Читать книгу Their Christmas Miracle - Barbara Wallace, Barbara Wallace - Страница 11

NO ONE WOULD ever accuse Thomas of giving less than 100 percent. If anything, people accused him of being overly dedicated. When he committed to something, he went all in. Right now, that something was wooing his wife. He intended to do his damnedest to win her over before the New Year. Before she recalled the cracks. Back in the beginning, he’d been a pro at grand romantic gestures. While his inner romantic might be rusty, it was still there. Somewhere.

Taking Rosalind’s hand, he led her back the short walk to the town limits where McKringle’s sat empty as ever. Honest to God, how the business survived was beyond him.

The restaurant owner, of course, was more than happy to help. He packed a small bag while Rosalind did her best to make him insist she stay to work. Unfortunately for her, the restaurant was nearly empty. The only customers were a pair of short, reedy gentlemen drinking beer at the bar. When the older man rushed Rosalind and Thomas out the door with a cheery smile, she looked practically panicked.

“Relax,” Thomas said as they walked to his rental car. “I promise I’m not about to take you into the wilderness and chop you into little bits.”

“I know that,” she replied.

Could have fooled him. She looked about as excited as a serial killer victim. Seeing her reluctance stung. When had his own wife become afraid of him?

Since she forgot she was your wife, that’s when.

As far as she was concerned, he was a stranger, and one prone to impetuous embraces at that. “Would it help if I promise not to wrap you in my arms either?” he asked. Much as he wanted to.

His question got the corners of her mouth to twitch, at least.

“You know, this whole trip would go a lot better if you trust me,” he said once they were underway. The rental had an incredibly responsive heating system, so he bumped up the temperature, figuring a little warmth in the air might relax things.

“I’d feel better if I knew where we were going.”

Ah, he’d forgotten. Rosalind preferred to control her surprises. All right, he’d tell her. “Have you ever seen the aurora borealis?”

Despite the dark interior, he could feel her stare. The northern lights were visible on most clear nights during this time of year. Every person in the village had probably seen them at least once.

“No,” she drawled. “I never have.”

“Good. Neither have I. We can see them together.”

“You do realize I was being sarcastic.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

She huffed softly through her nose, the sound carrying in the dark car. “Well played.”

“Thank you. I try.” The heater appeared to be doing its job. “I probably should remind you that the Colliers are known for their biting wit.”

“Are they?”

“Generally, it’s only among the other Colliers, but considering the number of cousins, stepsiblings and half-siblings, we’re still talking a sizable group.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” There was rustling of her nylon jacket as she shifted in her seat. Looking over, Thomas saw that she was leaning against the door and facing him. “Your family is very interesting.”

“Our family,” he corrected.

Whether she missed his not-so-subtle reminder or ignored him he wasn’t sure. “There’s a lot of information online. Far more than your files provided.”

“I figured you’d do your own research.”

“Had to flesh out the narrative somehow,” she replied. “Were your father and grandfather really both married three times?”

“That they were. No one would ever accuse them of not being matrimonially inclined. It was the staying married part that gave them trouble. Still, they managed to blend a few families along the way.”

“Explaining all the cousins, stepsiblings and half-siblings.”

“Precisely.”

“Do they all work for the family business?”

If only. He could have used the help these past eighteen months. “No, that privilege fell directly to Grandfather’s true heirs. Meaning my father and then me. The rest of the family scattered to the wind with the divorces.” To illustrate, he waved his hand across the dash.

“Does that include your mother? She wasn’t mentioned in the report you sent,” she added when he glanced over.

“A clerical error. My mother died when Linus and I were little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Thomas replied. Besides, if she had lived, she’d probably have left like the others. At least this way he got to claim an intact family.

“You told me that my parents were dead, as well.” In the silence that followed the comment, Thomas imagined her looking down at her lap and plucking at the hem of her jacket. “I’m glad, in a way.”

“You are?” What was she talking about? She’d adored her parents.

“Not that they’re dead, but that they didn’t have to spend the last half year thinking they’d lost their child. Bad enough I put you and our daughter through the nightmare.”

“A nightmare that’s over,” he reminded her. “I take it you researched your family, as well.”

“A little.”

“Only a little?”

There was silence again. Looking over, Thomas saw she was indeed playing with her jacket. The zipper, not the hem. “There’s only so much you can discover online,” she said. “Mostly facts and news articles. Doesn’t really give you the full picture of a person, does it?”

“But at least you have the framework,” he told her. “Something for your memory to attach itself to.”

“True.”

She didn’t seem as excited as she should. “You don’t believe your memory will come back?”

“Who knows? I’m more worried...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“If something is worrying you, tell me. Maybe I can help.” He looked over. “Trust, remember?”

Something he’d done in the last few minutes must have broken through her defenses, because she gave a tiny smile. The kind meant to offer reassurance rather than express happiness. “What if I don’t like what I find? Or remember?”

His chest tightened.

You opened the door, Thomas.

