by Nina Milne
Ten minutes later Etta pulled out a piece of paper with Gabe’s scrawl on it.
‘Shopping,’ she read out. ‘You want to go shopping?’
‘I was being nice.’
‘You mean you thought I’d want to go shopping? For what? I mean, I want to go to a Christmas market or two, but that’s not what you meant, is it?’
‘I assumed you’d want to hit the shops. My treat.’
‘Your treat? Why?’ Hurt strummed inside her. ‘You’ve known me for weeks—you know that’s not what I would do even if this were a real fling. Which obviously it’s not going to be.’
Gabe ran a hand down his face. ‘I guess I feel I owe you. I tricked you into a situation you didn’t want to be in. I figure you may as well have some of the benefits. Seeing as you’ve chosen to pass on others.’
For a fraction of a second Gabe’s gaze skittered towards the bed and Etta felt heat touch her cheeks. Without permission her imagination ran riot—if this were a real fling she was pretty sure they’d be spending most of their time in that very bed. As for shopping... She’d bet good money that lingerie was usually on his list.
The idea sent liquid heat to her tummy and she forced herself to hold her ground and his gaze. Prayed he couldn’t read her thoughts. ‘OK. Thank you. But how about you agree to being dragged around lots of museums instead? Although first you get to choose something you really want to do.’
‘Anything?’
His gaze raked over her and Etta knew he’d made a pretty accurate perusal of her brain. Words failed her. Her mouth opened but no response would come out.
Eventually he took pity on her. ‘Ice-skating sounds like a plan. Outdoors, cold, energetic... Sounds like what I need right now.’
Him and her both, but... ‘I’ve never ice-skated before.’ And the idea of making a fool of herself in front of Gabe didn’t appeal.
‘I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun.’ His smile widened. ‘Unless you’re chicken, of course?’
‘I’m not chicken. I’m cautious. My parents weren’t very keen on risk, and since having Cathy neither am I. I’ve always been worried that if anything happened to me there would be no one to look after her.’
The words made her pause. They had been true enough when Cathy was small, but now... Now she felt a surge of irritation with herself. Was she really such a worrier that she wouldn’t go ice-skating for fear of...what, exactly? How had that happened?
‘Let’s go.’
‘Good girl. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘I fall over and someone skates over my finger and—’
‘I won’t let that happen. Come on.’
* * *
They walked through the grandeur of the lobby and through the small revolving doors onto an illuminated street. The cold flakes of snow sizzled on Gabe’s upturned face and next to him Etta gasped.
Above them hung shimmering sheets of sparkling lights that twinkled and twisted and glittered in a cascade of light. The shops were lit up too, literally wrapped in Christmas lights in the shape of a bow, and bedecked with silk ribbons and pine branches. The smell of roast chestnuts mingled with the aroma of traditional glühwein—a heady mix of wine, cinnamon and cloves.
‘Incredible...’ she breathed as they mingled with the shoppers.
‘So, Christmas market first, then ice-skating—or the other way round?’ He looked down at the map.
‘Market first,’ she decided. ‘Just in case I end up in hospital.’
‘Ye of little faith. I told you I’ll keep you safe.’
‘Martial arts expertise is not going to stop me falling on my backside.’
‘Ah, but my expert intuition will. OK, we’ll do the market first. We can easily walk to the one outside the Hofburg Palace and then walk to the rink.’
‘Lead the way and I can look at all the lights. Look! Each street is different. There must be literally millions of LED lights throughout this city.’
Etta was right—the brilliantly lit streets boasted stars and garlands in a display that caught his breath. But in truth it was Etta who affected his lung capacity. Dressed in black jeans and a dark green jumper with a snowflake motif, under a brilliant red coat that emphasised her slender waist before swirling out to knee level, she looked beautiful. Back in the hotel Gabe had wanted to pick her up and kiss her senseless and he still wanted to do exactly that. But he wouldn’t because it needed to be Etta’s decision.
