she assured him grimly.
He would just bet that she would too, reminding him at that moment of a lioness protecting her cub.
He shrugged. ‘You got lost driving a car; what chance do you think you stand on foot?’
That glare turned to a frown as she moved to stand protectively in front of her son before answering him softly. ‘Are you deliberately trying to frighten me?’
Jed eyed her speculatively. ‘Am I succeeding?’ he prompted dryly.
‘You’re being unnecessarily cruel, if that’s what you mean,’ she came back tartly.
Giving a good impression of one of the bantam hens back home on his parents’ farm as she defended her ground against one of the larger species of livestock. A defence that was usually successful, he recalled wryly.
‘Look, I realize we’ve inconvenienced you, turning up like this…’
‘You drove into the side of the damned cottage,’ he reminded with some of the incredulity he had felt at the time. Relaxing beside the log fire, staring broodingly into the flickering flames as he sipped a glass of whisky, he had heard an almighty bang as the whole cottage had seemed to shudder. He had thought the side of the cottage was going to fall in on him.
‘Well. Yes…I know, but—’ she gave a pained grimace ‘—I didn’t mean to,’ she added ruefully. ‘And could you please not swear in front of Scott?’ she said softly. ‘They aren’t words I want added to his vocabulary.’
Not only had he been severely ‘inconvenienced’, he was now being told what he could or couldn’t say.
He scowled darkly. ‘Is there a Mr Hamilton somewhere anxiously awaiting your arrival?’ If there was, he would quite happily pass on the responsibility of rescuing his wife and son to the other man.
She looked stunned for a moment, as if reminded of something she had forgotten as the angry flush faded from her cheeks, making her look all eyes again. Defenceless eyes, Jed recognized uncomfortably.
She chewed on her bottom lip before answering him. ‘Yes, there’s a Mr Hamilton.’
‘Nearby, I hope?’ Jed prompted harshly, not happy with the protective emotion this woman was starting to engender in him. If he could just get her back to her life he could return to his.
‘And a Mrs Hamilton,’ she continued distractedly. ‘My parents,’ she supplied at his quizzical frown.
Her parents, Mr and Mrs Hamilton. Which meant there wouldn’t be a husband rushing to the rescue, because there wasn’t a husband.
‘I was on my way to see them for Christmas when I—’ her bottom lip trembled slightly before she drew in a deeply controlling breath and continued ‘—before I got lost. Do you think I might use your telephone to call them?’ That pointed chin was once again raised challengingly. ‘My father hasn’t been well, and they would have expected us to have arrived by now.’
Jed frowned. Not ‘they will be worried about me and their grandson’, just they would have ‘expected us to have arrived by now’.
He shook the observation off impatiently; he was probably just reading too much into it. What the hell business of his was it, anyway?
‘Sure.’ He made a sweeping gesture to where the telephone sat on the table by the door.
The old-fashioned kind of telephone before push buttons. But, then, everything about this cottage was a bit dated, he had discovered when he’d arrived here nine weeks ago. From the sheets and blankets on the beds rather than duvets, to the fire. And he had lost count of the amount of times he had cracked his head on one low-beamed ceiling or another during the first couple of weeks here, before he’d learnt to duck automatically as he stood up.
Not that Meg Hamilton had that problem, he noted a little sourly as she moved to pick up the receiver, her ebony head at least a foot lower than those innocuous-looking, but actually lethal, beams.
No, her nervousness seemed to be for another reason entirely.
He stood up. ‘Would you like me to take Scott into the kitchen and give you some privacy for your call?’ He had no idea what made him make the offer, only that he sensed her reluctance to make the call.
She gave him a startled look before glancing past him to where her son was still playing with his tractor. ‘No, I…That’s okay. Thank you.’ She gave a brief smile. ‘I only need to let them know I won’t be arriving in time for dinner, after all.’ She picked up the receiver and dialled.
Jed made no answer as he lowered his considerable height back into the armchair. But he thought about what that told him. For instance, if his mother had been expecting him to arrive in the middle of a snowstorm, and he hadn’t done so, she would have called out the local police, probably the FBI, plus sent his father and two brothers out to search for him. A bit over the top, maybe, but in those circumstances dinner would be the last thing on his mother’s mind.
‘Mother?’ Meg Hamilton queried tautly as her call was answered. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. It will probably be some time tomorrow now. Yes, I realize that. Of course I’ll let you know if we intend arriving in time for lunch.’ There was a slight pause as she listened to a lengthy reply. ‘Did she?’ Meg’s voice had become somewhat brittle now. ‘Yes, I probably should have come by train, too, but I had Scott’s things to bring too, and…Yes, I’ll definitely call you tomorrow to confirm our arrival.’ Her hand, Jed noticed frowningly, was shaking slightly as she replaced the receiver.
It sounded as if his instincts had been correct. Mrs Hamilton, at least, was more concerned with her dining arrangements than she was with the welfare of her daughter and grandson.
He glanced at Scott as he sat in front of the fire arranging his farm animals on the rug. As far as Jed was aware his grandmother hadn’t said one word about him.
Jed straightened in the chair as he recognized what he was doing. He would not get involved. This girl and her son would be on their way as soon as he could get them there, and that would be the end of them as far as he was concerned.
He would not get involved.
CHAPTER TWO
MEG deliberately kept her back to the room for several seconds after the call had ended, taking the time to try and compose herself.
Her palms were damp and yet she felt an icy shiver down her spine—not an unusual reaction after talking to her mother.
She had no idea how her mother did it; perhaps the tone of voice her mother used rather than the actual words spoken, she thought. All Meg knew was that after a five-minute conversation with her mother she felt five years old again, rather than a grown woman with a young son of her own.
But that wasn’t all of it, of course. Her sister Sonia would be there for Christmas, indeed, as her mother had just told her, was already there, having sensibly taken the train, her skiing trip cancelled because her husband had sprained his ankle on the golf course and so couldn’t ski.
Sonia, of the designer clothes, the successful career, and the eminently suitable marriage.
Everything, as their mother
