His Christmas Bride

by Brooks, Helen

  It was useless to tell herself Zak getting over her so quickly confirmed she’d done the right thing, and that if he hadn’t bothered to be miserable for a few weeks then she was well rid of him. It didn’t ease the ache in her heart one bit.

  She had studiously avoided any mention of him when she had spoken to Melissa. She’d kept all their conversations strictly centred on her nephew and nieces, and her work. Two safe topics. She could fill up talk time enthusing over the latter, and Melissa the former, and in between they’d discussed Christmas presents. Melissa had invited her to spend Christmas with them, and Blossom had accepted as always. The season was always difficult for her—Dean having chosen such a poignant time of the year to leave—and since her marriage break-up she had spent every Christmas with her sister, enjoying being part of a family.

  She left America on the twenty-first of the month, and dozed from the moment the plane took off, thankful Melissa was meeting her at the other end. Once she was at her sister’s home and could sleep her jet lag away she would be fine, she told herself in the odd moment she surfaced from the strange half-sleep her body had fallen into. And after Christmas she would pick up the threads again and get back to normal life. OK, so it would be a solitary existence, but that was what she had wanted. Answerable to no one, and no one answerable to her and able to tie her up in knots. Except he had. He was still doing it. But that would fade in time. It would have to.

  On landing, it took ages to get through Customs. She stood feeling slightly sick and giddy as she waited for her luggage, and, by the time she was finally reunited with her case and equipment and various bits and pieces, she felt even more like a wet rag. She knew she looked like one too, which didn’t help.

  She hadn’t bothered to put any make-up on for the journey home, knowing from experience it was far better to keep applying lashings of moisturizer, her skin being naturally very dry. Unfortunately, due to the fact she had dozed the journey away, she hadn’t bothered to do that either. Now she was left with an irritably dry skin as well as no make-up—not a pretty picture, as the mirror in the ladies’ cloakroom pointed out with neon brightness.

  When Blossom walked through into the main terminal along with others from her flight, she wearily searched the crowd for Melissa. Then her heart gave a gigantic lurch and she stopped dead, causing half a dozen people behind her to do some quick manoeuvring with their trolleys and cases. Zak was standing there, very big, very dark, his vivid blue eyes meeting hers calmly.

  ‘You all right, love?’

  A big burly rugby type with arms like tree trunks stopped beside her, a small child sitting on the trolley he was pushing. There were notices saying this wasn’t permitted, but Blossom doubted anyone would point this out to him. ‘I’m fine.’ She forced a smile. In spite of his bulk and the tattoos covering practically all visible flesh, his face had been concerned. ‘Just getting my breath,’ she added. That was true, but it had nothing to do with the weight of the trolley.

  As the rugby player moved on, the dainty, tiny woman who was obviously his partner and the tot’s mother at his side, Blossom began to follow them to the end of the roped-off walkway. Zak was waiting. For one crazy moment she wondered if he was meeting someone else before reason asserted itself. That would just have been too much of a coincidence.

  ‘Hello, Blossom.’ As she reached him he bent and kissed her lightly, before taking charge of the trolley which had been determined to go its own way from the moment she had tried to push it. ‘How are you?’ he asked quietly.

  How was she? She didn’t have a clue; there were so many feelings coursing through her she didn’t know which end was up. ‘Fine,’ she answered automatically through numb lips.

  ‘You don’t look it.’

  She knew she didn’t. If only she’d put some make-up on, done her hair, anything. ‘It was a long journey,’ she said stiffly. As though he didn’t know. ‘Tiring.’

  He had begun to walk, and she had no option but to trot along at his side, her head whirling. ‘Where’s Melissa?’ she asked after a second or two, realising that should have been her first thought.

  ‘At home with her husband and children this time of night, I should imagine.’ The deep voice was matter-of-fact, cool even.

  She glanced at him but he didn’t look at her, concentrating on the trolley and keeping his eyes in front. ‘She was supposed to meet me. She didn’t let me know she wasn’t coming.’

