The Christmas Secret

by Karen Swan

  ‘Whoa, now hang on a minute,’ Jess said firmly. ‘Skye doesn’t count. He loved her. They were going to get married.’

  ‘No, you’re quite right, Skye doesn’t count,’ she agreed. ‘But what about the girl in accounts? And apparently there was another one in the maltings. He’s CEO of a small, tight-knit community. It is completely unacceptable for him to cut a swathe through the staff like that. It creates resentment, forms divisions, undermines his authority . . .’

  ‘Well, quite frankly, after what he went through with Skye, I think he can be cut a little slack, don’t you? It’s called the rebound for a reason. His dad had just died and then he finds that out? Christ, who wouldn’t go a bit crazy?’

  Alex frowned. ‘Wait, finds out what?’

  ‘That she’d been having it off with his cousin,’ Emma said, looking surprised. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  Alex was thunderstruck. Skye had cheated on him? ‘But she told me he’d jilted her.’

  ‘Ha! I bet she did – that makes it sound like she’s the victim, doesn’t it? Like he left her waiting at the altar?’ Jess asked disdainfully. ‘And he could have done that to her, perhaps he even should have: let her get dressed up, the church fill up – and then tell everyone exactly what she’d done. Who would have blamed him, when they’d found out the truth?’ She shook her head. ‘No, that girl got lucky. He called the wedding off the night before and spared her the humiliation and shame, keeping what she’d done a secret – even though he must have known they’d all hear the word “jilted” and assume he was the bastard. Like you did.’

  Alex sat in silence, feeling duped, stupid. Skye had cheated on him? Jess was right – she had made exactly those presumptions. ‘But it doesn’t make sense . . . I don’t understand why Lochie would be so prepared to come across as the villain of the piece?’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he just did it for Skye’s benefit. He was very close to Bruce, her dad; I think he knew how ashamed Bruce would have been if he knew what his daughter had done – it’s a small community up there, after all,’ Jess said. ‘Plus, if nothing else, the whole thing was straight-up humiliating for him. Can you imagine if word got out round the distillery that his fiancée had been having it off with his cousin?’ She shook her head. ‘Nah, if there’s one thing Lochie will always have, it’s his pride.’

  Alex bit her lip. The world felt as though it was spinning just a little too fast, her footing no longer certain. She felt angry and disappointed. Skye had lied to her, deliberately misrepresenting herself to gain Alex’s sympathy and good opinion. Alex thought back to everything Skye had told her about their relationship and wondered where the truth lay, for Skye had squarely put the blame at his door, pointing the finger at his anger after his father’s death, saying he’d pushed her away.

  And perhaps he had. Perhaps that had been her reason for straying – straightforward neglect.

  But even if it was, what excuse did Callum have for seducing his cousin’s fiancée? Jealousy? Or a complete inability to respect boundaries, either personal or professional? Did he believe that his wealth and family name meant he could do whatever he wanted, have whoever he wanted – even if that meant betraying his own blood? No wonder Lochie had been so furious when Callum had got to Alex first on her arrival here, when she’d gone on her date with him, when he’d seen Callum’s texts, when she’d tried to ring him last night . . . No wonder they were no longer ‘close’, as Callum had said at the pub that night. Lochie must hate him with a living, breathing passion and from where she was sitting, Alex couldn’t blame him.

  ‘It was all for the best in the end though; Lochie dodged a bullet there,’ Anna agreed. ‘The balance was never right between them.’

  ‘You know she’s engaged to that other guy now?’ Emma said, smiling up at the waitress as she set down the plates of cakes.

  ‘Christ, no, I didn’t! She didn’t waste any time,’ Anna said, reaching for a scone.

  ‘Hey, those are mine,’ Daisy said, slapping her hand away.

  ‘You can’t possibly eat two,’ Anna smiled, taking it anyway. ‘No hangover is that bad.’

  ‘What do you mean, “the balance between them”?’ Alex asked, completely uninterested in the food as she watched Elise begin to pull apart a blueberry muffin and eat the crumbs.

  ‘Well, I always kind of thought Skye was using him; you know, she liked the “idea” of him, landing the big boss.’

  ‘You make him sound like a salmon,’ Daisy chuckled.

  ‘Don’t mention salmon,’ Anna groaned.

