LITMIR.BIZ

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realise he must know exactly how his nephew must be feeling right now and that could be what was making it so hard for him to find the right thing to say. A tragic history had repeated itself and a small boy had lost his mum just before Christmas.

      The squeeze on Emma’s heart was so tight it was painful. Painful enough to set off alarm bells that suggested a potential breach in any protective walls that needed maintaining but she had to ignore that for the moment. She was an adult and she had had plenty of time to develop coping mechanisms she could tap into a bit later. Doing something to try and make these children look and sound a little less sad was far more urgent.

      ‘Sometimes,’ she told Ben, quietly, ‘things happen that can get in the way of remembering rules. I’m sure your Uncle Max or your Grandpa will know where to find a Christmas tree.’

      James leaned forward to pick up a poker and prod the fire, making a grumbling sound that could have been disapproving but Max was nodding as if this was, indeed, the solution.

      ‘A real one,’ he said. ‘We can go and look in the woods tomorrow, Ben. You can choose a branch and I’ll cut it off. Or, if we can’t find one, we can drive into town and buy one.’

      ‘How old are you, Ben?’ Emma asked.

      ‘Six.’

      ‘That’s old enough to make decorations for the tree, then. Like silver stars. I can show you how to do that.’ She offered a smile. ‘My name’s Emma.’

      The little girl was wriggling closer. ‘I’m four,’ she whispered, ‘and I like stars…’

      ‘You can help too, sweetheart,’ Emma promised. She just had to hope there would be a supply of cardboard and silver foil somewhere in the house.

      ‘That’s Matilda,’ Max said. ‘But she likes to be called Tilly.’ He was smiling at Emma.

      And it was such a genuine smile… Nothing like the charm-loaded curl of his lips with that mischievous edge that had always won him so much attention from women. This time, that automatic hint of flirting that Emma had remembered so clearly was completely absent and it changed his face. It made him look a little older. Softer—as if he was perfectly capable of providing the care and commitment these children were going to need so badly even if he used to say it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

      Alice had finished her bottle and felt sleepy and relaxed. Emma shifted her to an upright position and began to rub her back. Seconds later, the loud burp broke both the new silence and quite a lot of the tension in the room.

      ‘I’m hungry,’ Ben said.

      Emma caught the slightly panicked glance that was exchanged between the two Cunningham men.

      ‘Maggie’s left a pie in the oven,’ Max told his father. ‘And chips.’

      ‘I like chips.’ Ben slid off the couch. He stood there, waiting for one of the grown-ups to move as well.

      But, for a long moment, nobody did and Emma could understand why. This was it, wasn’t it? The first step into a life that was never going to be the same again for either of these men and it was huge and daunting and they’d been thrown into the deep end. None of it was Emma’s responsibility, of course, but the people who were going to suffer if it turned into a disaster were only children and these children had suffered enough, hadn’t they?

      It seemed that Max was thinking the same thing because they both got to their feet in the same moment. He stepped towards Emma and took the sleeping baby from her arms.

      ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I can manage.’

      ‘I’m here,’ Emma reminded him gently. ‘I may as well help you manage for tonight, yes?’

      There was always something about a man holding a baby that tugged at the heartstrings. But there was something else about this particular man holding a baby that actually brought a lump to Emma’s throat. This had to be his worst nightmare, inheriting a ready-made family including a baby, but he was stepping up to the challenge and determined to do his best and that was courageous and kind and…it tugged at her heart so hard she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

      She hadn’t remembered them being quite such a dark blue.

      Or quite so…intense.

      It almost felt as if he was seeing her… really seeing her…for the first time ever.

       Man…

      Those eyes… So dark they looked bottomless. You could fall into eyes like that and get totally lost. And, just for a heartbeat, that was exactly what Max wanted to do. The rollercoaster of emotions he was currently riding was proving even more overwhelming than he’d feared it would be.

      His heart had gone out to his nephew and nieces the moment he’d seen them but he was little more than a stranger to them and, oddly, that hurt. There was so much stuff that had come with the children and he wouldn’t have even known how to make up a bottle if Maggie hadn’t helped. He might have failed in feeding Alice if he hadn’t forced Emma to help so he could add a sense of failure into the mix. He was worried about how his father was coping, especially after that question about the Christmas tree. They hadn’t put a tree up in this house since his mother had died, leaving a huge pine tree undecorated and a shattered family that barely noticed the showers of dead needles that came weeks later.

      On top of that, there were feelings of heartbreak for these children. Part of him just wanted to gather them all into his arms and somehow let them know that he was going to protect them for ever, but he could sense their shyness and knew he would make things worse if he tried to force closeness. He felt gratitude to Maggie for all her extra work and, currently, he was just so, so glad that Emma was here in the house. Trying to convince her that he was up to this task was giving him a lot more courage than he might have otherwise found in the face of such a daunting challenge.

      There was also the way she’d been looking at him after Ben had asked about where the Christmas tree was. It had made him think that she knew the answer to that innocent question, which was not unlikely given that she’d spent time with Terry and Jenny. Jenny wasn’t a gossip by any means but she was one of the villagers who all knew the Cunninghams’ history and she was a woman who loved to chat. Max didn’t mind if Emma did know because there was also something in that look that gave him the impression that she understood how much it might hurt and, in turn, that was giving him the oddest feeling of connection. Something that was disconcerting because he’d never associated a feeling like that with any woman. It had to be just another side effect of this strange situation. It was also something that was irrelevant because the children were the only people that mattered right now.

      ‘What’s first?’ he asked. ‘Shall I feed the children?’

      ‘How ’bout you and your dad sort some of their things out? Find things like pyjamas and toothbrushes? You could put Alice in her pram for the moment while she’s asleep. Show me where the kitchen is and I’ll sort out the pie.’

      ‘And chips.’ The small voice came from right beside Max’s leg and he looked down to find Ben standing close by. ‘And sauce. Red sauce.’

      ‘Is that a rule?’ Max asked. ‘Red sauce for chips?’

      Ben nodded. He was holding out his hand towards Matilda. ‘Come on, Tilly,’ he said. ‘It’s time for tea.’

      ‘It is,’ Emma said, as Matilda slid off the couch. ‘And after that it will be bath time and…what happens after bath time?’

      ‘Storytime,’ Ben said. ‘And…and then…’

      His small mouth wobbled as it turned down at the corners. It was painfully obvious that the prospect of bedtime in this new, scary house was too much even for a very brave child who was doing his best to look after his younger sister himself. The squeeze in Max’s chest was so sharp it

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