Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection. Christy McKellen

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СКАЧАТЬ her controlled restraint bothered him. He realised he actually wanted her to rage at him, so he could rage back at her. To get all the pain and anger out in the open, instead of all this polite pussyfooting around they were doing.

      Instead, he took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. His parents’ meddling was no fault of hers. Or his.

      But as he stared out of the window the memory of having to stand in full view of his family and look lovingly into Emma’s eyes came back to haunt him, crushing the air from his lungs. He could have sworn he’d seen something in her gaze, something that made his heart beat faster and his blood soar through his veins.

      It had made him nervous.

      He still felt twitchy and wound up from it now and a sudden urge to get out of the confines of the car and walk around for a minute to get rid of his restless energy overwhelmed him.

      ‘We should stop and get a drink somewhere before we head back to London,’ he muttered, and before Emma could protest he leant forwards and asked John to stop at the country pub that was coming up on their left.

      Once they’d pulled into the car park he said, ‘Let’s take a quick break here,’ getting out before she had chance to answer him.

      The temperature was cool, but the sun was out and Jack felt it warm the skin of his face as they walked towards the pub. It was a relief to be outside again. Despite the impressive dimensions of the rooms in his parents’ house he’d felt claustrophobic there and had been hugely relieved to leave its austere atmosphere.

      The exterior of the pub had already been decorated for Christmas and strings of fairy lights winked merrily at them as they walked up to the front of the building.

      ‘Let’s sit out in the beer garden,’ he suggested as they came to a halt at the front door. He could already imagine how the dark cosy interior would press in on him. He needed air right now.

      ‘Sure, okay,’ Emma said, slanting him a quizzical glance.

      ‘I just need to be outside for a while.’

      She nodded. ‘Okay, I understand. I’ll go and get the drinks. What would you like?’

      He frowned. ‘No, I’ll get them.’

      Putting up a hand, she fixed him with a determined stare. ‘Jack, I can stretch to buying us a couple of drinks. Let me get them.’

      Knowing how stubborn she could be when she put her mind to it, he conceded defeat. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll have an orange and soda,’ he said, aware he needed to keep his wits about him, despite an almost overwhelming craving for a large shot of whisky to calm his frazzled nerves.

      ‘Okay, you go and find us a good table in the sun. I’ll see you out there,’ she said, already heading into the pub.

      He found a bench right by a small brook in the garden and sat down to wait for her to return, watching the fairy lights twinkling in the distance. Barely a minute later he spotted her striding over the grass to join him, a drink in each hand. It looked as though she’d gone for the soft option as well.

      He was surprised. He’d expected her to come back with something much stronger after having to deal with the nonsense his parents had subjected her to.

      A sudden and savage anger rose from somewhere deep inside him—at his parents, at her, at the world for the twisted carnage it had thrown at them both.

      She put the drinks carefully down on the table like the good little server she’d become.

      It burned him that she hadn’t done anything worthwhile with her life when there had been so much potential for her to do great things with it.

      Instead she’d given up her life with him in the States for what? To become a waitress. At this last thought his temper finally snapped.

      ‘Why the hell are you wasting your time working in the service industry? I thought your plan was to go to university to study art and design,’ he said roughly, no longer able to hold back from asking the question that had been burning a hole in his brain since he’d first seen her again.

      Her initial shock at his abrasive tone quickly flipped to indignation.

      ‘Because I’ve had to work to pay off my father’s debts, Jack,’ she blurted, sitting down heavily opposite him, clearly regretting her loss of control as soon as the words were out.

      He stared at her in shock. ‘What?’

      She swallowed visibly but didn’t break eye contact. ‘They were rather more substantial than I told you they were, but I was finally on track to pay off the last of them—until I lost my job yesterday.’

      Guilt-fuelled horror hit him hard in the chest. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You said the money from the sale of your family house had taken care of the debts your father left.’

      Frustration burned through him. If she’d told him she needed money he would have offered to help. Not that she would have taken it from him at that point, he was sure. After her father’s death she’d sunk into herself, pushing everyone she’d loved away from her. Including him.

      ‘It wasn’t just the banks he owed money to,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He’d taken loans from friends and relatives too, who all came out of the woodwork to call the debts in as soon as they’d heard he’d passed away.’

      Jack frowned and shook his head in frustration. ‘Emma, your father’s debts weren’t yours to reconcile all by yourself.’

      She shrugged and took a sip of her drink before responding. ‘I didn’t want to be known for ever as the poor little rich girl whose daddy had to borrow money from his friends in order to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’d become accustomed, who then ran to her rich husband to sort out her problems.’

      The pain in her eyes made his stomach burn. He went to put a reassuring hand on her arm but stopped himself. He couldn’t touch her again. It might undo something in him that he was hanging onto by a mere thread.

      ‘I didn’t want you to have to deal with being hounded by the press too,’ she added in a small voice. ‘You had enough on your plate what with starting at your new job.’

      He thought again about how he’d avoided seeking out any news from the UK after moving to the States. The cruel irony of it was, if he hadn’t done that he’d have been more aware of how her father’s name had been dragged through the press and what she’d been put through after he’d left. And ultimately that would have helped him understand why she’d shut him out of her life once he’d moved away.

      ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Jack, but I was overwhelmed by it all at the time. I guess I was too young and naïve to deal with it properly. It felt easier just to shut you out of it,’ she said suddenly, shocking him out of his torment.

      He felt a sting of conscience as he remembered his angry rant at her the other night.

      ‘I know I promised I’d put us first once things had settled down but sorting out the carnage that my father had left us to deal with took up my every waking second, my every ounce of energy. I felt adrift and panicky most of the time, lost and alone, and I couldn’t see past it. There didn’t ever seem to be an end in sight.’

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