‘I’ll go round every one twice,’ promised Adam patiently, then rolled his eyes at Gabriel after the man had left. ‘He’s worked here since before I was born. And if the really valuable stuff had been transferred from the depository he wouldn’t budge until I did, believe me.’
The office looked out on public gardens bright with flowers, and after the outer door had banged shut on the departing Reg Gabriel felt very happy alone with Adam in the large, empty building, preferring the privacy to any of the hot, crowded alternatives on a busy Saturday.
‘Do you mind eating here?’ he asked, as he installed her in his swivel chair behind the desk.
‘I approve the location,’ she assured him, ‘but I object to not paying. Again.’
‘You can cook dinner at your place some time in return.’
‘How do you know I can cook?’
‘The scrambled eggs were so good.’
The lunch Adam provided consisted of a savoury flan served with a green salad he tossed with a dressing Gabriel exclaimed over when she tasted it.
‘Like the rest of lunch it came from the French restaurant down the road. The recipe’s a secret closely guarded by Henri, the chef.’ Adam buttered a slice of crusty bread and laid it on her plate, then got up to make coffee.
‘Do you have this kind of thing sent in every day?’ said Gabriel.
‘If I did your look of disapproval wouldn’t let me admit it,’ he assured her dryly. ‘Actually, I eat a ploughman’s in a pub with Dad sometimes, or get sandwiches sent in. But today is a special event. Very special.’
He set cups and coffee pot in front of her and drew a chair up to the end of the desk to eat his meal.
‘Is everything ready for the auction?’ she asked.
‘Pretty much. My father will be back soon from Italy, by which time I hope to have everything present and correct for the preview.’
‘I’ll start varnishing the Singleton tomorrow—’
‘No way,’ said Adam flatly. ‘Wait until Monday, when Wayne and Eddie are there.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of getting the portrait out of the vault and locking it up again,’ she said tartly.
‘I’m sure you are. But I don’t want you to work on your own.’ He put out a hand to touch hers. ‘Rest tomorrow. Please, Gabriel.’
The look in his eyes made refusal impossible. ‘When asked so nicely how can I say no?’ She smiled at him and went on with her lunch. ‘How would you have listed the portrait in a catalogue, by the way?’
Adam munched on a mouthful of flan thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure. It’s never been catalogued anywhere barring Miss Scudamore’s ledger.’
‘Where it was described as a double portrait of Henrietta and Letitia.’ Gabriel smiled at him. ‘A bit of a mouthful.’
‘The Scudamore Sisters?’ he suggested.
Gabriel shook her head. ‘Reflection in a Mirror?’
‘The Faithless Lover,’ said Adam, warming to the theme.
She frowned. ‘A title’s so much easier if the painting shows a place or an event, like Ramsgate Sands, or Derby Day.’
‘Etty was pretty succinct with his paintings, though. The best-known is simply called Nude!’
‘There’s a hint of satin bodice visible on our two so we’ll have to be a bit more descriptive—’ Gabriel halted, biting her lip. ‘Sorry. I tend to be as possessive about Henrietta as you are.’
‘Which I like very much,’ he assured her. ‘Besides, you’ve as much right to feel possessive as me. More, because you’re the one who’s brought her to life. Once you’d agreed to do it,’ he added, lips twitching. ‘Harry must have been very persuasive.’
‘Persuasive nothing.’ Gabriel made a face. ‘He gave me orders.’
Adam frowned. ‘Is that why you’re here today? Because Harry told you to be nice to me?’
She looked up into dark, intent eyes, and opted for truth. ‘No,’ she said baldly.
‘Why, then?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I’m here because I want to be here.’
‘With me,’ he stated, and Gabriel nodded.
‘Good.’ He reached out to take her hand. ‘Because I meant what I said the other night, darling.’
‘You took me by surprise,’ she muttered, utterly floored by the endearment.
His lips twitched. ‘I could tell.’
‘I’m sorry I was so—so—’
‘Cruel?’
Her fingers curled round his. ‘I didn’t mean to be.’
