A Yorkshire Christmas by Kate Hewitt Read Free Book Online

But it was also very dark outside.
    “It’s only ten minutes across the fields,” Noah said. “I can give you a torch and some proper boots.”
    As opposed to her Prada ones. “Am I correct in assuming a torch is a flashlight and not an open flame?” she said and Noah let out a rumble of a laugh.
    “Yes, you are correct. We’re not quite that behind the times out here in the sticks.”
    “Actually, I think I knew a torch was a flashlight,” Claire admitted. “I always loved to hear my godmother say all the British words for things.”
    He arched an eyebrow at that. “Is Ruth your godmother?”
    “Yes, but we hardly ever see each other. She and my mother were roommates at Vassar.” And had grown steadily apart ever since.
    “Let me get you some boots.”
    Five minutes later, she was standing outside the farmhouse, a pair of overlarge, mud-spattered Wellington boots on her feet and a huge flashlight, whose beam cut a swathe of light through the darkness, in her hand. It was a clear night, and the snow-covered fields were pristine, not even a single footprint marring their smooth whiteness.
    “You just head straight that way,” Noah said, pointing towards the field to the left of the house. He was standing close enough to her that she could smell him, soap and leather and a bit of sheep. “Walk to the end, down a bit of a slope, go over the stile, and you’ll end up in Holly Cottage’s garden.”
    “Okay.” And hopefully she wouldn’t end up wandering in the dark for hours, cold and lost.
    “You’re sure? I could run you—”
    “No, it’s fine.” She pointed to the car headlights she saw at the end of the lane. “I think she’s here.” Noah turned, and before they could stumble through some awkward goodbyes, Claire set off for the field, the snow crunching under her boots.
    In the distance she heard the slam of a car door, the muted sound of voices. Just a minute or two later the car drove off again, fast, as if the driver couldn’t wait to get away.
    Knowing she shouldn’t, Claire turned anyway. Squinting, she could just make out Noah and a smaller, huddled figure clutching what looked like a pillow to her chest. Claire’s heart twisted.
    Shouldn’t have looked . Shouldn’t wonder, shouldn’t care .
    She turned back to the dark field stretching in front of her, the beam of her flashlight seeming weaker and less comforting than it had before, barely piercing the darkness. Resolutely, she walked on.

Chapter Five
    ‡
    N oah walked into the house with Molly trailing behind him, clutching her pillow. In his mind’s eye he could still see Claire setting off across the darkened fields, a slight figure against the night sky. He felt a twist of guilt at having her leave like that, but what choice had he had? He couldn’t risk Dani pitching a fit about something, not when his custody arrangement was tenuous already.
    Although in truth Dani hadn’t even stayed to see her daughter inside; she’d been too intent on her own plans to bother about any of Noah’s.
    “So.” He closed the front door and watched as Molly gazed around the kitchen with a kind of morose suspicion. She’d never been to his house before, and even though it was a good deal cleaner than it had been an hour ago, it wasn’t anything like the townhouse Dani’s parents had bought for her and their grandchild in York. He was conscious of the kitchen’s low-ceilinged shabbiness; the smoke stains on the ceiling, the peeling paint on the woodwork, the scarred and warped oak table. Definitely not a chic townhouse in York’s best neighborhood.
    “Are you hungry?” he asked, and mutely Molly shook her head. Noah searched for something else to say. This is going well. About as well as their Saturday afternoons had gone, at any rate; he usually kept them busy doing something, and then they only had to endure the excruciatingly awkward conversation during dinner. Now he had four days of it to look forward to, and the worst part was,