The evening had been the most intimate she had ever known, not only in the intenseness of their love-making but in the sharing of confidences and baring of souls. They had each revealed a part of themselves in a way they had never done with anyone else, which said much about the level of trust between them. She had told people about the adoption thing, it wasn’t a secret, but she had never discussed her innermost feelings about it, not even with Chloe. Only with Gabriel.
Holding him tight, she nestled against him, turning her face into his neck. She had never felt closer to him than she did at this moment. Gabriel cared about her, she knew that, but she could no longer pretend to herself that her own feelings stopped there. She loved this man, totally and completely. Knowing what he faced in France, what decisions he had to make about his future, troubled her…both for his own peace of mind and for whatever might lie ahead for them as a couple.
But she couldn’t afford to think about that now. She had agreed the terms. No commitments. Live for today. And she would. She loved him, would cherish every moment with him, would show him in every way she could without words what he meant to her, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t put pressure on him for more than he could give. For now they had the promise of Christmas alone together and she planned to make it as special and unforgettable as possible. She could only wish with all her heart that the new year and beyond would bring hope and happiness.
Christmas Day brought winter sunshine, pale blue skies and cool temperatures. Kate stifled a yawn and took a sip of strong coffee, hoping it would help her wake up. Jem had been on the go for ages. Although he no longer believed in Father Christmas, he still had all the youthful enthusiasm for the day and had opened his presents with breathless excitement. Fearing her son was missing out without his father—and maybe salving her own inner guilt over his true parentage—she tended to spoil him at this time of year, no matter how hard she tried not to overdo it.
Having wolfed down his breakfast, Jem had raced upstairs eager to try on the new football shirt of his favourite Premiership team that Oliver and Chloe had given him. Kate smiled. Her friends were so generous and always remembered Jem, usually giving him books and CDs which he enjoyed immensely. Her smile faded as she thought of Nick. So far he had not given Jem anything. Not that he was obligated to do so, of course, but she had hoped the effort he had been making to be more friendly to Jem since the flood would continue.
She knew that the whole Tremayne clan were getting together for a big family Christmas this year—the first for a long time. With Jack and Edward now back in Cornwall and settled with their respective partners, and with Lucy and Ben celebrating Annabel’s first birthday over the holiday, it was a special time for the Tremaynes. Had it only been a year since she had helped deliver that precious baby in difficult circumstances in a deserted barn during a snowstorm?
A wave of sadness swept through her. She wished Jem could be a part of all that Tremayne love and laughter. But she doubted it would ever happen. If only Nick would acknowledge Jem she would be content. She would even be able to force herself to ignore her own needs, her loneliness, the unrequited love she had harboured for Nick for so many years—as long as her son was happy and secure.
This morning, the plan was for a walk along the beach as Jem was eager to fly the Rhombus Entry stunt kite she had bought him, an inexpensive but longed-for item that had been top of his Christmas wish list since they had watched a display in the summer. The fliers doing elaborate stunts and tricks had allowed Jem to have a go and had recommended the Rombus as an excellent beginner’s kite.
Kate was about to go upstairs to get dressed for their outing when the doorbell rang. Puzzled as to who would be calling on Christmas Day, she tightened the belt of her robe, pushed some wayward strands of hair back from her face, and left the kitchen. Chloe and Oliver were away—if her suspicions proved correct, Kate believed they would return with some exciting news—so she was on call for any midwifery emergencies over the holiday. But that would entail a phone call, not a visit to her house.
‘Nick!’ she exclaimed, shocked to discover who awaited her when she opened the door. She could feel the blush warm her cheeks and cursed herself for responding like some flustered teenager to the very sight of him. It didn’t help that she was still in her robe. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Merry Christmas.’
‘Good morning, Kate. Merry Christmas to you, too.’
Noting the wrapped gifts he held, she moved back. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘Please.’ He stepped into the hallway and she closed the door. ‘I hope I’m not too early. I wanted to call in before going to Lucy and Ben’s.’