Adam raised her hand to his lips. ‘Then be kind.’
‘How kind?’
‘Tell me how you feel about me.’
CHAPTER NINE
GABRIEL gazed at him in silence for so long Adam smiled ruefully at last and released her hand.
‘You can fax me your answer when you’ve decided, if you prefer,’ he said lightly.
She made a face at him, then began ticking off the fingers of one hand. ‘I enjoy your company.’
‘That’s a great start.’
‘We have a lot in common.’
‘True.’
‘I miss you when I don’t see you—’
‘Progress!’
‘And I find you physically attractive,’ she admitted.
Adam leaned forward, eyes glittering. ‘Are you saying I make your heart beat faster, Miss Brett?’
‘It’s hard to discuss this so analytically in the cold light of day,’ she protested, laughing. ‘But since you ask—yes, you do.’
‘In which case I’d like to pull you from your chair and make mad, passionate love to you here and now,’ he informed her, the heat in his eyes at odds with the lightness of his tone. ‘But I’ll reserve that delight for a more appropriate time. And place.’
‘Besides, just think how shocked Mr Parker would be,’ she mocked, her voice not quite steady.
Adam jumped up, pulling her with him. ‘Come on. Let me take you on the grand tour, before we get on with the rest of the day.’
‘I’m spending it with you?’ she enquired.
‘Of course you are.’
‘Then I’ll cook you this meal you mentioned. If you like.’
‘I do like. But not tonight,’ said Adam firmly. ‘I’ve got a more relaxing programme mapped out.’
‘What is it?’
‘Wait and see.’
‘How you do like to keep me in suspense,’ she said, laughing as they went downstairs together.
‘As I told you, it’s my way of keeping you interested.’ Adam planted a swift kiss on her mouth, then switched into professional mode and took her down to the auction room where dark red walls made a dramatic background for the pictures and furniture on display.
Gabriel was impressed by the selection of English pieces, which consisted mainly of tables large and small, for every possible use, most of them dating from the mid-nineteenth century onwards.
‘The older, more valuable stuff is still waiting to be transferred. My favourite is a lowboy from the time of George I,’ said Adam, ‘but that’s under lock and key until the day.’
‘I love this little tripod table,’ Gabriel told Adam, eyeing it lovingly. ‘Would there be any point in my bidding for it?’
‘It’s just a plain, flat top, instead of a tray top—or dished, as we experts say,’ said Adam grandly. ‘Not enormously valuable, so it depends on how much you’re prepared to pay. I should warn you that the function of an auction house is to persuade people to bid for an object as far as possible above the price it would fetch in a shop. But that particular table is neither rare nor very valuable so you could be in luck. Come to the auction and find out.’
‘Of course I’m coming to the auction,’ she said indignantly. ‘You don’t think I’d miss the fun when Henrietta comes up for sale? Who’s your auctioneer, by the way?’
‘I am.’ Adam grinned. ‘And, I quote, I’m good.’
Gabriel laughed, and went to inspect the array of artwork, some of it valuable, all of it highly saleable, but none of it as e
xciting as the Singleton portrait. ‘Henrietta will be star of the show,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘Incidentally, her frame is hand-carved, and contemporary with the painting, of course, but not in good nick. Other than a very superficial cleaning I’ve left it strictly alone.’
‘Fine by me.’ Adam looked at his watch. ‘Come on. Time to lock up—I wouldn’t put it past Reg to come back and check up on me.’
By the time the auction house was secure for the night, and the lunch basket returned to Chez Henri, a light rain was falling as Adam drove Gabriel back to the car park.
‘I’ll follow you to Haywards, get all those lights turned on, and then I’m taking you to Stavely,’ he informed her.
‘Whether I want to or not?’ she said flippantly, undoing her seatbelt.
Adam put a hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. ‘Do you?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Good.’ He bent his head and kissed her, oblivious of passersby hurrying through the rain to their cars. ‘Drive carefully—I’ll follow you.’
By the time Gabriel had left Pennington and arrived at Haywards Farm the weather had deteriorated. Pulling on her slicker, she ducked out of the car with her shopping and ran through a downpour to unlock the door just as Adam’s car pulled in alongside hers.
