At the Chateau for Christmas

by Rebecca Winters

  ‘Ah, yes, Mr Corrigan.’ The policeman’s tone was instantly gentler, a fact that did nothing to allay Zac’s fears. ‘Can I please confirm that you are Zachary James Corrigan?’

  ‘Yes.’ What had Liv done? Not another drug overdose, surely? When he’d rung her two weeks ago, she’d promised him she was still off the drugs, all drugs. She’d been clean for over a year.

  ‘And you’re the brother of Olivia Rose Corrigan?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I was told you’re calling from a hospital. What’s this about?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Corrigan,’ the policeman said. ‘Your sister died a short while ago as the result of a road accident.’

  Oh, God.

  It wasn’t possible.

  Shock exploded through Zac, flashing agonising heat, threatening to topple him. Liv couldn’t be dead. It simply was not possible.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sergeant Davies said again.

  ‘I—I see,’ Zac managed. A stupid thing to say, but his mind was numb. With terror. With pain.

  ‘Do you have any relatives living in the UK?’ the policeman asked.

  ‘No.’ Sweat was pouring off Zac now. Vaguely, he was aware of the girl, Daisy, with the black dress dangling off her shoulders. She was hovering close, frowning at him, her heavily made-up eyes brimming with vacuous curiosity. He turned his back on her.

  ‘Then I take it you’ll be prepared to be our contact for any arrangements?’

  ‘Yes,’ Zac said stiffly. ‘But tell me what happened.’

  ‘I’ll pass you onto someone from the hospital, sir. The doctor will be able to answer all your questions.’

  Dizzy and sick, Zac waited desperately as the phone went through several clicks and then a female voice spoke.

  ‘Mr Corrigan?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said dully.

  ‘This is Dr Jameson from the maternity ward.’

  Maternity? She was joking, surely?

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Corrigan. Your sister was brought to our hospital after a vehicle accident. There were extensive head and chest injuries.’

  Zac winced. Head and chest. The worst.

  ‘Olivia was rushed to theatre and we did our very best, but the injuries were too extensive.’ A slight pause. ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t save her.’

  Zac went cold all over. So there it was. Two people had confirmed the impossible. His greatest fear was a reality. After all these years when he’d tried and failed with Liv, he’d now failed her abysmally...

  And it was too late to try again.

  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Horror lashed at him as he fought off images of Liv’s accident. Instead he clung to a memory of his beautiful, rebellious young sister from years ago when she was no more than sixteen... He saw her on the beach, during a holiday on Stradbroke Island, her slim tanned arms outstretched, her dark gypsy hair flying in the sea wind, her teeth flashing white as she laughed and twirled with childlike joy.

  He remembered it all so clearly. With her brightly coloured sarong over a skimpy yellow bikini, she’d looked so tanned and beautiful. Innocent, too—or so Zac had thought—and, always, always, so full of fun.

  That was how he’d thought of Liv back then—full of fun and life.

  Now...he couldn’t believe that her life had been extinguished.

  ‘But we were able to save the baby,’ the English doctor said.

  Baby? Now Zac sank in weak-kneed horror onto the edge of the bed. What baby? How could there be a baby?

  ‘Are you there, Mr Corrigan?’

  He swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re listed as your sister’s next of kin, so I’m assuming you knew that Olivia was pregnant?’

  ‘Yes,’ he lied when in truth he’d had no idea. When he’d phoned Liv only two weeks ago, she hadn’t said a thing about being pregnant. Right now, he felt as if the world had gone quite mad.

  ‘Your sister was already in labour,’ the woman said. ‘We believe she was on her way to hospital when the accident occurred.’

  ‘Right.’ Zac sagged forward, elbows on knees. ‘So—’ he began and then he had to stop and take a shuddering breath, which wasn’t much help. He forced himself to try again. ‘So—this baby. Is it OK?’

  ‘Yes, a beautiful baby girl, perfectly unharmed and born by Caesarean section only a couple of weeks before her due date.’

  Zac pressed a shaking hand to his throbbing forehead. His stomach churned. He was sweating again. This woman was trying to tell him that some crazy twist of fate had snatched his beautiful sister’s life and left a baby in her place. How bizarre was that?

  He wanted to drop the phone, to be finished with this absurd conversation. No way did he want to deal with the gut-wrenching news that had just been so calmly delivered.

  But, of course, he knew he had no choice.

  With a supreme effort, he shut off the hurt and pain and, like the cool-headed businessman he usually was, he forced his mind to confront practicalities.

  ‘I presume you’ve contacted the baby’s father?’ he said tightly, recalling the man who’d convinced Liv to run away with him. A guy from a band—a band no one had heard of—an older man with dreadlocks streaked with grey and restless eyes that could never quite meet Zac’s gaze.

