Kitabı oku: «Making Christmas Special Again / Their One-Night Christmas Gift», sayfa 5

CHAPTER FIVE

ESME CAREFULLY PLACED the enormous tabby back into Mrs Elsinore’s arms. ‘It might be an idea to cut back on Theo’s treats. The extra weight could be contributing to his arthritis.’

Mrs Elsinore looked horrified. ‘But, dear, we have a routine.’ She talked Esme through morning treat, morning breakfast, elevenses treat, lunchtime and so on.

‘No need to veer from the routine, it’s more a question of reducing—’ Something, or rather someone caught her eye just beyond the exam-room window. A six-foot someone tugging a hat over that touch-me-now hair of his. Was it time for the afternoon walk already? Not that she hadn’t been counting down the seconds or anything, but the last few patients in the vet clinic had mercifully managed to steer her thoughts away from Max. Not any more!

‘What was it you were saying about routine, dear?’

‘Yes. Right. Routine.’ Her gaze involuntarily drifted back out the window. Max was laughing at something Margaret had said. Margaret looked so relaxed and at ease with him. The total opposite of how she’d been. By turns uptight, weirdly flirty, downright snippy.

He glanced over towards the window and caught her eye. He raised his hand in a half-wave but turned the instant Margaret said something. Something hilarious from the look of things.

Ruddy Margaret.

Wait. What? She loved Margaret. Margaret was her friend. Her friend who had a boyfriend and was no threat at all. Not that she was feeling competitive. It wasn’t as if she wanted to date him. Or press her hand to his chest to feel his heart beat. Or find out if his lips were as kissably delicious as they looked.

‘Esme, dear…shall I carry on as normal, then?’

‘No. I mean…cutting back a wee bit on Theo’s treats would be advisable.’ Esme gave her face a quick scrub with her hands. ‘Apologies. I’m a bit distracted today. New residents…’

Mrs Elsinore looked out the window and smiled. ‘With residents like that I think I’d be distracted, too.’

Esme blushed instantly. ‘What? Him? Oh, no…he’s not…’

‘Don’t deny it, dearie,’ Mrs Elsinore tutted. ‘He is. Now, if you tell me what else you want me to do with Theo that’ll free you up to go on out there and be distracted a bit more up close and personal.’

Esme pretended she hadn’t heard that part.

A few dietary tips and one prescription for glucosamine tablets later and Esme was pulling on her staff puffer jacket and heading out to where residents and their dogs met for the afternoon walk.

Margaret waved her over when she saw her. ‘Big favour.’

‘Sure.’ Especially if it involved being nowhere near Max. He was currently at the far end of the barns with Hamish and Dougal. Max didn’t look as pleased as Hamish was about Dougal’s new Christmas jumper.

‘Woohoo! Esme.’ Margaret waved her hand. ‘Eyes over here, please.’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘Yes, you were. Which brings me to my favour. Do you mind taking Max for the next couple of hours?’

‘What?’

‘He’s brilliant, but Euan keeps deferring to him for everything and we need to take a walk where Euan’s sole focus is Ajax, not Captain Gorgeous.’

‘He’s not—’

‘Esme.’ Margaret stopped her cold. ‘He totally is and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with fancying him.’

There was. There were a thousand reasons and probably another thousand right behind those.

‘Hey.’ Margaret forced her friend to look at her. ‘Not everyone’s Harding MacMillan. Go on a walk with the man. What’s the worst that could happen?’

She was about to launch into an extensive list of all of the bad things that could happen, even though Margaret knew the whole sordid story. Before she had a chance, Margaret had called Max over, explained the situation then told them where the group would be going so Max and Esme could go elsewhere.

When Margaret walked off and left the two of them standing there Max huffed out a laugh. ‘Feels a bit like a set-up, doesn’t it?’

‘If you’re not interested in taking a walk with me, I’m more than happy to take the dogs on my own.’

‘Hey, easy there. I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort, I was just saying—’ What was he saying? That being alone with her made his brain go all sorts of crazy? That sleeping down the corridor from her meant not sleeping at all? That he wanted her?

