Making Christmas Special Again / Their One-Night Christmas Gift. Karin Baine
Читать онлайн книгу.
the internet, are you?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really. For twelve years I lived and breathed the military and since then I’ve been deeply involved in the A and E unit. The internet fuels gossip. I don’t like gossip.’
She huffed out a disbelieving laugh. ‘That would make you a rare breed.’
Shards of pain lanced through those pure blue eyes of hers and if he were the sort of man who knew how to make them go away, he would’ve. It was a cruel reminder that the only thing he’d learnt over the years was how to push people away.
‘Nick was my older brother. Much older. He was in a canine dog squad in the army and one day… Christmas Eve, actually…things didn’t go so well.’
All the little pieces he’d been trying to put together fell into place. The castle as a rehab centre. The rescued mutts. The repurposed search and rescue dogs. Those intense looks she sometimes had when she held a dog close. All of this was for their brother.
‘He must’ve been an amazing man.’
‘He was my hero.’
The depth of emotion in her voice punched him right in the solar plexus, loosening up the muscles that held his own story deeply embedded in his heart. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. That he understood pain and loss. His mum had been his best friend up until when his stepdad had entered their lives. A man whose method of putting a relatively wayward kid back on track was to ship him out to a military academy instead of letting him live in their new home, as promised. How the same man had verbally subdued his jolly, full-of-life mother into being little more than a timorous mouse, frightened to say or do anything that might embarrass her social-climber husband. As the dark thoughts accumulated, Dougal nosed his thigh. He gave the dog’s head a scrub. The pooch definitely had a sensitive side. That was for sure.
As if the move had also jostled Esme, she gave herself a little shake, popped on a smile and asked, ‘What made you choose the Clydebank Hospital? Pretty rough area of town.’
‘It’s where I grew up.’
‘Oh. Um…are your parents still there?’
‘Nah.’ He cleared his throat because it still choked him up to say the words. ‘My mum passed. Three years ago now.’
There was no point in mentioning his father. Step or otherwise. Neither had treated his mum the way she’d deserved.
Cancer had stolen his chance to give her the house he had bought for her. It’d taken him twelve years of service to buy it outright. He’d meant it to be a refuge from the Dictator and his constant micromanagement. As far as Max knew, he’d never laid a hand on her, but guys like that knew how to bruise and hurt in other ways. Gavin had been chipping away at his mother’s self-worth for years. He hadn’t wanted a wife. He’d wanted someone to feel small so he could feel big. It was a miracle she’d had any confidence left at all in the end. Or the generosity in her heart to forgive a man he didn’t think he ever could forgive.
At least her battle with cancer had been swift. A cruel mercy. The day she’d died, Max had put the house on the market. He’d thought of making it a shelter, but he simply hadn’t had the funding to keep one up and running. He’d used the money to establish Plants to Paws instead. His mum had loved gardening. It had been the one place she’d known her husband couldn’t fault her.
He needed to bring up his relationship to Gavin before a single penny came his way from Esme, but for now he was enjoying the thoughtful silence she’d chosen in lieu of asking, And your dad? Like her therapy dogs, she seemed to know when to push and when to back off. If he wasn’t careful he’d be pouring out all his secrets but he knew more than most that putting his heart in someone else’s hands was always a bad idea. So he followed Esme’s earlier lead and sidestepped the real stuff.
‘Where’d you find this cheeky chappie?’ He pointed at Dougal.
‘A couple of our staffers found him. Cass and Lyle. Someone had abandoned the poor wee thing.’ She gave the dog a goofy grin and he barked his approbation. ‘Up until a few days ago he was staying with our physio, Flora, but she’s moving in with Aksel—the new vet—and they already have an assistance dog for his daughter, so…’ Esme looked up to the wintry sky as if for inspiration.
‘Because he’s so young and such a little scruffball we weren’t sure he’d be up for much training, but he seems pretty adaptable. Aksel caught him trying to purr next to a cat the other day.’ She laughed, her features softening as she unclipped his lead and gave him a bit of a cuddle. ‘Poor Dougal. He deserves someone who will love him exactly the way he is. A little broken. A lot in need of love.’
Something told Max she was describing herself. She sure as hell was describing him. Though he could hardly believe the words as they came out of his mouth, he said them anyway. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘About Dougal?’ Esme knew he’d been asking about her, but she was hardly going to pour her heart out to a man who had more control over her emotions than she cared to admit. ‘Nothing to say really. His past is a mystery.’ Her eyes flicked towards Max. A bit like you. Adopting what she hoped was a fun, interested look, she asked, ‘So what’s your kilt like? I’m not familiar with the Kirkpatrick tartan.’
‘Probably because it’s Lowland. I’m guessing the Ross-Wylde tartan is—forgive the pun—cut from a different cloth.’
It was as it happened. Highlander through and through. But that didn’t mean he could tar her with a brush of superiority. ‘I don’t use my name to get things I haven’t earned.’
His eyes widened. There had definitely been bite to her bark and Max wasn’t a man to stand around getting attacked. ‘You certainly seem happy to use it when it comes to flinging your money about.’
Everything in her stilled.
‘Don’t say that.’
Max’s spine realigned into ramrod position. ‘Sore point?’
‘Something like that.’
She saw him reeling through the possibilities of what could make the poor little rich girl so touchy about money. When she failed to explain he asked, ‘Is this why you fund the charities through the ball instead of donating it all yourself? Gives you a bit of emotional clearance so you don’t have to feel responsible for anyone and they don’t have to come crawling to you for more?’
He was hitting close to the bone. Too close. And he wasn’t bothering to sugar-coat it.
She flicked her hair out of her eyes and tucked it back underneath her hat.
‘How I run the foundation is nothing for you to worry about, Max. It’s a charity event, not a Princess Charming Ball.’ Instead of stropping off, which she should have done, she lashed out, ‘And don’t think for a minute I need to find a male version of Cinderella to make me happy.’
‘No?’ countered Max, the space between them diminishing as the heated intensity between them increased. ‘What do you need to make you happy?’
Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear her own thoughts let alone the sounds around them.
Someone like you?
‘Max!’ Euan was running towards them. ‘Come fast! It’s Fenella!’
Max took off with the practised speed of an athlete. Esme scooped up Dougal’s lead and, as best she could, ran behind, silently adding, Make self immune to grumpy but sexy Scottish doctors to her list of things to do.
When Max reached the clearing, he could hardly believe what he was seeing.
Fenella’s