by Nina Milne
Her mouth opened in a circle of outrage. ‘So you see this as a deal-sweetener?’
Gabe shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘Not for me. I’d rather earn positive publicity through my work. So thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll do your family tree. But I won’t be your girlfriend. Fake or otherwise.’ Her chin tilted in challenge. ‘Take it or leave it.’
There was no quarter in her words and a hint of chagrin touched his nerves...along with a small burn of surprise. Not that it mattered. The most important objective had been achieved and he was a step closer to finding a future Derwent heir.
‘I’ll take it. We can tell the press I’m hiring you as a consultant for the Christmas Fair.’ Yet her continued refusal to acknowledge their attraction prompted his vocal chords. ‘But any time you change your mind and want to be my girlfriend—fake or otherwise—let me know. We can play this any way you want. It’s up to you.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘ANY TIME YOU change your mind and want to be my girlfriend—fake or otherwise—let me know.’
The words, uttered in tones of molten chocolate, buzzed around Etta’s brain and demolished each and every brain cell in their path.
Their whole conversation, with its undertone of awareness, had sent her body into overdrive. Her whole being tingled, sparkled, as sensations tap-danced on her skin.
Get a grip. Of some form of sanity.
Flirting with Gabriel Derwent was idiocy—the man had a master’s degree in the art and she didn’t hold so much as a pass. Yet her imagination danced with the possible scenario—what would he do if she took him up on the ‘otherwise’ option? Chose to join the ranks of his playboy play dates...? Yuck, said the tiny part of her brain that advocated logic and common sense. Yum, shrieked her hormones, dizzy at the prospect.
The atmosphere in the room had accelerated to steamy and Gabe was so close. His eyes were dark with desire...dark as the blue of a storm-tossed sea. Breathing seemed problematic, time slowed in direct correlation to the leap in her pulse and her lips parted in anticipation.
Then guilt slammed in. What am I doing? Attraction led to loss of perspective, made you behave in ways so stupid and alien they changed your life, caused pain and loss. Already for long moments she had taken her eye off the most important issue: Cathy.
Pressing her lips together, she moved away from him, all too aware of the telltale jerkiness of her movements. Focus, Etta. No way would she give Gabriel Derwent any power over her—she would not relinquish even a jot of control. To any man. Ever. She’d experienced powerlessness first-hand already. Never again.
‘I don’t want to play at all. I want to keep my daughter safe. I’ll let you know what is happening once I’ve spoken to Cathy and Steph. Provided all goes to plan, I’ll travel down to Derwent Manor once Cathy is safely gone.’ Holding out a hand she waited expectantly, but Gabriel didn’t move to take it.
‘I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, you need to go home to get your suitcases. There’s a chance Tommy will be there, and it’s a definite that the press will be. So I’ll go with you. I’m your bodyguard, Etta, so you’d better get used to me.’
Just fabulous.
‘And speaking of the press conference,’ he continued smoothly. ‘We’d better discuss a strategy. That photograph needs to be explained.’
There seemed little point in a reiteration of her the-photographer-got-it-wrong defence because it sucked. The previous night she’d thought she’d been poleaxed when she first saw him. Well, that was a freaking understatement—if she looked closely at that picture she’d probably spot the drool on her chin. Though at least Gabe looked similarly afflicted, and despite herself there was that funny little thrill. Again.
‘I...’ In truth she couldn’t think of a single explanation, and he knew it. A smile quirked his lips and she was tempted to kick him in the shin. Hard. ‘We need to stress that our association is strictly professional. That you are hiring me as a consultant for the Christmas Fair.’
‘And hope they believe us and don’t pick up on our body language?’
‘There is no body language.’
‘You’re one hundred per cent sure of that?’
‘One hundred and ten,’ she stated. ‘So there will be nothing for the press to pick up on.’
Even if she had to douse herself in an ice bath before meeting them.
