The Unexpected Holiday Gift (9 page)

‘Not yours?' His gaze flicked towards hers, then back down again. Clara shook her head. If she'd managed to not discuss her family with Jacob when they were actually together, she wasn't going to start now.

‘So, probably not a good idea,' Clara said. ‘We're agreed.'

‘Well, I agree it wouldn't be a good idea if they still thought you broke my heart.' Clara's breath escaped her. What did he mean? That he'd found someone new so he wasn't heartbroken any more? Because on the one hand she really wanted to be the bigger person and be happy for him. But on the other... There wasn't a chance she was spending her Christmas with Jacob, his family and his
new girlfriend,
no matter how ill his dad was.

‘Don't they?' she said, wishing she could breathe properly again but knowing it wouldn't be possible until she had her answer.

‘They won't if we pretend we're back together,' Jacob said, and Clara lost the ability to breathe altogether.

* * *

‘I...I don't...'

Jacob didn't think he'd ever rendered Clara so speechless before. Well, maybe once. That night on the balcony of the Los Angeles house, after that party, with her only half wearing that gold dress...

But that wasn't the point.

‘It would make the old man's Christmas just to think we were even trying to make our marriage work again,' he said, pushing home with the guilt. He needed her to agree to this. Surely she
owed
him this. He'd given her the world, and she'd given him a note asking for time to think and then divorce papers, two months later. All because they hadn't talked enough? That, Jacob had found, was usually more easily solved by
staying in the same country as someone.

Clara owed him more than a fake relationship for Christmas.

‘But it wouldn't be real,' she said. Clara's eyes darted around desperately, as if she were searching the castle for secret passageways she could escape through.

‘No. We'd just play happy families for Dad's sake.'

‘Until...' She trailed off, and he realised she was avoiding saying the words
Until he dies?

‘Until after Christmas,' he clarified. ‘All he wants is to know that there's a chance. That we're trying.' And if it delayed the inevitable divorce until it was too late for his father to worry about it that would be a bonus.

‘I can't...I can't stay for Christmas Day, Jacob,' she said, finally finding the words. ‘No. I'm sorry.'

She didn't sound very sorry. She sounded like this was a punishment he was somehow inflicting on her, instead of spending Christmas with people who had once been her family.

‘Just think about it,' he said. ‘That's all I ask.'

‘There's no point,' Clara said. ‘I can't do it, Jacob. I have...other obligations.'

Other obligations.
Jacob's mouth tightened. He could only imagine what they might be. Through all their conversations she'd conspicuously failed to rule out another man in her life. And what was Merry transporting up here on the train? Some perfect gift for Clara's perfect man?

‘You never said,' he bit out. ‘Where are you spending Christmas?'

‘Merry and I have booked into a hotel a couple of miles away,' she said, not looking at him. ‘Roaring fire, haggis for breakfast, that sort of thing. I wasn't sure we'd have time to get back to London after all the set-up on Christmas Eve, so this seemed like the best option.'

‘Just you and Merry?' he asked, dreading the answer.

‘I think the hotel is fully booked, actually. We only just managed to get the last two rooms.'

Two rooms.
But who was Clara sharing hers with? That was what Jacob wanted to know.

‘That's not quite what I meant.'

‘Really? Then I can't imagine what you did mean.' Clara turned to look at him at last, her eyes fierce. ‘Since my life, my Christmas and who I choose to spend it with are absolutely none of your business any more.'

She was right; that was the worst thing. He wanted her to be wrong, wanted to claim that the piece of paper that announced they were still technically married meant it
was
his business. But that was a low move, even he knew that. Five years apart. He couldn't honestly have expected her to stay celibate that whole time.

He just wanted to know...

‘Look, all I'm asking for is a couple of days,' Jacob said, aware he was getting perilously close to begging. ‘Just stay and make Dad happy. Make me happy. Then I'll give you your divorce.'

‘No. A wife is for life, not just for Christmas, Jacob.'

‘Really? Where was that bit of trite philosophy when you walked out on me?'

‘Where were you?' she asked. ‘It was Boxing Day, for heaven's sake. The day after Christmas Day. And you hadn't been home in sixteen hours by the time I left. If you're suddenly all about Christmas being a time for family, answer me this—why weren't you there to spend it with me?'