A ten-minute walk brought them to the immensity of the Hofburg Palace, its sandstone walls and green domed roof a mix of architectural styles—Gothic alongside Renaissance, with Baroque and Rococo thrown into the mix.
‘It’s a place full of history.’ Etta’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘Though it’s hard to believe that a family, even a ruling one like the Habsburgs, actually lived in something so enormous. It occupies fifty-nine acres and it’s got 2600 rooms. Sorry. I am so boring to go on holiday with. I read up on everything and spout facts and...’
‘It’s fine. I’m interested.’ His words were true, but more than that he was enjoying the way she waved her hands around to make a point, the enthusiasm on her face, her appreciation of the sights.
‘Lucky for you. Because it’s one of my hat choices. And I really want to visit the Sisi Museum—it’s all about the Empress Elizabeth... Her life was fascinating and tragic.’
‘It makes Derwent Manor look minuscule.’
Etta tipped her head to one side in consideration. ‘I know it’s very different, but have you ever considered the idea of handing the manor over to a heritage trust? You could still live in it, but the enormous upkeep costs wouldn’t be borne by your family.’
‘No!’ The idea filled his Derwent soul with repugnance. ‘Derwent Manor belongs to the Derwents. To hand it over to an institution would feel wrong—the land is our land, the rooms are ours, the history is ours.’
And yet thanks to him perhaps once he was gone the manor would be handed over, because the new Duke might not want to live in it. This Matteas Coleridge might not feel any loyalty to the property at all—why would he? No. Somehow, by hook or by crook, he’d imbue Coleridge with pride in his lineage. Bring him up to scratch.
‘Derwent Manor will remain privately held.’
Etta’s eyes scanned his face. ‘OK. I just wondered if there isn’t a part of you that resents the fact that you will have to live your life a certain way in the name of duty.’
‘Nope. Not a particle.’ It was hard to explain the deep tie he felt to his ancestral home, his abiding need to preserve it at any cost. And yet he’d let it down...
But right now he didn’t want to think about his inability, his failure to his land and home. Didn’t want to think about Matteas Coleridge—the man he was here to see. There was little he could do right now, and he wasn’t even sure what he would achieve by an observation of the man who might one day wear the Fairfax coronet. Better to focus on Etta and her glowing features as she turned towards the market.
‘I don’t even know where to begin—and apparently this is one of the smaller markets. It’s all so magically Christmassy.’ Etta pulled her phone out of her coat pocket. ‘I have to send some pictures to Cathy. Look at those Christmas decorations! They are exquisite.’
The hand-painted baubles hung in colourful array, glinting in the December sunshine. Next door to them was another pristine white stall where beautifully crafted reindeer jostled with snowflakes and the walls displayed intricately embroidered Christmas stockings. Brightly coloured shelves were decked with snowman figurines and snow globes.
‘And the candles! They smell heavenly.’ Etta darted from stall to stall, her enthusiasm evident in the way she gently touched the wares, considered her purchases. ‘I know I won’t see Cathy for Christmas, but I’ve promised her we’ll have our own Christmas once..
.once we’re settled.’
Her gaze challenged him but Gabe said nothing. Clearly Etta hadn’t abandoned her run-from-Tommy idea, but Gabe let it go. Her explanation of her adoptive parents’ behaviour, the information she’d shared about Tommy, had given him an understanding of her decision even if he didn’t agree with it. Etta had had to face such a lot on her own.
His chest tightened at the thought of the sixteen-year-old Etta, terrified and alone. But from somewhere she had found the strength to escape Tommy once, with no help from the parents who should have supported her. Gabe knew his own parents would have been the same—their way or the highway. Well, Etta had chosen the highway and travelled that road to success—he couldn’t blame her for running now.
‘What do you think of this?’
She held up a chunk of soap for him to smell and her proximity sparked desire as he bent his head to inhale the sandalwood aroma.
