One more for christmas, p.17
One More for Christmas, page 17
Were they? He didn’t know their mother.
He slid his hand from her hip to her thigh, and then higher, and she decided that for now at least she’d leave him to his fantasies because she was having a few of her own.
“Are you making a move on me?”
“Several moves.” His mouth was on her jaw, her throat, her breast. She felt the softness of his mouth and the rasp of stubble over sensitive skin.
Desire, warm and wicked, unraveled inside her. He wasn’t her first lover, but she’d known from that first heated kiss they’d shared that he’d be her last.
Michael.
She slid her arms round him, curved her legs over his. “I love you.”
“Of course you do. You’re a woman of taste. Ouch!” Michael winced as she moved her knee. “If you think you’ll ever want a second child, you should be careful.”
“I don’t know if I want a second child. Would it turn out like you?”
“You mean smart and wickedly handsome? We’re a rare breed. I can’t guarantee it.” He kissed her, smothering her response.
She put her hand on his shoulder, ready to push him away and carry on talking, but then he deepened the kiss and she forgot what it was she’d wanted to say. The kiss turned from soft and deliberate to wild and urgent.
She felt the skilled glide of his fingers and the erotic stroke of his mouth against the most sensitive parts of her.
Only when she was pliant, writhing, desperate, did he finally ease into her. She wrapped her legs round him but he held himself still, kissing her until she was almost in a frenzy. When he finally started to move, it was a slow, rhythmic teasing of her senses, controlled to the point that she might have thought he wasn’t as desperate as she was, except that she knew him. She cupped his face in her hands, saw the feverish glitter in his eyes and knew the effort it was taking him to hold back.
“I love you.” She whispered the words against his mouth. “Love you. Love you.”
He held her gaze, and she squirmed at the sheer pleasure of it, urging him to please, please just—
He thrust deeper, and she would have cried out but his mouth was on hers, the erotic intimacy of his kiss stoking her pleasure. Sensation built and built until she felt herself tighten around him, her body beyond her control as she reached the peak and fell.
She felt him shudder, burying his face in her neck to muffle the sounds. Finally he lifted his head and cupped her face in his palm. “Love you, too.” He kissed her gently. “Very much.”
Her heart was full, but she gave him a teasing smile. “Of course you do. You’re a man of taste.”
Acknowledging her comeback with a smile, he rolled onto his back and pulled her against him. “Now go back to sleep.”
She did, and the next time she woke there was a pale streak of sunlight poking through the windows. Michael still had his arm locked around her, and she lay for a moment feeling utterly content.
“What time is it?” She reached for her phone and groaned. “It’s late. How could we oversleep?”
“Blame the incredible sex.” Michael tugged her back against him but she pulled away.
“I can’t believe Tab slept this late. She always crawls into bed with us at 5:00 a.m.”
“Remembering what we were doing at 5:00 a.m., I’d say it’s a good thing she overslept.”
Ella kissed him and slid out of bed. Her head felt as if it had been stuffed with down.
“I’ll just check on her.”
“Don’t. You’ll wake her up.”
“What if she woke early and wandered off? She could have been eaten by a reindeer—”
Michael rolled onto his back, giving up on sleep. “Reindeer are herbivores.”
“Stabbed by their antlers, then.”
“They always seem like pretty docile creatures in the movies. Would Santa really use them to pull his sleigh if they were so lethal?”
“I’m just going to check on her.” She tugged a sweater over her nightdress and tiptoed from the bedroom into the room next door.
She pushed gently at Tab’s door, opening it just enough for her to peep into the room.
The bed was empty.
She opened the door fully. “Tab?”
There was no sign of her daughter.
Panic knotted in her stomach.
“Michael! She’s gone!” She ran back into the bedroom and tripped over her shoes. “Get dressed. We have to search for her.” She grabbed her shoes from the floor and her jeans from the back of the chair. “How could I have slept so late? I never sleep late.”
“Ella—”
“Why didn’t I hear her? We should have stayed home and not come here for the holidays. I hope they lock the doors in this place.” She pulled off her nightdress and dragged on her jeans. “She could have wandered anywhere—”
“Calm down.” Michael forced himself out of bed. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Well, now you’re seeing me.” Her heart was thumping, her pulse racing. He was right that she had to calm down. “We need to find Brodie McIntyre. We need to—”
“Breathe.” Michael ran his hand over his face, waking himself up. “You need to breathe. Then we return to our usual parenting style, which favors logic over panic. She’s probably downstairs playing with the dog.”
“Or maybe she took the dog for a walk and she slipped into the loch and drowned.”
“Why would she do that? And why would you think that?” He grabbed a robe. “Okay, let’s go find our daughter.” He glanced out of the window and paused. “Ah—panic over.”
“What? Why?”
