Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection. Christy McKellenЧитать онлайн книгу.
his mind. What if they stayed married, at least for the time being, and made out to the world that they were happy together? The press would soon grow bored with that—there wouldn’t be any conflict in the story to get excited about. His father would be forced to leave her alone too if she retained the Westwood name.
Surely they could deal with being around each other for a while longer, just until the interest in them had died down.
‘Emma?’
‘Hmm?’ She turned to look at him with an unfocussed gaze as if she too had been deep in thought.
‘What if we stayed married?’
Her gaze sharpened up pretty quickly at that.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean what if we pretend our marriage is solid? To everyone. Including our parents. That would give them time to get used to it and for the press interest in us to die down, then we could get divorced quietly and without anyone noticing in a few months’ time.’
‘A few months?’ she repeated, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard and was a little unnerved by it.
‘We’d only have to project a happy marriage in public—in private we could completely ignore each other if you like.’ He knew he sounded defensive, but her sceptical response had rattled him.
Surely they could get past any awkwardness about being around each other again if it meant they’d be left alone to deal with this mess in a private and dignified manner. On their terms.
She seemed to be mulling the idea over now that she’d got over the initial shock of his suggestion, and she turned to face him again with a small pinch in her brow.
‘You mean we’d live together in the same house?’
He took a breath. ‘Yes, I guess that would make sense. To make it seem plausible that we’re a happy couple, madly in love.’ He was aware of tension building in his throat as he talked. ‘You could move into my house. Just for those months. You’d be able to hide out there more easily than your flat and use my driver to get where you wanted to go.’
Turning away, she stared out of the window, her shoulders slightly hunched and her hands clasped in her lap.
‘Okay,’ she said so quietly he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly.
‘Did you say okay?’
‘Yes.’ She swivelled to face him. ‘I said okay. It makes sense to do that.’ She paused to swallow, the look in her eyes a little circumspect. ‘Just to be clear, you are talking about just being housemates, nothing more?’
He clamped his jaw together and nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I meant.’
They’d be fools not to keep things strictly platonic between them; it would only complicate things if they didn’t.
Sex hadn’t even been on his mind when he’d made the suggestion. He’d been more concerned with protecting her from the press and keeping his own family out of the limelight.
He was thinking about sex now though.
That dress she was wearing was doing something unnerving to his senses. It accentuated her body in all the right places, making his blood race and his skin prickle as an urge to run his hands down it and trace her soft curves with his fingertips tugged at him.
Giving a small cough to clear the sudden tension in his throat, he gripped the handle of the door more tightly.
‘I’m sure we can outwardly project the image that we’re madly in love if we try hard enough,’ she said quietly.
He twisted to look at her again, but she was staring out of the window again, her face turned away from him.
Sighing, he sat back in his seat and watched the countryside whizzing past, wondering exactly what they were letting themselves in for here.
* * *
The Westwood ducal estate was one of the most impressive in the country. Emma had heard that whenever the family opened their doors to the public, which wasn’t often, they were so inundated with eager visitors there was gridlock in the roads around the estate for miles.
She would have been excited to have been invited to visit here under less stressful conditions, but as it was her stomach rolled with nerves as Jack’s driver drove the car up the oak-tree-lined road to the front of the formidable-looking gothic stately home, with its geometric towers interspersed with harsh spires of grey stone, and came to halt in front of the grand entrance.
Jack’s suggestion that they live together for the next couple of months had both terrified and electrified her.
The tense standoff at the bottom of the stairs earlier when he’d discovered that she wore her wedding ring around her neck seemed to have changed something between them. In that moment when he’d lifted it from around her neck she’d thought for a second he was going to kiss her. Her whole body had responded on a primitive level, her blood rushing through her veins and heating her skin in anticipation of the feel of his mouth on hers again after all this time.
The scary thing was, she’d wanted him to. So much.
Because then she’d know once and for all whether there was any way they could rekindle what they’d once had.
But he’d pulled away from her and the moment had disintegrated around them, taking any hope she might have had with it.
Until he’d just made the suggestion that they stay married, at least for a little while longer.
She could see that he was coming at it from a practical point of view, but, even so, she didn’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t still care about her, at least a little bit.
Jack got out of the car and walked round to her side, opening her door and holding out his hand to her.
‘Shall we?’ Jack asked, his voice tinged with tension. Hearing that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with being here either gave her that little bit of determination she needed to swing her legs out of the car, put her hand into his and stand up with a grace and dignity that she summoned from the depths of her soul.
They were in this together now.
He squeezed her fingers gently, as if hearing her thoughts, sending goose bumps rushing up her arm from where his warm skin made contact with hers.
‘Okay. Are you ready?’ he asked.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, dredging up a tense smile for him.
‘Good. Remember, we’re the ones in control here, not them.’
She let out a nervous laugh. ‘If you say so.’
He nodded, his mouth twisting into a grim smile, and tugged gently on her hand, asking her to walk with him.
They’d barely made it halfway up the wide stone steps when the door was flung open and Jack’s mother appeared on the doorstep, her perfectly coiffed chignon wobbling a little in her haste to get to them.
‘Jack! Darling!’ She tripped nimbly down the steps to meet them, the pearls around her neck swinging merrily from side to side. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ Taking his face in her hands, she drew him towards her for a kiss on each cheek, then turned to Emma, giving her an assessing glance. ‘It’s good to see you again, Emma, dear.’ The wary expression in the marchioness’s eyes made Emma think she wasn’t being entirely truthful about the ‘good’ part.
‘Come on in, we’re all in the drawing room.’
All? Emma mouthed at Jack with a worried frown as his mother walked regally back up the steps, leaving them to follow in her wake.
Jack just shrugged, looking as confused as she felt.
Emma had never been in this house before. It had belonged to Jack and Clare’s grandfather when she’d