Jed sat back to flex his tired shoulder muscles. ‘I could probably do with a break, anyway.’ He grimaced as the hall clock struck three o’clock; he had been working for two hours without stopping—amazing after months of getting nowhere.
‘Brandy?’ David held up the decanter before pouring a measure into two glasses. ‘I’m not really supposed to drink alcohol,’ he remarked somewhat shamefacedly as the two men made themselves comfortable in the fireside armchairs. ‘But if I stopped doing everything the doctors told me to life would be pretty miserable.
‘Unfortunately, the insomnia seems to be something I can do little about. Although this sometimes helps.’ He sipped the brandy. ‘Is Meg asleep?’ he asked mildly.
Jed frowned as he looked down at the rich brown liquid in the glass he cradled in both hands. ‘Things aren’t—they aren’t always what they seem, sir,’ he said slowly, his gaze direct as he looked at the older man.
David gave a smile. ‘I believe I had a conversation along similar lines with Meg this evening.’
He raised dark brows. ‘On the same subject?’ he prompted guardedly. ‘Or something else?’
The older man’s smile widened. ‘I don’t question my girls about their private lives, Jed.’
Jed gave David a rueful glance. ‘Does the same apply to the men in your girls’ lives?’
‘Ah, well, that’s different,’ the older man came back dryly, and then chuckled at Jed’s uncomfortable grimace. ‘I’m not about to ask you your intentions towards Meg, if that’s what’s bothering you,’ he assured lightly. ‘I’m sure Meg is mature enough to know what she’s doing.’
He wished he did.
Part of him wanted to run as fast and as far away from Meg as he could, and another part of him wanted to barricade himself in a bedroom with her for a week, so they could feast off nothing but each other.
Although he didn’t think he had better share that thought with her father.
‘And now I think it’s time I was getting back to bed.’ David drank the last of his brandy before standing up. ‘If my memory serves me correctly, young children are apt to wake up very early on Christmas morning.’
Something Jed was made all too aware of only a few hours later as the age-old cry of, ‘Mummy, Mummy, he’s been! Father Christmas has been!’ resounded in the adjoining bedroom, making Jed smile as he imagined Jed’s excitement at the sackful of presents.
Although he frowned a little when he saw it was only six-thirty in the morning; he had only been asleep for three hours.
It was his own fault, of course, although he couldn’t feel bad about it because he had actually written the first chapter in his new book, had the outline for the rest of it too, only needed the time now to sit down and write it. Only. This last two months in England he had had nothing but time and hadn’t produced a thing worth reading.
‘Ooh, Mummy, look what Father Christmas has brought me.’ Scott sounded awed now. ‘It’s just like the one I saw in the shop and put on my list to Father Christmas.’
It was no good, Jed decided, he couldn’t lie here any longer and listen to Scott’s excitement through the walls. He had to be a part of what was going on in the next room.
The bright red sack that had been empty on the foot of Scott’s bed the night before was now on the floor beside the bed, Scott delving excitedly into the bulging contents.
Meg looked up to give Jed a welcoming smile. ‘Father Christmas has been.’ She smiled, looking affectionately at her ecstatic son.
‘See, Jed.’ Scott lifted up the one present he had already opened, obviously the cause of his earlier excitement—a bright red tractor with a trailer on the back containing several strange looking plastic pigs.
‘Hey, that’s great, buddy.’ He grinned as he sat down on the floor to ruffle the little boy’s dark curls.
He had quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt before coming through from his bedroom, but Meg, so recently awakened, was still wearing her night attire: a pair of shapeless cotton pyjamas that should have looked totally unfeminine and yet on Meg didn’t, only succeeding in making Jed want to take her in his arms and caress every soft curve he knew was beneath.
Very appropriate for six-thirty on Christmas morning.
‘Would you like me to go and get you a cup of coffee?’ he offered softly as Scott started to rip into the paper on a second present.