It was that simple.

All he had to do now was find a way to get his body to fall in line with his brain, which was telling him to step away from the beautiful woman and everything would be fine.

Esme tightened her lips then pointed towards a path. ‘If we go that way towards the old castle ruins we should stay clear of them. I’m perfectly happy to go on my own, though.’

‘No. I wasn’t saying anything like that.’

‘Well, what were you saying?’

‘I was just saying your colleague has a way of making everything sound like a date whenever she matches the two of us up.’

Esme rolled her eyes then grudgingly laughed. ‘Margaret has a way of doing that. She sees herself as my personal matchmaker.’

He didn’t push for details, opting to let silence do the work. If she wanted to talk about her love life, she would. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t. As plain as that.

After about ten minutes of briskly paced walking, Esme threw up her hands. ‘It isn’t that I don’t find you attractive, all right?’

Despite himself, Max laughed. She’d obviously been having a conversation all by herself. Again, he decided not to push for details. Lord knew, the more he was pushed, the less he wanted to say.

‘I don’t date clients.’

‘Who said anything about dating?’

Esme glared at him. ‘You did. The thing about Margaret making everything sound like a date?’

Max rubbed the back of his neck. This was one of those complicated conversations he had no way of winning. Did he want to take her out? Not particularly. He didn’t do dating. Was he attracted to her? Absolutely. More than he had been to anyone, to be honest. There was something about Esme’s combination of vulnerability and fiery strength that spoke to him. A kindred spirit who may have started off in life on a different path but, like it or not, they were on the same one now.

‘You’re right. This is a professional relationship. Nothing more.’

‘Good,’ Esme said, sounding absolutely miserable. ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’

All of a sudden, they heard someone calling out, a loud piercing scream. It sounded like a name.

Esme scooped up Dougal and took off at a run. Max did the same, with Wylie loping along in his wake. The screams stopped abruptly. Esme pointed towards a gated field. ‘A lot of villagers use this field as a shortcut to get up to the ruins. Maybe someone’s dog was hit. Let’s tie up the dogs here. I’ll ring Aksel to come and collect them and bring the four-by-four in case we need to take anyone back to the vet or the clinic.’

All the tension tightening her features over the ‘dating incident’ had re-formed into exacting focus. This was not a woman fazed by crisis. Once the dogs were secured and Esme had made the call, they ran across the field, Esme leading the way. When they got to the far end, Max’s doctor brain kicked into high gear. A woman was curled around a grey lurcher absolutely covered in blood. She was moaning and crying her dog’s name over and over. When she looked up at them, they could see she was also covered in blood. She sobbed, ‘Help! Teasel’s been cut!’

‘Janet, it’s all right. We’re here now.’ Esme dropped to her knees beside them. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I’m not sure. I had to jump over the fence after him and I think I twisted my ankle.’

Esme shot a glance up at Max. ‘If I take the dog, can you look after Janet? She works down at the pub and has had this wee thing for…what is it, Janet four and a bit years now?’

‘Five!’ wailed Janet. ‘We were out for his birthday walkies.’

‘Well, then, we’ll have to make sure we look after him with extra-special care, won’t we? Why don’t you sit up and we can take a look?’

Max could see what Esme was doing. Putting both of the patients at ease. Her voice was calm and steady. Her energy completely soothing. Animals read humans much better than people did and Esme had an impressive ability to match her energy accordingly.

‘Sure thing.’ He took his fleece off. ‘Here, use this for Teasel.’

Janet clung even more tightly to her dog as Esme reached out to take him. ‘I’m afraid to let go. He was chasing a deer. I tried to get him to stop.’

That explained the screaming.

‘When he leapt over the fence, the barbed wire snagged him.’ She sobbed again. ‘It’s ripped a huge wound from his chest to his belly.’ She tried to pull herself up to standing, still reluctant to let go of the dog. Max reached out and caught her as she stumbled. Esme deftly grabbed hold of the dog and cradled him in Max’s jacket.