  She was stating the obvious, and his lazy drawl made this clear when he said, ‘But I came instead.’

  He was being deliberately obtuse, and scampering along like this trying to keep up with his long legs was putting her at a distinct disadvantage. ‘I meant is anyone ill?’ she said, her voice clipped. She couldn’t keep up this pace.

  ‘You mean besides you?’ he said calmly.

  ‘I’m not ill,’ she said indignantly.

  He stopped, looking down at her intently. ‘Then I’m a monkey’s uncle. You look like death warmed up, if you want to know.’

  As hot colour rose into her face, Blossom told herself she mustn’t react. As steadily as she could, she said, ‘Why are you here, Zak?’ After nearly three months of complete silence. Not one phone call or letter. Nothing. Not to mention other women.

  ‘Why?’ With one hand he lifted her chin, looking down into her brown eyes. ‘Why do you think?’ And then he kissed her, a long, burning kiss during which they were both oblivious of passers-by. When his head lifted, he said, ‘Missed me?’

  The kiss had held her entranced—his kisses always held her entranced—but now Blossom stepped backwards a pace. What was this? He had the gall to kiss her, to talk in that soft, smoky voice as though she was the only girl in the world, when he had been off in pastures new? ‘Zak—’ She stopped, biting back the hot words. She had no right to object in any way; she had relinquished all her rights that evening back in the autumn. Instead she said quietly, ‘I thought we were finished. We agreed—’

  ‘I didn’t agree to anything,’ he interrupted equably. ‘As I remember it, you were the one making all the decisions.’

  He looked wonderful. He smelt wonderful. Blossom thought she had cried all the tears it was possible to cry, but now to her horror she felt more pricking the backs of her eyes. Swallowing at the constriction in her throat, she said huskily, ‘Please don’t do this.’

  He continued to look at her for another moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he swore softly, taking her hand and keeping it beneath his on the handle of the trolley as he began to walk again. She had no option but to keep up with him.

  Neither of them spoke during the time he paid for the car parking, after which they made their way to a gleaming Jaguar in one of the parking bays. Blossom didn’t comment on the change of car, neither did she say anything as she watched him load her possessions into the ample boot and back seat of the leather-clad interior. In truth, she felt beyond words. This had suddenly turned into a strange dream, poignant, heartbreaking, painful. To see him, to be able to feast her eyes on him again, was both agonising and thrilling at the same time, and her emotions were just as raw as in the first moments when they had parted all those weeks before.

  Once they left Heathrow, Christmas was suddenly all around them as the big car sped through the night, shop windows lit up with eye-catching garishness, and Christmas-tree lights twinkling in a hundred house windows as they passed by. And then the final touch came into being—it started to snow. Small, light teardrops to start with, but then big, feathery flakes began to fall out of a low, heavy sky.

  They were like strangers, Blossom thought painfully as the silence continued to stretch and lengthen. Strangers who were awkward with each other and had nothing to say of consequence. Suddenly it was all too much. She wanted to bury her head in her hands and weep and wail, but instead she gazed out of the side window into the whirling whiteness beyond, willing herself not to speak. If he could keep up this silence, then so could she.

  She didn’t understand why he
was here instead of Melissa. If she thought about it, he had sidestepped the question when she’d asked it very adroitly. Completely forgetting she had promised herself she wouldn’t speak first, she said nervously, ‘This isn’t the way to Melissa’s.’

  ‘Who said we were going to Melissa’s?’

  ‘Me. I did.’ She collected herself. ‘I mean, that’s what Melissa and I have arranged. I’m spending Christmas with them.’

  He glanced at her, just one swift look, the street lamps happening to light up the brilliant blue of his eyes. For an endless moment they were joined, something vital and potent quivering between them. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said very calmly.

  Bewildered, Blossom’s heart began to pound with the force of a sledgehammer. ‘I am.’ Her voice sounded small. ‘I am,’ she said more strongly. ‘I’m spending Christmas with my sister.’

