The Unexpected Holiday Gift (11 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

J
ACOB
FLICKED
THE
SWITCH
on the lights again, smiling when every single bulb lit up. Clara's excessive testing at least meant he didn't need to hunt for the missing ones and replace them, like he always found himself doing at home.

Maybe it truly was a perfect Christmas.

The thought soured even before he appreciated it as he remembered the folder in the decorations box. She'd been fast to close it, but not so quick that he hadn't seen enough to know what it contained.

Divorce papers. The very ones he'd been avoiding signing for five years.

Who brought divorce papers to a Christmas celebration?

But this wasn't
Clara's
celebration, no matter how much he'd tried to convince her to join it. For her, this was still work. And his signature on those papers was part of her payment.

She'd earned it. More than earned it. She deserved to be free of him.

Except... The hardest thing was knowing how good things
could
be between them. Yes, their marriage had lasted less than a year, and yes, he'd screwed up. And Clara was right—they'd spent more time in bed than they had talking. They hadn't known each other the way they'd needed to.

But that time in bed... He'd been working so hard to forget it, until the moment she'd stumbled against him and it all came flooding back. The feel of her body pressed against his, however fleeting, had been so familiar, so right, his own had immediately reacted the way it always did when Clara was near.

And now all he could think about was that four-poster bed, going to waste upstairs.

But no. He needed to keep his distance. Set her free. Sign her blasted papers.

It was just that it had been five years. Five long years he'd hung in there, not quite letting her go. Now he just couldn't imagine saying goodbye without kissing her one more time. Without showing her that however much she'd thought he hadn't wanted her when they were married, he had, and he still did. For all the distance he'd put between them, trying to keep her safe from him, he wanted to stride across it now and hold her, kiss her, touch her.

Love her, one last time.

‘Just a few more decorations and I think we're done here,' Clara said, unnecessarily cheerily, in his opinion. ‘I'll be able to leave you to enjoy Christmas with your family.'

Jacob checked his watch. His parents and Heather were due at four, only another hour away. Clara was cutting it fine and, from the way she scurried around the tree adding decorations, she knew it. She'd already packed up everything else. Clearly, she planned on making her escape the first chance she got.

Only he wasn't sure he could let her go. Not forever. Not like this.

‘Are you sure you won't stay?' he asked. ‘Not even for a sherry and a mince pie?' That was the polite, proper thing to do on Christmas Eve, wasn't it? And Clara wouldn't want to be impolite... ‘I know my family would like to see you again, however briefly. To thank you for everything you've done setting up this weekend, if nothing else.'

Clara paused, halfway through hanging a silver bell on the tree. ‘You told them you were working with me on this project?'

‘Of course I did.' Maybe not entirely intentionally, but he'd told them. Jacob wasn't one of those people who told his parents everything that was going on in his life and he was pretty sure they wouldn't want to know. But when it mattered, he kept them informed. Mostly.

‘And they weren't...weird about it?'

‘Why would they be?'

Clara raised her eyebrows at him and Jacob interpreted the look as meaning:
Ex-wife. Remember?

‘They were fine,' he said, skipping over his mother's concern. Mothers worried.

‘Really?' Clara asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

Jacob sighed. He'd never been able to get away with lying to her when they'd been married either. He'd thought that made them a great match, at the time. But clearly Clara had been much better at hiding the truth. Otherwise he'd have realised how unhappy she was long before she'd left.

He'd honestly thought she was coming back. That it had been just another of their spats—a minor retaliation for the fact he'd had to work on Christmas Day. He hadn't believed she'd really meant it.

Not until she still hadn't come back a month later.

No wonder his mother worried. He'd been the poster child for denial at the time.

‘They just want me to be happy. And I want them to be happy. And you staying for sherry and a mince pie would make us all very happy.'

With a small, tight smile on her lips, Clara shook her head again. ‘I'm sorry.' Reaching down, she picked up her bag.

She was actually leaving him. Again. And this time he was under no illusions that she would come back.

He had to let her go. But not like this. Not when he was so close to understanding everything that had gone wrong between them. To knowing her the way he never had before. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference, but maybe it would. And he just knew, deep down, that there was more here. Something she wasn't saying.

This was his last chance to find out what that was.

Jacob swallowed his pride.

‘Please. Stay.'

‘I can't.'

Those words again. He hated those words.

He stepped closer. ‘Why?'

‘I told you,' she said, frustrated. ‘Merry is waiting for me at the hotel.'

‘Merry. I don't buy it.' He didn't want to have the same argument again. Wasn't that the definition of insanity—doing the same things and expecting different results? But then, Clara might actually be driving him insane. Even if she left again, even if they finally got divorced, even if he never had another chance with her...he needed to know the truth. The truth about it all. He now knew why she'd left but not why she hadn't come back. He knew now how he'd hurt her but there was more, he could tell. He wanted to know everything.

Starting with why she wouldn't stay.

‘Merry wouldn't be enough of a reason for you to be this determined not to stay,' he said. ‘Tell me the truth, please. I'm not asking to start a fight, or to judge you or anything else. I just need to know. Is there someone else? Is that what you're not telling me? Are you afraid I won't give you the divorce if there is? Because we had a deal.' It might break his heart into its final pieces but if she was truly happy with another man he'd give her the divorce. She'd made it clear that he couldn't make her happy and goodness only knew somebody should. Clara deserved all the happiness in the world.

She stared back at him, her beautiful dark eyes so wide he could almost see the battle going on behind them. Would she tell him the truth? Or would he face more evasion?

Eventually, she shook her head. ‘That's not it. I almost wish it was.'