‘I’ll go and talk to Cathy and then call Steph.’
* * *
Gabe watched Etta leave and felt intrigue mingle with surprise—most women would have taken him up on his offer. Especially given the flare of mutual attraction. For a second disappointment lingered at her refusal to acknowledge it, let alone act on it. But there would be other women—right now his focus was on business, not pleasure, so really he should feel relief at her decision to keep their relationship professional.
Glancing round Steph’s kitchen, Gabe saw that Etta featured in the collage of photographs—an absurdly young-looking Etta with a woman he presumed to be Steph posing at a carousel. Etta held a dark-haired toddler, a miniature version of today’s Cathy, and Steph held a blonde little girl of a similar age. There was another picture of the two women with their girls in school uniform, beaming with similar gap-toothed grins at the camera.
Gabe felt a two pronged searing of loss—for a past he couldn’t change and a future he wouldn’t have. The only photos he had of himself with his mother were publicity shots, and he would have no children to be pictured with. Fate had decreed that his body would let him down and the Derwent line would end. But perhaps there was still hope—perhaps there was another heir out there and Etta would find him. That was the goal.
As if on cue, the kitchen door opened to reveal Etta.
‘Steph and Martha are thrilled, and Cathy is at least more enthusiastic than she was. Though she wants to speak to you alone. I don’t know why. Maybe she wants to make sure you won’t beat Tommy up too badly. Or—’ she gave a sudden smile ‘—maybe she’s checking you out as a suitable person for me to stay with.’
‘I’ll assure her that my intentions are strictly honourable.’ More’s the pity, whispered his libido.
Five minutes later Cathy entered the room and headed to the large wooden table in the window alcove. Gabe seated himself opposite her and waited as she surveyed him. Her assessment was direct, as if she were trying to decide how to play him. Fair play to her—it would be his own strategy in her place.
‘So Mum will be staying with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you will protect her from my dad?’
‘Yes.’
‘It won’t be necessary.’ Cathy’s chin tilted at an angle that mirrored Etta’s line of stubbornness. ‘Dad just wants to see me. I don’t get what’s so bad about that. He has changed over the past sixteen years. You’d think Mum would be glad.’
‘I saw your dad last night, Cathy, and he struck me as potentially dangerous.’
For a nanosecond doubt entered her eyes, and then she shook her head. ‘We’re all potentially dangerous. Dad wouldn’t hurt me. Or Mum.’
‘Your mum is just looking out for you.’
‘I get that. But I’m sixteen. Mum was pregnant with me when she was my age, and she had no one. She’s always said she got where she is because people took a chance on her. So why won’t she give Dad a chance?’
Gabe sensed deep waters closing in over his head. ‘Cathy, this is something you should discuss with your mum, not me.’
‘But I won’t be able to discuss it with her because I’ll be in the middle of the ocean. You’ll be with Mum whilst she is dealing with Dad. You could help me, seeing as I’ve helped you.’
This was a girl after his own heart—a girl who saw the value of quid pro quo. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘You really want M
um for this job, and I could have got her to turn it down.’
‘You could have,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s not my place to influence your mum’s decisions. I’m her employer. Plus, I’m sure your mum knows what she’s doing with regard to your father.’
Cathy shook her head. ‘Once Mum makes up her mind she digs her heels in. She’ll never admit she’s wrong about Dad. Never. Especially not if everyone keeps agreeing with her. You managed to persuade her to take your job instead of coming on this cruise. That’s, like, incredible. You could try and persuade her to give Dad a chance.’
‘I’m sorry, Cathy, but no can do. This is between your mum and you.’
A knock on the door interrupted them and Gabe turned his head to see Etta approaching the table. She looked professional from the tips of her smooth short chestnut hair that curved to touch the hollows of her shoulder blades to the tips of her black buttoned boots. The tailored two-toned blue tweed jacket worn over a matching dress gave a stylish twist to her authority. Seamed at the waist, the sophisticated shift with its V neckline emphasised both her slenderness and her curves and Gabe’s breath caught in his throat.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but Steph and Martha are back and we need to go and get our suitcases. And face the press.’