  ‘Your sister wasn’t able to tell us the name of the baby’s father. There was a man in the car with her, but he assured us he was only a neighbour and not the father, and our blood tests have confirmed this.’

  ‘But he could tell you—’

  ‘I’m afraid he doesn’t know anything about the father’s identity.’

  ‘Right.’ Zac drew a deep, shuddering breath and squared his jaw. ‘So this baby is, for all intents and purposes, my responsibility?’ Even as he said this, he knew it hadn’t come out right. He’d sounded uncaring and hard. But it was too late to try to retract his words. He could only press on. ‘I’ll...er...make arrangements to come over to London straight away.’

  * * *

  Chloe had just finished pinning the last decoration in place when her boss rang back.

  ‘Chloe, I know it’s late, but I need you to book me a flight to London.’ His voice was crisp and businesslike, but tight, too, the way people spoke when they were fighting to keep their emotions in check. ‘You’d better make it the soonest flight possible. First thing tomorrow morning, if you can.’

  ‘Of course, and would you like a hotel reservation as well?’ Chloe hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, or worried... If there was a crisis, the last thing Zac needed was an anxious, fussing PA.

  ‘Yes, book a hotel room, please. Somewhere central.’

  ‘No problem.’ Already she was firing up her computer.

  ‘And I’ll need you to sort out those accounts with Garlands.’

  Chloe smiled to herself. ‘All done.’

  ‘Already?’ He sounded surprised. ‘That’s great. Well done.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Could you ring Foster’s and tell them that Jim Keogh will represent me at tomorrow’s meeting.’

  ‘No problem.’ Chloe paused, in case there were any more instructions. ‘That’s all then?’

  ‘Actually, Chloe...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’d better book two flights to London. Just two one-way seats at this stage. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to be over there.’

  Ridiculously, Chloe’s heart sank. An annoying reaction. Why should she care if her boss wanted to take the giggling girl who’d answered the phone with him on an all-expenses-paid trip to London? Of course, she couldn’t help wondering how much use the girl be would if Zac had been called away to something urgent.

  ‘What name for the second ticket?’ she asked smoothly as the company’s preferred airline’s website
came up on her computer screen.

  ‘Ah...good question. Actually...’

  Another pause. Chloe began to fill the boxes on the flights search. Point of departure... Brisbane, Australia. Destination... London, UK. Date of flight...

  ‘How busy are you, Chloe?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Could you spare a few days?’

  ‘To fly to London?’

  ‘Yes. This is an emergency. I need someone...capable.’

  Chloe was so surprised she almost dropped the phone. Was Zac really asking her to go to—to London? At Christmas?

  ‘I know it’s short notice and it’s almost Christmas and everything.’

  Her head spun, first with shock and a fizz of excitement, and then with dismay as she thought about her elderly parents at home, waiting for her, depending on her to look after the shopping and to cook Christmas dinner and to drive them to church. They would never cope without her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Zac. I don’t really think I could get away at such short notice.’

  As she said this, there was the sound of a door opening behind her and she jumped. Turning, she saw her boss striding into the office. Of course, he’d had his phone in the hands-free cradle while he was driving.

  As always, Chloe’s heart gave a pitiful little skip when she saw him, but at least she was used to that nuisance reaction now. She knew it wasn’t significant—pretty much the automatic reaction shared by most women who encountered Zac Corrigan’s special brand of tall, dark and handsome.

  This evening he looked paler than usual and his grey eyes betrayed a shock he hadn’t been able to shake off.

  ‘If you can come with me, I’ll pay you a hefty Christmas bonus,’ he said as he strode across the office to Chloe’s desk.

  But he’d already paid her a generous Christmas bonus. ‘Can you explain what this is about?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’

  * * *

  What’s happened?

  Zac lifted his hand and rubbed at his brow, where a headache had been hovering ever since he took the call from the hospital and now throbbed with renewed and vicious vengeance.

  ‘Are you all right, Zac? You look...’

  Abruptly, Chloe pulled a swivel chair from the nearest desk and pushed it towards him. ‘Here, sit down.’

  He held up a hand. ‘It’s OK, thanks. I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think you are.’

  To Zac’s surprise, his PA took a firm grasp of his elbow, gripping him through his coat sleeve. ‘I think you should sit down now before you fall down.’

  Zac sat.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  If he wasn’t feeling so strung out, he might have smiled at this old-fashioned response from his conservative and over-conscientious PA. She was dressed in one of her customary businesslike suits. Her white blouse was neatly buttoned and tucked in, and there wasn’t a strand of her light brown hair out of place. Good old, reliable Chloe.

  He was so relieved to see her tonight. He’d been desperate to get away from the giggling Daisy and, by contrast, cool, collected Chloe was a reassuring and comforting sight.

  ‘I don’t need tea,’ he said. ‘I’d just like to get these flights sorted, and I could really do with your assistance in London.’