‘I like it,’ he murmured, but as he straightened up his gaze rested on her face. ‘Subtle, but tantalising. Spicy with a hint of sweetness.’
Her face flushed as awareness shimmered in the air—the same awareness that had glimmered into being the very first time they’d set eyes on each other. Only now it hummed with a deeper note, its pull stronger.
Etta blinked once, and then again, and shook her head slightly. ‘Speaking of sweet...’ She gestured to a bakery stall. ‘Those smell divine. I need to try something but I can’t decide what. There’s gingerbread, and apparently that is a must, but I want something savoury too. Maybe a pretzel or...’ She glanced at yet another stall and inhaled with appreciation as she read from the blackboard. ‘Kartoffelpuffer. They smell amazing. Shallow fried potato pancakes. Mmm... What do you think?’
‘I think we should have both—savoury and sweet. We’re on holiday, after all.’
‘Sounds good to me. Let’s eat.’
They walked through the rest of the market, both quiet now. The silence was comfortable, and yet Gabe noticed that Etta took care to keep her distance—presumably as aware as he that the slightest touch could cause them to combust. In truth he would welcome it—he wanted Etta, but only if she was fully comfortable with the idea.
‘Ready to skate?’
Fifteen minutes later they had approached the outdoor rink.
Etta peered through the panelling. ‘Look...’ she breathed. Skaters of all ages, all shapes and sizes twirled and pirouetted in a display of expertise, to the strains of classical music that lilted from the outdoor speakers.
Ten minutes later Gabe and Etta approached the ice.
‘So tell me—exactly how good are you at this and how much are you going to show me up?’ she asked.
‘I’m not an expert, but I can hold my own. I’ve played ice hockey before, so I’m more of an ice athlete than a dancer.’
‘Hmm... OK. Let’s give this if not a whirl then at least a wobble.’
Etta stepped onto the ice, pushed off with far more bravado than sense, and gave a yelp as she pitched forward. Without hesitation Gabe glided over and grabbed her round the waist, pulled her up, and held her steady.
The people around them receded and all there was was this. The feel of Etta in his arms...the warmth of her body against his...the smell of strawberry...the scratch of her bobble hat against his chin. She tried to move backwards, nearly lost her balance again, and clutched his arms.
A small gurgle of laughter escaped her lips. ‘This is awkward.’
But it didn’t feel awkward to him. ‘It doesn’t have to be. All you have to do is hold on to me and you won’t fall.’
Her eyes widened and for a long moment their gazes locked. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, along with a flare of heat that flecked the tawny gold with amber.
‘I... You... What is happening to me?’ Her voice was low and vibrant with a hint of anguish.
‘The same thing that is happening to me, and it’s OK to feel it, Etta. There is nothing wrong with attraction.’
‘I know that in theory—but I haven’t felt like this in a long time, Gabe, and I’m not sure I like it.’
‘I’m not Tommy. I would never hurt you.’
‘I know that. I promise I do. But...’
‘It’s OK, Etta. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way at all. Whatever you decide to do with this attraction I’m good with it.’ He smiled down at her.
Her laugh was shaky. ‘That darned ball is still in my court?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Then let’s skate.’
* * *
The snow had stopped and glints of late sunshine dappled the cold whiteness of the ice. Gabe’s arm around her waist felt warm and right and it played havoc with her senses. The exhilaration of gliding on the smooth ice, the laughter in his voice as he instructed her, the passion in his eyes as they rested on her caught her breath in her throat, filled her with female joy.
Gabe wanted her and he was honest enough to admit it. Suddenly Etta was tired of the pretence. The attraction existed and it was impossible right now to regret it. It enveloped them in a mesh of anticipation, and each movement, each word was filled with innuendo and sensual overtones. Each touch sent her pulse a notch higher, brought another hint of desire into play.
