Christmas Miracle. Линда Гуднайт

his senses to anything else.

      ‘Kitty, hush, darling,’ she said softly and, dropping down, she slid off the edge of the table and came towards him with a haphazard attempt at a smile. ‘Um … I imagine you’re Jake Forrester?’ she asked, her voice a little uneven, and he hardened himself against her undoubted appeal and the desperate eyes.

      ‘Well, there you have the advantage over me,’ he murmured drily, ‘because I have no idea who you are, or why I should come home and find you smothering my house in bits of dead vegetation in my absence—’

      Her eyes fluttered briefly closed and colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I can explain—’

      ‘Don’t bother. I’m not interested. Just get all that—tat out of here, clear the place up and then leave.’

      He turned on his heel—not a good idea, with his knee screaming in protest, but the pain just fuelled the fire of his anger and he stalked into the study, picked up the phone and rang Kate.

      ‘Millie?’

      ‘So that’s her name.’

      ‘Jake?’ Kate shrieked, and he could hear her collecting herself at the other end of the line. ‘What are you doing home?’

      ‘There was an avalanche. I got in the way. And I seem to have guests. Would you care to elaborate?’

      ‘Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry, I can explain—’

      ‘Excellent. Feel free. You’ve got ten seconds, so make it good.’ He settled back in the chair with a wince, listening as Kate sucked in her breath and gave her pitch her best shot.

      ‘She’s a friend. Her ex has gone to Thailand, he won’t pay the maintenance and she lost her job so she lost her house and her sister kicked her out yesterday.’

      ‘Tough. She’s packing now, so I suggest you find some other sucker to put her and her kids up so I can lie and be sore in peace. And don’t imagine for a moment that you’ve heard the end of this.’

      He stabbed the off button and threw the phone down on his desk, then glanced up to see the woman—Millie, apparently—transfixed in the doorway, her face still flaming.

      ‘Please don’t take it out on Kate. She was only trying to help us.’

      He stifled a contemptuous snort and met her eyes challengingly, too sore in every way to moderate his sarcasm. ‘You’re not doing so well, are you? You don’t seem to be able to keep anything. Your husband, your job, your house—even your sister doesn’t want you. I wonder why? I wonder what it is about you that makes everyone want to get rid of you?’

      She stepped back as if she’d been struck, the colour draining from her face, and he felt a twinge of guilt but suppressed it ruthlessly.

      ‘We’ll be out of here in half an hour. I just need to pack our things. What do you want me to do with the sheets?’

      Sheets? He was throwing her out and she was worrying about the sheets?

      ‘Just leave them. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.’

      She straightened her spine and took another step back, and he could see her legs shaking. ‘Right. Um … fine.’

      And she spun round and walked briskly away in the direction of the breakfast room, leaving him to his guilt. He sighed and sagged back against the chair, a wave of pain swamping him for a moment. When he opened his eyes, the boy was there.

      ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, his little chin up, just like his mother’s, his eyes huge in a thin, pale face. ‘Please don’t be angry with Mummy. She was just trying to make a nice Christmas for us. She thought we were going to stay with Auntie Laura, but Uncle Andy didn’t want us there because he said the baby kept him awake—’

      There was a baby, too? Dear God, it went from bad to worse, but that wasn’t the end of it.

      ‘—and the dog smells and he got on the sofa, and that made him really mad. I heard them fighting. And then Mummy said we were going to see Kate, and she said we ought to come here because you were a nice man and you wouldn’t mind and what harm could we do because the house was hundreds of years old and had survived and anyway you liked children or you wouldn’t have done the playroom in the attic.’

      He finally ran out of breath and Jake stared at him.

      Kate thought he was that nice? Kate was dreaming.

      But the boy’s wounded eyes called to something deep inside him, and Jake couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t kick them all out into the cold just before Christmas. Even he wasn’t that much of a bastard.

      But it wasn’t just old Ebenezer Scrooge who had ghosts, and the last thing he needed was a houseful of children over Christmas, Jake thought with a touch of panic. And a baby, of all things, and—a dog?

      Not much of a dog. It hadn’t barked, and there was no sign of it, so it was obviously a very odd breed of dog. Or old and deaf?

      No. Not old and deaf, and not much of a dog at all, he realised, his eyes flicking to the dimly lit hallway behind the boy and focusing on a small red and white bundle of fluff with an anxiously wriggling tail and big soulful eyes that were watching him hopefully.

      A little spaniel, like the one his grandmother had had. He’d always liked it—and he wasn’t going to be suckered because of the damn dog!

      But the boy was still there, one sock-clad foot on top of the other, squirming slightly but holding his ground, and if his ribs hadn’t hurt so much he would have screamed with frustration.

      ‘What’s your name?’

      ‘Edward. Edward Jones.’

      Nice, honest name. Like the child, he thought inconsequentially. Oh, damn. He gave an inward sigh as he felt his defences crumble. After all, it was hardly the boy’s fault that he couldn’t cope with the memories … ‘Where’s your mother, Edward?’

      ‘Um … packing. I’m supposed to be clearing up the branches, but I can’t reach the ones in the light so I’ve got to wait for her to come down.’

      ‘Could you go and get her for me, and then look after the others while we have a chat?’

      He nodded, but stood there another moment, chewing his lip.

      Jake sighed softly. ‘What is it?’

      ‘You won’t be mean to her, will you? She was only trying to look after us, and she feels so guilty because Dad won’t give us any money so we can’t have anything nice ever, but it’s really not her fault—’

      ‘Just get her, Edward,’ he said gently. ‘I won’t be mean to her.’

      ‘Promise?’

      Oh, what was he doing? He needed to get rid of them before he lost his mind! ‘I promise.’

      The boy vanished, but the dog stayed there, whining softly and wagging his tail, and Jake held out his hand and called the dog over. He came, a little warily, and sat down just a few feet away, tail waving but not yet really ready to trust.

      Very wise, Jake thought. He really, really wasn’t in a very nice mood, but it was hardly the dog’s fault. And he’d promised the boy he wouldn’t be mean to his mother.

      Well, any more mean than he already had been. He pressed his lips together and sighed. He was going to have to apologise to her, he realised—to the woman who’d moved into his house without a by-your-leave and completely trashed his plans for crawling back into his cave to lick his wounds.

      Oh, damn.

      ‘Mummy, he wants to talk to you.’

      Millie lifted her head from the bag she was stuffing clothes into and stared at her son. ‘I think he’s said everything he has to say,’ she said crisply. ‘Have you finished clearing up downstairs?’

      ‘I