“Are you talking about things to do with our family?”

“More like things to do with me.”

“Oh.” Relieved, Thomas dismissed her question with a wave. “You don’t have to worry there. I guarantee you’ll like what you discover perfectly fine.”

“Says you.”

“Precisely, says me,” he replied. “I’m your husband, and while that might not mean anything to you, I happen to have whiz-bang taste when it comes to wives.”

“Whiz-bang?” she laughed. Light and lovely, the sound warmed him from the inside out.

Thomas allowed himself a moment to savor the sensation. “Won’t get higher praise than that,” he told her.

“I should think not. Thank you. For the compliment.”

“Try fact. I wouldn’t marry just anyone.”

The moment was a perfect time to reach across the bucket seats and give her a reassuring touch. Thomas loosened his grip on the gear shift only to remember his promise to keep himself in check.

He settled for giving her a smile.

She smiled back, and he embraced the moment like a hug. Once upon a time, making her happy had been his greatest priority. That he could please her, even a little, after all these months was a gift.

There were only a handful of cars parked in the lot when he pulled into the point. Thomas offered up a silent thank-you. He’d feared more considering how popular nature’s light show was with the tourists. Then again, it was still early. The glow wasn’t usually visible until after ten.

But then, that fit his plan.

“Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve set up.”

Rosalind watched as he disappeared from view. Presumably to stake out a viewing spot near the beach.

Or near the cliffs, if he was planning to throw her off.

He wouldn’t. Strange, really. Thomas thought she didn’t trust him, but trust wasn’t the issue. Not entirely. That is, she was pretty sure he wasn’t a crazy person. At the same time, however, being around him sent her nerves into overdrive. Soon as he said he planned to charm her into staying, she became jittery and self-conscious. He acted as if she were someone special, and that left her off-balance.

Maybe she should tell him to forget London. They didn’t have to be in the same house for their daughter. He could as easily bring Maddie to Scotland...

“Ready?” The car door opened and Thomas reappeared, the blue in his eyes aglow in the dome light. In his arms he held a blanket. “This is for you,” he said as she stepped out of the car. He wrapped the thick wool around her shoulders. “Wind gets cold off the bay.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I can handle the cold. Besides, that’s why God invented Chardonnay.”

Using his cell phone as a flashlight, he led her away from the crowds and toward an isolated section, as it turned out, not far from the cliffs. There on a small patch of grass lay another wool blanket along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I figured the lights would look brighter if we sat away from the lighthouse,” Thomas said.

He sat down, then patted the blanket next to him. “McKringle picked out the wine, so I have no idea if it’s good or not. He seems more a whisky man.”

“Chris is a connoisseur of most things,” she replied. “Far as I can tell anyway.” Across the water she could see the silhouette of the Orkney Islands. Black and hilly. The water was black as well, all but a stretch of white from the moon.

“Looks amazing, doesn’t it?” she said. “All that darkness.”

“Looks cold.” Thomas handed her a glass. “This is the most northern part of the UK. When we were here last week, I told Linus to watch out for elves.”

Rosalind laughed. “Why? You think Santa and his minions are popping down for a pint?”

“Why not? Can’t the old man enjoy a nip now and then?”

“Of course he can. If he’s a real person.” And life was as simple as sitting on a lap and making a wish.

“Don’t let Maddie hear you. As far as she’s concerned, Santa doesn’t only exist—he can do anything. Including visiting Scotland for a drop of whisky.” He touched his glass to hers.

“I’ll be sure to keep my blasphemous thoughts to myself,” Rosalind told him. Pulling her blanket tighter, she glanced in his direction. “Are you sure you’re not cold? I’m happy to share if...” She let the offer drift away.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” Thomas answered.

Good. She’d hoped that’s what he’d answer. Despite the part of her wondering what it would feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around her.

“If Santa was real, what would you ask him to bring you?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She found the answer hard to believe. Surely there was something he wanted. “Everyone has something on their list, even if they’re as rich as Midas.”

“Except I already got my Christmas wish. Right here on this beach.”

There he went again, treating her like she was some kind of gift. Rosalind’s face turned crimson. Ducking her head, she pretended great interest in her wineglass. How she wished she could return his sentiment the way he clearly wanted her to, but her memory remained as dark as the water before them.

“How about you?” he asked. “What would you wish for? Besides the obvious.”

“The obvious is a pretty big wish. I’m not sure I could think of another. But if pressed...” She sighed. “I think I would ask for a cottage of my own. Not that I don’t like my room over the restaurant, but it would be nice to have a place to call mine.

“Then again, I guess I—I mean, we—do, don’t we?” she added. Thomas’s body had stiffened at the mention, making her realize her wish was based on having a life on her own. “Apparently, I’m still getting used to my identity. I don’t mean to be hurtful.”

“You weren’t,” he replied. “The situation is going to take some getting used to for both of us.”

Stretching out his legs, he leaned back on the blanket. Without his body to warm the space beside her, Rosalind shivered.