Cathy rose from her chair and threw one last glance of appeal at Gabe. ‘At least promise you’ll think about what I’ve said.’
‘Think about what?’ Etta asked, once her daughter had left the room, and then she shook her head. ‘Forget I asked. That’s not fair. Cathy wanted to speak with you privately. Just promise me she hasn’t got any hare-brained schemes in her head.’
‘If she has she didn’t confide them to me. Plus, short of swimming the ocean, I can’t see there is much she can do.’
‘That’s true.’ Smoothing her skirt down, she hauled in a breath. ‘So, shall we go?’
‘Yes.’ He rose to his feet and saw the pallor of her face. ‘You don’t need to be nervous.’
‘Actually, I think I do. A certifiable nutter may well be lurking amongst that throng of press sniffing out a non-existent story.’
‘The press will work in our favour. The last thing Tommy will want, if he is serious about seeing Cathy, is any confrontation recorded by the press. Plus, late last night he was in Cornwall—my guess is he won’t have made it back here yet.’
‘That’s true.’
Etta looked marginally more cheerful, and a funny feeling of satisfaction that he’d erased at least one line from her furrowed brow touched his chest.
‘Odds are he’s sleeping off a session in the pub as well. He’d already been drinking when he found me.’
A small shudder shivered through her, as if the words had triggered a memory she’d rather forget. Gabe’s guess was that Tommy was a mean drunk and his fists clenched—with any luck Tommy would turn up, and Gabe could make him wish he hadn’t.
In the meantime... ‘Don’t mention Cathy to the press at all. The implication for Tommy will be that Cathy is with you at Derwent Manor—that way he won’t try anything when she’s en route to the cruise. And keep an eye out for April Fotherington—she’s a good reporter but she’ll be pushing the romance angle.’
‘You can’t push something that doesn’t exist.’
Her tone brooked no argument.
One more sweep of her hand over her skirt and she nodded. ‘Let’s do this. Sooner we go, the sooner it’s over, right?’
‘Right. Let’s get this show on the road.’
* * *
‘And it was a pretty impressive show,’ Etta admitted later to Steph, even as reluctance twisted her tongue.
The press had adored him, had seemingly accepted their professional status, and had taken Gabe’s assurance that, with his father so unwell, romance was the last thing on his mind. That all he wanted was to ensure the Derwent Manor Christmas Fair was an unparalleled success, so that the Duke of Fairfax could be reassured that all was well. And so he had hired Etta Mason, renowned historian, to help ensure that his Victorian theme was historically accurate.
Only April Fotherington had been a little sceptical, but she had backed down when Gabe had offered her exclusive coverage of the fair.
‘In fact he turned the whole thing into a massive publicity stunt for the Christmas Fair.’
‘Definitely impressive,’ Steph said, with an approving nod of her ash-blond head. ‘And that’s because he’s a pretty impressive guy.’
Her friend grinned in a way that Etta could only categorise as sly.
‘I still don’t fully understand why you didn’t take him up on the girlfriend idea.’
There were still some idiotic seconds when Etta wondered the same thing. ‘Because it would be wrong. On so many levels.’
‘And right on so many others. Honest, hun, I think you are mad! Imagine what fun you could have had. The pictures in the magazines, the fancy dinners, romantic champagne-filled weekends away...’
Steph wiggled her eyebrows and despite herself Etta grinned even as she shook her head.
‘I don’t do romance, Steph. You know that.’ Maybe Tommy had beaten it out of her. Maybe it was a missing gene. Inherited from the birth parents she’d never known.
‘Forget romance—you could have had some fun as his fake girlfriend. You could have even more fun as his real girlfriend. I can tell you fancy him. Why not go for it?’
‘I agree.’