‘All right, darlin’.’ Max eased her back to the snow-covered ground. Not ideal, but until he knew what was wrong it’d have to do. They also weren’t so far away from the castle that he couldn’t carry her if necessary. She was a wee snip of a thing compared to some of the muscled soldiers he’d hoisted fireman style for over a kilometre.

Esme pulled off her puffer jacket. ‘Here. Use this for Janet. She’s had a shock.’ The dog whimpered and Janet jumped up towards him.

‘Hey,’ Esme soothed. ‘Teasel’s whimpering is a good thing. It means his windpipe is intact.’

Janet fell back to the ground using both her hands to clutch her ankle. ‘I think I sprained it or something.’

Max saw blood around her ankle, swiftly rucked up her waterproofs and carried out a quick examination. She didn’t have a compound fracture or any obvious cuts so that was something, but she’d need X-rays to rule out any fractures. He felt further up along Janet’s leg and was satisfied that her ankle had received the brunt of the fall and nowhere else. ‘You don’t happen to have X-ray facilities in the clinic, do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Brilliant.’ He checked Janet’s pulse and suggested they keep her off her leg until he could do a proper examination. ‘Looks like you got your own set of cuts as well. We’ll check on the status of your tetanus jabs and get these cuts cleaned up. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but—’

Janet pulled her wrist out of his hand. ‘I’m not leaving Teasel! What if he’s nicked an artery—what if—?’ Janet became consumed with tears as she considered the very worst outcome.

‘Hey.’ He pulled her to his side as Esme carried out her own examination. The last thing one doctor needed was another doctor’s patient jumping in at what could be a delicate moment. From the look on Esme’s face, it was grim.

Max cocked his ear at the sound of a vehicle.

‘That’ll be Aksel.’ Esme didn’t look up as she wrapped the dog tightly in his coat. ‘He’s going to be up with the dogs—can you guide him in, please? The less movement for this little guy, the better.’

‘Absolutely.’

Esme could hardly believe it had barely been a couple of hours since the mere idea of going on a walk with Max had filled her with horror. Now? She would happily have him along—day or night. Not that she was always encountering incidents like this harrowing one, but if she ever had to face the eye of a storm with someone, it was Max Kirkpatrick.

His military cool and first-class medical knowledge were exactly what you would want in a crisis. He’d even showed his soft side when Janet had dissolved into tears. Dug a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and everything. The man might see himself as solid mass of impenetrable man mountain, but her gut instinct had been right. He had a heart the size of Scotland.

‘How’s he coming along, Esme?’ Janet asked through a speaker in the viewing room.

Esme tied off the delicate stitch then looked up. ‘Only a few more stitches to go and then he can have a proper rest.’ It was a highly edited way of describing what had been a difficult surgery. Teasel had had to be anaesthetised while she’d assessed the extent of the tissue damage. She’d had to debride some of the most heavily damaged areas right next to the wound and multiple layers of tissue had needed suturing but, luckily, they’d avoided having to put any drains in.

Despite Esme’s insistence that Teasel would be receiving the very best of care, Janet had point blank refused to leave her dog. The best she’d agreed to was sitting in the large windowed room just outside the surgical area in the veterinary clinic, with Max in attendance. It wasn’t standard practice, but…as the accident had happened on Heatherglen land, Esme felt an added responsibility to both patients.

With Janet and Max looking on, Esme had poured her concentration into the surgery as she’d painstakingly stitched Teasel’s shockingly long wound back together. The barbed wire had done a real number on him, from his throat to his belly. He had miraculously managed to escape nicking his jugular vein. If he had, the nurses wouldn’t be prepping a recovery kennel for him.

The nurse who was working with Esme turned off the microphone and asked, ‘Shall I ask Max to try and get her to go up to Heatherglen now?’

Esme shook her head. She wasn’t going to admit it, but having Max there was strangely soothing. She didn’t want to have to worry about Janet while she was working on Teasel and with Max there, she didn’t even feel an ounce of concern. ‘It’s not like it happens every day and she’s been through such a shock. Teasel’s her baby. I can understand her not wanting to leave him.’ Dogs were family in her book. You didn’t abandon family when they needed you most. Having a mother who’d abandoned ship at her lowest ebb had taught her that the hard way. Having a brother who’d been there to pick up the pieces had confirmed it.

