This was his last chance to find out what that was.
Jacob swallowed his pride.
‘Please. Stay.’
‘I can’t.’
Those words again. He hated those words.
He stepped closer. ‘Why?’
‘I told you,’ she said, frustrated. ‘Merry is waiting for me at the hotel.’
‘Merry. I don’t buy it.’ He didn’t want to have the same argument again. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity—doing the same things and expecting different results? But then, Clara might actually be driving him insane. Even if she left again, even if they finally got divorced, even if he never had another chance with her...he needed to know the truth. The truth about it all. He now knew why she’d left but not why she hadn’t come back. He knew now how he’d hurt her but there was more, he could tell. He wanted to know everything.
Starting with why she wouldn’t stay.
‘Merry wouldn’t be enough of a reason for you to be this determined not to stay,’ he said. ‘Tell me the truth, please. I’m not asking to start a fight, or to judge you or anything else. I just need to know. Is there someone else? Is that what you’re not telling me? Are you afraid I won’t give you the divorce if there is? Because we had a deal.’ It might break his heart into its final pieces but if she was truly happy with another man he’d give her the divorce. She’d made it clear that he couldn’t make her happy and goodness only knew somebody should. Clara deserved all the happiness in the world.
She stared back at him, her beautiful dark eyes so wide he could almost see the battle going on behind them. Would she tell him the truth? Or would he face more evasion?
Eventually, she shook her head. ‘That’s not it. I almost wish it was.’
Jacob frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It would be so much easier to just lie. To tell you I’d fallen in love with a lumberjack from Canada or something. Because the truth is...’ She sighed. ‘There’s no one else, Jacob. There never has been. It’s only ever been you.’
Jacob reeled back as if he’d been hit. Five years. Five years he’d spent trying not to imagine her with other men, and failing miserably. Five years torturing himself with thoughts of her falling in love again, of her pressing him for divorce because she wanted to remarry. Five years of thinking he hadn’t been enough for her, that she’d needed to go and find something else, someone better. And all this time...
‘No one,’ he repeated. ‘There’s been... You mean, you haven’t...’
That was a game changer.
Clara’s cheeks were bright red. ‘I shouldn’t have told you that.’ She brushed past him, heading towards the door, and he grabbed her arm to stop her.
‘Yes. You should.’ Because that meant something, didn’t it? It had to. Five years, and no one else. That wasn’t nothing. Those weren’t the actions of a woman who was desperate to get away from him.
‘Why?’ she asked, sounding anxious. ‘Why does it even matter now?’ She pulled her arm away but he reached out and took it again, more gently this time—a caress rather than a hold.
‘It matters.’ The words were rough in his throat. He couldn’t even put a name to his emotions but he knew it mattered. Knew he cared, still. Knew that the sense of relief flooding through him as he realised there really wasn’t another man waiting for her at the hotel meant something.
No other man had touched her. No one had run their hands over that pale, smooth skin the way he had. She’d been a virgin when they’d met, when she was twenty-one and he twenty-five, so he knew now that he was the only man she’d given herself to. Ever.
And that definitely meant something. The primal urge to take that again rose up strong within him.
Clara shook her head, looking down at the stone floor. ‘It’s over, Jacob. None of it matters any more.’ Her voice was small, desolate and, despite her words, he didn’t believe it.
‘It doesn’t have to be.’ For the first time he was almost convinced. He knew her now in a way he hadn’t before. He was older. Better. Maybe this time he could make her happy.
Stepping closer, he ran his hand up her arm, wrapping his other arm around her waist. ‘Stay, Clara.’
‘I can’t.’ Always those words. He was starting to wonder if they really meant what he thought they did.
‘Because you don’t want to?’ Raising his hand to her chin, he nudged it up so she had to look at him and her eyes were wide and helpless as they met his.
She wanted to. He could see it. So what was stopping her?
‘No,’ she admitted, swallowing visibly. At least she wasn’t lying to him now. It was a small victory, but he’d take it.
‘Then why?’
She bit her lower lip, her small white teeth denting the plump flesh. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her...
‘You can tell me,’ he assured her, shifting just a little closer.
Her gaze dropped again as she gave a small hollow laugh. ‘I really, really can’t.’
‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to guess.’ He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it really wasn’t. Not knowing was driving him crazy.
Looking up, she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Fine. You want to know the real reason? Because our marriage is over, Jacob. I have the divorce papers in my bag, ready for you to sign. And I know you. If I stay, you’ll try and convince me to give things another shot.’
‘And you don’t think you’ll be able to say no?’ Something wasn’t right here. Apart from the fact he knew full well that Clara was of course capable of saying no to him—and she knew he’d respect that—the bitter, hard words didn’t match the desperation in her eyes. She was making excuses.
She was still lying to him.
Clara looked up and met his eyes. ‘Of course I can say no. I left you, remember?’
As if he could ever forget. ‘And why am I starting to think that maybe you regret that decision?’ It was a stab in the dark, a wild guess. But there hadn’t been anybody else... What if she really did still have feelings for him? Could he make it work this time? Could he be the husband she needed?