Ella joined him at the window and saw Tab in the distance, a tiny figure against a vast snowy landscape. Next to her was a larger figure. An adult, dressed in a bulky down jacket.
“Who is that she’s with?”
“Looks like your mother.”
“That’s not my mother. My mother only ever wears black. That jacket is—” she squinted “—peacock?”
“Well, maybe she fancied a change. It’s definitely your mother.”
“But black is her color. Still—” She flopped down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s a relief that Tab’s okay.”
Michael sat down next to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m always like this around my mother. You know that.”
“I don’t know that. I’ve never seen you with your mother. And I don’t understand why you’d be any different in her company.”
“We all act differently around different people, Michael. Have you seen my gloves?”
Michael handed them to her. “I’m the same with everyone. There’s just the one version of me. Admittedly it’s an awesome version.”
She finished dressing. “You’re a different person at work than you are at home.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m still the smart, supersexy, good-humored guy you fell in love with.”
She threw her sock at him. “At least you didn’t include modest on the list. And this is the version of me when I’m around my mother, so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it. Are you coming, or am I doing this on my own?”
He pulled her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay, honey. We just have to figure out a way for you to be you again. And now relax. Tab is fine.”
“She might not be fine.” The source of her anxiety had shifted. “How can she be so thoughtless?”
“She’s not even five years old, honey.”
“I’m talking about my mother. She could at least have left a note. Tab doesn’t even know her. Why would she just take off with her like that?”
“Presumably because she wants to get to know her. Seems pretty obvious to me. Also, they did sit next to each other on the flight. You mother was a saint on the journey. Tab was hard work, and your mother read to her and did endless puzzles.”
“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“No, Ella.” He sounded tired. “I’m trying to explain why your mother might have taken Tab outside on her own. She’s trying to bond with her, and I think it’s important that we let her.”
“She has no idea of what Tab is capable of. That child is so curious. She climbs everything, sticks her nose in everything, wants to have fun—”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have fun.”
“I know. But my mother doesn’t believe in fun. She believes in self-improvement.”
Michael strolled back to the window. “Are you sure about that? Because it looks as if she’s having fun to me. They’re building a snowman.”
“No way. My mother wouldn’t know how to build a snowman, and—oh—” She joined Michael at the window and stared. Even from this distance she could see her mother scooping up another handful of snow and adding it to the ball that Tab had already created. “I don’t believe this.”
“What don’t you believe? Why all the hysteria and yelling? I could hear you up a flight of stairs. At least tell me you saw Santa and his reindeer flying across the mountaintops.” Samantha’s voice came from the doorway. “Where’s Tab?” She walked up behind Ella to see what they were looking at. “Oh.”
“Yes.” Ella tried not to be hurt by the “hysteria” comment.
“I must be more tired than I thought. I’m hallucinating.” Samantha rubbed her eyes. “For a moment there I thought I saw our mother building a snowman with Tab.”
“She is. And she’s laughing.”
“Is Mom wearing a—blue coat?”
“I thought it was more peacock.” Ella shrugged. “I keep telling Michael how unlike her that is.”
“Well, that’s a good sign.” Samantha was still staring out of the window.
“Sign of what?”
“Sign that she can change. She wears black. All the time. But today she’s wearing peacock.”
“Which will no doubt please our daughter,” Michael said, “as it’s close to a mermaid color. It’s thoughtful of her. And now that I know our daughter is safe and happy, I’m going to take a shower and wash away the drama.” He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the two sisters alone.
It’s thoughtful of her.
Ella felt a sizzle of frustration. He made her feel as if she was making a fuss over nothing, but her difficult relationship with her mother wasn’t nothing.
She rubbed her chest with her hand, and then she saw Samantha’s wistful expression and knew that whatever she was feeling, her sister was feeling the same way. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t.” Samantha straightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come on! You feel fine? No emotions at all seeing her out there building a snowman?”
“Ella—”
“Why do you do that? Why do you always hide your feelings? I share everything with you. It hurts my feelings that you don’t talk to me.”
“I talk to you all the time. We talk about feelings all the time.”
“You’ve never talked to me about Kyle.”
“I—there’s nothing to talk about.”
“See? That’s what I mean. I talk about my feelings and you listen. You listen to everyone. You’re great at that. When it comes to talking about your own, you’re not so great. This is me! Your sister! You can tell me how you feel.”
“About Mom building a snowman with Tab? I feel pleased. Relieved. I was as worried about this Christmas gathering as you. I don’t understand why you’re not relieved, too. What did you want, Ella? Did you want her to ignore Tab?”
“No, and I am relieved that she seems to be making an effort. But I also feel a little weird about it.” She was going to have to be the one to say it. “She never did that with us.”
“But she’s taken Tab outside to play with her. That’s massive.”