She glanced up and caught Max’s gaze. A warm heat swirled round her belly with such intensity it was as if he’d slipped his hands under her scrubs. This was not the time to be distracted. Even so, she hadn’t been able to help taking the odd glimpse at him. He had either been readjusting Janet’s position so that her foot was elevated, giving her a proper blood-pressure test with a pump Lyla had run down with from the clinic along with some ice packs, or running her through a ream of questions all designed to keep Janet’s eyes off the rather gruesome injury.

Max was a picture of calm, quick thinking, level-headedness in what could have been a difficult situation. Mercifully Janet’s injuries hadn’t been serious. She had a few cuts of her own, which Max had cleaned and put antibacterial cream on before lightly dressing them. He’d also called her GP and checked on her anti-tetanus status. She’d need a booster.

Half an hour later, when Teasel was resting in his kennel and Janet had been assured for the hundredth time that he’d be asleep for the next few hours and that they’d call straight away if there was any news, she finally agreed to let Max take her in for X-rays.

Esme had only just finished up at the surgery when she saw his vehicle leaving the castle grounds heading into town—to the GP’s surgery and on to Janet’s, no doubt.

She looked down and realised both of her hands were pressed tightly against her pounding heart. If she didn’t watch herself…

Margaret came out of the front door of the clinic and locked the door behind her. ‘Fancy a drink down in the village?’

‘No,’ Esme said a bit more dreamily than she’d intended. ‘I’m all right here.’

Margaret followed her gaze as Max’s four-by-four wended its way down the long drive. ‘Oh, you are in trouble!’

Yes, Esme agreed silently. Yes, she was.

Charles stopped Esme as she was about to enter the kitchen.

His big-brother expression turned serious. ‘The snow’s just started, it’s pitch black and it’s icy.’

‘Thanks for the weather report, Charles.’

He gave her a don’t-be-daft look. ‘I’m trying to tell you it’s not safe to go out driving.’

Easily falling into her role as kid sister, she shot back, ‘I happen to be an excellent driver, thank you very much.’

‘Where are you going all dressed up like that?’

His eyes dropped to her flirty, swishy, feminine skirt. She never wore skirts. It was usually scrubs, workout clothes or pyjama bottoms at this time of the evening, unless she was meeting Margaret in the village for a glass of wine or, on very rare occasions, heading to Fort William or Glasgow for a dinner date. Yawn-fest more like. She silently vowed never to take her brother up on another suitable suitor again.

Though her features remained stoically neutral as he waited for an answer, she could feel tiny tendrils of heat creep into her cheeks. ‘I’m just on my way to see Mrs Renwick. Everything else is in the wash.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Why are you so grumpy?’

‘I’m not grumpy.’

He was. He was very grumpy. Which was annoying as he’d been in an absolutely brilliant mood when he’d come back from his medical conference a couple of months ago. It’d made a nice change from Dr Too Serious for His Own Good. Maybe he should go to another one. It would keep his prying eyes away from the fact she just might have accidentally on purpose put on something slightly more feminine in case she accidentally on purpose ran into a certain Max Kirkpatrick.

Since he’d come back a couple of hours earlier it was as if they were slowly circling one another, neither one willing to make the first move. Not that she even knew what kind of move was going to be made. If they were simply going to be friends, fine. She just wanted an end to this silly friction that existed between them. Working together today had helped, but when he hadn’t bothered to find her after he’d come back from town, she’d gone into another one of her insane spirals of insecurity.

Was she good enough? Wasn’t she? Was it time to simply grow up and not treat every single man who showed a flicker of interest in her as a potential pariah? Maybe in this case work was work and pleasure was a figment of her imagination.

Either way, she wanted the tension to end. She respected him and there was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t be friends. She gave her brother a supercilious sniff then swished through the swinging kitchen doors before Charles could say anything else.

Esme was immediately drawn to the platters of Christmas biscuits covering the long kitchen counters, then sent her most winning look at Mrs Renwick. ‘Yum. How many may I take?’