‘It was the best decision I ever made.’ Her words were clear, bright and true, echoing off the walls of the castle. She meant every word, Jacob could tell.
* * *
The hurt in Jacob’s eyes was palpable as his arms fell away from her and Clara regretted the words as soon as she’d spoken them. It was true, of course—if she hadn’t left Jacob, then Ivy wouldn’t have been born into a loving home, even if that home only had one parent.
Leaving had been the right decision—for her, for Ivy and even for Jacob, although he didn’t know it.
But that was the point. He didn’t know. And without that context her words were harsh, hurtful. Cruel.
And Clara tried hard never to be cruel. Cruelty was something she knew too much about to knowingly inflict it on another person.
She had to tell him the truth. Now. But how?
This wasn’t the plan. The plan was to get the job done then meet him privately in London, somewhere public but discreet, and have the conversation. Not in a secluded castle in the middle of nowhere with his family due to arrive within the hour!
But how could she not tell him now?
Swallowing, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’
‘Yes,’ he said, the word coming out raspy. ‘You did. I can tell when you’re lying to me, Clara. And you meant that.’
Hysterical laughter bubbled away in her throat. If he really could tell when she was lying then they were both doomed. ‘I... Being married to you... For a time, it was the best thing that had ever happened in my life.’
‘But not for long enough.’
‘It took me a while,’ she said, feeling her way to
the right words. ‘But I realised that we both wanted different things.’
‘You never told me what you wanted!’ Frustration flew out from Jacob’s words, and the tension in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. She was doing this all wrong. ‘If I’d known you wanted to run your own business, I’d have helped you! We could have worked together. And if I’d known about your family—’
‘I know, I know. I should have told you, should have opened up to you more,’ Clara said. ‘But Jacob, that’s not what I’m talking about.’
‘Then what? If not that, then what on earth did you want that I couldn’t give you?’
‘A baby.’
Jacob froze, his eyes wide and scared, his face paling by the second as if he was turning to ice. ‘You...you never said,’ he stuttered eventually.
‘Because I knew how you felt about kids.’
‘I can’t have them.’ As if he needed to confirm it all over again now. ‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t?’ Clara asked, eyebrows raised. From her experience it seemed to be much more of a won’t.
‘I’m not meant to be a father, Clara.’ Jacob scrubbed a hand over his hair. ‘Jesus. You’re right. We really should have talked more. I always assumed that you were happy with it just being us. But if you really wanted...that. Then yeah, I get why you left. Finally.’ He gave a small, sad half laugh then looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Wait. If you wanted a baby, why haven’t you done anything about it? Five years, Clara. You could have met someone else in that time, started a whole tribe if you’d really wanted. You’re gorgeous, caring, wonderful... Don’t tell me you didn’t have offers.’
And this was it. Confession time. Clara sucked in a deep breath.
‘I didn’t need them. You see, when I left you... I was already pregnant.’
This time, Jacob didn’t freeze. He was all movement—staggering back away from her, his mouth falling open. ‘You...’
‘I should have told you, I know. But I knew how you felt. When I left, I thought I’d come back again, same as every other time. But then I took the pregnancy test and I knew...you wouldn’t want me if I did. You wouldn’t want her. And Jacob, I couldn’t let my daughter—she’s a girl...we had a girl...I didn’t say—and I couldn’t let her go through what I did, growing up with a parent who didn’t want her. I couldn’t.’ The words were tumbling out of her mouth, too fast for her to think them through. ‘But I always meant to tell you eventually. And when you came back...I thought this would be my chance to see if you wanted to get to know her.’
‘To know her?’ he echoed, sounding very far away.
‘Ivy. I called her Ivy. And she’s the best person on the planet.’ If Jacob only ever knew two things about his daughter, it should be those.
‘I don’t...’ He shook his head as if he were trying to shake away this new reality he found himself in. ‘I can’t...’
Clara nodded. ‘I know—it’s a shock. And I’m sorry. I’ll go. Let you... Well...I’ll just go.’
She stumbled backwards, fumbling for the door handle and yanking the door open. As she did, there came a sound like a feather mattress falling to the floor with a whoomp. Suddenly Clara was pulled back and she came to the realisation that Jacob’s arm was around her waist, tugging her safely out of the range of the huge bank of snow that had fallen from the castle’s crenellations. It must have been building up all day, Clara thought, amazed. She hadn’t even known it was snowing out there.
But now, when she looked out of the door, she saw a blanket of snow covering the land—deep and crisp and even.
But mostly deep. Really, really deep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘LOOKS LIKE YOU might be spending Christmas with me after all,’ Jacob said, his voice faint even to his own ears.
She’d lied to him for five long years. She’d let him believe that he’d screwed up—and maybe he had, but not in the way he’d always believed. She’d planned to come back. She’d planned to keep trying. Until she’d found out she was pregnant.
He was a father. How could that even be possible? Why on earth would the universe allow him to father a child?
