bruise on his left cheekbone, and the purple stain around his eye.

His hair was dark, soft and glossy, cut short round the sides but flopping forwards over his eyes. It looked rumpled, as if he’d run his fingers through it over and over again, and his jaw was deeply shadowed. He looks awful, she thought, and she wondered briefly what he’d done.

Not that it mattered. It was enough to have brought him home, and that was the only thing that affected her. His injuries were none of her business.

‘You wanted to see me,’ she said, and waited for the stinging insults to start again.

‘I owe you an apology,’ he said gruffly, and she felt her jaw drop and yanked it up again. ‘I was unforgivably rude to you, and I had no justification for it.’

‘I disagree. I’m in your house without your permission,’ she said, fairness overcoming her shock. ‘I would have been just as rude, I’m sure.’

‘I doubt it, somehow. The manners you’ve drilled into your son would blow that theory out of the water. He’s a credit to you.’

She swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Thank you. He’s a great kid, and he’s been through a lot.’

‘I’m sure. However, it’s not him I want to talk to you about, it’s you. You have nowhere to go, is this right?’

Her chin went up. ‘We’ll find somewhere,’ she lied, her pride rescuing her in the nick of time, and she thought she saw a smile flicker on that strong, sculpted mouth before he firmed it.

‘Do you or do you not have anywhere else suitable to go with your children for Christmas?’ he asked, a thread of steel underlying the softness of his voice, and she swallowed again and shook her head.

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s not your problem.’

He inclined his head, accepting that, but went on, ‘Nevertheless, I do have a problem, and one you might be able to fix. As you can see, I’ve been stupid enough to get mixed up with an avalanche, and I’ve broken my wrist. Now, I can’t cook at the best of times, and I’m not getting my housekeeper back from her well-earned holiday to wait on me, but you, on the other hand, are here, have nowhere else to go and might therefore be interested in a proposition.’

For the first time, she felt a flicker of hope. ‘A proposition?’ she asked warily, not quite sure she liked the sound of that but prepared to listen because her options were somewhat limited. He nodded.

‘I have no intention of paying you—under the circumstances, I don’t think that’s unreasonable, considering you moved into my house without my knowledge or consent and made yourselves at home, but I am prepared to let you stay until such time as you find somewhere to go after the New Year, in exchange for certain duties. Can you cook?’

She felt the weight of fear lift from her shoulders, and nodded. ‘Yes, I can cook,’ she assured him, hoping she could still remember how. It was a while since she’d had anything lavish on her table, but cooking had once been her love and her forte.

‘Good. You can cook for me, and keep the housework under control, and help me do anything I can’t manage—can you drive?’

She nodded again. ‘Yes—but it will have to be my car, unless you’ve got a big one. I can’t go anywhere without the children, so if it’s some sexy little sports car it will have to be my hatchback.’

‘I’ve got an Audi A6 estate. It’s automatic. Is that a problem?’

‘No problem,’ she said confidently. ‘David had one.’ On a finance agreement that, like everything else, had gone belly-up in the last few years. ‘Anything else? Any rules?’

‘Yes. The children can use the playroom upstairs on the landing, and you can keep the attic bedrooms—I assume you’re in the three with the patchwork quilts?’

She felt her jaw sag. ‘How did you guess?’

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Let’s just say I’m usually a good judge of character, and you’re pretty easy to read,’ he told her drily. ‘So—you can have the top floor, and when you’re cooking the children can be down here in the breakfast room with you.’

‘Um…there’s the dog,’ she said, a little unnecessarily as Rufus was now sitting on her foot, and to her surprise Jake’s mouth softened into a genuine smile.

‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘The dog. My grandmother had one like him. What’s his name?’

‘Rufus,’ she said, and the little dog’s tail wagged hopefully. ‘Please don’t say he has to be outside in a kennel or anything awful, because he’s old and not very well and it’s so cold at the moment and he’s no trouble—’

‘Millie—what does that stand for, by the way?’

‘Amelia.’

He studied her for a second, then nodded. ‘Amelia,’ he said, his voice turning it into something that sounded almost like a caress. ‘Of course the dog doesn’t have to be outside—not if he’s housetrained.’

‘Oh, he is. Well, mostly. Sometimes he has the odd accident, but that’s only if he’s ill.’