‘I...I had to work.' It was the lamest excuse in the book, and he knew it. But it was all he had.

Clara sighed. ‘Jacob, you've made it very clear you don't want
me
at all. Just the appearance of a wife to prove to your father that you've got your life in order.'

‘Hey, you're the one who left me,' he pointed out. ‘If anyone has made it clear they wanted out of this marriage, it's you.'

Clara shook her head. ‘I thought...just for a moment, I thought you might have changed. Grown up. But it's all still an act to you, isn't it? Be honest. You married me because all the other top-level businessmen you worked with had the perfect wife at home and you wanted it too. The sex was just a bonus. You never even
asked
what I wanted out of our relationship. And I was so stupidly desperate for any affection at all that I didn't even question it. Our marriage wasn't a relationship—it was a business merger. You sealed the deal then went back to work, and left me wondering what I was supposed to do next.' She grabbed her bag and threw her coat over her arm.

‘I won't be in another fake relationship with you, Jacob,' she said and for a moment his heart clenched the same way it had five years ago, as he'd read her note and realised that she had left him again. ‘All we have left now really
is
business. I'll see you tomorrow.'

And then she was gone.

CHAPTER TEN

C
LARA
WRAPPED
HER
COAT
tighter around her shivering body as she scanned the darkening road down from the castle towards the village for any sign of headlights. The taxi she'd called had promised it wouldn't be long. She checked her watch. If it made it in the next ten minutes she could be at the hotel waiting to greet Merry and Ivy when they arrived.

That was what she was focusing on.
Her
family.
Her
perfect Christmas. Not Jacob's.

She couldn't think about him now. Couldn't let herself stop and absorb the realisation that all she'd ever really been to him was a useful accessory, like a laptop or a briefcase. She'd felt neglected when they were married, sure. Even unwanted, or unloved towards the end. But she'd never felt as unimportant to him as she did today—at the very moment when he was telling her he needed her to stay.

But not for herself. Not for Clara. For what she represented—his own success. To show his dad that he wasn't a failure. That was all.

He'd made her think he wanted her. For one fleeting moment, she'd almost believed that he still loved her. But it was all still just a game to him, the same way their whole marriage had been. It was the game of life—a game Jacob was bound and determined to win.

She'd asked him why he hadn't stayed for that Christmas night, but she'd known the true answer before he'd spoken. He'd said he had to work, of course, but she knew what that really meant, now.

He hadn't considered her part of his family. Just like her own parents hadn't, in their way. Just like her stepdad hadn't. She hadn't been important to him either—certainly not as important as his work, or her stepbrothers. She hadn't mattered at all.

But she mattered to Ivy. She mattered now. And he could never take that away from her.

How could she have thought that he'd changed? That he might be
worthy
of knowing his incredible daughter?

Jacob Foster would never know the true value of love, of family, of relationships—of her. Not if he was willing to use her just to prove a point to his father.

Ivy didn't need that kind of person in her life. She didn't need a father who would swoop in and show her off when it benefitted him and ignore her the rest of the time. She needed someone who would show her that she mattered every day of her life.

And so, Clara realised as she finally saw the taxi's headlights approaching, did she.

* * *

Alone in the castle that evening, Jacob stared up at the monstrously large Christmas tree in the hallway, obscuring the suit of armour, and wondered if this whole thing had been a massive mistake.

Not Christmas in general, or even bringing his family together for this last perfect Christmas. But asking Clara to organise it.

He couldn't have done it all himself, he knew. He had many skills and talents but organising the details of an event like this weren't among them. Clara, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on such minutiae. He'd caught a glimpse of her clipboard while she was debating the exact position of the tree, and discovered that she had everything planned down to the minute. She knew exactly what needed to happen every hour of every day until Christmas was over. She'd probably leave them a timetable for festive fun when she headed back to the hotel tomorrow.

She'd even named the Christmas tree. Who called a tree Bruce, anyway?

No, he couldn't have done it without her, but still he wondered if he should have asked someone else. Or if she should have said no. If seeing her again was only going to make things far worse in the long run.

Maybe he should just have given her a divorce five years ago, when she first asked, and skipped this current misery.