He stared out at the snow. Somewhere out there, in the dark and the cold—well, actually she was probably nice and warm at the hotel, but that wasn’t the point—somewhere out there was a little girl who belonged to him. That he was responsible for.
Just like he’d been responsible for Heather.
The thought chilled him far more than the weather ever could.
‘I have to get out of here.’ Clara spun on her heel and stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. ‘I have to get back to Ivy. We can dig your car out. I saw a shovel somewhere...’
Probably in the same place as the mythical ladder she hadn’t been able to find. And, given that he could only just make out the windows of his car and the tyres were completely snowed in, he thought she was being a little optimistic. The snow was coming down faster than they’d be able to shovel.
‘Wait, Clara. You can’t. You need to—’
‘What? Stay here with you?’ She gave a high shrill laugh. ‘Not a chance. I know that look, Jacob. That hunted, panicked look. I recognise it distinctly from the first time I thought I was pregnant, thanks. It’s fine—you’re off the hook. Ivy doesn’t know you exist and now she never has to. You never even have to meet her—but you do have to help me get home to her right now!’
She was losing it, Jacob realised. He needed to calm her down. He could have his own breakdown about being a father later. He’d waited five years, apparently. Why rush it now?
‘How do you plan to do that?’ he asked, ignoring the rest and focusing on the part that was clearly making her crazy right now. ‘That road back to the hotel isn’t going to be passable even if we could dig out the car.’ He remembered the steep stretches and sharp turns. There wasn’t a chance of either of them driving it in this weather.
‘Then I’ll walk,’ she said. She was so stubborn. How had he forgotten that?
‘In those shoes?’ The fur-lined boots she was wearing looked warm enough but, unless he was mistaken, they were suede and the soles looked too thin for any decent grip. Definitely fashion items rather than practical.
‘There might be some boots around here somewhere.’ Clara cast a desperate glance around the hall as if she was expecting Santa himself to appear and furnish her with some, but even she had to know her arguments were growing weaker and weaker.
‘If we didn’t find them looking for that ladder then they’re not here,’ Jacob pointed out. ‘Look, Clara, it will be fine. Your...’ he swallowed ‘...our daughter, she’s with Merry, right? At the hotel?’ She nodded. ‘Then she’s safe. And we’re safe. That’s the important thing. The moment they clear the roads, I’ll drive you back, I promise. But for now...you’re stuck here with me, I’m afraid.’
Clara glared at him. ‘You do realise that if I’m trapped here, there’s no way your family can get here either.’
A chill settled over him that had nothing to do with the snow. He’d been so busy focusing on Clara that he’d forgotten, just for a moment, what the weather would mean for his parents and Heather.
‘They’ll get here.’ They had to. It was their perfect Christmas. One way or another they had to make it to the castle, or everything would have been for nothing. He’d have failed his father one last time, and he might never get the chance to put it right.
That was unacceptable.
‘How?’ Clara asked, incredulous. ‘If I can’t drive or walk out of here, what have you got planned for your family?’
‘Helicopter,’ Jacob suggested desperately. ‘I’ll make some calls...’
‘They won’t fly in this weather.’ Clara tilted her head as she looked at him, as if she was studying his reactions. ‘You know that. Are you sweating? Jac
ob, it’s zero degrees out there.’
‘I’m not sweating.’ But he was. He could feel the cold clamminess of the moisture on the back of his neck, under his jumper. Like always, it was all about his father. ‘I’m thinking.’ Thinking How can I put this right? And How am I going to tell him I got Clara pregnant?
Given his father’s reaction to the news of Jacob’s marriage, and his emphasis on responsibility, Jacob could only imagine how James Foster would take the news that he was now a grandfather—and that Jacob had taken no responsibility so far at all for his daughter.
‘Well, when you figure out a way to get them here, we can use the same method to get me out. I’ve got my own Christmas I need to get to. Mine and Ivy’s.’
One he hadn’t been invited to share. One he was pretty sure he didn’t want to share.
But he couldn’t help but wonder... Does she look like Clara or like me?
Hands visibly shaking, Clara held up her phone. ‘I need to find some reception in this place and call Merry. I need to know that Ivy is okay.’
She disappeared up the stairs, as quiet as the falling snow. Jacob waited until he knew she must have reached the bedrooms, then sat heavily at the foot of the stairs.
He was trapped in a castle with his ex-wife, he’d just discovered he was a father and the perfect Christmas he’d worked so hard planning was ruined. What would his father be thinking now? He wouldn’t blame Jacob for the weather—the man wasn’t irrational. But that didn’t change the fact that in the annals of Foster history this would go down as his mistake. Jacob’s failure. He had been the one who’d decided to host Christmas in the Highlands, after all. Ha! He’d even asked Clara for a white Christmas.
Seemed like she couldn’t help but deliver, even when she didn’t want to.
His shaky laugh echoed off the lonely stone walls and he dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his hair as they raked through it.
The difference was that, this time, there’d be no years to come for his father to bring this up, to tease him for his stupid plan. This was going to be his last Christmas and Jacob had ruined it.
The Unexpected Holiday Gift Page 12