Jacob frowned. ‘What do you mean?'

‘It would be so much easier to just lie. To tell you I'd fallen in love with a lumberjack from Canada or something. Because the truth is...' She sighed. ‘There's no one else, Jacob. There never has been. It's only ever been you.'

Jacob reeled back as if he'd been hit. Five years. Five years he'd spent trying not to imagine her with other men, and failing miserably. Five years torturing himself with thoughts of her falling in love again, of her pressing him for divorce because she wanted to remarry. Five years of thinking he hadn't been enough for her, that she'd needed to go and find something else, someone better. And all this time...

‘No one,' he repeated. ‘There's been... You mean, you haven't...'

That was a game changer.

Clara's cheeks were bright red. ‘I shouldn't have told you that.' She brushed past him, heading towards the door, and he grabbed her arm to stop her.

‘Yes. You should.' Because that meant something, didn't it? It had to. Five years, and no one else. That wasn't nothing. Those weren't the actions of a woman who was desperate to get away from him.

‘Why?' she asked, sounding anxious. ‘Why does it even matter now?' She pulled her arm away but he reached out and took it again, more gently this time—a caress rather than a hold.

‘It matters.' The words were rough in his throat. He couldn't even put a name to his emotions but he knew it mattered. Knew he cared, still. Knew that the sense of relief flooding through him as he realised there really wasn't another man waiting for her at the hotel meant something.

No other man had touched her. No one had run their hands over that pale, smooth skin the way he had. She'd been a virgin when they'd met, when she was twenty-one and he twenty-five, so he knew now that he was the only man she'd given herself to. Ever.

And that definitely meant something. The primal urge to take that again rose up strong within him.

Clara shook her head, looking down at the stone floor. ‘It's over, Jacob. None of it matters any more.' Her voice was small, desolate and, despite her words, he didn't believe it.

‘It doesn't have to be.' For the first time he was almost convinced. He knew her now in a way he hadn't before. He was older. Better. Maybe this time he could make her happy.

Stepping closer, he ran his hand up her arm, wrapping his other arm around her waist. ‘Stay, Clara.'

‘I can't.' Always those words. He was starting to wonder if they really meant what he thought they did.

‘Because you don't want to?' Raising his hand to her chin, he nudged it up so she had to look at him and her eyes were wide and helpless as they met his.

She wanted to. He could see it. So what was stopping her?

‘No,' she admitted, swallowing visibly. At least she wasn't lying to him now. It was a small victory, but he'd take it.

‘Then why?'

She bit her lower lip, her small white teeth denting the plump flesh. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her...

‘You can tell me,' he assured her, shifting just a little closer.

Her gaze dropped again as she gave a small hollow laugh. ‘I really, really can't.'

‘If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to guess.' He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it really wasn't. Not knowing was driving him crazy.

Looking up, she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Fine. You want to know the real reason? Because our marriage is over, Jacob. I have the divorce papers in my bag, ready for you to sign. And I know you. If I stay, you'll try and convince me to give things another shot.'

‘And you don't think you'll be able to say no?' Something wasn't right here. Apart from the fact he knew full well that Clara was of course capable of saying no to him—and she knew he'd respect that—the bitter, hard words didn't match the desperation in her eyes. She was making excuses.

She
was
still lying to him.

Clara looked up and met his eyes. ‘Of course I can say no.
I left you
, remember?'

As if he could ever forget. ‘And why am I starting to think that maybe you regret that decision?' It was a stab in the dark, a wild guess. But there hadn't been anybody else... What if she really did still have feelings for him?
Could
he make it work this time? Could he be the husband she needed?

‘It was the best decision I ever made.' Her words were clear, bright and true, echoing off the walls of the castle. She meant every word, Jacob could tell.

* * *

The hurt in Jacob's eyes was palpable as his arms fell away from her and Clara regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them. It was true, of course—if she hadn't left Jacob, then Ivy wouldn't have been born into a loving home, even if that home only had one parent.

Leaving had been the right decision—for her, for Ivy and even for Jacob, although he didn't know it.

But that was the point. He
didn't
know. And without that context her words were harsh, hurtful. Cruel.

And Clara tried hard never to be cruel. Cruelty was something she knew too much about to knowingly inflict it on another person.

She had to tell him the truth. Now. But how?

This wasn't the plan. The plan was to get the job done then meet him privately in London, somewhere public but discreet, and have the conversation. Not in a secluded castle in the middle of nowhere with his family due to arrive within the hour!

But how could she not tell him now?

Swallowing, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean...'

‘Yes,' he said, the word coming out raspy. ‘You did. I can tell when you're lying to me, Clara. And you meant that.'

Hysterical laughter bubbled away in her throat. If he really could tell when she was lying then they were both doomed. ‘I... Being married to you... For a time, it was the best thing that had ever happened in my life.'

‘But not for long enough.'

‘It took me a while,' she said, feeling her way to the right words. ‘But I realised that we both wanted different things.'

‘You never told me what you wanted!' Frustration flew out from Jacob's words, and the tension in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. She was doing this all wrong. ‘If I'd known you wanted to run your own business, I'd have helped you! We could have worked together. And if I'd known about your family—'

‘I know, I know. I should have told you, should have opened up to you more,' Clara said. ‘But Jacob, that's not what I'm talking about.'

‘Then what? If not that, then what on earth did you want that I couldn't give you?'

‘A baby.'

Jacob froze, his eyes wide and scared, his face paling by the second as if he was turning to ice. ‘You...you never said,' he stuttered eventually.

‘Because I knew how you felt about kids.'

‘I can't have them.' As if he needed to confirm it all over again now. ‘I can't.'