Yuletide Bride. Mary Lyons
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growled, the icy-cold menace in his voice sending shivers of fright and terror running down her spine. ‘Because, I’ll be back just as soon as I can. And that’s not a threat—it’s a promise!’
* * *
And she had absolutely no doubt that he would be back, Amber told herself, shivering with cold and nervous exhaustion. Max had very clearly stated his firm intention of seeking her out once again. And there was nothing she could do, but wait with ever-mounting despair for his return.
It had seemed, during the past two weeks, as though she was existing in the midst of a living nightmare, never knowing from one moment to the next when or how he would turn up to cast an evil shadow over her life. And while she was normally very busy at this time of year, she’d hardly been able to concentrate on even the simplest task. In fact, with Max’s sudden reappearance in her life, she was finding it almost impossible to focus on the present when her mind was so completely filled with memories of the past.
‘Mummy...? Where are you?’
‘Over here,’ Amber called out as her small daughter appeared on the other side of the old walled garden.
‘Do hurry up!’ Lucy begged, running down the gravel path towards her. ‘If we don’t go soon, I’ll miss my riding lesson.’
Amber grimaced as she glanced down at her watch. ‘Sorry, darling, I completely forgot the time.’
‘I hope you’re going to change out of those old clothes,’ Lucy told her, critically viewing her mother’s slim figure, clothed in a scruffy pair of jeans beneath a windproof jacket, which had clearly seen better days. ‘And you’ve got some leaves stuck in your hair.’
‘Hey—relax! It’s Saturday, remember? No one has to get all dressed up at the weekend,’ Amber laughed, bending down to allow the little girl to remove the greenery from her thick, golden brown hair.
‘I thought you were going to do some Christmas shopping.’
‘Oh, yes, you’re right. I’d completely forgotten. OK, you win,’ she grinned through her hair at her daughter. ‘I’ll try and find something smarter to wear.’
A self-appointed arbiter of her mother’s wardrobe, Lucy had very strong views on what was, and what wasn’t, suitable attire for various social functions. However, not having any spare money to spend on clothes, Amber had quite cheerfully stopped worrying about the dictates of fashion a long time ago.
‘What are you going to wear?’ Lucy demanded as she finished removing the straw from her mother’s hair.
‘Oh, I’ll think of something.’
‘All my friends say that you’re very pretty. When I’m grown up, I’m going to buy you lots and lots of lovely clothes,’ Lucy told her solemnly.
‘Thank you, darling!’ Amber grinned down at her daughter. Although she was only twenty-six and still—if Philip Jackson was to be believed—an attractive woman, she knew that she’d never been half as pretty as Lucy. With her cloud of black curly hair and large, clear blue eyes, the little girl was the spitting image of her father. Which was yet another problem to be faced. Because it wasn’t just the threat of Max’s return that was causing her so much anxiety and distress—there was the added worry of how and when to break the news to her friends. And that was something she was going to have to do sooner rather than later. Because, while Rose had been far too excited by Max’s sudden reappearance to notice the startling resemblance between father and daughter, Amber knew that she couldn’t rely on her other friends being so blind. And, most important of all—what about Lucy herself? How on earth could she even begin to try and explain to such a young girl the torturous events of the past...?
‘Oh, do stop day-dreaming, Mummy. Please hurry up!’ Lucy pleaded, almost dancing with impatience.
‘Just give me five minutes to change, and I’ll be right with you,’ Amber promised, sighing heavily as she picked up the basket full of vegetables before slowly following her daughter back down the garden path.
CHAPTER THREE
‘DON’T panic—there are still ten shopping days to go before Christmas!’
Momentarily unnerved by the words being hoarsely whispered in her ear, Amber gave a startled yelp, nearly dropping her heavy load of parcels as she spun around to find herself staring up into the twinkling brown eyes of Philip Jackson.
‘For Heaven’s sake!’ she gasped as the young doctor swiftly removed the packages from her arms. ‘It’s bad enough having to fight one’s way through the crowds without you scaring me half to death!’
‘I didn’t mean to give you a fright,’ he grinned. ‘But why does everyone seem to be gripped by a “shop till you drop” frenzy at this time of year?’
‘I don’t know. It’s crazy, isn’t it?’ she agreed as they walked slowly up the street. ‘So, just what are you doing here, in the middle of town on a Friday morning?’ she teased. ‘Surely a busy doctor ought to be in his surgery looking after the sick and infirm.’
‘I’ve taken the morning off for some last-minute shopping,’ he confessed with a rueful grin, before insisting on leading her into the Market Tavern for a mug of their famous ‘Winter Warmer’—hot chocolate with a dash of brandy. ‘It will do you good, and you’ll still be quite sober enough to drive home,’ he assured her when she expressed her doubts about the wisdom of drinking in the middle of the day. ‘On the other hand—how about joining me for lunch in one of the local restaurants?’
Amber shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Philip. I can’t make it today. Mother’s in bed with a heavy cold, and I must get back to keep an eye on her.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Although I have to say that you don’t look too well, either,’ the doctor added, glancing with concern at her pale, finely drawn features and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
‘I’m all right,’ she shrugged, perfectly well aware—from a despairing glance in her mirror this morning—that she was looking like death warmed up. Just as she knew that part of her present exhausted state of mind wasn’t just the worry about Max’s return. She was also becoming deeply disturbed about her mother.
Amber had finally been forced to explain to her mother the necessity of selling their home, and Violet Grant’s reaction had been every bit as bad as she had feared. Amber still shuddered to recall the wild, hysterical accusations and virtual collapse of the older woman. It was well over a week since her mother had taken to her bed, claiming that she had a bad cold and refusing to leave her room—an action that was now causing her daughter grave concern.
Unfortunately, it was all too reminiscent of Violet’s behaviour eight years ago, following the scandal and collapse of her husband’s business. And so, while she was trying hard not to overreact to the situation, Amber knew that if her mother continued to avoid facing up to life by hiding in her bedroom, she was going to have to seek some serious medical advice.
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