Had she really meant everything she said? That he'd not just neglected her but
used
her? And he'd been thinking she owed him for walking out. Perhaps he owed
her
more than he thought.

Sighing, Jacob sank down to sit at the bottom of the stairs. He'd known all along that the chances of him being a good husband—a good man—were slim, no matter how hard he tried. He'd proved that before he'd even turned eighteen. That disastrous night... Burned into his mind was the memory of his mother's face, wide-eyed with horror and disbelief, and the stern, set jaw of his father that night, all mingled with the sound of the ambulance tyres screeching up the driveway on a winter night...

But worse, far worse, was the image of Heather's tiny body, laid out on a stretcher, and the sobbing wrenched from his own body.

He forced it out of his mind again.

He should never have got married in the first place. He should have known better. He'd let himself get swept away in the instant connection he'd felt with Clara and had told himself what he needed to hear to let the relationship carry on far past the point he should have ended it. It should have been two weeks of intimacy, a wonderful Christmas holiday memory to look back on years later.

Because he didn't deserve anything more, anything deeper than that.

He'd reassured himself that Clara was an adult, that she could take care of herself. But it seemed a heart was even easier to break than a body.

Jacob buried his head in his hands, his fingers tightening in his hair. His father had known, he realised. James had known that marriage was beyond him—he'd practically said it when Jacob had brought Clara home to meet the family! All his talk about responsibility... What he'd meant was:
Do you really think you can do this?

And Jacob had proven he couldn't.

He'd been all Clara had, it dawned on him now, too late. He'd been given the gift of her love and all he'd had to do in return was take care of it. She was wrong about one thing, at least—he
had
loved her. She'd never been a convenience, an accessory, even if apparently that was how he'd treated her.

He'd broken her. Let her down. He'd pulled away because he'd been scared—scared of how deeply he felt for her, and scared of screwing it up. That he wasn't up to the responsibility of being a husband.

Maybe he still wasn't. But he liked to think he was a better man at thirty-one than he'd been at twenty-five, and a world better than he'd been at sixteen. He was improving, growing. He might never be a good man, but he could be a
better
one.

And a better man would apologise to the woman he'd hurt.

Jumping to his feet, Jacob grabbed his car keys and his coat and headed out to find Clara's hotel.

It wasn't hard to find; the twisting road down from the castle didn't have much in the way of buildings along it and the Golden Thistle Hotel was the first he came to.

Swinging the door open wide, he stepped inside and...promptly realised he had no idea what he was going to say. Clara hadn't answered him when he'd asked who she was staying with. What if she really was there with another man? The last thing she'd want was her ex-husband storming in, even if he was there to apologise.

‘Can I help you?' the teenage girl behind the reception desk asked.

‘Um...' Jacob considered. He was there now, after all. ‘Are you still serving food?' At least that way he'd have an excuse for being there if Clara stumbled across him before he decided on his next move.

The receptionist cheerfully showed him through to the bar, where he acquired a snack menu and a pint and settled down to study his surroundings.

It wasn't entirely what he'd expected. Not that he'd given it a huge amount of thought. But he'd imagined Clara to be staying in a wildly romantic boutique hotel, with no kids and plenty of champagne and roses. The Golden Thistle Hotel, while lovely, seemed a rather more laid-back affair. The roaring fires were cosy and the prints on the stone walls were friendly rather than designer. The low, beamed ceilings and sprigs of holly on the tables made it feel welcoming, somehow, and somewhere in the next room someone was belting out carols at a piano.

But there was no sign of Clara, or Merry. And the longer he sat there, the less inclined Jacob was to look for them. How would he find them, anyway? Explain to the nice receptionist that he was looking for his estranged wife? That was likely to get him thrown out on his ear if the woman had any sense.

He shouldn't be here. She had been right. It wasn't any of his business who Clara chose to spend Christmas with. Not any more. And maybe she'd been telling the truth; maybe it really was just her and Merry. Perhaps she just wanted to get away from him. And, given his current actions, who could blame her?

She'd left him once. He really shouldn't be surprised if she kept trying to repeat the action.

Jacob drained the last of his pint and got to his feet. Never mind the bar snacks, or his wife. He'd head back to the castle, eat whatever had been left in the fridge for him and go to bed. And tomorrow he'd be professional, adult and considerably less of a stalker.

