Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection. Christy McKellen

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      What an idiot she’d been.

      It hadn’t taken much for him to break through the barriers she’d so carefully constructed over the last six years to keep her safe from any more emotional upheaval.

      Just the thought of it made her go cold with fear.

      What had she been thinking, imagining reconciliation with Jack was what she wanted? It was crazy to try and reinstate what they’d once had. Impossible! They couldn’t just pick up where they’d left off and she couldn’t put herself through the torment of wondering when it was all going to be ripped away from her again.

      Because it would be.

      She didn’t get to keep the people she loved.

      Anyway, he was still probably clinging on to a vision of her from when she was eighteen, all bright-eyed and full of naïve optimism. The Emma she’d been then was the perfect match for someone of his standing—a billionaire businessman and earl of the realm—but the Emma she was now was all wrong to be the wife of someone like that. Especially as his family put such store in appearances. They’d humoured the match up till now, but surely it would cause all sorts of friction for Jack in the future. It could tear his family apart, and, after having her own torn asunder, that was the last thing she’d wish on him.

      He’d only end up hating her for it.

      After already suffering through the turmoil of losing him once; she couldn’t bear the thought of going through it again. It would break her in two.

      She jumped in surprise as Jack came striding into the kitchen looking all rumpled and sexy, with a wide smile on his face.

      Her stomach did an almighty flip at the sight of him, but she dug her fingernails into the table top, reminding herself of all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to take things any further with him.

      Striding over to where she sat, he bent down to kiss her and she steeled herself, flinching a little as his mouth made contact with hers.

      As he pulled away she could tell from the look of wounded surprise in his eyes that he’d noticed her withdrawal.

      ‘Emma? What’s wrong?’ he asked, his tone confirming his apprehension.

      But before she could answer there was a long ring on the doorbell.

      ‘That’ll be Perdita,’ Jack said, annoyance tingeing his voice. ‘She’s early.’

      * * *

      Jack paced the floor of the living room with a feeling of dread lying heavily in his gut while Emma went to let Perdita and the photographer in.

      He didn’t understand why she was suddenly acting so coldly towards him after what they’d shared last night. The way she’d flinched away from his kiss had completely rattled him.

      A moment later she reappeared with Perdita hot on her heels, the journalist bringing with her a cloud of the same cloying perfume she’d worn the last time they’d seen her.

      Jack’s stomach rolled as it twisted up his nose.

      ‘Jack, darling! How lovely to see you again!’ Perdita shot him a quick smile before striding around the room, glancing around at the décor that Emma had so painstakingly instated.

      ‘What a wonderful room! The lighting is perfect for taking some photos of the two of you in here. What do you think, David?’

      David, the photographer, nodded his agreement, then carelessly dumped his camera bag and laptop onto the polished cherry-wood coffee table.

      Jack saw Emma wince in his peripheral vision, but she didn’t utter a word of reproach. Perhaps she thought she had no right to because this wasn’t her house. The thought frustrated him, making his limbs twitchy and his head throb.

      ‘It’s good for me,’ David said, nodding at a light metre he was now holding up. ‘I’ll get set up while you do the interview, Perdie.’

      ‘Okey-dokey,’ Perdita trilled, turning to Jack with a simpering smile, then looking towards where Emma still stood in the doorway. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’

      They all sat down, he and Emma on the sofa next to each other and Perdita in the armchair opposite.

      As Jack sat back his leg pressed up against Emma’s and he bristled as she shifted away from his touch. Perdita was never going to believe they were a happily married couple if it looked as if she couldn’t even stand to sit next to him.

      What was going on? Had he done or said something last night that had upset her? If he had, he had no idea what it could have been.

      He took a breath and slung his arm around her shoulders. She tensed a little under his touch, but at least she didn’t move away this time.

      Looking over at Perdita, he steeled himself for spending the next half an hour—that was all he was going to give her—fielding her impertinent questions about his and Emma’s life together, while also trying to make their relationship sound real and exciting enough to titillate the readers of Babbler magazine.

      ‘So, how are the plans for the renewal of your wedding vows going?’ Perdita purred, after she’d set up her phone to record their conversation.

      ‘Er...well, we’re still talking about when and how we’re going to do it—’ Emma said quickly, her smile looking fixed and her eyes overly bright when he glanced round at her.

      ‘Uh-huh,’ Perdita intoned, looking between the two of them with a quizzical little pinch in her forehead.

      ‘We’re hoping it’ll be some time in the new year. We’ll let you know when we’ve made some firm plans,’ Jack said brusquely, in an attempt to close that line of questioning down as quickly as possible. Emma shuffled in her seat beside him.

      Luckily Perdita didn’t press them on it.

      ‘So are you planning on spending Christmas here? I see you already have your decorations up,’ Perdita said brightly, sweeping her hands around to gesture at the strings of silver baubles that Emma had hung from the picture rails and the spicy scented Douglas fir she’d covered with tasteful vintage Victorian ornaments.

      ‘Yes, I think we’ll be here for Christmas this year,’ Jack replied, glancing around him at the decorations. They lent the room such a cosy festive air, so much so he found he was actually enjoying sitting in his living room for once, despite having to answer Perdita’s inane questions.

      ‘It must be so lovely to have a family home again to spend Christmas Day in, Emma. I understand you had to sell the house you grew up in after your poor father passed on,’ Perdita cooed, raising her brow in a shocking show of pseudo sympathy.

      ‘That’s right, Perdita, we did,’ Emma answered, keeping her chin up and her gaze locked with the woman’s though Jack was aware of her shoulders tensing ever so slightly. ‘And yes, it’ll be a lovely house to spend Christmas in.’

      He was desperate to call a halt to this ridiculous debacle, but he didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing him riled.

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