Mrs Renwick gave Esme her loving equivalent of a glare and placed yet another tray of perfect Christmas biscuits on the marble countertop. ‘One. The rest are for the baskets I’m making up for the Christmas market.’

‘Which ones are these again?’ Esme reached out to take one of the little pink cloud-like treats, only to have her hand lightly slapped away.

‘You know perfectly well they’re peppermint divinity, Esme. Heaven knows, you’ve eaten enough of them each and every Christmas.’ Esme dodged another tray of hot biscuits. ‘Off you go. I’m busy here. Scoot.’

‘Why can’t I stay here with you?’

‘Because you must have far better things to do than watch me mass-produce my Christmas biscuits.’

True, but…also…false. Nothing was holding her interest. Ever since Max had returned and not hunted her down, she’d felt listless. She took a biscuit and watched Mrs Renwick at work.

After a few minutes of being stared at, her honorary aunt gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Esme Ross-Wylde, you are underfoot. Why don’t you go to the lounge and talk to some of the residents?’

‘Ha! No thank you.’

Mrs Renwick gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You like seeing the residents.’

‘That’s true.’ She took another biscuit. She did like spending time with them. Honestly, she did, it was just that he was out there and as he’d avoided her when he’d come back he obviously didn’t want to talk to her. Then again, what if he thought she was avoiding him?

This was ridiculous. What was she? Twelve? There was no way she was going to get through the rest of the week unless they resolved the whole tension thing. But how?

It wasn’t as if she was going to saunter up to him and say, Hey, Max! Just so you know—I’ve got loads of trust and confidence issues thanks to my ex-husband. We got married when I was nineteen. I know…young, right? Anyway, I was grieving after my brother’s death at the time, and the rest of the family were dealing with Nick’s death in their own ways…you know how it is.

One thing led to another—we eloped, he stole half of my trust fund and set up a nightclub, but made it seem like I was reneging on my promise to set up a canine therapy centre I’d told the universe I was going to establish in honour of Nick’s death. Yeah. I know! Not very nice. It makes a girl paranoid. So, anyway…the thing is… I’m really attracted to you and it freaks me out. So sorry if I’m being weird. Friends?

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe she should bring a thank-you present for everything he’d done today. She scanned the kitchen. ‘Is there anything I could take out to the residents as a night-time nibble?’

Mrs Renwick picked up a gloriously over-the-top chocolate cake. ‘Here. Take this and leave me in peace.’

‘Perfect.’ She leant in and gave Mrs Renwick a kiss. ‘Thank you, Christmas Fairy!’

When she left the kitchen the first person she laid eyes on was Max. He was at the doorway to the media room, staring intently at something. She poked her head in to see what was so interesting.

‘Wow.’

Euan and Andy were playing some sort of scuba-diving treasure-hunt game, their two dogs curled up beside their armchairs. It looked as though the forty-something soldier and the twelve-year-old had been friends for life. Playing. Cheering one another on. It was all quiet and modulated, but…there was a kinship there. Two broken souls finding a safe place to be happy.

Sensing her rather than looking at her, Max said, ‘This definitely falls into the category of things I thought I’d never see.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ Esme agreed. ‘I never thought I’d see Andy this interactive again.’

Max shot the pair a nervous look. ‘Should I get Euan out of there?’

‘No. Not at all, it’s just…’ She rested her head against the doorframe and watched the ex-soldier offer gentle instructions to Euan as he navigated the game. A splashing sound came out of the speaker and they both flinched. Then fist bumped each other. ‘They’ve both found someone who understands what they’re going through.’

Max nodded, his eyes still on the pair. ‘They’ve each got PTSD for fairly different reasons, though.’

Esme’s heart softened. This definitely wasn’t virgin territory for him. ‘I guess you know a fair few soldiers who came back from their tours seeing the world through a different lens.’

He scrubbed his hand along his jaw before answering. ‘Everyone comes back from a conflict zone seeing the world differently.’

Not an insight exactly, but…she supposed she’d seen Glasgow as her ‘conflict zone’ after everything had gone wrong with Harding. It made hiding out up here too easy. Maybe it was time to see about that satellite clinic she kept promising herself she’d open one day.

