Two months later
EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE on this road trip had been telling Harriet to have a merry Christmas. From the radio presenters accompanying her on this journey, to the few strangers she’d encountered along the way, to the very weather, they’d been insisting she should be enjoying Christmas Day.
There was a fat chance of that happening, thanks to Charles, and now she was about to ruin his day too. She was happy to do this alone and more than capable. The only reason she was coming all this way was to give him the chance to step up to his obligations this time instead of walking away. He could tell her face to face if he didn’t want any part of this, then they wouldn’t have to see each other ever again.
The drive to Scotland had been long but uneventful thanks to the lull in traffic. Most people had chosen to stay at home celebrating with family and loved ones. How ironic when she had neither, but next year things would be different. Her whole life was about to change if she didn’t take steps to secure the one she already had.
The closer she got to the Ross-Wylde family estate, the harder and faster her heart pounded and her stomach churned. Both from the conversation she had to have with Charles, and the last one they’d had at Heatherglen. She’d never imagined returning to the very place where she’d left her heart.
Road signs directed her towards the clinic that had essentially stolen Charles from her. Where he’d committed to setting up a life as the director there and Laird of the estate, instead of as her husband.
The drive up through the hills to her destination was as familiar to her as the last time she’d seen it, albeit through tear-filled eyes back then. It was dark now, the winter night so all-consuming it had swallowed up the colourful patchwork of countryside she knew surrounded her. All that remained were the inky shadows of the trees towering on either side of the winding road leading to Charles’s ancestral home.
Buildings new and old appeared in view but her focus was entirely on the castle itself. With lights blazing in every window and the porch decorated with Christmas wreaths and garlands, it was a welcoming sight. An invitation to visitors that at least one of the residents might come to regret. She hadn’t called or texted ahead so she had the element of surprise and could gauge Charles’s true reaction to her news.
Harriet parked her car behind the others, which all had a dusting of snow like icing sugar on a sponge cake, and it was obvious no one had left the premises today. They’d been too busy having a good time, to judge by the sounds of music and laughter filtering through the crisp night air as she made her way to the entrance. There was a twinge of jealousy thinking of him celebrating the festive season here with family when she had no one. She rested her hand on her belly—flat for now. In another few months it would be a different story.
This wasn’t about forcing him back into her life. She’d managed quite well without him these past years and she wasn’t expecting anything from him now. Harriet wasn’t that naïve. A baby hadn’t been part of the deal, but she wanted to do the right thing by informing him of the pregnancy at least. With his track record she didn’t believe he’d want to be involved and so she would let him know she didn’t need anything from him. Her plan was simply to tell him and walk away, leaving them both with a clear conscience over the matter.
Before she could make her way up the stone steps, a door further along the castle burst open and all the warmth and excitement from inside spilled out.
‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise there was anyone out here. Are you here for the clinic?’ The petite, smiling blonde looked familiar.
‘Esme? Is that you?’ She’d only been a teenager when Harriet had last seen her, but there was no doubt that was who she was looking at. It was those dazzling blue eyes, so much like her brother’s, that gave away her identity.
‘Yes? Can I help you?’ There was no sign of recognition from the woman who’d almost been her sister-in-law but for all Harriet knew Charles could’ve had a procession of fiancées over the years. She couldn’t be certain Esme would even remember her if she introduced herself.
‘Esme, will you close the door, please? You’re letting the cold in.’ Charles’s irritated voice sounded from inside right before he marched out to see what the commotion was on the doorstep.
It was then Harriet wondered what on earth she’d been thinking by turning up here tonight instead of waiting to speak to him on his own. In truth she hadn’t been thinking clearly at all the second she’d seen the positive pregnancy test in her hand. She’d simply packed a bag and headed off to Scotland rather than spend the day considering what the consequences of their night of passion meant for her.
‘Harriet?’ He peered out into the darkness, glass of whisky in hand.
‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d have company.’ She was prepared to walk away from the heated conversation she’d imagined having inside rather than discuss it in front of an audience.
‘Harriet? Harriet Bell?’ Esme let out a squeal and launched herself at Harriet, hugging her so tight she could no longer feel the cold, or much else.
‘Esme, put her down.’ Despite their more mature years, big brother Charles still spoke to her the way all boys did to their irritating little sisters. And, as all little sisters tended to do, Esme ignored him completely.
‘What on earth are you doing here? It’s been, what, ten years?’ She had her arm around Harriet’s shoulders now, steering her past the main entrance to the house to a side door.
‘Twelve, but who’s counting?’ She managed to dodge answering the question when it was apparent Charles hadn’t shared any details of even having met her at the convention. There should have been no reason for him to do so when they’d agreed to forget it had ever happened. Something they could no longer afford to do.
‘It’s good to see you.’ Charles kissed her chastely on the cheek as she entered his ancestral home, probably for his sister’s benefit. If he’d answered the door he might not have let her over the doorstep. This definitely hadn’t been part of the arrangement.
‘You too.’ The brief contact was enough to fluster her and she hoped she could explain away her reddening skin with the cold.
‘We use the main house for the clinic now. Esme and I have private rooms in another wing. We converted the old servants’ quarters downstairs into a small kitchen and informal lounge. It affords us a little privacy from the comings and goings at the clinic. Now, can I get you a drink? A mulled wine or hot toddy to warm you up?’ He swilled the contents of his whisky glass, filling the air with scent of cinnamon and warm spices.
‘No, thanks. I’m driving. I’d take a cup of tea, though.’ She didn’t want anything, but she was hoping a trip to the kitchen would get her some privacy to speak to Charles alone.
‘Ooh, what about a hot chocolate? I can make you a double chocolate with cream and marshmallows.’ Esme’s special sounded delicious after the poor service-station efforts they’d dared to charge Harriet for during the stops she’d made on the way here.
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ This was all so civilised and bizarre. The Ross-Wyldes were acting as though she was a neighbour who’d just happened to drop by, not an ex-fiancée who’d turned up out of the blue after an extended absence. Either they were incredibly well mannered, which she knew, or they were too worried to ask why she’d come.
Lovely Esme slipped off towards the kitchen and Charles offered to take Harriet’s coat for her. She supposed she was staying longer than she’d imagined.
‘So, you were just passing by, huh?’ He was smiling as he helped her out of her jacket.
She’d panicked when it was clear she couldn’t blurt out the real reason she was here on his doorstep. He knew there was no ‘just passing by’ when London was