The Christmas Night Miracle. Кэрол Мортимер

his life had suddenly become public property, women had tried all sorts of tricks to meet him, one of them even sneaking into the sports club he belonged to and accosting him in the shower. Apparently all the other men present in the changing-room had been too dazed by the woman being there at all to ask her what she thought she was doing.

      Although perhaps dragging a kid along, in the middle of a snowstorm, was going a little far, even for the most ardent fan. And from the totally unknowing look on Meg Hamilton’s face, she wasn’t one of those.

      ‘Is there perhaps a hotel nearby?’ Meg queried with what he thought was more hope than expectation.

      ‘I hate to disappoint you, Mrs Hamilton.’ And he really did, already resenting this intrusion into his privacy.

      Not that he would have just left her and the kid outside to freeze—he just wished she had chosen someone else’s cottage to drive in to.

      But having been secluded here for two months now—not very productive months, he had to admit—he had got out of the habit of polite conversation. If he had ever had it. Which he probably hadn’t, he acknowledged ruefully. He didn’t suffer fools gladly at the best of times, and driving in this weather, with a little kid in tow, had to be the height of foolishness.

      ‘No hotel,’ he rasped. ‘In fact, apart from this cottage, no anything,’ he bit out harshly.

      A frown marred that creamy brow now. ‘But we can’t be too far from Winston. Can we…?’ she added uncertainly, those small, slender hands betraying her nervousness as she ran them against denim-clad thighs.

      She should be nervous, risking her own life and that of the kid’s, to drive in weather like this, and for what? He had no idea, but it wasn’t worth it, whatever the reason.

      His impatient anger was audible in his tone. ‘About ten miles or so, though it might as well be a hundred,’ he added harshly as her expression brightened. ‘You must have taken a wrong turning half a mile or so away, because this is a private road that leads to this cottage only. And even if they get the snowploughs out tomorrow the road to the cottage will remain snowbound.’

      Tell it like it is, why don’t you, Cole? he berated himself disgustedly as tears swam now in those deep green eyes.

      But if she hadn’t deliberately come here to meet him—and he was inclined to believe that she hadn’t, her distress was too genuine—then what was this woman/child doing out here in the middle of nowhere two days before Christmas?

      He scowled heavily. ‘Where have you driven from?’

      ‘London,’ she said flatly. ‘It wasn’t snowing when we set out—well, not much, anyway,’ she amended with a grimace as her son would have spoken.

      Out of the mouths of babes. But Jed accepted that it probably hadn’t been snowing anything like this in the capital; he had never known snow to settle for long during his own frequent trips to that busy metropolis. But London was over a hundred and twenty miles away from here, at least.

      ‘Didn’t you have the good sense to pull over and stop somewhere when you could see the weather was worsening?’ he snapped his impatience with the situation, what was he supposed to do with this unlikely pair of visitors?

      ‘Obviously not!’ A flush brightened her cheeks. ‘I realize now that I should have done,’ she continued awkwardly, those green eyes glittering with anger now rather than tears. ‘But I didn’t.’ She angled her pointed chin challengingly, as if daring him to criticize her again.

      It was a challenge Jed had no problem accepting. ‘Instead of which, you and the kid there are now my guests!’ Unwelcome guests, he could have added, but knew that his tone of voice said it all.

      Her mouth set stubbornly. ‘The kid’s name is Scott,’ she corrected tersely, obviously smarting from his comments. ‘And I’m sure there must be some way the two of us can get out of here and leave you to your privacy.’ The last word came out scornfully.

      That privacy wasn’t something to be scorned as far as he was concerned; it had been hard won.

      But it was hard not to admire this petite woman. Not only had she kept her head through blizzard conditions—simply pulling over to the side of the road and sitting out the storm could have resulted in her and her son freezing to death—and maintained that calm after the crash, but she still had enough courage left to stand up to her reluctant rescuer.

      And he was reluctant, had no idea what he was going to do with the pair of them for what he knew, even if Meg Hamilton hadn’t realized it yet, was going to be an overnight stay, at least.

      Jed Cole to the rescue. It wasn’t a role he, or indeed many of his friends, would ever have imagined him in. Humanity, he had decided this last year—even ebony-haired green-eyed waifs—left a lot to be desired, and should be avoided, if possible.

      Something, in this particular situation, he simply couldn’t do. Which only increased his bad temper.

      ‘Really?’ He dropped down into the unoccupied armchair, draping a leg over the arm as he looked up at her enquiringly. ‘I would be very interested to hear it?’ He quirked dark brows.

      ‘Maybe we could walk to—’

      ‘There’s a blizzard raging outside,’ Jed cut in impatiently. ‘Some of the drifts are already four feet high; if the kid—Scott,’ he amended dryly as she glared at him. ‘If he fell into one of those drifts you’d never find him.’

      Once again he watched as the emotions raging inside her showed on her face; good manners versus impatient anger this time, rather than her earlier panic at her predicament.

      Anger won out as she glared at him. ‘I would find him,’ she assured him grimly.

      He would just bet that she would too, reminding him at that moment of a lioness protecting her cub.

      He shrugged. ‘You got lost driving a car; what chance do you think you stand on foot?’

      That glare turned to a frown as she moved to stand protectively in front of her son before answering him softly. ‘Are you deliberately trying to frighten me?’

      Jed eyed her speculatively. ‘Am I succeeding?’ he prompted dryly.

      ‘You’re being unnecessarily cruel, if that’s what you mean,’ she came back tartly.

      Giving a good impression of one of the bantam hens back home on his parents’ farm as she defended her ground against one of the larger species of livestock. A defence that was usually successful, he recalled wryly.

      ‘Look, I realize we’ve inconvenienced you, turning up like this…’

      ‘You drove into the side of the damned cottage,’ he reminded with some of the incredulity he had felt at the time. Relaxing beside the log fire, staring broodingly into the flickering flames as he sipped a glass of whisky, he had heard an almighty bang as the whole cottage had seemed to shudder. He had thought the side of the cottage was going to fall in on him.

      ‘Well. Yes…I know, but—’ she gave a pained grimace ‘—I didn’t mean to,’ she added ruefully. ‘And could you please not swear in front of Scott?’ she said softly. ‘They aren’t words I want added to his vocabulary.’

      Not only had he been severely ‘inconvenienced’, he was now being told what he could or couldn’t say.

      He scowled darkly. ‘Is there a Mr Hamilton somewhere anxiously awaiting your arrival?’ If there was, he would quite happily pass on the responsibility of rescuing his wife and son to the other man.

      She looked stunned for a moment, as if reminded of something she had forgotten as the angry flush faded from her cheeks, making her look all eyes again. Defenceless eyes, Jed recognized uncomfortably.

      She chewed on her bottom lip before answering him. ‘Yes, there’s a Mr Hamilton.’

      ‘Nearby, I hope?’ Jed prompted harshly, not