Mistletoe Magic. Кэрол Мортимер
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‘Thank you,’ she accepted awkwardly, finding his presence in her bedroom for the second time in twenty-four hours more than a little disconcerting.
Their trip into town together hadn’t turned out quite as she had expected. She had thought that Gideon would go off and do his own chores while she wandered around doing her own. But that hadn’t happened at all—Gideon seeming quite happy to stroll around with her. Even when she’d gone into the bookshop to buy the two books Gideon had simply waited outside for her, and then they had recommenced their stroll up the street.
It had been a little disconcerting, to say the least. The shoppers around them had obviously been infused with the happiness of the Christmas spirit, and there had been none of the mad rush and bustle in this little country town that Molly had left behind her in London. People had seemed to have time to stop and chat with each other, even though most of them were laden down with gaily wrapped parcels, and the coloured lights and decorated windows had all added to the relaxed atmosphere of warmth and cheer.
Surrounded by such obvious good humour and goodwill, it had been impossible not to become caught up in it—even Gideon had seemed more relaxed, if not exactly friendly.
That was probably a little too much to hope for, Molly accepted ruefully.
But his slightly softened attitude certainly gave her hope that the Christmas holiday wasn’t going to be as unpleasant as she had thought it would—but not enough to introduce the subject of that night just over three years ago; that would be sure to reintroduce a complete dampener on the whole thing.
‘Where do you suppose everyone is?’ Molly frowned now, anxious to get Gideon out of her bedroom, but also concerned that there had seemed to be no one else at home when they’d arrived back a short time ago, having picked up the requested newspaper and meat from the butcher’s.
Gideon shrugged. ‘Maybe they’ve all gone out for lunch on the assumption we would probably do the same?’
Oh, yes, she could just see Gideon and herself sitting down to eat lunch alone together—something guaranteed to give them both indigestion, she would have thought.
Although, bearing in mind Crys’s newly acquired matchmaking tendencies, Molly wouldn’t put it past her friend to have deliberately left her alone here with Gideon in an effort to further their friendship.
‘Maybe.’ She grimaced. ‘In that case—’
‘Hi, you two!’ David greeted them from the hallway just outside Molly’s bedroom. ‘Do you happen to know whether or not you’ve had chickenpox?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Gideon frowned uncomprehendingly.
‘Sorry?’ Molly felt just as puzzled—although that didn’t stop the colour entering her cheeks at Gideon once again being found in her bedroom.
David stepped into the doorway. ‘Apparently the reason Peter has been feeling less than his usual cheerful self is due to a rash on his face and chest. The doctor is with him now, deciding whether or not it’s chickenpox,’ he explained with a grimace.
‘Oh, no,’ Molly groaned sympathetically.
‘Chickenpox?’ Gideon’s frown deepened. ‘Isn’t he a little young to get something like that?’
Too young, Molly acknowledged worriedly. Peter was only three months old…
‘That’s what the doctor said,’ David acknowledged lightly.
‘I’ll go and see Crys now…’
David put out a hand to stop Molly as she would have hurried from the bedroom. ‘Not if you haven’t already had chickenpox,’ he warned.
‘I have,’ she assured him. ‘According to my mother I had every childhood disease going before I was a year old,’ she added ruefully.
‘Why am I not surprised?’ Gideon muttered dryly.
Her eyes flashed deeply brown as she shot him a look across the room. ‘Have you had chickenpox?’
He drew his breath in with a heavy sigh. ‘As it happens, no,’ he admitted with a grimace.
‘Oops,’ David sympathised. ‘If it actually is chickenpox, it seems that Peter will have been at his most infectious from the christening onwards,’ he explained at Gideon’s questioningly raised brows.
It was all Molly could do to hold back her smile. Oh, it would be awful if a baby as young as Peter had contracted the infection, but the thought of the arrogantly confident Gideon Webber struck down with the unsightly rash was enough to make anyone smile.
‘Perhaps you should leave now?’ she suggested lightly—hope still sprang eternal that this man might not be here to ruin Christmas.
‘That wouldn’t be allowed, I’m afraid,’ David was the one to answer her. ‘The doctor has already said that if it is chickenpox, if we’ve all been in contact with Peter during the last forty-eight hours, that we would have to remain a self-contained unit for at least the next five days or so to see if any of us develop the infection.’
Five days? When Molly had been expecting to rid herself of Gideon within a couple of days!
But the look of mockery that had replaced Gideon’s frown was enough for her to immediately hide her dismay. ‘I’ll go and see if there’s any news,’ she offered briskly, deliberately turning away from Gideon—and his knowingly taunting look.
Poor Peter did look very disgruntled when Molly entered the nursery a few seconds later, his face all red and blotchy from crying. Crys’s face was pale and anxious as she held him in her arms.
‘How is he?’ Molly asked a grey-faced Sam as he stood beside Crys, looking down worriedly at his young son.
‘It’s what’s commonly called milk rash.’ It was the young female doctor who answered her lightly. ‘Uncomfortable for Peter, but fortunately he doesn’t have a temperature or anything like that,’ she added reassuringly. ‘Poor little love is just feeling a trifle fed up with the world—aren’t you, Peter?’ She touched him comfortingly. ‘And his first Christmas, too.’
In actual fact, apart from the slight rash on his face and chest, and his cheeks blotchy from crying, Peter looked in better health than either of his parents, Molly decided, after taking in Crys’s ashen face and Sam’s anxious gaze as he continued to look at his wife and son.
‘Well, that’s really good news.’ Molly smiled at the pretty doctor.
The doctor grinned back. ‘Isn’t it?’ She nodded, obviously relieved to have someone other than worried parents to talk to. ‘I’m sure the rash will fade very soon, and Peter will be back to his normal placid self,’ she added dismissively, ‘but if you have any more worries about him at all over Christmas, please don’t hesitate to call me. I shall be on call all over the holiday period,’ she said ruefully.
‘Poor you,’ Molly sympathised as she escorted the doctor out of the nursery and down the wide staircase to the front door.
The lights on the Christmas tree they had dressed the previous evening blinked on and off warmly as they passed the sitting-room.
The doctor shrugged. ‘It seems only fair, as my partners all have families they would like to be with.’
The doctor was probably aged in her mid-thirties, and was extremely pretty in a blond, blue-eyed, no-nonsense sort of way; it seemed unfair that she was to spend Christmas alone.
‘Everything okay?’ David prompted as he came out of the sitting-room. He was obviously the one responsible for putting on the Christmas lights; neither Crys nor Sam was in any mood to think of anything to do with Christmas at the moment.
Molly drifted off into the kitchen as the doctor and the actor fell into easy conversation and David took over the task of escorting the doctor to her car.
From the looks of