Carole Mortimer - Mistletoe Magic

It was turning into one hell of a Christmas for her, too. So much so that Molly had no idea where it was all going to end. But end it must. With or without this situation resolved between Gideon and herself.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Sam frowned as Merlin dropped to the floor, his nose pressed against the door as he once again began to rumble low in this throat.

Gideon straightened. ‘Something outside disturbed him. A cat, possibly a fox.’ He shrugged.

‘I see,’ Sam said slowly, seeming to look at the two of them for the first time and frowning thoughtfully as he took in their dressed appearance. ‘And the two of you rushed down here to try to quieten him before he woke us all up?’

‘Yes—’

‘No,’ Molly cut across Gideon’s deliberate evasion, feeling the warmth in her cheeks as he looked at her frowningly and at Sam speculatively. ‘We were already down here. Having a cup of coffee.’ She indicated the still-warming percolator, shooting Gideon a look that said the-truth-is-usually-the-best-policy as she did so.

Sam knew damn well that the coffee percolator had been turned off when he went up to bed three hours ago; she had seen him check it.

‘Merlin just seemed to go wild,’ she added ruefully.

‘Hmm. Well.’ Sam gave a weary sigh. ‘He seems to have calmed down again now,’ he noted with some relief. Merlin was still lying beside the door, but no longer looking agitated. ‘Back to bed, I guess.’ He grimaced. ‘Maybe we can all get another couple of hours’ sleep before the next disturbance occurs,’ he added ruefully.

Molly didn’t need another disturbance to know she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight—thoughts of Gideon, of the intimacy they had shared, were enough to keep her awake for a week.

‘How’s Peter?’ she prompted as the three of them went up the stairs.

Sam grinned. ‘It seems a little trite to say “sleeping like a baby”—but that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s fine,’ he assured her warmly. ‘Although—’ he sobered ‘—if Merlin carries on like that again I may just have to make him comfortable outside rather than in the house.’ He didn’t look at all happy at the idea.

‘I’m sure it was just a one-off thing.’ Gideon was the one to reassure him. ‘Well, good night again, Molly.’ He turned to her pointedly as they reached the top of the first staircase.

Her eyes widened at this obvious ploy to get rid of her. Gideon’s guest bedroom was on the same floor as her own—surely it was more natural for the two of them both to say good night to Sam and go up together?

Not if you were regretting the intimacy that had occurred fifteen minutes ago. Then you would avoid being alone together again at all costs.

‘Good night,’ she said abruptly, not looking at either man before she hurried over to the second staircase and ran up to her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her and leaning weakly back against it.

How could anyone be as changeable as Gideon obviously was? One minute telling her that she was beautiful, and how much he wanted her, the next coldly wishing her good night?

He could if he didn’t want anyone else to know that the two of them had almost made love together. If he regretted it had ever happened.

Well, she regretted it, too.

But not as much as she regretted the fact that she was in love with him…

‘I love Christmas, don’t you?’ Crys said happily the next morning as they gathered in the sitting-room to open presents beneath the tree.

‘Gathered’ as the result of Sam going along the hallways knocking on all the bedroom doors to wake everyone up with the cry, ‘Time to get up, Father Christmas has been.’

And it was rather lovely. Sam had lit a fresh fire in the hearth before waking everyone else, the lights glowed on the tree, and even a little gentle seasonal snow was falling as they looked out of the huge bay windows.

‘Love it,’ Molly agreed with forced warmth.

One glance at Gideon had been enough—his expression was less than encouraging. Just normal Gideon, really. It was the warm and sensual man of last night who had been the exception.

‘For you.’ Sam handed her a gaily wrapped parcel, standing in as Father Christmas as he distributed the presents from beneath the tree.

One glance at the label showed that the lumpy-looking parcel was from David. Molly glanced across at him before opening it.

‘Don’t blame me,’ he warned her laughingly as he strolled over to join them. ‘I asked Crys, and she told me you collect them!’

In that case, Molly knew exactly what it was, and laughed as she opened the present and saw a cuddly pig holding a red rose in its trotter.

‘Now I feel guilty that I only got you a book.’ She grinned up at David.

‘But what a book.’ He grinned back. ‘You probably won’t get any sense out of me for the rest of Christmas. Okay, okay.’ He laughed when Molly gave him a teasing look. ‘You don’t get much sense out of me anyway,’ he accepted.

‘Now, would I have said that?’ she teased.

‘Undoubtedly,’ David said dryly.

Why was it so much easier to laugh and joke with David like this than it was with Gideon, the man she was in love with?

Probably because she was in love with him, she acknowledged ruefully.

And no longer had any idea what he felt for her.

Although, if the way he was scowling across the room at her now was anything to go by, after last night he held her in more contempt than ever.

‘Another one for you.’ Sam gave her a second package before resuming his present-giving duties.

Molly’s hand began to tremble as she read ‘To Molly, From Gideon’ on the label. No frills or fancies about that. No ‘love’, either. Probably even ‘best wishes’ would have been asking for too much. And she would have preferred some cheerful robins on the wrapping paper rather than cold silver bells.

All of which meant she was totally unprepared for the beautiful cashmere scarf she found inside the package, so soft to the touch it felt like silk. But, more importantly, it was of the deepest pink—a colour Gideon had already assured her didn’t suit her red hair.

‘In contrast to the suit you were wearing on Sunday, this is the shade of pink that does go with your colouring.’

Molly looked up sharply as Gideon spoke, her hand closing convulsively on the scarf. She had been unaware until that moment that Gideon had crossed the room to stand beside her.

She swallowed hard. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she told him sincerely. ‘Thank you.’

He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Did it hurt to say that?’

She shrugged. ‘Only a little.’

His smile widened. ‘That’s something, I suppose.’

It was something—considering she was slightly overwhelmed by his gift. ‘Impersonal’ was the way he had described the buying of her gift to him, and yet this scarf, obviously chosen to go with her particular colouring, couldn’t be put in that category.

Crys stood up to announce briskly, ‘Time for breakfast, I think.’

‘I’ll come and help,’ Molly offered instantly, grateful for an excuse to stand up and break the air of intimacy that had been developing between herself and Gideon.

‘We’ll all help,’ he said firmly. ‘Just because both of you can, doesn’t mean that you two women should do all the cooking around here.’

Which was probably about as close to a compliment for her cooking last night’s meal as she was going to get from Gideon, Molly accepted ruefully.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Crys paused to say laughingly. ‘You aren’t going to just sit here with nothing to do; you three men can amuse Peter for half an hour or so.’

And leave us two women alone to have a gossip in privacy, Molly guessed easily as she followed Crys to the kitchen. No doubt Sam had told Crys that Molly and Gideon had been downstairs together during the night, and her friend wanted to know all the details.