  ‘I assume this is all because of the phone call...from the hospital.’

  ‘Yes.’ Zac swallowed, trying to clear the sharp, persistent pain that seemed to have lodged in his throat. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t good news,’ he said with quiet resignation. ‘It was bad. Really bad. The worst.’

  ‘Oh, no... I’m so sorry.’

  Sorry... Zac was sorrier than he’d ever thought possible. He looked away from the sympathy in Chloe’s soft brown eyes. Then, staring bleakly at a spot on the grey office carpet, he told her the rest of his news...

  When he finished, Chloe took ages to respond. ‘I...I don’t know what to say,’ she said at last. ‘That’s so terrible. I...I never realised you had a sister.’

  ‘Yeah...well...’ He couldn’t bring himself to admit his estrangement from Liv, or that he hadn’t known about the baby, that Liv had never even told him she was pregnant, that she almost hadn’t told him about going to England.

  How could he admit to this prim and conscientious cliché of a secretary that his reckless sister’s pregnancy was just another of the many secrets she’d hidden from him?

  ‘I guess you’ll need help...with the baby girl...if they can’t find her father,’ Chloe suggested awkwardly.

  ‘Yes. I’ll be it’s...I mean...her guardian.’ He knew this, because the one thing he’d insisted on after Liv’s overdose was that she made a will. He’d hoped that a measure of reality would shake some sense into her. ‘I couldn’t possibly manage on my own.’

  Babies had never registered on Zac’s radar. He’d always supposed they were a dim possibility in his far distant future...when he eventually settled down and chose a wife and all that went with a wife... But, even though he was a godfather twice over, he’d never actually held a baby. There had always been plenty of women with willing arms and he’d been more than happy to buy expensive gifts and the best champagne to wet the baby’s head and then stay well in the background...

  ‘I’m sure we can find someone.’ Chloe was busy at her computer screen, scrolling through some kind of spreadsheet.

  ‘Find someone?’ Zac asked, frowning. ‘How do you mean? What kind of someone?’ He didn’t need to find someone. He had Chloe.

  She turned back to him with a smile that was almost sympathetic. ‘This is a list of your personal female contacts.’

  ‘You have them on a spreadsheet?’

  ‘Well, yes. How else do you think I manage to—?’

  ‘All right, all right.’ He gave an impatient wave of his hand. He knew Chloe was a marvel at managing his female friends—sending them the appropriate invitations or flowers, birthday or Christmas presents, get well cards, even, at times, offering excuses on his behalf...but he’d never given any thought to how she kept track of them.

  ‘What about Marissa Johnson?’ Chloe said now. ‘She always struck me as sensible.’

  ‘No,’ Zac said curtly, remembering the awkward way he and Marissa Johnson had broken up. He jumped to his feet, seized by a fit of restless impatience. ‘Look, there’s no point in looking at that list. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Chloe. We’ve worked together for three years now and I know you’d be perfect.’

  To his surprise her cheeks went a deep shade of pink—a becoming shade of pink that unsettled him.

  ‘I don’t know very much about babies,’ she said.

  ‘Really?’ Zac frowned at her. She was female, after all. ‘But you know enough, don’t you? You know how to put on a nappy. And when it comes to bottles and that sort of thing, you can follow instructions. It’s just for a few days, Chloe. There’s a remote possibility that I might have to bring this child home. I’ll need help, just till I have everything sorted.’

  Not that he had any idea how this problem could be sorted. At the moment he was still too shocked. Too sad. He didn’t want to think about a little new life when Liv was—

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘I’d like to help, but I’m not really free to rush overseas at the drop of a hat. Not at this time of year. I have my parents to consider...’

  ‘Your parents?’ Zac frowned again. Why would a woman approaching thirty be so concerned about her parents? Then again, he knew he was out of touch with the whole family thing. His own parents had died when he was eighteen and he’d been managing without them for almost seventeen years.

  But now there was a baby...a niece...another little girl who was his responsibility. A slug of pain caught him mid-chest. History was repeating itself in the most macabre w
ay.

  ‘It’s Christmas,’ Chloe said next, as if that explained everything. She looked up at the surprisingly attractive decorations she’d arranged about the office. ‘Would you like me to look into hiring a nanny?’

  Zac let out a weary sigh. ‘The last thing I need now is to start interviewing nannies.’

  ‘I don’t mind doing the interviews.’

  ‘No,’ he snapped. ‘We don’t have time.’

  Besides, for this delicate operation, he needed someone he already knew, a woman who was loyal and trustworthy, and sensible and efficient—and a woman who wouldn’t distract him with sex.

  Chloe Meadows ticked every box.

  Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Hannay

  ISBN-13: 9781460341940

  At the Chateau for Christmas

  Copyright © 2014 by Rebecca Winters

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com