  Alex stared down at the fan of shortbread untouched on her plate. The sugar sparkled in the morning light. She felt sick. Oh God. She rubbed her face in her hands. ‘I wish I’d known this,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Sorry, we assumed you did,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Well, why would she?’ Jess asked. ‘Alex is there to work with him on a professional level. The break-up of his engagement is hardly relevant.’

  ‘Actually, I work with people holistically, I should have known this, it changes everything. It’s my fault.’ She was angry with herself. Deprived of any opportunity to hold a detailed debrief of his life with him personally, she had been too ready to take Skye’s account at face value.

  ‘Come again?’ Daisy asked. ‘I thought you were a business coach, not a psychiatrist.’

  ‘I’m not, but there are elements of social psychology that I use. I look at the person’s whole being and identify the areas of imbalance. None of us operate in vacuums and what happens in our personal lives will always leak into our professional lives too. Sometimes it can be a positive thing, making us more compassionate, or patient. Or conversely, as in Lochie’s case, it can make us angry and volatile.’

  ‘Poor bugger, of all the people for it to happen to; it was just what he didn’t need,’ Daisy sighed. ‘It’s not like he didn’t have trust issues to begin with.’

  ‘Trust issues?’ Alex asked, feeling her stomach dip again.

  ‘Yeah, you know, with his folks.’ And when Alex continued looking at her blankly, she added, ‘His mother’s suicide?’

  What? Alex went cold. Another lead she hadn’t followed up? Skye had put all the emphasis on his father’s death. How could she have omitted something as devastating as suicide? ‘When?’ The word came out as a whisper.

  ‘He was sixteen. She’d suffered from depression for years, made numerous other attempts. The doctors kept saying they were just cries for help but Lochie knew otherwise; he kept on running away from boarding school – one time he escaped during a cross-country run, another in the middle of the night, or going down to the village shop for tuck. They had to physically restrain him to get him in the car each time they took him back and every time he would be hysterical, knowing his father believed the doctors and didn’t take the attempts seriously; Lochie was frantic, worrying about her being left on her own. Until one day he was proved right and she did it. Walked into the sea.’

  Everyone had gone silent. Alex felt as though she’d been tranquillized. Everything seemed heavy and slow. She wanted to cry. For him, for the desperate young boy he’d been, trying to save his mother, no one listening. Was it any wonder he didn’t trust anyone but his dogs?

  ‘God, it’s so sad,’ Jess whispered, her eyes tearing up. ‘We were together for four years at uni and I don’t think a week went by when he didn’t wake up screaming.’

  Alex stared at her, feeling a strange mix of anger and resentment and jealousy. ‘Why did you two break up?’

  A look of hurt cracked Jess’s usual composure. ‘It was his decision, not mine.’ She hesitated, clearly not wanting to say the words. ‘Basically . . . he punched me in his sleep one night and gave me a black eye,’ she sighed. ‘Obviously it wasn’t his fault. Obviously. I didn’t blame him at all. But even though I kept telling him that, he was so devastated by what he’d done, nothing I could say would make him change his mind. He said he wasn’t safe to be around, that he had to be on hi
s own.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Alex whispered as the others shook their heads, well familiar with this story.

  ‘I begged him to reconsider. Properly begged. I couldn’t bear the thought of him alone but he wouldn’t have it. He just wouldn’t forgive himself.’ She rubbed her face in her hands, looking pained. ‘Eventually, I met Sam and . . . moved on,’ she shrugged. ‘But I still feel responsible for him, even now.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Alex nodded, seeing the strength in Jess’s manner, picking up the trace of threat in her words as the two women’s eyes met. Did she know that Alex could – would – hurt him?

  ‘I thought Skye was exactly what he needed when they first got together,’ Jess continued. ‘She had an innocence about her that I think he found reassuring. She felt uncomplicated, safe. I think after everything he’d been through with his parents, he needed that.’

  ‘Until he found out she was anything but innocent,’ Emma said darkly.

