Christmas Child

Sure it would mean letting him know she loved him, and he would feel sorry for her. But she had learned to cope with so many things, she could cope with his pity.

‘OK.’ She gave a

tiny shrug. ‘I’ll tell you what would be missing. Just bear with me.’ She felt old and tired and drainingly unhappy as she crossed the floor to the sink, filled the kettle and plugged it in. She needed the stimulation of more strong, hot coffee and keeping her hands occupied would help her get through this. ‘You said you proposed to Fiona with your head,’ she reminded him sadly. ‘I can understand that. You can’t let yourself get emotionally involved because of the way you were brought up. You must have learned very early in your life that loving someone brought the pain of rejection. You programmed any kind of emotion out of your life.’

He said nothing to contradict her, but she hadn’t expected him to. She reached two mugs from the Welsh dresser and spooned in coffee granules. ‘Being a good man, an honourable man, you were determined never to have children because of the way you are—’ Her voice wobbled. She swallowed hard. Then pushed on, ‘When you suggested we marry I admit to thinking it was to pay Fiona back for dumping you so publicly. And when—’ She pulled in a sharp breath and wished to heaven she hadn’t started this. ‘When you said you wanted to have sex with me—’ God, how cold and clinical that sounded ‘—I did wonder if you were using me to help you forget her. But that wasn’t the case, was it? You never did love her, the way I thought you did, because you couldn’t. When you proposed to me, it was with your head, too—’

‘No, Mattie,’ he interrupted softly. He was directly behind her now. The kettle was boiling its head off. He reached over her and unplugged it. ‘You were always in my heart. A soothing presence. Innocent, trusting, unconsciously funny and totally endearing. When I proposed to you it was because I needed everything you were right in my life. Look at me, Mattie, and believe what I say.’

Hardly daring to breathe, let alone think, in case she let her heart rule her head all over again and allow her to think the impossible, she turned reluctantly. He needed a shave, she noted with the part of her brain that was functioning analytically. The dark shadow on the tough jaw made him look dangerously sexy, she thought with the part that was rapidly turning to mush.

He cupped her face tenderly between his two hands. ‘Ours was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, two people—two friends who knew, liked and respected each other—rubbing along together for mutual advantage. That was why the subject of our remaining childless cropped up. For all I knew, you might have wanted half a dozen. And I was off women and meaningless sexual relationships,’ he told her dryly. ‘Only it didn’t work out that way, did it? It got to the stage where I couldn’t look at you without wanting to make love to you. You were beautiful, addictive, and I was so damned pleased with myself.’ His eyes darkened with self-condemnation. ‘I was the man who had everything,’ he said with flat derision. ‘It was only when you left me that I cottoned on to what had happened. I’d fallen deeply, irredeemably in love with you. For the first time ever I’d given my heart. Unreservedly. And you filled it. I couldn’t bear the thought of getting through the rest of my life without you.’

The balls of his thumbs were stroking the line of her cheek-bones and there was no doubting the sincerity of his words. A huge wave of happiness engulfed her; it left her weak and shaken, utterly speechless. She could only raise glittering, golden eyes to his as he said unevenly, ‘If you really do want a divorce, you can have it. But, Mattie, if you come back to me, you’ll be loved more than any woman has been loved before. I promise you that.’

‘And Chloe, too?’ she questioned raggedly.

She knew his answer would be deeply important, her heart soaring into the stratosphere when he replied succinctly, ‘Both the females in my life will have all the love I’m capable of. Can we start over? Please, Mattie?’

She had never seen him look so vulnerable. It would have broken her heart if it hadn’t already been bursting with joy. ‘Of course we can!’ she whispered huskily, then giggled hysterically as an angry wail from the baby alarm broke the magical moment.

With a smothered groan, he caught her to him, pressing her urgently against the solid wall of his chest. But when he released her he was grinning. ‘I guess this is what being a parent is all about! Stay right where you are, I’ll fetch her. And then I’ll tell you how happy you’ve made me!’

He loped to the door, his energy suddenly boundless, and she followed, calling after him as he pounded up the twisty stairs. ‘James, I love you, too. I always did!’

Every last doubt about his commitment to his baby daughter was swept away as she watched the way he descended the stairs so carefully moments later. Chloe was held next to his heart, her downy head tucked under his chin, and his proud and loving smile would have lit the midnight sky.

‘I can’t offer to feed her,’ he said softly as he handed the precious bundle over. ‘But I can go and get all those things you seem to need. Mattie, tell me, did you mean what you just said?’ he asked as she settled into the corner of the sofa with the now-squirming Chloe. ‘You do love me?’

She laid a gentle hand on his cheek. It felt like sandpaper. ‘You need a shave.’ The look she gave him was shamelessly provocative. ‘Of course I love you. How could I not? I’ve been stuck with it since I wore my hair in pigtails and had legs like knobbly sticks under my gym slip.’

‘Thank you,’ he said simply and bent to kiss the side of her mouth, running a forefinger down the swollen side of her breast and the suckling baby’s velvety cheek. ‘Thank you for that.’

One moment he was there, cocooning her and their baby with his love, the next she could hear him moving around upstairs and when he came down again he looked sheepish.

‘I brought this.’ The carry-cot, piled high with all the baby-changing paraphernalia he had been able to lay his hands on. ‘I thought if she slept down here we could share her first Christmas Day with her. And I could show her the tree, and I could change her while you baste the turkey. I’ve got to learn, haven’t I?’

‘She’s all yours.’ Mattie couldn’t stop smiling as she handed the infant over. The baby gave a satisfactory burp against his shoulder and stared at her father with unfocussed blue eyes.

Mattie went through to the kitchen on winged feet. James loved her; he loved their little daughter. She had never been happier in the whole of her life!

The fire was burning low in the hearth. The shiny baubles on the tree reflected the last dancing flame. Chloe was sound asleep in her carry-cot, her rosy lips pursing now and then to blow tiny bubbles.

Mattie snuggled more deeply into James’ shoulder, drugged with love. Christmas Day was almost over but the perfection, the magic of it, would stay in their hearts until they were both old and grey. ‘James,’ she asked sleepily, ‘the cottage is ours. What are we going to do with it?’

How silly she’d been to be frightened off by a plain brown envelope. His answer, she knew, would be entirely satisfactory.

It was. ‘You know me, I plan for every contingency.’ He ran a finger down the neat line of her nose. ‘If you had wanted nothing more to do with me, I’d at least have known you had a secure home. But if, as I’d hoped and prayed you would, you came back to me, then I thought we could build on at the back—there’d be no problem with planning permission, I checked that—and put Mrs Briggs here as permanent housekeeper.

‘I sounded her out, and she’s all for it. We could come down at weekends, or whenever we wanted to. Chloe will love the freedom when she gets old enough to toddle about. We’ll find someone younger and more capable back in London. Someone who can help you with any entertaining we need to do and turn her hand to babysitting when we need her to. I’m not going to let you wear yourself to a frazzle. You and I have a lot of living to do.’

‘And loving.’ She smothered a yawn. ‘You really do have an answer to everything, don’t you?’

‘You’d better believe it. On both counts. Bedtime, Mrs Carter.’ He stood up, taking both her hands and drawing her to her feet. He folded her into his arms. ‘I’m going to hold you all night,’ he said, his voice thick with love. ‘And i

f the little lady gets hungry and wakes, I’ll fetch her to you. And do the changing bit. And bring you breakfast in bed in the morning. How does that sound?’

‘Bliss,’ she said, her head against his heart, her arms twining around his neck. ‘Utter, perfect bliss!’