The Yuletide Child by Charlotte Lamb (books to read to increase intelligence TXT) 📗

I expect she is safe somewhere, sir, don’t think the worst. In weather like this the wisest thing is to get off the road; in fact some roads in the district are quite impassable. We’ve had to close them to stop drivers getting themselves bogged down in snow. We haven’t heard of any accidents involving your wife or her car. I’ll certainly alert all our cars to keep an eye open for her, but as you can imagine we’re stretched to our limit at the moment. There isn’t much else I can do.’

‘She could have had an accident somewhere else, en route, of course,’ Ross thought aloud.

‘Yes, that’s certainly possible. I’ll circulate a description of the car to other areas and see if they have any news. If we hear anything you can be sure we’ll ring at once, but take my advice, go to bed and try to sleep. I’m sure you’ll have good news in the morning.’

When Ross relayed this to Jenny and her husband Philnodded. ‘I think he’s right. We can’t do anything else tonight. We might as well get some sleep. Now, Jen, be sensible—come to bed. Ross, we got the spare room ready for Dylan—you know where it is. I think you should turn in too. You look dead on your feet.’

Shaking his head, Ross said wearily, ‘I couldn’t rest for a second while I don’t know what’s happened to her.’ Guilt was burning in his stomach. That morning Dylan had begged him not to leave her, pleaded with him to take her with him, and he had refused. He wouldn’t even listen to her, he had brushed her worries aside as typical female jitters, not taken her seriously.

He wished to God he could turn the clock back and have a second chance. If anything had happened to her he would never forgive himself.

‘I’ll be up later,’ Jenny told her husband, who gave her a wry look before turning away.

‘Don’t sit up all night fretting, Jen. It won’t do Dylan any good, you know,’ he said as he left the room.

Ross was staring at the Christmas tree, watching the fairy lights, gazing at the silver bells and delicate glass birds, red, yellow and blue, which nested in the pine branches.

The scent of the tree reminded him of his own home, of the forest he loved so much, the tall, cathedral-like acres of pines, the dark shadow beneath them, haunting and mysterious. God, he wished he was there now, with Dylan, all this misery and guilt forgotten. If only he hadn’t gone off to the conference in York! If only he had taken notice of Dylan’s anxiety, stayed home with her as she’d asked!

His tall, lithe body was heavy with exhaustion, his hard-featured face pale, his mouth taut.

‘Have you eaten? Can I get you something?’ Jenny gently offered.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Cup of tea or coffee?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

Firmly, Jenny said, ‘Well, I’m making some tea—if I don’t do something I’ll go crazy! I can’t bear sitting here doing nothing while she’s somewhere out there, maybe dying of hypothermia. Even if she’s in her car she’ll be getting colder and colder and—’ She broke down, sobbing, tears beginning to run down her face. ‘Oh, Ross, I’m so scared for her...’

He pulled a paper tissue from a box on the table and dried her face, his arm around her heaving shoulders.

‘Don’t, Jen. I’m sure she’s okay. The police are right; she isn’t stupid, she has probably found shelter somewhere—in a hotel, or someone’s house. As soon as it’s daylight I’ll start driving around to look for her myself. Someone is bound to have noticed that crazy car of hers. How could you miss it?’ He was trying to talk himself into believing that.

Jenny gave a shaky giggle. ‘That’s true. Typical of Michael to paint it with all those psychedelic flowers!’

Ross’s brows jerked together, his face suddenly harsh. ‘Was he into drugs, do you think? I always suspected...’

‘Who, Michael? Good heavens, no. He was a fitness freak, obsessed with taking care of his body, watching everything he ate or drank, spending hours working out. He did yoga, not drugs!’ Jenny gave Ross a thoughtful look. ‘You weren’t jealous of him, were you?’

‘Jealous?’ Ross laughed shortly. ‘Of that guy? You’re kidding.’ His face stiffened. ‘You don’t think she could have gone to him, do you?’

‘She can’t have—he’s still in America on tour.’

‘So he is. I’d forgotten.’ Ross gave a brief, unconscious sigh, then looked at her, forcing a pale smile. ‘Could we have that tea now, Jenny? And maybe you could rustle me up a sandwich or something? I didn’t feel hungry, but I’ve just realised I haven’t eaten all day.’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised, bustling off.

Dylan was already in bed by then, in Ruth’s spare bedroom, floating on a feather mattress which made her feel as if she was sinking into a cloud. Ruth had lit a fire of logs and pine cones in the small, white-painted iron grate to warm the room properly, and for an hour after Dylan went to bed the black reflection of the flames danced on walls and ceiling.

The fire had begun to die down but the faint red glow from the ashes was comforting, as was the soft whisper as from time to time ash drifted down through the iron grating into the pan below. Central heating did not give you the same frisson of pleasure, thought Dylan dreamily, floating off into sleep.

The only thing that would make this experience complete would be to have Ross in bed with her.

If only she wasn’t pregnant. If only her body was the way it had been when they first met. She ached to have Ross’s hands stroking, caressing her, his mouth brushing her skin, kissing her eyes, her mouth, her neck, travelling down to her naked breasts, his lips parting to let his tongue torment her nipples, before he sucked each into his mouth, his fingers sliding down between her