‘Not at all. Jem’s been up for hours, excited to open his presents.’
A smile softened the characteristic sternness on Nick’s face. ‘I imagine. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve bought him a couple of things.’
‘No. That’s lovely. Thank you.’ Surprised and delighted that Nick had unbent enough to remember his son and think to bring him gifts, she led the way to the kitchen. ‘Would you care for a cup of coffee? I’ll run upstairs and fetch Jem.’
‘All right.’
Her pulse racing, Kate hurried upstairs and dressed hastily, pausing a moment to brush her hair and apply some lipstick and mascara before going to Jem’s room. She found him wearing his new red-and-white Arsenal top, absorbed in the football annual that had been a present from Lauren and Gabriel.
‘Jem, we have a visitor,’ she told him with a smile. ‘Can you come down, my love? Then we can take your kite and go for our walk.’
‘OK.’
Downstairs, Kate smiled at Jem’s excitement when he discovered the identity of their guest and the unexpected presents that awaited him.
‘Uncle Nick!’
‘Hello, Jeremiah.’ Setting down his mug of coffee, Nick held out two neatly wrapped parcels. ‘These are for you.’
‘Gee, thanks!’
A lump lodged in Kate’s throat as man and boy exchanged smiles and she noticed the similarities between them. The same eyes. The same shape to the mouth. The same frown of concentration. Would those likenesses become more pronounced as Jem grew older? Would people begin to suspect who his real father was? Hiding her concerns, she watched as Jem tore off the paper to reveal a fun book of science facts and two of the latest computer games.
‘Wow! I love them. Thanks, Uncle Nick,’ he gushed, taking the older man by surprise and giving him a hug.
‘Happy Christmas, Jem.’
Nick’s voice was hoarse as he responded to his son’s engaging and instinctive reaction. Looking stiff and uncertain, he rested a hand on the boy’s head for a moment, and Kate met his gaze, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears at the confusion and emotion in Nick’s. This was more than she had expected and she knew it was greedy of her to wish for more.
‘Do you have to leave already?’ Jem asked with disappointment as Nick rose to his feet.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Nick cleared his throat. ‘Um…We’re having a get-together at my house on New Year’s Eve,’ he announced after a moment. ‘It will be family and a few friends, including children, so it won’t be a late night. If you and Jem would like to come, Kate, you’d be welcome.’
Her heart fluttered at the surprise invitation. ‘We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Jem?’
‘Yeah, that would be great!’
Walking with Nick to the front door a few moments later, Kate hesitated and looked up at him, unable to read the expression on his face. ‘Thank you, Nick,’ she said, fearing the welter of emotions she was feeling were all too apparent.
Nick nodded and stepped outside. Kate tightened her hold on the door as she watched him climb into his car, not looking back before he drove away to be with his proper family. He’d thought of Jem, had made him happy, she told herself as she closed the door. That was the important thing to remember right now.
Half an hour later, they had walked around the harbour and reached the nearly
deserted beach. While Jem concentrated on sending his colourful delta-wing kite soaring into the sky for the first time, Kate’s thoughts remained grounded and on Nick. He had thought to include them in his gathering to mark the end of a year that had been eventful personally, professionally and for the town as a whole, and for that she was grateful. What, she wondered, would the new year hold for them all?
‘Lauren?’
Receiving no answer when he walked into the Manor House shortly after midnight, Gabriel headed to the kitchen, washed his hands and then poured himself a glass of water. Reflecting on the last couple of hours, he gave a rueful shake of his head. This had not been the way he would have chosen to spend New Year’s Eve.
His first callout had come late in the evening to a four-year-old girl who had experienced her second severe acute asthma attack in less than a week. Her breathing had finally been eased with the administration of oxygen, nebulised salbutamol and oral prednisolone but, given the child’s distress, along the frequency and severity of her symptoms, he’d arranged for hospital admission.