Etta looked up as Cathy and Martha entered the room, laden with suitcases, and dropped them next to Steph and Martha’s bright pink ones by the door.
‘Steph’s right,’ Cathy continued. ‘You should have some fun.’ Cathy’s pretty face grew serious as she came forward and perched on the arm of Etta’s chair. ‘Mum, I know how much you’ve done for me, and I know you missed out on loads of the fun that other teenagers and young women had because you were looking after me. Now’s your chance to make up for it for a while. Have fun. Go to parties. Dress up. Dance the night away.’
‘Cathy, sweetheart...’ Her heart turned over with love for her daughter as she reached up to cup her face. ‘I promise you that I have never once regretted all those nights of “fun” I supposedly missed out on. You are the very best thing that ever happened to me.’
That was the complete truth. Without Cathy, who knew whether she would have found the courage to leave Tommy, to run away in the depths of the night and find refuge on the streets. Without Cathy to care for would she have studied and worked and become the person she was? Probably not, was the answer.
‘I don’t need to dance the night away with anyone. Let alone Gabriel Derwent.’
As if on cue the doorbell rang, and Steph rose to answer it. Minutes later she ushered in Gabriel, followed by the tall, brown-haired Ethan Caversham.
Resolutely Etta kept her gaze on Ethan as she rose to her feet, yet despite herself she felt her skin shiver in response to Gabe’s proximity, her whole body on super-alert.
‘Ethan, this is so kind of you.’ Gabe had asked Ethan to drive Steph, Martha and Cathy to the cruise ship as an added precaution against Tommy. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘It’s no problem. Ruby sends her love and says you have to come round for lunch soon.’ His face softened when he mentioned his wife in exactly the same way Ruby’s did when she mentioned Ethan, and it filled Etta with a strange yearning—the equivalent of a child with her nose pressed against a sweet shop window, knowing she couldn’t have a single sugar-coated mouthful.
‘Sounds great.’
But now it was time to say goodbye, and Etta felt tears prickle at the backs of her eyes as she turned to her daughter. She thanked her lucky stars that whatever genes she was missing she had never once had any inclination to abandon this precious part of her life.
‘Cathy, sweetheart. Have fun, and take care, and listen t
o Steph, and do all your college work, and...’
Cathy hurtled into her arms and wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘Mum, I’ll be fine. You take care—and you look after her,’ she added, turning to glare at Gabe.
‘I will,’ Gabe said, his voice serious, and Cathy gave a small satisfied nod.
Then, minutes later, they were gone.
Pull it together, Etta. This was the right thing to do. Her daughter would be safe. That was all that mattered.
‘It’s OK to be upset.’
Gabriel’s voice held a sympathy that surprised and distracted her from thoughts of Cathy as she turned to face him.
‘I know. And I know Cathy is sixteen—she’s definitely old enough to do this. It’s just that we’ve never been apart this long before. A weekend here and there, but otherwise it’s been her and me all the way.’
His face held an unreadable expression, and a hint of sadness whispered through his eyes. ‘Then she is very lucky.’
‘I don’t know...I’ve always felt bad that she doesn’t have a family.’ Familiar sorrow touched her that she’d been unable to provide Cathy with grandparents. Only birth parents who had abandoned Etta at a day old and adoptive parents who had turned her away when she’d refused to give up Cathy.
Your choice, Etta. We’ll take you back, but surely you can’t want to keep a child who carries that man’s genes? Her adoptive mother’s words had slammed her with clarity—the reason her parents hadn’t been able to love her was because for all those years they’d raised her they had believed her to be tainted by the genes of her unknown birth parents.
Etta pushed the memories down fiercely—what was done was done. Over the years she had come to realise that her parents hadn’t chosen not to love her. They had entered into adoption with every intention of loving her—had truly believed they could take in a child who didn’t share their blood or genes. And maybe they could have loved a different child. Just not Etta.