They watched for a few moments as the game progressed. There was a third unused console sitting on a footstool. Esme pointed at it.

‘You not playing?’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head, loosening those loose curls on top of his forehead again. ‘I’m no good at fantasy.’

Oh, she would’ve bet actual money that he was very good at fulfilling fantasies.

Esme! Stop it. Your mind is very, very naughty. Especially when she was within a ten-foot radius of Mr Tall, Dark and Scrumptious here.

She shifted her weight to her other hip and balanced the cake on her left hand.

‘After seeing you in action today, I would’ve thought you’d be good at anything you set your mind to.’

Uh-oh. That had come out more flirtatiously than she’d anticipated. Mostly because her eyes were on the same level as that yummy-looking mouth of his.

Her tooth caught her lower lip as she felt Max’s dark eyes glint then take a leisurely inspection of her. Nice and slow from her hair, to her eyes, to her lips, to her…

‘You always walk around your castle with a chocolate cake?’

‘Yes.’ She gave him a goody-goody smile. ‘It’s my evening ritual. It’s required actually.’

‘Oh?’ That increasingly familiar little hitch of his eyebrow let her know he was back in flirt mode.

‘Yes, that’s right. Cake-bearing duties are obligatory for poor, beleaguered Highland spinsters who rely on their big brother’s largesse for a roof over their heads.’

He snorted. Rightly so.

She had inherited plenty of money when her father had died. The trust fund thing had been awful, but her father had been clever enough not to give his children access to vast lump sums. Charles had inherited the castle in line with tradition, but it wasn’t exactly as if he was pushing her out the front door. Quite the opposite, in fact. Both of them loved it here, but they would’ve traded it all if they could have had their brother back. It was one of the reasons Charles had suggested they turn it into a clinic. A way for them to work together, honour their brother, and make their home a place to heal.

Max’s eyes dropped to the cake again. ‘Are you planning on sharing any of that, or are you just going to walk round and show people what they aren’t getting?’

The atmosphere between them went taut. Max wasn’t talking about cake. Margaret’s words coquettishly danced to the fore: ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

She was safe here. This was her home. She wasn’t going to elope and give him all the PIN numbers to her bank accounts. Apart from that, Max Kirkpatrick simply didn’t seem the type of man who would have any dealings with lies and deceit.

A mad urge to go with her gut instinct seized her. She swooped her finger into the thick icing then stuck the whorl of buttercream into her mouth, making a show of enjoying the rich icing as it melted on her tongue. ‘Mmm…’

‘Looks good.’ Max’s voice was as rough as his stubble. Not that she’d touched it. Yet. When she finished the icing she reached out to touch his cheek. He grabbed her wrist and swept her finger through the chocolate buttercream for a second time. ‘Uh-uh.’ He said. ‘My turn.’

Esme’s insides turned as hot as lava as he pulled her finger towards his mouth. Oh, mercy. He was going to—Oh…he did… He drew her finger into his mouth. It was hot and wet, and his tongue was making short work of that icing, but his eyes had not as much as blinked. This had to be one of the sexiest things that had ever happened to her and they were both completely clothed. She dreaded to think what would happen if they were naked.

No, she didn’t. And that was a problem. She didn’t dread it at all.

Just then Wylie bumbled over and gave her a nudge.

Max let go of her wrist.

‘Your bodyguard?’

‘Something like that.’ Gulp. ‘Want a proper slice?’ She raised the cake.

‘No.’ He shook his head, his voice still thick with whatever it was that had just happened between them. ‘Not hungry.’

‘Neither am I.’

‘Give it to the lads.’

‘Okay.’

And just like that Esme walked into the media room, handed the video-game players the cake and two forks then walked straight back out again.

‘Want to see my Christmas tree?’ she asked Max.

‘Is that a euphemism?’

‘No. But it can be if you’d like it to be.’

Much to her astonishment, Max followed her as she silently led him towards the small sitting room in her and Charles’s private wing. This, she was beginning to realise, was going to be a very different Christmas indeed.