‘What the—?’ He was out of the door like a bullet, staring at her incredulously, thinking, she knew, all kinds of things which had to hurt.
‘I had to put my parents somewhere!’ she burst out defensively. ‘This was the only practical solution!’ She waved an agitated hand at their room, where the bathroom already stood shiny clean and empty of all their personal toiletries. She had emptied one of her wardrobes into Daniel’s. It had been a tight fit, and she was ruefully aware that their clothes were going to need a good pressing before they would be fit to wear again. But…
‘And where,’ he gritted, ‘are you and I sleeping?’
Her hand fluttered in the vague direction of the other bedrooms. ‘It worked out quite well in the end,’ she told him nervously. ‘I had two new beds delivered, one in Sam’s room and one in Kate’s. Y-Your mother can sleep in Kate’s room with her.’ His mother always slept over on Christmas Eve—she liked to be there to watch the children open their presents on Christmas morning. ‘I’ll sleep in Michael’s room and y-you can sleep in Sam’s. It’s only for two nights, Daniel!’ she appealed for his understanding when he looked ready to explode. ‘You know we daren’t put the twins together or they’ll never sleep! And as it is the children are quite excited about it. They—’
‘Hell and damnation!’ he exploded anyway. ‘What is it with you, Rachel?’ he bit out furiously. ‘Why the hell should I give up my bed for your parents? Why can’t they sleep in the other beds? Or have you done this just to get another dig at me? Because if you have, I’m warning you, I’ve damned well had enough of it!’
Rachel bristled at the injustice. ‘Since when have my parents been any trouble to you?’ she retaliated. ‘You only have to put up with them once a year! Show them some consideration, for goodness’ sake! They’ll be driving down here tomorrow directly from closing the shop, and they won’t stop until they arrive. They’re bigframed, Daniel! And getting on in years. They won’t feel comfortable sharing with the twins!’
‘I can’t believe you’ve actually done this!’ he rasped, too angry to listen to a thing she was saying. ‘I come home after one hell of a week in Huddersfield— Huddersfield, for God’s sake!’ he derided, as though it were the end of the earth. ‘Looking forward to a peaceful Christmas in my own home—my own home!—and find I’ve been chucked out of my bedroom by a vindictive wife who can’t find enough ways to…It wouldn’t be so bad.’ He changed tack on a blankly staring Rachel, running his angry fingers through his hair. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if the damned house was big enough for me to get lost in if I felt like it. But because you refuse to move to something better, I have to lose my home comforts, Me!’ he choked. ‘A damned cash millionaireliving in a poky little cardboard box with three noisy little brats and a wife who…’
His mouth snapped shut, his angry gaze at last focusing on Rachel’s blanched face, ‘Damn,’ he sighed. ‘Damn, damn—damn.’
‘W-Why don’t you go to Lydia, then?’ she suggested shakily, her throat swelling on the thickness of unshed tears. ‘Perhaps sh-she’ll give you a better time all round!’
Spinning, she ran out of the room before he could say another thing! He thought her vindictive! He thought their home a poky little box! And his children! Those dear, sweet babies who loved him so utterly—he called them brats!
She banged the children’s supper dishes with gusto, soapsuds flying everywhere. She could have put them all in the dishwasher, but this felt better, giving her something to vent her anger on!
Two hands appeared on either side of her, effectively trapping her against the kitchen sink. And a warm mouth came down to nuzzle her nape. ‘Sorry,’ Daniel murmured. ‘I didn’t mean a single word of it.’
She sniffed, scrubbing at a plate that was in danger of losing its pretty flower pattern. ‘Why did you say it, then?’
‘Because,’ he confessed, then didn’t bother finishing, preferring to taste her throat instead.
‘Because?’ she prompted, hunching her shoulder in an effort to stop him.
‘Because I was disappointed,’ he rumbled. ‘Because I’ve thought of nothing else but that damned bed all week—with you in it. Because I’d forgotten all about the problem with your parents and I felt guilty for letting it slip my mind. Because,’ he sighed out heavily, ‘I don’t want to sleep in Sam’s room. I want to sleep with you. I want to wake up on Christmas morning with your face next to me on the pillow. Because—oh, there are a hundred damned becauses. But they all add up to one thing in the end. I blew my top because you were taking away from me the only place where I feel close to you any more. I need that bed, Rachel. I need it.’
On a sudden sob, she dropped the plate she had been wielding back into the water and spun around to bury her face in his chest. ‘Oh, Daniel,’ she whispered, ‘I’m so miserable!’
‘I know,’ he sighed, holding her close, letting the tears flow, stroking her back, his dark head coming to rest comfortingly on the top of her own. And once again his big frame became her rock, the place to run for the comfort she had always found given so unstintingly.
Eventually she sniffed herself back to some kind of calm, and Daniel pushed up her chin so that he could inspect the damage. She let him, as mute and petulant as Kate.
‘My mother will kill me if she sees you like this,’ he grimaced. ‘One look at you and she’ll blame me without even a hearing!’
Rachel smiled despite herself. But Daniel was right. Jenny invariably came down on Rachel’s side in a dispute, whether she was right or wrong.
‘Forgive me?’ he asked, gently pushing a wispy tendril of soft blonde hair away from her damp cheek. ‘Call a truce, Rachel,’ he urged. ‘Let’s make this a good Christmas—hell,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll even give up my damned bed if it makes you happy!’
‘Who said it made me happy?’ she objected, dipping her head so that she could rummage in his trouser pockets for his handkerchief, and having to suppress the urge to smile when her fingers brushed lightly down his groin so that he responded with a shuddering gasp.
‘You provocative little witch!’ he accused, knowing exactly why she had done it and ruefully amused by it. It revealed a glimpse of the old teasing Rachel—the one he’d thought lost to him forever. ‘A truce, Rachel,’ he pleaded huskily. ‘Please.’
‘You called the children brats!’ she reminded him sternly.
‘Did I say that?’ He looked genuinely appalled.
‘And more!’ she complained.
‘I wonder you didn’t throw something at me,’ he murmured contritely. ‘Forgive me and call a truce?’
She pondered the suggestion, taking pleasure in the way his fingers were lightly caressing her face and throat. ‘Are you really a cash millionaire?’ she enquired curiously.
‘Did I say that too?’ His sleek brows arched. ‘I must have been temporarily deranged.’