He’d only just arrived home when he had been asked to attend an emergency at the Penhally Arms on the harbour front, where a fight had broken out between two groups of revellers who’d had too much to drink. Taunts had turned to threats and, uncharacteristically for Penhally Bay, a running battle had ensued in the street when the guilty parties had been evicted from the pub. Several people had suffered minor injuries, while two had received more serious stab wounds from broken glass. It had taken a while to sort everything out and to stabilise one of the patients, who had lost a great deal of blood and gone into hypovolaemic shock, for ambulance transport to hospital in St Piran. Gabriel had been thankful to come home and leave the police to handle the aftermath of the trouble.
As promised, he had stopped off at Gatehouse Cottage on the way back to check again that the cats, Cyclops and Pirate, were fine. Oliver and Chloe—who had rung a couple of times during the week, sounding blissfully happy with married life—were due back in a couple of days, ready to face the music about their secret wedding. Gabriel felt sure that everyone would be delighted for them.
Foxy, who was curled up on his beanbag by the range in the Manor House kitchen, stretched and snuffled in his sleep. Gabriel washed up his glass, checked all was secure downstairs and that the log fire had safely burned down with the guard around it before he jogged up the stairs in search of Lauren. Light spilled out from his bedroom across the landing, drawing him onwards. His heart swelled and emotion gripped him at the sight he found when he walked into the room.
Dressed in lilac French knickers and matching camisole—the satin and lace creations far more alluring and feminine in his view than blatant, obvious items like G-strings—Lauren was sprawled face down across the four-poster bed. The lavishly illustrated book he had given her on her favourite artist, Claude Monet, and his stunning garden at Giverny in France, was open in front of her. Smiling, he recalled her reaction when she had unwrapped the book on Christmas morning and discovered the promise that had accompanied it…
‘What’s this?’ she had asked, holding up the sticky note he had stuck on the front with ‘IOU’ written on it.
‘Do you have a valid passport?’
A frown had creased the smoothness of her brow. ‘Yes, I think it has another two or three years before it’s due for renewal. Why?’
‘Maybe we could have a long weekend away together in the spring.’ Grey eyes had widened with surprised delight at his suggestion. ‘I want to take you to see Giverny for yourself.’
‘Do you mean it?’
‘Of course, ma belle. I’ve been once. It’s beautiful.’ It meant returning to France far sooner than expected, but it would be worth it to make Lauren happy, and he wouldn’t be near the family home. ‘I want to share it with you. We’ll go when the gardens reopen in April.’
Tears shimmering in her eyes, she had thrown herself into his arms. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! It’s the best gift ever!’ She’d kissed him…then shown her gratitude in wickedly enjoyable ways.
Now he crossed slowly to the side of the bed and discovered that she was fast asleep. She looked adorable. Gently, he eased the book out from under her outstretched hand, marked her page and set it on the bedside chest. He hesitated, looking down at her, loath to wake her but needing her with as much desperation as ever.
She had made this Christmas so special for him. Aside from the Monet book, they had exchanged several gifts, each of them finding a mix of things that were either funny, touching, saucy or thoughtful. But it was the time with Lauren, her warmth, her understanding, her passion, her generosity of spirit, that had been the greatest gift of all. The issues with Yvette, his heritage and his future remained unresolved, but some of his heartache had eased by sharing his fears and his hurt with Lauren.
Turning off the main light, leaving the room illuminated by the rosy glow of the bedside lamps so Lauren could get her bearings, Gabriel stripped off his clothes and returned to the bed. Desire rippled through him as he began kissing his way softly up her silky smooth legs, whispering along her calves and lingering at the back of her knees before skimming over her creamy thighs. Lauren murmured, moving gracefully under him as she gradually came awake. He allowed her to roll over and, sleepy-eyed, she looked up at him with a smile…a smile that was so beautiful, so welcoming and so sexy it almost overwhelmed him.
‘Gabe.’
‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and arousal. ‘Sorry I was so long.’