  ‘Yeah, but you know what?’ Jess said, fingering her teacup. ‘Being really honest, even before that, I think things were going wrong between them. His father never got over his mother’s death; he blamed himself for not taking Lochie’s pleas seriously and I think Lochie would admit now that deep down, he blamed him too. They were both so angry and so sad and neither of them knew how to deal with it; and when it became apparent his dad was drinking himself to death, right in front of him too, Skye wasn’t strong enough to help him handle it. It wasn’t her fault necessarily – she just wanted a nice quiet life but instead she found herself in a terrible situation like that. Maybe I wouldn’t have done much better either. He needs someone stronger than both of us.’

  ‘Poor guy, it’s frying pan to fire when it comes to women and him,’ Daisy murmured.

  Alex felt her heart gallop to a staccato beat, remembering the passion that had exploded between them last night. He was more like her than she had ever thought to see – both closing down their feelings, compartmentalizing their mothers and fathers and lovers into individually sealed boxes they rarely opened. Was that why they clashed? Was it why the kiss had been so good?

  ‘Well, thank God he’s got Alex in his corner now,’ Anna said, toasting her with her dainty teacup. ‘It’s about time his luck changed.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Elise cheered, raising hers too as the others followed suit.

  ‘To Alex, may she save his soul!’ Anna said dramatically.

  ‘Or at least his job,’ Emma grinned.

  Alex smiled as Elise reached over and gave her a friendly hug, but inwardly she felt sick. They all thought she was a friend, or at the very least, an ally. It simply hadn’t occurred to any of them that she was anything but – a snake in the grass, slithering on her belly and just waiting for the right time to strike.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lunch, suitably, was a haunch of venison that seemed to assuage the worst of everyone’s hangovers. The guys had managed only four holes before the wind – ‘nothing at all to do with their heads,’ Daisy had scoffed – drove them back indoors, and they settled down to a lazy afternoon of reading the papers, Spit – a card game craze they’d all had in school – and watching films from the sofas in the living room. Lochie – looking unshaven and unkempt in his jeans and socks, wearing just a faded black T-shirt that occasionally pressed against rocky abs – had managed not to look at her once, as though he could track her shadow or detect her spirit, positioning himself away from her or moving off outright; she could see from the way he involuntarily turned away whenever she was in range that he was angry, blocking her physically and mentally. Thankfully no one seemed to notice; the women certainly appeared to have accepted her assertion that they were just colleagues, and the banter and jokes that bounced around the room were mainly confined to historic uni references and Ambrose’s pathetic attempts at a beard.

  She was flicking through the FT magazine when his mobile rang – again – and he hauled himself off the sofa with a self-pitying groan as he picked up to yet another distillery contact wanting in on the Scotch Vaults venture. She watched him leave, his heavy sensuous tread like a big cat on the parquet, his phone pressed to his ear, voice croakier than ever now that it had smoke damage and whisky to contend with, as she reminded herself with moving lips: a kiss changed nothing.

  ‘Anyone want tea?’ she asked, determining that she ought to do something to be a good guest given that she had turned up empty-handed for the hosts on Friday night and Mary, the housekeeper, was now off duty for the rest of the day.

  ‘Oh yes, please,’ they chorused, with varying degrees of desperation and gratitude.

  She walked down the long-panelled corridor and into the kitchen at the far end of the house. Outside the back windows, plastic sheeting flapped around the scaffolding and whilst the kettle boiled, she texted Louise to arrange to have a Fortnum & Mason hamper sent up as a thank-you gift the next day. Walking over to the front of the house, she stared out of the mullioned window at the grand gardens, her arms spread on the cool countertop. Fairy lights which had been strung on the closest topiaried-box balls were beginning to twinkle as dusk crept in and she knew that meant they would be leaving soon. They couldn’t avoid each other then; whether they liked it or not, they would be sitting side by side in a giant metal balloon, his thighs just centimetres—

  She remembered again the feeling of his legs against hers last night and she dropped her head, trying to push the memory out. No.

  No.

  She shook her head clean of the thoughts, like an Etch A Sketch board, and walked across to the walk-in pantry – and almost screamed.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped, smacking one hand to her chest. ‘I didn’t . . . I didn’t know anyone was in here.’

  Lochie blinked back at her, holding out the phone in his hand. ‘Best place for a signal,’ he said quietly, his eyes like sniper dots upon her.