“Yes, and it hurts because she is out there playing with my daughter, trying to make her happy, and that is something she never did with us.”
Samantha stood up and hugged Ella. “I understand why you’re upset.”
“Do you? And are you not upset?” Ella extracted herself. Why was it that her sister could comfort her, but not admit her own feelings?
“It’s different. I’m not Tab’s mom.”
Ella gave up. “I’m going outside to join them. Do you want to come with me?”
“This is a professional visit for me. I need to explore the estate, talk to Brodie about the types of activities we can offer, work up some plans and numbers. I’m going to take photographs, investigate transport options. I also promised to explore with him other ways that he could monetize the estate.”
Ella looked at her sister properly for the first time and realized how groomed and professional she looked even in warm, practical clothing. “Is that sweater new? You look amazing. How long have you been awake?”
“A few hours. I was working. I had some preparation to do for today.”
Ella was about to ask her sister if she was looking forward to spending the day with Brodie when Michael emerged from the bathroom.
“Am I the only one around here who is starving?” He picked up his watch from the nightstand. “I’m willing to test the full Scottish breakfast for you, Samantha. I will give you my considered opinion on every element.”
Samantha smiled at him. “Your sacrifice is duly noted.”
“Always willing to take one for the team. Are you coming for something to eat, Ella?”
“Later.” Ella pulled on extra layers and found her coat. She felt isolated. No one, not even her sister, seemed to understand the way she was feeling. “I want to check on my daughter.”
“Our daughter.” Michael’s tone was mild. “She’s our daughter.”
“True. But she’s with my mother. She’s probably telling Tab never to get married, or to make sure she only ever takes a well-paid job. Or maybe Tab has fallen over and she’s telling her to pick herself up.”
Samantha exchanged a look with Michael. “You need to relax, Ella, or this Christmas gathering is never going to work. You can’t hover over Mom, watching her every move.”
Nothing stung quite as sharply as criticism from someone you saw as an ally. “How can you say that? You know what she’s like. Just look at the impact she’s had on you.”
Samantha’s mouth tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s our mother’s constant dire warnings that are responsible for the fact that you’re single and focused on work. You’re terrified of feelings, which is why instead of experiencing wild abandoned passion, you spend your nights reading about wild abandoned passion. Which, now I think of it, could be the very definition of safe sex. It’s certainly safer than opening up and trusting someone.” She saw the wounded expression in her sister’s eyes and tried to backpedal. “All I’m saying is that our upbringing had a powerful effect on us. I’m afraid to tell our mother the truth about my life, and you don’t form intimate relationships because Mom told us never to build our lives around a man.”
Samantha stood in frozen stillness. “Are you finished?”
“I just think—”
“And I think you should stop talking now.”
Ella swallowed. “You’re acting as if this is all normal, but before this we hadn’t spoken to our mother for five years. So forgive me if this whole thing is a bit sensitive. We’re pretending we’re a normal family, and we are not a normal family.”
“I’m going to see if I can find the McIntyres and some breakfast and if I can’t, I’ll retire to my room with my romantic fantasies.” Samantha left the room and Ella stared after her miserably.
“Now I’ve upset her.” And she felt terrible. She and Samantha never fought. Her sister was her comfort blanket, and she knew Samantha felt the same way about her.
“She’ll be fine.” Michael picked up his phone. “Your relationship will survive one tactless comment.”
“You think I was tactless?”
“I think you’re not yourself. And if this is how you are around your mother, then perhaps this is a good time to look at that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He put the phone in his pocket. “If there are things you want to say to your mother, then say them.”
“I’ve told you, she makes me feel like—”
“A child. Yes. I get that. And I get that it’s hard, but it’s up to you to rewrite that narrative. We’re always children to our parents. We’ll probably be the same around Tab when she is thirty and fully independent—but if you’re truly going to reestablish a relationship with your mother, then both of you need to put the past behind you.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” How could he make it sound so easy? If it were easy, she would already have done it.
“You could start by telling her that you’re not teaching right now. That you’ve chosen to stay home and raise our child. Surely a woman who writes books encouraging people to make choices will understand your need to make a few of your own?”
Ella could just imagine how that would play out.
“She’s fine with other people’s choices. But she’s only good with her daughter’s choices if they align with her ambitions for us.”
Michael picked up her scarf and put it round her neck. “Then you need to make it clear that accepting your choices is going to be part of your relationship moving forward.” He kissed her forehead. “She doesn’t have to like your choices, but she does need to accept them.”
Ella thought back to that awful day five years before. You’re a terrible mother. They were all carrying on as if those harsh words had never been said. But she hadn’t forgotten the words, and she was sure her mother wouldn’t have forgotten them, either. Could they really move forward and heal their relationship without addressing what had happened?
“I’ll talk to her when I feel the time is right.”