‘Wait for me,’ he ordered, sprinting towards her to take the bags, and put her aside so he could go in first.
Gabriel was grateful for his tall, reassuring presence as they switched lights on all over the shadowy old house. When they returned to the kitchen she eyed him questioningly as she stowed her shopping away.
‘Give me some idea of what you have in mind this evening, Adam. Should I change?’
He shook his head. ‘No. You’re perfect as you are. Let’s go.’
‘Don’t you want some tea first?’
‘We can have that at my place.’
Gabriel begged a few minutes to tidy herself, and ran back down the stairs afterwards, untroubled by the creaks for once because Adam was waiting for her in the hall. As she reached the bottom stair he pulled her against him, kissed her at length, then hurried her out to the door.
‘Come on. Let’s go home.’
Time had such a miraculous habit of flying by in Adam’s company the journey to Stavely was over, it seemed to Gabriel, almost before it began, due to the heated argument they enjoyed over the merits of their favourite artists. When Adam parked the car outside the Stables, he told Gabriel to stay where she was while he unlocked the door, then came back and plucked her out of the car to race inside with her.
‘Can’t have you getting wet,’ he said, and closed his door on the pouring rain. ‘Are you cold?’
She shook her head. ‘Anything but.’
‘Likewise!’ He gave her a crooked grin, then led her into the kitchen and filled a kettle. ‘Tea and buns,’ he announced.
The ‘buns’ were a selection of French pastries from the same source as their lunch. Adam set a tray with cups and plates while Gabriel made tea, then he took the tray into his sitting room and put it down on a chest which had once, he told her, been someone’s much prized toolbox.
‘I’ll shift the sofa round and light the fire,’ he said, eyeing the sheeting rain. ‘Not much point in looking out on that.’
‘A fire in June?’ said Gabriel, then laughed as Adam turned on a switch and the logs she’d thought were real were licked by instant flames.
‘Bottled gas hidden under the Virginia creeper at the back of the house,’ he said with satisfaction, manhandling the big sofa round to face the fireplace. ‘I draw the line at clearing up after real fires.’
‘Me too,’ said Gabriel, curling up against rubbed leather. ‘I wish Dad had a fire like yours at Haywards.’
Adam filled two mugs with lethally strong tea, took the other end of the sofa and offered the plate of pastries. ‘The apricot tarts are good, or is one these iced jobs more your kind of thing?’
‘They’re all my kind of thing. Will these be on offer at Chez Henri tonight?’ said Gabriel, taking a tart.
‘Probably. I’ll take you to a meal there soon. Henri’s a brilliant chef.’
‘Did he make these?’
Adam grinned. ‘Actually his wife makes the pastries, but Henri, who believes that the only good chefs are men, doesn’t publicise the fact.’
‘Poor woman, slaving away in secret with no recognition!’
‘I wouldn’t describe Severine like that, exactly. She’s a terrifying lady.’
‘I can’t picture you in terror of any woman, Adam Dysart.’
‘You were pretty frightening the first time we met!’
‘Only because you were so certain I’d jump to your bidding the moment you snapped your fingers,’ she retorted, and helped herself to a petit four smothered in chocolate icing.
‘I wasn’t as bad as that,’ he protested. ‘Besides, you sent me packing because you harboured a grudge against me. I never stood a chance.’
‘True,’ she conceded, licking her fingers.
He eyed her speculatively. ‘You know, Gabriel, I’d give a lot to know what Harry said to change your mind.’
Because Harry Brett had sworn her to silence on the subject of Adam’s loan Gabriel shook her head firmly and changed the subject. ‘Not that I can envisage eating another thing for while, but do you want me to cook something later?’
‘No. All organised.’
‘As usual.’ She drank some tea, eyeing him curiously over the cup. ‘What do you normally do on Saturday nights?’