  ‘Oh.’ There was a pause and she felt her body change at the sight of him; whether they chose to acknowledge it or not, things were different between them now – his hands had caressed her, his tongue tasted her; she had felt his hair between her fingers, his leg between her thighs. She couldn’t unknow his physicality, any more than she could erase her words last night, ‘This is a mistake.’

  She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. It had been easier to stare him down, to hate him, when she’d believed him to be all those things Sholto had told her he was – renegade, dangerous, reckless, maverick. And maybe he was, but he was more besides: alone, isolated, abandoned, great kisser . . . She shook her head again, pressing her eyes shut.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she murmured, reaching to the fridge beside him and pulling out the milk.

  She heard his footsteps follow her into the kitchen, felt his eyes on her back as she lifted the kettle and poured the water, steam flushing her already pink cheeks. ‘Would you like a tea?’ she asked politely, without turning.

  There was a pause. ‘I guess.’

  ‘You don’t have to have one. I’m not going to force you to drink it.’ She poured the milk into the cups.

  ‘Really? You usually try to make me do things I don’t want to do.’

  ‘Well, we all know you never do anything you don’t want to do.’ Her voice sounded snippy and she turned to take the mil—

  He was standing right behind her. ‘That’s right. And how about you? Do you do things you don’t want to do?’

  She swallowed, knowing he was referring to the kiss. ‘All the time.’ If he only knew how true that was. ‘It’s called compromise.’

  ‘Is that what they call it?’ His gaze was on her mouth. ‘So what are we going to call last night, then?’

  ‘A mistake.’

  He shook his head. ‘Mistakes don’t feel like that.’

  She willed her voice not to betray her. ‘We were both hammered,’ she said slowly. ‘It had been a long day; I was feeling emotional after the whole stag thing, you had that massive adrenaline rush from u
nveiling the new business . . .’

  He looked at her as though she was talking gibberish. ‘You don’t really think that.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  He took a step closer, so close she could almost feel his toes nudging hers. ‘Alex, alcohol doesn’t make people do things against their will. It simply lowers their inhibitions to allow them to do the things they’ve already thought about.’

  Her pulse skyrocketed as memories of the heat between them began to colour the air again, colour her cheeks. ‘Well, I had never thought about it. You are my client and I never get emotionally involved.’

  ‘How about physically?’

  The retort was like a slap. ‘That’s just the kind of comment I’d expect from you,’ she said hotly, pushing past him, returning the milk.

  ‘Shit, Alex, I didn’t mean tha—’

  ‘No. We’re done here.’ She lifted the tray but he stepped in front of her, blocking the way.

  ‘Wait. We have to talk about this. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen. You don’t seriously expect that we can work together now?’

  ‘No, well done, Lochlan – if you hadn’t already done such a fine job of sabotaging your own career, I don’t suppose we could have done. But you did do it, so congratulations, you’re rid of me at last.’ She tried to step past him again but he caught her elbow.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, giving a short, tight, humourless laugh, tears pressing behind her eyes, her emotions alarmingly close to the surface. ‘It’s over. Do you honestly think there aren’t going to be repercussions for what you’ve done? Whatever you choose to believe, there’s no way Sholto will take that lying down. You’re going to get back there tomorrow and find you’re out. And that means I am too.’

  ‘No, you don’t get it. You don’t know the detail.’

  But she shook her head, refusing to listen to any more of his arrogance that he was untouchable. ‘I know that you are everything he said you were.’ It wasn’t true. Thanks to his friends, she had the full lowdown on him now and she knew that he was just like her – a jumbled mess of the good and the bad, a man who had been hurt, abandoned and let down by almost everyone he had ever loved. He wasn’t the cartoon villain Sholto had pitched in his Edinburgh office, or at least, he wasn’t only that; but it would have made no difference anyway. Even if he was the world’s greatest Samaritan, she would still have had a job to do, and there was no option for failure. Yes, it was regrettable that her success would have had to come at his expense, but she had no doubt that if their places had been swapped, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do it either. But now, it was all gone. Without even realizing it, his actions had ruined everything for her. He had hit upon the only way to rid himself of her. ‘You’re a liability and a bloody joke. You haven’t just messed things up for you, you’ve messed them up for me too.’ Tears stung her eyes but she immediately blinked them back. She would not cry in front of him. ‘You have absolutely no idea of what you’ve done. None at all.’