  He didn’t reply, the car continuing to snake through the worsening weather, the windscreen wipers labouring under the increasingly thick snow. Already the ground outside the car was covered with a layer of white, the trees and rooftops taking on a chocolate-box prettiness.

  ‘Zak, I want to go my sister’s house,’ she said loudly, glancing at his shadowed features. ‘Stop this car.’

  They had been travelling along a well-lit A-road and when he suddenly pulled into the kerb and cut the engine her heartbeat went haywire. ‘OK, I’ve stopped it. What now?’ He turned, his face expressionless.

  ‘I want to go to Melissa’s,’ she repeated feverishly.

  ‘No you don’t.’ He drew her into his arms, kissing her until she had no breath left. It was a confident kiss, passionate and warm. ‘You don’t,’ he said softly as his mouth left hers.

  Trembling, she said, ‘This isn’t fair.’

  ‘I played by the rules and where did it get me?’ There was no amusement in his face or voice. ‘You walking out on me—that’s where.’ His finger outlined her lips, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘And so now we play by my rules.’

  ‘Which include kidnapping?’ she shot back feverishly.

  If she had thought to shame him, his lazy smile told her she could think again. ‘Whatever it takes.’

  She was too tired to consider her words. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve been pining all alone, I know you haven’t. I’m not a fool, Zak.’

  ‘No, you’re not a fool. Massively insecure, more insecure than I gave you credit for—to my cost—but not foolish. I haven’t been seeing anyone else while you’ve been gone, Blossom. I know that’s what you’ve been thinking, but it’s not true.’

  She stared at him. Something in his voice told her he was telling the truth. Shakily, she said, ‘If that’s the case, if you haven’t been seeing anyone but you thought I believed you were, why didn’t you do something about it?’

  ‘Like what?’ He raised sardonic eyebrows.

  ‘Write to me, phone. You are the one who said America wasn’t so far away these days.’

  ‘And you were the one who said you didn’t want me around while you were working,’ he reminded her gently. ‘In fact, you didn’t want me around at all. Remember?’ He smiled darkly.

  ‘Then why are you here?’ she said. ‘Why come now?’

  ‘Because I know you better than you know yourself. Sometimes you have to think you’ve lost something to value it.’

  Her mouth went dry. ‘You said you didn’t play games. What’s that, if not a game?’

  ‘Strategic warfare,’ he replied grimly. ‘I’m fighting for our future, Blossom, yours and mine together. If it takes until I’m an old man with a long white beard, I’ll continue fighting. I didn’t plan on getting married with a Zimmer frame, but what the hell? I’m not proud.’

  Her ears ringing, she stared at him. He had said married. Panic flared in her eyes. If she’d had the strength she would have opened the door and made a run for it. Yet there was no place she would rather be than here in the middle of a snow storm with Zak. But she couldn’t be with him, that was the point.

  Whether her inward confusion showed in her face she wasn’t sure, but suddenly his softened, his voice a soothing murmur when he said, ‘You’re tired, worn out. You’ve lost weight and you look scrawny. You need some of Geraldine’s cooking to fatten you up. That’s why you’re spending Christmas with me.’

  As an invitation it could have been worded better. ‘Melissa is expecting me to stay with them for Christmas. It’s all arranged.’ She stared at him helplessly. ‘I’ve got presents.’

  He grinned, suddenly very much the old Zak. ‘On the contrary, your sister is quite happy to place you in my tender care. We’ve got to know each other well while you’ve been away, and I have her full approval. And we can give her the presents.’

  Blossom’s eyes opened wide. ‘You’ve been seeing Melissa?’

  ‘She and Greg have taken pity on a heartbroken man, if that’s what you mean. Melissa seemed to think it was her duty to give me dinner at least a couple of times a week, and it would have been churlish to refuse. Anyway, I wanted to talk about you.’

