Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection. Christy McKellenЧитать онлайн книгу.
Emma. Please. Stay and we’ll talk some more about it.’ He put a hand on her arm, aware that he was vibrating with fear now. ‘Please.’
Shaking her head, she pulled away from his touch and stumbled backwards. ‘I can’t, Jack.’
Her gaze met his and all he saw there was a wild determination to get away from him.
Chest tight with sorrow, he tried one last time to get through to her. ‘Emma, I love you, please don’t leave me again.’
Putting up a hand as if to block his words, she took another step away, reinforcing the barrier between them, rebuffing his pleas.
‘I have to go,’ she said, her voice rough and broken. ‘I can’t be here any more. Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to.’
And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away from him.
Frozen with frustration, he remained standing where she’d left him, listening to her mount the stairs and a minute later come back down, hoping—praying—that she’d pause on her way out, to stop and look at him one last time. If she did that, he’d go to her. Hold and comfort her. Tell her she could trust him and he’d make everything okay.
If she did that, he’d know there was still a chance for them.
But she didn’t.
Instead he saw a flash of colour as she walked quickly past the doorway to the living room, and a few seconds later he heard the front door open, then close with the resounding sound of her leaving.
Silence echoed around the room, taunting him, widening the hollow cavity that she’d punched into his chest with her words.
Picking up a vase that Emma had bought as part of the house redecoration project, he hurled it against the wall with all his strength, drawing a crude satisfaction from seeing it smash into tiny little pieces and litter the floor.
He knew then that this was why he hadn’t been back to see her in the six years since he moved to America. His heart had been so eviscerated the first time he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging it again.
But the moment he’d seen her again at Fitzherbert’s party he’d known in the deepest darkest recesses of his brain that he had to have her back. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and making himself vulnerable again for her would be worth the risk.
But it had all been for nothing.
Six years after she’d first broken his heart she’d done it to him all over again.
EMMA GOT OFF the plane in Bergerac, head-weary and heart-sore.
The very moment she saw her mother’s anxious face in the crowd of people waiting to pick up the new arrivals at the airport, the swell of emotion that she’d been keeping firmly tamped down throughout the journey finally broke through. Tears flowed freely down her face as she ran into her mother’s arms and held onto her tightly, burying her face in the soft wool of her jumper and breathing in her comforting scent.
‘Darling, darling! What’s wrong? I was so worried when I picked up your message. Is everything okay?’ her mother muttered into her hair.
It took the whole of the thirty-minute journey to her mother’s house in the tiny village of Sainte-Alvère for Emma to explain—in a halting monologue broken with tears—about the marriage and aborted elopement and all that had happened to her since Jack had made his shocking reappearance.
Her mother listened in silence. Only once Emma had finished did she reach out her hand to cover her daughter’s in a show of understanding and solidarity.
It was such a relief to finally talk to her mother about it all. She apologised profusely for keeping her in the dark for all this time, but, in a surprising show of self-awareness, her mother seemed more concerned with apologising to Emma for not being there to support her through such tough times.
A little while later they were ensconced on her mother’s plant-pot-filled terrace sitting under thick woollen blankets, looking out over the fields behind the house with steaming cups of coffee cradled in their hands.
Philippe, her stepfather, had taken one look at her tear-stained face and promptly left the house so that she and her mother could talk on their own.
‘Poor, Philippe, I hope he doesn’t feel like I’ve chased him out of his own home,’ Emma said, grimacing at her mother. ‘He must still be in pain with his leg.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ her mother said, flapping a hand. ‘It’s good for him to get out after being stuck here with just me for company for the last few days. He’ll be much happier at the bar with Jean.’
Emma stared into the distance, watching the birds wheel in dizzying circles over a copse of trees as dusk fell, bathing the autumnal landscape in a soft, hazy glow.
‘You know, I keep asking myself why Jack would want to be with a lowly waitress when he’s a billionaire earl,’ she said quietly, turning to flash her mother a crooked smile.
Her mother frowned and swatted her hand dismissively. ‘He won’t be with a waitress, he’ll be with you,’ she said fiercely. ‘What you do for a living has no bearing whatsoever on you as a person. I’m sure he’ll tell you the same.’
Emma sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around her. ‘Yeah, I know that really. It’s just—’ She paused, then said in a rush, ‘What if it all went wrong again?’
Her mother smiled sadly. ‘That’s the chance you take when you fall in love. It’s terrifying to make yourself vulnerable like that, but you know what? I was more afraid of what would happen to me if I didn’t allow myself to have a relationship with Philippe. It was a good instinct to trust in his love because he brought me alive again.’
She watched her mother smooth her hands over the blanket on her lap.
‘I still had to take a leap of faith when he asked me to marry him though,’ her mother said, glancing at her with a small frown.
Emma tried to smile, but the muscles around her mouth refused to work, so she stared down at her hands in her lap instead, trying to get herself under control.
‘Imagine the alternative, Emma,’ her mother said, obviously noticing her distress. ‘Imagine what you’ll lose if you turn him away because you’ve given in to your fear. Imagine how that will make you feel. It’ll eat away at you, darling—the “What if?”’
When she looked up she was surprised to see tears in her mother’s eyes.
‘This is all my fault. I should have been stronger for you when your father passed away, Emma. You were too young to take on all that responsibility by yourself—you were just a baby.’
Emma frowned. ‘You weren’t well, Mum. It wasn’t your fault.’
Her mother shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. Lifting a hand, she touched her fingers softly to Emma’s cheek. ‘You lost your youth and innocence too early and look what it’s done to you. You can’t even let yourself be loved by a man who’s perfect for you. You should. Give him a chance to prove himself to you, Emma. You owe him that much at least. You owe it to yourself to be happy.’
The memory of the hurt on Jack’s face suddenly flashed across her vision, causing the hollow ache in her chest to throb and intensify.
Poor Jack.
He’d opened his heart to her and she’d pushed him away.
Again.
It had to have been just as hard for him to let himself fall in love with her again after the way she’d let him down, but he’d trusted his heart to her anyway, making the ultimate sacrifice.
Could she really not do the same for him?
Taking