I think I did.’ Esme set the hot chocolate on the table and hurried out with him, giggling down the hall.
Harriet couldn’t help but glance in Charles’s direction, when they’d been as keen to spend time together not long ago. To find he was looking at her with that same longing was unravelling all the tension that had set in on the drive until her limbs felt more like spaghetti. One word and she just knew they’d both agree to another no-strings tryst. Except that word wouldn’t be ‘baby’. It was going to change the way he looked and felt about her, and probably not for the better.
‘I should probably let you meet some of our staff here.’ Charles led her over to the source of the chatter she’d heard from outside.
‘Harriet Bell.’ She shook hands with the group and introduced herself.
‘Cassandra Bellow.’ The pretty American set down the plate of canapés in her hand to greet her.
‘Cassandra is one of our past patients and this is Lyle Sinclair, our medical director.’ Charles didn’t have to tell her these two were a couple either when they were glued to each other’s sides.
‘I’m Aksel Olson. I work with Esme.’ The large hand pumping hers up and down next belonged to a bear of a man who couldn’t fail to make an impression. The muscular build and Scandinavian accent coupled with the long air gave him a definite Viking vibe.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, before Charles moved her swiftly on to the woman standing next to him.
‘Flora. I’m a physio at the clinic.’
‘Hi.’ She was definitely the gooseberry here but, then, so was Charles, who didn’t seem to have a significant other in the mix. Something that hadn’t gone unnoticed and brought her a sense of relief she hadn’t known she needed. It hadn’t entered her head that he might have met someone in the weeks since they’d last seen each other. Certainly, it hadn’t been part of the deal that they couldn’t date anyone else. They weren’t supposed to see each other again. Thankfully, things wouldn’t get any more complicated than they already were.
‘And you’ve already met Esme and Max.’ Charles didn’t attempt to hide his disapproval as they reappeared with huge smiles on their faces.
‘Are you staying in Cluchlochry?’ Charles asked, as she attempted to drink her hot chocolate through the cream and marshmallow topping. It tasted as over-indulgent as it looked, and she just knew she was wearing a cream moustache as a result. As confirmed by Charles’s smirk when she lifted her head to reply.
She did her best to wipe away all traces with the back of her hand. ‘Probably. I didn’t really think that far ahead.’
It would be suicidal to attempt a return trip tonight when she was ready for bed. There was bound to be a B&B in the village where she could put her head down for the night.
Charles frowned. ‘Not everywhere would be willing to take guests in on Christmas night and those that do will be booked out. We get a lot of people who come for the Christmas market and stay on for Christmas itself.’
‘You must stay with us, Harri. There’s plenty of room.’ It was Esme who offered her refuge, not her brother. Although Harriet wanted to protest, she couldn’t face getting back into her car again so soon.
‘Esme, I really wish you wouldn’t invite every waif and stray into Heatherglen as though it’s your personal rescue centre. We converted the stables for your pet projects.’
‘No offence taken,’ Harriet muttered.
‘Sorry. That was directed at someone else.’ He nodded towards the furry bundle currently rolling around at his feet.
‘Oh, he’s gorgeous. What’s his name?’ She knelt down to stroke the curious-looking puppy with tiger-striped brown fur, which was wearing its own ugly little sweater.
‘Dougal. He was half-starved when we found him, but Aksel nursed him back to health. Esme’s trying to find him a home now.’
It was Flora who filled her in on his sad background, which just made him even more adorable.
‘My sister has issues about turning anyone away.’ Charles muttered.
‘Harriet is neither a waif nor a stray. She’s a friend who’s very welcome to stay.’ Esme overruled her older brother, using Harriet as a pawn in their sibling rivalry.
‘I didn’t say she wasn’t. I was simply making a point, Esme.’
Harriet set down her cup. ‘It would probably be easier if I look for somewhere in town to stay.’
This wasn’t what she had planned at all. By this stage she’d expected to be on her way home, with Charles thanking his lucky stars for escaping the parent trap.
‘No!’ Both Ross-Wyldes expressed their indignation at the suggestion.
‘I thought you said you wanted to talk to me about something?’
‘We have so much catching up to do, Harri.’
The group watched the pair vying for her attention with as much fascination as she was, and Charles discreetly manoeuvred the argument away from the spectators over to the far side of the room.
‘Charles is just trying to make a point—badly—about him being the king of the castle here. He runs the clinic and I run the veterinary practice and canine therapy centre across the way.’ Esme punched him not so playfully on the arm.
‘Oh, I think you mean Laird, Esme—but, yes, this isn’t about you. Forgive me, Harriet. I’ll take you up and show you to one of the spare rooms. Dear sister, perhaps you’d be so kind as to get Harriet something to eat too?’
He batted his eyelashes at Esme and Harriet knew it would be enough to persuade her to do anything. Especially when he was wearing those glasses and that jumper, which made him look more like the Charles she’d known instead of the suave version she’d met at the conference. She hoped that would keep some of the most recent, more erotic memories at bay so she could stay focused on the reason she’d come all this way.
‘I would love to—but I’m doing it for our guest, not you, Chas.’ Esme fluttered those same long dark eyelashes in response. They were so alike it was probably why they’d fought for as long as Harriet had known them. Deep down it was obvious how much they loved each other, and she wished she’d had a brother or a sister to fight with, love unconditionally, and have to hold after she’d lost everyone else.
‘We keep a few rooms made up just in case of emergencies.’ Charles led her up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. She couldn’t help but wonder which door led to his.
‘Do you get many late-night, uninvited women calling in on you?’ she teased, when he was such a stark contrast to the man who’d literally sent her packing in a previous lifetime.
‘No, I don’t, but sometimes we get patients arriving too late to be admitted to the clinic, so we put them up here for the night.’ Her teasing fell flat with him, but she supposed his defence from her insinuations was understandable when she was accusing him of having loose morals. She knew nothing about him any more.
‘I’m