Adam stretched out his legs comfortably. ‘I’m part of a circle of friends who do things together on a fairly regular basis. Go out for a meal, or patronise one of the nightspots I mentioned. It’s a fluid sort of arrangement, and the numbers vary. Sometimes I join them; sometimes I don’t. Occasionally I even ask them here to eat dinner at my prized refectory table. But two couples in the group are about to marry, and one of the men is going abroad to work, which will mean changes.’
‘So where did Della fit into this?’
‘She didn’t. I was up in London for an auction, and met Della on the Underground.’ Adam smiled reminiscently. ‘It was rush hour, she was thrown against me, and things progressed pretty rapidly from there. So for a while I went up to London to see her most weekends. Which rather took me out of the loop on my home ground.’
‘You haven’t been out with your friends since?’
‘No.’ He leaned an arm along the back of the sofa, looking at her steadily. ‘The day I broke up with Della was the day I found the portrait. Which led me to you. And since then your company is all I want—or need— Gabriel Brett.’
She took time to digest this. ‘Are you sure it isn’t a rebound kind of thing?’ she asked at last.
‘Very sure.’ Adam looked away, into the realistic flames. ‘Della is a beauty consultant in a department store by day, and regards a night in as a waste of time. We had fun together while it lasted, but looking back I’m amazed it lasted so long.’
‘Why?’
‘Without sounding patronising it’s a bit hard to explain. The women I’ve known tend to fall into two categories. Intelligent, lively friends, like the members of my magic circle, or Della’s type. Pretty, sexy, and bored to tears if I talk about my interests instead of theirs.’ Adam turned his head to look at her. ‘But you don’t fit into either category, Gabriel Brett.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because even though I’m plagued by this inconvenient urge to make love to you all the time, I also enjoy talking to you, arguing even. Just being with you like this.’ He turned his eyes back to the fire, his voice deepening as he went on. ‘I always hoped that some day I’d be lucky enough to meet a soulmate, as Leo and Jess did. Now, in you, I have.’
Gabriel felt her heart contract as she gazed at Adam Dysart’s averted face. The black curls were tighter than usual from the rain, and combined with the assertive profile and wide, firmly clenched mouth to accentuate the Gr
eek god look she had resented so fiercely at first as an unfair advantage added to the rest of his assets. But now just to look at Adam Dysart filled her with such longing to be in his arms she had to force herself to sit still.
Adam turned his eyes on her flushed face at last, in silent, impatient demand for a response.
‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asked, struck at once by her own inanity, and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Adam.’
His jaw clenched, the animation drained from his face as he misunderstood, and Gabriel slid along the sofa to clutch his hand in desperation. ‘I meant I was sorry for doubting you.’
Adam seized her by the shoulders and shook her a little. ‘Do you take delight in tormenting me, woman?’
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t be angry with me.’
‘You hurt me again!’
‘Then I’ll kiss you better,’ she whispered, and suited action to words.
Adam pulled her onto his lap to respond with fervour, but afterwards, instead of kissing her senseless, he disarmed her utterly by holding her close in his arms, his cheek on her hair. The warmth and security of his embrace gave Gabriel a feeling of such contentment she relaxed against him like a tired child, unable to suppress a yawn, and Adam chuckled.
‘Bored?’
Gabriel shook her dishevelled head. ‘Just wonderfully, marvellously comfortable. Which you may not find flattering,’ she added quickly, but Adam was quick to contradict.
“It’s the nicest thing a woman’s ever said to me,’ he assured her. ‘And unless I’m much mistaken, Miss Brett, you are a very tired lady. So curl up in your corner while I take this lot away—’
‘Don’t be long,’ she said involuntarily.
His eyes blazed as he bent to kiss her swiftly. ‘Two minutes. Put this cushion under your head.’
After Adam had gone Gabriel settled back into her corner, burrowing her head into the cushion as she gazed into the flames. The sound of the rain cascading down outside added to the wellbeing which, apart from the times spent with Adam, had been missing from her life since her father’s illness. She yawned widely, and slid further down on the sofa. Adam’s home was such a contrast to the comfortless gloom of Haywards Farm; it would be a wrench to go back tonight…
Restless Nights Page 11