Meg looked surprised at the offer, making Jed realize that, living on her own with Scott, this probably didn’t happen too often. If at all. Because he still didn’t believe her claim about having relationships without permanence—Meg Hamilton had ‘commitment or nothing’ stamped all over her. It was the reason she scared the hell out of him.
She shook her head now. ‘Stay and enjoy this,’ she invited huskily. ‘There’s nothing as joyful as watching a child on Christmas morning.’
She was right: there wasn’t. Jed and Meg were surrounded by presents and wrapping paper as Scott, after half an hour, found and opened the main present, right at the bottom of the huge sack, rendering the little boy speechless for several seconds.
‘It’s a farm, Mummy,’ he finally breathed disbelievingly. ‘A real farm.’ His little fingers, his knuckles not yet defined, touched the farm buildings, barn, fences and assorted animals, with complete awe.
Meg, Jed saw, was blinking back the tears as she looked at the wonder on her son’s face, and Jed felt a certain emotional thickness in his own throat, at the same time knowing a feeling of gratitude to Meg for letting him share this with her.
Oh, he had spent lots of Christmases on the farm with his family, his brothers’ children ranging in ages from five to eleven, but the fact was they were his brothers’ children, and as such Gary and Ray were the ones who got to share this magic moment with their children. Jed was just a bystander, a favourite uncle who would eventually be asked to install all the batteries in the electronic toys they had received.
This was different. Meg had made it different by inviting him to share it with her.
He stood up abruptly as he realized what was happening to him. He couldn’t be—Damn it, he had barely known the woman thirty-six hours.
But as he looked down at Meg’s ebony head, the long hair cascading over her shoulders, her face completely bare of make-up, her body shapeless in those unbecoming pyjamas, he knew that his worst fears had been realized.
He was falling in love with Meg Hamilton.
Chapter 8
Meg looked up at Jed as he stood beside her, frowning at the suddenly closed expression on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ll go and get that coffee now,’ he bit out harshly, moving abruptly away and over to the door.
Meg stared after him as he left, wondering what could possibly have happened to cause his hasty departure. Perhaps it had been the talk of Scott’s farm, making him feel homesick for his own family. Or, more likely, he’d had enough of domesticity for one morning. Or perhaps he really did just need his first shot of coffee for the day.
Whatever his reasons, she very much doubted Jed was going to confide them to her.
Neither was he going to be able to leave today, she discovered as she left Scott arranging his farm to wander over to the window. The deep snow covered the ground for as far as the eye could see, like a huge white blanket, beautiful in its whiteness, but totally unsuitable for travelling.
Whether Jed liked it or not, he was stuck with them all for another day.
And he obviously didn’t like it. He was totally uncommunicative when Meg and Scott made their way downstairs. Just as quiet at breakfast when they all helped themselves to food from the selection of trays set out in the dining-room.
Meg didn’t feel too talkative herself when Sonia came and sat down next to her.
She still wasn’t sure what to do about that conversation with her sister. Oh, she didn’t want the strain between them to continue, had also missed the closeness they had once had. But she knew it was a closeness they would never be able to recapture, that too much stood between them for them to do that.
‘Why don’t we all go for a walk after breakfast?’ Sonia suggested lightly to everyone. ‘It will give Scott chance to try out his sledge,’ she added encouragingly as no one responded to the suggestion.
Meg had to admit she had been stunned when she and Scott had arrived downstairs and Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Sonia had asked if they could give him his gift now.
Normally the presents under the tree, their gifts to each other rather than from Father Christmas, were opened in the early evening of Christmas Day, before they had a cold buffet dinner.
But Jeremy had explained that their gift to Scott would be of more use to him now rather than later this evening.
Meg had had to agree when Scott had ripped off the paper to reveal the wooden sledge with its gleaming runners, sure Scott was going to burst with happiness as he’d looked at it.
Scott’s reaction had been obvious, but she hadn’t been sure how she felt about this expensive gift to her son.
An hour later she still didn’t know.
‘What a good idea,’ their father enthused. ‘You would like that, wouldn’t you, Scott? There’s a little hill at the back of the house that’s just perfect for sledging.’