He'd apologise when she arrived for work. They'd get through Christmas and they'd be divorced in the New Year. He'd give Clara her life back, at least, to do whatever she wanted with it.

Without him.

Glancing into the next room on his way past, he saw a small girl standing on the table, singing ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas' at the top of her lungs and turned away. A perfect Christmas—that was what he was here for. Not to reconcile with his wife, or even exact some sort of revenge on her for leaving him. This weekend was about his family, not his love life.

Clara was his employee now, not his wife. And once this Christmas was over, she wouldn't be his anything at all.

He had to remember that.

* * *

Clara arrived at the castle bright and early on Christmas Eve, wrapped up warm and in full warpaint make-up, ready to be professional, aloof and totally unbothered by Jacob Foster. Today, he was her client, not her ex, and all they had to discuss were Christmas plans and decorations. Nothing to do with their marriage—and definitely nothing to do with Ivy.

She'd caught a taxi up to the castle, loaded full of the last few essentials that her friend had brought up herself, not trusting them to the courier company. Namely, the Foster family antique decorations and Jacob's Christmas presents to his family. Everything else she figured she could replace or improvise if the courier company let them down.

But they hadn't. All the boxes had arrived, just as they'd packed them. The tree was in place, the final food delivery was expected within the hour from the local butcher and deli. All she had to do now was
‘
Christmasify' the castle. And that was Clara's favourite part.

Normally, she'd have Merry along to help her, but today her business partner had taken Ivy off into the local town to do some last-minute Christmas shopping in the hire car Merry had picked up at the station the day before. Hot chocolates had also been mentioned. Clara was trying very hard not to feel envious; she needed to work and Ivy understood that. Plus, spending time with Aunt Merry was always a special treat for her daughter.

At least they'd all managed to have a wonderful evening together last night at the Golden Thistle Hotel, when she'd finally got done at the castle. She hadn't been completely sure when Merry had suggested the place, but it was the closest and easiest hotel on offer. As it turned out, though, it was wonderful. The staff had welcomed Ivy in particular with open arms, and they'd spent the evening eating chips and then mince pies in the bar while one of the locals played Christmas carols on the old piano there. It hadn't been long before Ivy had been singing along too, much to everyone's delight. All in all, the evening had been the ideal respite after the hideous few hours with Jacob at the castle.

Had he honestly believed that Clara would spend Christmas there, just to make his father a tiny smidgen happier? He couldn't honestly believe that James would care all that much about his ex-daughter-in-law being there, could he? Clara was pretty sure that as long as Sheila, Jacob and Heather were there, everything would be perfect as far as James was concerned.

And as long as she had Ivy and Merry, Clara knew the Golden Thistle would be perfect for her too. In fact, she couldn't wait to get back there this evening and spend Christmas Eve with her girl. The owners had already said that Ivy was welcome to hang her stocking by the main fire, to make it as easy as possible for Father Christmas to find her that night. Ivy had positively vibrated with excitement at the thought.

Yes, Christmas was here and it was wonderful. All Clara had to do was hope that Jacob had come to his senses, get through a few more hours of setting up the castle for the Fosters, and then she could start enjoying herself. This year, she'd decided, would be the one to make up for all those miserable childhood Christmases—not to mention the last lonely one with Jacob.

She shivered as she stepped out of the car onto the frosty castle driveway. There was no snow yet, but the forecast said there would be overnight. All the more reason for Clara to get the job done and get out. The air around her was bitterly cold, cutting into every centimetre of exposed skin, and Clara was thankful for her scarf and gloves, and even the woolly hat Ivy had pushed onto her head before she'd left.

‘You don't want to catch a cold, Mummy,' she'd said sternly, and Clara had given up worrying about what it might do to her hair.

Letting herself in to the castle, a box of decorations balanced on one hip, Clara wondered whether she should call out to Jacob. He could be sleeping, she supposed, or working. Either way, she probably shouldn't interrupt him. Besides, she'd work quicker on her own.

By the time he appeared, dressed in jeans and a jumper and heavy boots, she'd already brought in all her boxes and waved the taxi off, unpacked the fresh food delivery, and twined freshly cut greenery all the way up the twisting banister. She was just adding the ribbons and baubles to the stair display when she heard his voice.