‘You’re lost in thought.’ Max’s voice interrupted the circles her mind was wandering and she looked away from the orange flames of the fire and into his handsome face as he sat at the other end of the sofa. It wasn’t that big, but he felt far away, isolating himself from her as much as he could. His long legs stretched out before him, snagging her attention, and he looked relaxed and at ease, but from the expression on his face she guessed this was not the case as he pulled at the berry-red tie he’d opted for with his almost black suit.
‘I still can’t believe how lovely it has been today. The meal, waking up in the cottage on Christmas morning and the gifts.’ She wanted to ask him outright about the diamonds, ask him what he really hoped to achieve with them, but the day had almost been spoiled once by the conversation that had sprung out of nowhere that morning; she wasn’t going to risk it again.
He put down his after-dinner coffee cup and moved toward her, closing the gap between them as if he’d read her mind. Had her thoughts been so blatantly emblazoned on her face?
She sucked in a deep breath against the tangy aroma of his aftershave, the unique maleness that was Max, shyly looking away, suddenly very self-conscious. Only Max had ever made her feel this way, like a lovesick teenager on a first date. How, after all they’d been through, all they’d learnt about one another, could he still have that effect on her?
His voice was low, deep and very sexy. ‘You are my wife, Lisa, and this is the first time we are celebrating Christmas. I wanted to make it special for you because I remembered that passing remark about Christmas always bringing trouble and upset within your family. How it was never what others seemed to experience.’
She looked at him from beneath her lashes, desperate to hide her feelings and the way hearing that made her feel. She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t quite shake off the idea that he was just trying to disarm her—or the shock that it was working. ‘Well, this is a pretty special place.’
She looked around the hotel lounge, with the small groups of comfortable chairs and sofas where families were now gathered, relaxing after Christmas dinner. The fire was warm and she could feel herself becoming less tense, less on edge, but after last night and then this morning’s discussion, which had felt at the time like an opening of hearts, she was wary.
‘This is my first taste of a British Christmas.’ He smiled at her and her heart flipped over. How could he melt her so easily?
Because you still love him.
‘Where do you normally spend Christmas?’ she asked, before realising that once again she was tempting open the box he had clearly marked do not disturb.
‘In Spain with my mother’s family. We would usually be out walking now. Christmas Day is not such a big day in Spain.’
‘A walk after Christmas dinner is pretty normal here too.’ She laughed and relaxed a little. She’d probably been reading too much into everything, as usual. ‘It would be nice to do that now. Is it too far to walk back to the cottage?’
The idea of being out in the crisp cold air of the afternoon was suddenly very appealing. She’d been inside for too long and needed the sense of freedom that came with a walk. It might also shake off some of the notions she was beginning to have that maybe Max did care, that he just wasn’t able to put it into words.
‘Are those boots up to the walk?’ He looked down at the long boots she’d put on with her deep burgundy dress, the only ones she’d packed, not being aware they were going anywhere else after Raul and Lydia’s wedding.
‘Of course they are, unless you aren’t?’ she teased, feeling the tension slip from him as she laughed at him.
‘A walk home it is.’ He took her hand and for a moment sat and looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. She wanted to ask what he was thinking or, even more importantly, what he was feeling, but before she could form a sensible sentence he spoke again. ‘Shall we?’
* * *
Max could hardly fathom that he found pleasure in the simple action of walking along a country lane with Lisa. As they’d walked down the hotel driveway, enjoying the views, he’d taken her gloved hand, smiling to himself when she hadn’t resisted but had moved closer to him. He’d kept his pace slow as they’d continued the short distance to the cottage, despite the nearness of dusk, worried that anything faster would be too arduous for her in her present condition.
‘I’m pregnant, Max, not ill.’ She laughed at him in answer to his concern as they reached the gate of the cottage but her words took him straight back to the day his stepfather had broken the news that his mother had been told her cancer had returned and this time it was untreatable.