Mistletoe Magic. Кэрол Мортимер
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was so disturbed by this added delay to the two men leaving that she didn’t say anything.
‘You haven’t heard where the decorations are yet,’ Sam warned them wryly.
David chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at Crys. ‘Your wife has the ability to charm the birds out of the trees, Sam,’ he drawled affectionately.
‘Or the decorations out of the attic?’ Sam suggested ruefully.
‘That, too,’ Gideon acknowledged dryly as he joined in the teasing conversation.
It made Molly feel more out of things than ever; this Christmas holiday simply wasn’t working out in the way that she had thought it would.
‘How about you, Molly?’ Sam turned to her as he, not unusually, seemed to sense some of her confusion. The two of them had always been closer than blood brother and sister. ‘I was going to take Peter in with me this morning, but if you would rather look after him than help with the decorations…?’
She would rather do anything else other than spend the morning in Gideon Webber’s company.
But even as she opened her mouth to accept Sam’s let-out she found her gaze caught and held by Gideon’s taunting one. Delicate colour rose in her cheeks and she knew he was aware, and obviously enjoying, her discomfort in his presence.
Her mouth set stubbornly and her eyes flashed before she turned to smile at Sam. ‘Thanks for the offer, but you know how I’ve always loved putting up Christmas decorations.’ And how little chance she had had to do so during her years in America.
It simply hadn’t seemed worth the effort to put up Christmas decorations in her apartment these last few years, when there had been only herself to see them. She had been looking forward to being involved in all aspects of this family Christmas, including putting up the decorations, and she wasn’t going to let Gideon Webber’s presence ruin that for her.
‘I certainly do.’ Sam ruffled her hair affectionately. ‘When she was younger she used to insist the decorations went up in November and didn’t come down until February!’ he confided in the others.
The colour deepened in Molly’s cheeks, and she carefully avoided looking in Gideon’s direction this time, sure those dark blue eyes would be filled with mockery. ‘I’m not quite that bad any more.’ She grimaced self-consciously. ‘But I have always loved Christmas,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ David assured her approvingly.
‘Nothing at all,’ Gideon agreed huskily.
Molly looked up at him sharply, expecting to see the normal derision in his gaze, but instead she found him looking at her quizzically, his thoughts unreadable. What now? she wondered frowningly.
Gideon gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘I’ve always thought that anyone who likes Christmas can’t be all bad,’ he drawled challengingly.
Brown eyes warred with dark blue for several long seconds before Molly broke the gaze to look at the other three people in the room; Crys still smiled warmly, David and Sam were busy clearing the table of the debris from breakfast.
Was she, Molly, the only one who could hear the deliberate insult behind Gideon’s words? Probably, she acknowledged—no one else seemed aware of Gideon’s antagonism towards her.
She turned back to him, chin raised as she met that challenge. ‘What are your own feelings towards Christmas?’
They might have been the only two people in the room as they faced each other tensely.
Gideon’s mouth quirked humourlessly. ‘What do you think?’
He really didn’t want to know what she was thinking about him right now.
‘I have no idea,’ she answered honestly. Trying to fathom the workings of Gideon could take a lifetime—and she really didn’t have two minutes of her time to waste on the hateful man.
He grinned at her. ‘I’ve always loved Christmas, too,’ he told her mockingly.
It wasn’t his words that disarmed her, but that grin. It transformed his whole face until he was boyish and charming. Two things she had never before associated with the arrogantly haughty Gideon Webber.
‘Good,’ she finally managed to answer inadequately.
The grin spread to the warmth of his dark blue eyes. ‘Not what you expected to hear, was it?’ he guessed shrewdly.
If there was one thing she had learnt about this man in the last twenty-four hours, it was never to expect the expected from him; he had so many facets to his nature it was impossible to second-guess anything he might do or say.
She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘What I do or don’t expect from you isn’t really important, is it?’ she dismissed heavily.
‘Not to me, no,’ he confirmed hardly.
Well, that definitely told you, didn’t it, Molly? she acknowledged to herself ruefully. Just as well she felt the same way about him, wasn’t it?
Brown eyes sparkled with sudden humour and she easily met his gaze this time. ‘Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way, aren’t you?’ she taunted.
Was it her imagination or did she briefly see admiration flare in those dark blue eyes? Maybe, but it was so quickly masked by his usual mockery that even if she had seen it she knew Gideon wasn’t happy with the emotion.
Well, that was just too bad. She was who she was, and she was pretty sure that wasn’t the person Gideon thought she was. In fact, she was certain it wasn’t!
Gideon glared down at her wordlessly for several seconds, eyes narrowing before he slowly turned away, an enigmatic smile curving those sculptured lips.
Now what? Molly found herself wondering for the second time in almost as many minutes. Why was it, she wondered, that this man always looked as if he knew something she didn’t—like a cat that had lapped up all the cream?
And just as quickly she remonstrated with herself for such a fanciful thought; the only cat that Gideon Webber resembled was the feral kind—a hunting tiger, perhaps.
With her as his prey…
‘We can all go out this afternoon and choose a fir tree,’ Sam was saying now. ‘There’s a place not far from here where you can pick and chop down your own,’ he added with satisfaction.
‘Excellent,’ David said with obvious pleasure.
‘A real traditional Christmas,’ Gideon agreed, before once again looking at Molly, dark brows raised mockingly. ‘Aren’t you glad that Crys and Sam invited us all to stay over the holiday period?’ he added softly.
Molly could feel all the colour draining from her face as the truth finally hit her with the force of an actual blow to the body. Neither David nor Gideon was leaving today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. These two men, as well as herself, were invited to spend Christmas at Falcon House, with Sam, Crys and Peter.
Why hadn’t she guessed before? It had been there in front of her face all the time—the fact that David and Gideon had stayed the previous night, that neither man seemed in any hurry to leave this morning. Because they weren’t leaving any time soon. In fact, it sounded as if the six of them were going to be cosily ensconced here together for the next four days at least!
‘Still love Christmas?’ a familiarly taunting voice murmured softly in the vicinity of her ear.
Her faith in the goodwill of Christmas had definitely been sorely tested in the last few minutes, but, yes, she still loved Christmas—in spite of whom she might be forced into sharing it with.
She turned sharply to tell Gideon as much, only to find that he was much closer than she had thought he was. His head bent towards hers, their breath intermingling as Molly’s abrupt rejoinder died on her lips, and