‘Fine. Just don’t let him on the beds. Right, I’m done. If you could find me a glass, the malt whisky and my flight bag, I’d be very grateful. And then I’m going to lie down on my sofa and go to sleep.’

And, getting to his feet with a grunt of pain, he limped slowly towards her.

‘You really did mess yourself up, didn’t you?’ she said softly, and he paused just a foot away from her and stared down into her eyes for the longest moment.

‘Yes, Amelia. I really did—and I could do with those painkillers, so if you wouldn’t mind—?’

‘Right away,’ she said, trying to remember how to breathe. Slipping past him into the kitchen, she found a glass, filled it with water, put the kettle on, made a sandwich with the last of the cheese and two precious slices of bread, smeared some chutney she found in the fridge onto the cheese and took it through to him.

‘I thought you might be hungry,’ she said, ‘and there’s nothing much else in the house at the moment, but you shouldn’t take painkillers on an empty stomach.’

He sighed and looked up at her from the sofa where he was lying stretched out full length and looking not the slightest bit vulnerable despite the cast, the bruises and the swelling under his eye. ‘Is that right?’ he said drily. ‘Where’s the malt whisky?’

‘You shouldn’t have alcohol—’

‘—with painkillers,’ he finished for her, and gave a frustrated growl that probably should have frightened her but just gave her the urge to smile. ‘Well, give me the damned painkillers, then. They’re in my flight bag, in the outside pocket. I’ll take them with the water.’

She rummaged, found them and handed them to him. ‘When did you take the last lot? It says no more than six in twenty-four hours—’

‘Did I ask you for your medical advice?’ he snarled, taking the strip of tablets from her and popping two out awkwardly with his good hand.

Definitely not vulnerable. Just crabby as hell. She stood her ground. ‘I just don’t want your family suing me for killing you with an overdose,’ she said, and his mouth tightened.

‘No danger of that,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t have a family. Now, go away and leave me alone. I haven’t got the energy to argue with a mouthy, opinionated woman and I can’t stand being fussed over. And find me the whisky!’

‘I’ve put the kettle on to make you tea or coffee—’

‘Well, don’t bother. I’ve had enough caffeine in the last twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime. I just want the malt—’

‘Eat the sandwich and I’ll think about it,’ she said, and then went out and closed the door, quickly, before he changed his mind and threw them all out anyway…

CHAPTER THREE

EDWARD was waiting for her.

He was sitting on the top step, and his eyes were full of trepidation. ‘Well?’

‘We’re staying,’ she said with a smile, still not really believing it but so out of options that she had to make it work. ‘But he’d like us to spend the time up here unless we’re down in the breakfast room or kitchen cooking for him, so we don’t disturb him, because he had an accident skiing and he’s a bit sore. He needs to sleep.’

‘So can I unpack my things again?’ Kitty asked, appearing on the landing, her little face puzzled and a bulging carrier bag dangling from her fingers.

‘Yes, darling. We can all unpack, and then we need to go downstairs very quietly and tidy up the kitchen and see what I can find to cook us for supper.’

Not that there was much, but she’d have to make something proper for Jake, and she had no idea how she’d achieve that with no ingredients and no money to buy any. Maybe there was something in his freezer?

‘I’ll be very, very quiet,’ Kitty whispered, her grey eyes serious, and tiptoed off to her room with bag in hand and her finger pressed over her lips.

It worked until she bumped into the door frame and the bag fell out of her hand and landed on the floor, the book in the top falling out with a little thud. Her eyes widened like saucers, and for one awful minute Millie thought she was going to cry.

‘It’s all right, darling, you don’t have to be that quiet,’ she said with an encouraging smile, and Edward, ever his little sister’s protector, picked up his own bag and went back into the bedroom and hugged her, then helped her put her things away while Millie unpacked all the baby’s things again.

He was still sleeping. Innocence was such a precious gift, she thought, her eyes filling, and blinking hard, she turned away and went to the window, drawn by the sound of a car. Looking down on the drive as the floodlights came on, she realised it was Kate.

Of course. Dear Kate, rushing to her rescue, coming to smooth things over with Jake.

Who was sleeping.

‘Keep an eye on Thomas, I’m going to let Kate in,’ she said to Edward and ran lightly down the stairs, arriving in the hall just as Kate turned the heavy handle and opened the door.

