Newborn Under The Christmas Tree
The baby that brought them togetherAs heir to Thornwood Manor, Liam Jenkins wants to erase painful memories by knocking it down and rebuilding it. But Alice Walters has turned the manor into a women's refuge, and she's prepared to be the thorn in the new lord's side!When they hear the cries of a newborn under the Christmas tree, they're forced to find a way to work together. And with each passing day, this little baby brings them both back to life, and gives them a Christmas gift they never expected!
Читать Newborn Under The Christmas Tree онлайн беплатно
The baby that brought them together
As heir to Thornwood Manor, Liam Jenkins wants to erase painful memories by knocking it down and rebuilding it. But Alice Walters has turned the manor into a women’s refuge, and she’s prepared to be the thorn in the new lord’s side!
When they hear the cries of a newborn under the Christmas tree, they’re forced to find a way to work together. And with each passing day, this little baby brings them both back to life, and gives them a Christmas gift they never expected!
‘Did you hear that?’
Alice’s forehead creased. ‘I’m not sure.’
She took another turning and suddenly they were back in the Main Hall again, its oversized Christmas tree looming over the staircase. From beyond the next set of doors she could hear the dying chatter of people at the fundraiser, the last few guests still hanging on in there. But that wasn’t the noise that had caught Liam’s attention.
The sound rang out again, and this time there was no doubt in Liam’s mind about what he was hearing. He knew the sound of a baby crying well enough. From the age of ten upwards it had seemed every foster home he’d gone to had had a new baby—one he’d been expected to help look after.
Did someone bring their baby with them tonight?’
Except he couldn’t see anyone nearby, and the cry had sounded very close.
As if it was in the room with them.
‘I don’t think…’ Alice trailed off as the baby cried again. Then she stepped closer to the tree, taking slow, cautious steps in her long, shimmering dress, as if trying not to spook a wild animal.
Liam followed, instinctively staying quiet.
The crying was constant now, and there was no denying where it was coming from.
Alice hitched up her dress and knelt down on the flagstones, reaching under the spread of the pine needles, dislodging a couple of ornaments as she did so. Then she pulled out a basket—not a bassinet or anything, Liam realised. Just a wicker basket…the sort someone might use to store magazines or whatever.
A wicker basket with a baby lying in it.
SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been reading and writing romance ever since she read her first Mills & Boon at university, so getting to write them for a living is a dream come true! Sophie lives in a little Hertfordshire market town in the UK, with her scientist husband and her incredibly imaginative six-year-old daughter. She writes stories about friends, family and falling in love—usually while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. She also keeps a blog at www.sophiepembroke.com.
For Auntie Judy.
Contents
LIAM JENKINS SQUINTED against the low winter sun as he looked up at Thornwood Castle in the distance and tried to imagine it as home.
He failed.
The dark grey of the stone walls, the rise and fall of the crenellations, the brooding shadow it set over the English countryside...none of them were exactly friendly. When he’d dared to dream about the idea of home over the years, he’d pictured himself somewhere warm and bright and welcoming. Somewhere near the beach and rolling surf of his country of birth, Australia. A house he’d designed and built himself, one that was purely his, with no bad memories attached.
Instead, he had a centuries-old British castle full of other people’s history and furniture and baggage.
And it was starting to rain.
With a deep sigh, Liam leant back against his hire car and ignored the icy droplets dripping past his collar. Instead he wondered, not for the first time, what on earth his great-aunt Rose had been thinking. He hadn’t seen her at all in the fifteen years before her death, and before their disastrous meeting in London he’d only ever visited Thornwood once. Two encounters in twenty-five years didn’t make them family, not really. As far as he was concerned, she was just another in a long line of relatives who didn’t have the time or the space in their lives or homes for him.
Even that first time he’d visited her, he’d known instantly that Thornwood Castle would never be where he belonged. Thornwood, with its buttresses and echoing stone walls, lined with rusting suits of armour, was a world away from the small home he’d lived in with his mother on the Gold Coast. Possibly a few hundred years away too. As a ten-year-old orphan, still grieving for the mother he’d thought was invincible until she wasn’t, the prospect of staying at Thornwood had been terrifying. And that was before he’d even met Great-Aunt Rose in all her intimidating glory.
Thinking of it now, he shivered, remembering the chill of her presence. The way she’d loomed over him, steel-grey hair fixed in place, her dark blue eyes too like his for it to be a coincidence. He had the family eyes—no one had ever truly doubted whose son he was. Even if they didn’t want to acknowledge the fact in public.