Time seemed to float by as he instructed her, clasped her hands in his and skated backwards, towing her along. He encouraged her, teased her, praised her, and all the while his eyes conveyed a message of need and desire until her whole body was heightened to fever pitch, every sensation on alert.
A warning alarm tried to clang in her mind, telling her that this was too much, but as the crisp air nipped her cheeks, as the swirling snow fell in magical flakes around her and the Christmas music added cheer to the air, it was impossible to think that this could be wrong.
All her life she’d believed in what her parents had imbued her with—she was inherently flawed, programmed to do wrong, her natural instincts would lead her astray and into wrongdoing.
Tommy had proved them right—she’d entered into that relationship like a fool. But Gabe wasn’t Tommy and she wasn’t that teenage girl any more.
‘I think you’re ready to let go now,’ Gabe said. ‘Skate by yourself.’
Etta braced herself and pushed off and gave a small squeak of delight. ‘I can do it!’
Exhilaration surged through her as she glided forward in a smooth movement, the classical music adding rhythm to her advance. Next to her Gabe grinned, and desire spiked inside her.
‘This deserves a glass of Viennese punch. I’ll meet you in the middle of the rink.’
As they made their way across the ice Etta knew what she wanted and exactly what to do about it.
If she had the guts.
Minutes later she held a steaming mug and sipped the sweet, hot brew—a mix of tea, sugar, rum and brandy.
The scent of cloves wafted upwards as Gabe lifted his mug. ‘To new experiences.’
Etta nodded, and her stomach looped-the-loop as her nerves jostled and twanged. Now or never.
Balancing carefully, she placed her own mug down on the stand, took Gabe’s from his grasp, and placed it next to hers. ‘I can think of another new experience I’d like to try.’
With that she glided forward, reached up, and pressed her lips against his.
Sensations zapped her body in a warm molten stream as synapses pinged and went into overload. For the first time Etta knew what a timeless moment was. Her body moulded to his as his lips played feather-light havoc with her senses. Touched her own lips with a sweetness that morphed into an intense vortex as she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss. Her hands looped round his neck and his large hands spanned her waist and pulled her even closer to him.
When finally he ended the kiss he rocked back, though his hands still anchored her to his body. ‘Any m
ore new experiences you want to try?’
His deep tones danced over her skin and she released a sigh of sheer anticipation as she batted her eyelashes at him in exaggerated flirt mode. ‘Hmm... Perhaps you could help me out?’
‘Let’s go.’
Her whole being was now consumed by a need he seemed to empathise with fully as they tugged their skates off, fingers made clumsy by haste. But eventually they entered the dusk of the Vienna evening. Snow whirled down once more, and Etta marvelled that it didn’t sizzle as it landed on her heated face, on lips that tingled from sensory overload. The lights looked even more magical now, and she slowed her quick march for a few minutes to listen to the jaunty medieval carol being strummed by a busker with a harp outside the festively lit shops.
Back at the hotel, they crossed the lobby, went down the corridor and into the suite. The door closed behind them and she stepped forward, straight into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.
But although he wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes were serious as he looked into her face. ‘Etta, are you sure about this?’
‘Yes. I haven’t felt like this in years, and I want this.’
Caution etched his forehead with a frown and she knew why.
‘You once told me I was a fool to give up on sex, love, and companionship. Love and companionship aren’t for me, but you’ve convinced me sex is worth a shot. I want to join the ranks of your liberated passionate women who can do a fling.’ She wanted to know she wasn’t still living her life as if her parents watched and waited for her to screw up. ‘So...’ She smiled up at him. ‘What are you waiting for? The ball is in your court, Gabe Derwent.’
‘Now, that isn’t a problem at all.’
The smile that accompanied the honeyed words was downright sinful, and her skin shivered in response.
‘Let’s start like this...’
His hands dropped to the belt of her coat and he unbuckled it in one deft movement and shucked the woollen garment down over her shoulders.
‘I think we can get rid of this too...’
Seconds later her jumper joined her coat in a colourful pool.