‘Oh, Millie, I’m so sorry I’ve been so long, but Megan was in the bath and I had to dry her hair before I brought her out in the cold,’ she said in a rush. ‘Where are the children?’

‘Upstairs. It’s all right, we’re staying. Megan, do you want to go up and see them while I make Mummy a coffee?’

‘I don’t have time for a coffee, I need to see Jake. I’ve got to try and reason with him—what do you mean, you’re staying?’ she added, her eyes widening.

‘Shh. He’s asleep. Go on, Megan, it’s all right, but please be quiet because Jake’s not well.’

Megan nodded seriously. ‘I’ll be very quiet,’ she whispered and ran upstairs, her little feet soundless on the thick carpet. Kate took Millie by the arm and towed her into the breakfast room and closed the door.

‘So what’s going on?’ she asked in a desperate undertone. ‘I thought you’d be packed and leaving?’

Amelia shook her head. ‘No. He’s broken his wrist and he’s battered from end to end, and I think he’s probably messed his knee up, too, so he needs someone to cook for him and run round after him.’

Kate’s jaw dropped. ‘So he’s employing you?’

Millie felt her mouth twist into a wry smile. ‘Not exactly employing,’ she admitted, remembering his blunt words with an inward wince. ‘But we can stay in exchange for helping him, so long as I keep the children out of his way.’

‘And the dog? Does he even know about the dog?’

She smiled. ‘Ah, well, now. Apparently he likes the dog, doesn’t he, Rufus?’ she murmured, looking down at him. He was stuck on her leg, sensing the need to behave, his eyes anxious, and she felt him quiver.

When she glanced back up, Kate was staring at her openmouthed. ‘He likes the dog?’ she hissed.

‘His grandmother had one. He doesn’t go a bundle on the Christmas decorations, though,’ she added ruefully with a pointed glance at the light fitting. ‘Come on, let’s make a drink and take it upstairs to the kids.’

‘He was going to put a kitchen up there,’ Kate told her as she boiled the kettle. ‘Just a little one, enough to make drinks and snacks, but he hasn’t got round to it yet. Pity. It would have been handy for you.’

‘It would. Still, I only need to bring the children down if I’m actually cooking. We’re quite all right up in the playroom, and at least it’ll give us a little breathing space before we have to find somewhere to go.’

‘And, actually, it’s a huge relief,’ Kate said, sagging back against the worktop and folding her arms. ‘I was wondering what to do about Jake—I mean, I couldn’t leave him here on his own over Christmas when he’s injured, but my house is going to be heaving and noisy and chaotic, and I would have had to run backwards and forwards—so you’ve done me a massive favour. And, you never know, maybe you’ll all have a good time together! In fact—’

Amelia cut her off with a laugh and a raised hand. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said firmly, remembering his bitterly sarcastic opening remarks. ‘But if we can just keep out of his way, maybe we’ll all survive.’

She handed Kate her drink, picked up her own mug and then hesitated. No matter how rude and sarcastic he’d been, he was still a human being and for that alone he deserved her consideration, and he was injured and exhausted and probably not thinking straight. ‘I ought to check on him,’ she said, putting her mug back down. ‘He was talking about malt whisky.’

‘So? Don’t worry, he’s not a drinker. He won’t have had much.’

‘On top of painkillers?’

‘Ah. What were they?’

‘Goodness knows—something pretty heavyduty. Nothing I recognised. Not paracetamol, that’s for sure!’

‘Oh, hell. Where is he?’

‘Just next door in the little sitting room.’

‘I’ll go—’

‘No. Let me. He was pretty cross.’

Kate laughed softly. ‘You think I’ve never seen him cross?’

So they went together, opening the door silently and pushing it in until they could see him sprawled full length on the sofa, one leg dangling off the edge, his cast resting across his chest, his head lolling against the arm.

Kate frowned. ‘He doesn’t look very comfortable.’

He didn’t, but at least there was no sign of the whisky. Amelia went into the room and picked up a soft velvety cushion and tucked it under his bruised cheek to support his head better. He grunted and shifted slightly and she froze, waiting for those piercing slate grey eyes to open and stab her with a hard, angry glare, but then he relaxed, settling his face down against the pillow with a little sigh, and she let herself breathe again.

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