‘Are you all right? Was it bad?’ she asked, her concern evident.
‘It wasn’t pretty but I’m fine.’
He sat back on his heels and indulged himself, running his hands up and down her body, his fingertips catching on the lace covering nipples that peaked to his touch. Lauren pulled him back down to her, her kiss hot and intense, matching his own hunger. Her hands glided over him, her touch tender, reverent, setting him on fire. He forced himself to slow down, concentrating on removing her camisole and French knickers, kissing each fragment of flesh he exposed. He felt as if he was unwrapping the most precious gift he had ever been given.
‘Please,’ she begged, moving against him. ‘I want you.’
‘Soon.’
He nuzzled against her, wanting to take his time and cherish every inch of her but as needy and impatient as her. The subtle, flowery scent of sweet peas, mingled with her own womanliness, intoxicated him. She was so responsive to his touch. Her body quivered beneath his lips and fingers, and the little purring sounds of pleasure in the back of her throat drove him crazy with want.
‘Now, Gabe…’
Succumbing to her pleas, unable to resist her or deny her anything, he gave himself up to the magical passion that grew more intense and fiery and special every time they came together.
An age later, sated and relaxed, Gabriel held Lauren close, arms and legs entwined, as she slept. They had gone into this with the pledge of no ties and no commitments. At one time he would have felt relieved that a woman made no demands, but with Lauren he was disappointed and felt a flicker of unease. He had not been looking for any kind of relationship when he had come to Cornwall but what he’d found with Lauren was unique, and he very much feared that nothing between them was ever going to be as simple as they had both vocalised at the start. Instead, he had the sense that he was at a crossroads in his life and what happened here was going to be far more important and life-changing than he could ever have foreseen.
Each day he fell more in love with her. But he hadn’t told her. She’d made it clear there were no expectations and she’d given no indication that what they shared meant any more to her, that she felt more for him. He had ten months left in Penhally…ten months to convince Lauren that they were right together. But before he could pledge himself to her, he needed to settle the family issues that dogged him, as well as decide what to do about Yvette and her demands.
Confiding in Lauren, kn
owing she believed in him and supported him, had helped him rationalise that he could never give up medicine. She had told him about her adoption but he needed her to show the same level of trust, to face up to the problems with her sight and share it with him. Could she ever do that? Would she?
Hugging her tighter, he let out a shaky breath. As they headed into a new year, filled with new hopes and endless possibilities, he vowed to show her in every way how much he loved her. One day, when the time was right, he would tell her how permanently he wanted them to commit to each other. Until then he could only pray that the future would be kind to them and that Lauren would come to love and trust him, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAUREN stood on the pavement by the construction site where the demolished Anchor Hotel was in the process of being rebuilt and gave her details to the policeman beside her. How did her voice sound so calm when inside she was shaking? She looked at her beloved Renault as it sat by the kerb, the driver’s side dented and crumpled. A few yards farther along Harbour Road was another car, its front caved in, its angry and foul-mouthed driver arguing with two other policemen.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ she murmured as the constable put his notebook away.
‘It’s not your fault, Ms Nightingale, not according to all the witnesses.’ He gestured to the gathered crowds and then to the young man who had hit her. ‘Luckily there was an off-duty policeman on the scene or the other driver would have driven off. Turns out he has no insurance and was driving while disqualified.’
Lauren didn’t know what that would mean in terms of a claim to repair or replace her car, but apparently everyone was satisfied that she had not been to blame for the accident. Everyone but her. She had finished her morning home visits—her final appointment having been with Harry Biscombe at Gow Court, whose osteoporosis was increasingly troublesome—and had been returning to the surgery for lunch before her afternoon clinic when the crash had happened. Having stopped at the junction of Bridge Street and Harbour Road, she had pulled out into a gap in the traffic, only to have an oncoming car plough into the side of her. Apart from a few bruises she was unharmed but shaken…and she felt impossibly guilty.
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