  Something clicked. ‘You were there that night I phoned.’ She stared at him, trying to remember what he would have gauged from Melissa’s end of the conversation. ‘That’s why Melissa was so strange. I thought it was because—’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘Because she knew I was seeing someone,’ he finished for her. ‘Yes, I gathered that much, trusting soul that you are.’

  Her cheeks burning, she said defensively, ‘That’s deceitful, to listen to a private phone call.’ Although he hadn’t, exactly.

  He didn’t point this out, however. Instead he said very quietly, ‘I was feeling like hell that night. It had been weeks and you hadn’t mentioned me. Melissa was trying to jolly me along, but I was beginning to think…’ He paused, then went on, ‘And then you called, and from what Melissa said I knew you were still thinking about me.’

  Still thinking about him—was he crazy? All she had done was think about him, day and night.

  ‘I wanted to take the phone and talk to you, but Melissa wouldn’t let me. And then she implied I was fooling around…’ He shook his head. ‘I thought she’d gone mad. But she assured me she knew what she was doing. You were her twin, she said, and she knew how your mind worked.’

  ‘You mean she insinuated those things on purpose? Let me think you were dating again deliberately?’ Blossom felt wounded.

  ‘She wants the best for you.’ He stroked the side of her face with one finger, before briefly touching her lips with his own. Then he started the engine, saying, ‘And I’m the best. But you’re too exhausted to talk any more now. I’m going to take you home and put you to bed, and you can sleep for as long as you want, OK? And when you wake up Geraldine will no doubt smother you with TLC. It comes from having no children. Still, it’ll give those poor dogs a break.’

  She wanted to argue, but she really was feeling quite odd. Light-headed and groggy, and so tired she felt shivery, but overall was the incredible knowledge that she was here with Zak. Going to his home. He hadn’t given up on her. It wasn’t over. And that was the best thing on earth and the most scary, because how would she find the strength to go through leaving him all over again? But she couldn’t think about that now. Stress was starting to take its toll, and she was beyond analysing anything. Summoning all her will for one last effort, she murmured huskily, ‘This is ridiculous. We’re not seeing each other any more.’

  ‘Then put this down to an illusion.’ He did something to her seat and it tilted backwards. He reached into the back seat and fetched out a blanket, wrapping it round her before checking his mirrors and drawing on to the road again.

  And, utterly worn out in body, soul and mind, Blossom slept. When they reached Zak’s home she was vaguely aware of being helped out of the car, of Geraldine and Will, conversation, the dogs barking, but it was all dreamlike, chimerical, and barely penetrated the thick blanket of exhaustion. All she wanted to do was sleep. To escape back into that wonderful place where she
didn’t have to think or talk or feel.

  Then she was in a soft, warm scented bed, and gratefully she let herself sink down and down through layers of darkness into nothing at all. And it was bliss…

  Chapter 10

  When Blossom finally opened her eyes and found her brain belonged to her again, she knew she had slept for a long, long time. She could remember stumbling visits to the en suite, Geraldine insisting she eat bowls of thick chunky soup with warm rolls, along with myriad cups of tea, but these were deep in fog and seemed like part of her dreams. They hadn’t been, but neither had she been fully awake. Now she was.

  She sat up in bed, aware she had one of her own nighties on. She couldn’t remember undressing or sorting through her case, but she must have done. Unless someone had done it for her? She offered up a quick mental prayer it had been Geraldine, if so.

  She reached for her wristwatch which had been placed on the table at the side of the bed and glanced at the time. Eleven o’clock. And from the light trying to force its way through the curtains it was eleven in the morning. Zak had met her at the airport about four o’clock in the afternoon, so that meant she had slept nearly twenty hours if she counted the drive to his house. She sat trying to orientate herself, amazed to find she was still tired.

  A knock at the bedroom door was immediately followed by Geraldine entering the room. ‘Oh, you’re awake, that’s good.’ The little face beamed as the housekeeper bustled across to the bed with a tray. ‘You’ve had us all worried to death, although I said to Zak you’d just worn yourself out working so hard the last couple of months. Did it go well? Was it worth it?’