Carole Mortimer - Italian Bachelors - Devilish D'angelos - A Bargain with the Enemy / A Prize Beyond Jewels

‘But you stayed together....’

Her mother smiled. ‘We had you.’

‘But did you never think of leaving Daddy?’ Bryn looked at her mother searchingly.

‘Many times,’ Mary admitted truthfully. ‘And I’m sure, as much as it would have hurt you, it would have come to that in the end.’

Bryn gave a pained frown. ‘And yet, even during the trial, you stood by him.’

‘He was my husband. And your father,’ her mother added pointedly. ‘And you adored him.’

Yes, Bryn had adored her father. But she hadn’t been able to get Gabriel’s outburst that last evening in London out of her mind. To question, to want to know if the things he had said were true.

Her mother’s comments confirmed what Bryn had feared—that William had been the petty crook Gabriel had called him, for almost all of her life, involved in one scam or another. A petty crook who had tried to break into the big time by selling the fake Turner—and failed miserably.

And these past few days Bryn had questioned whether she hadn’t always known that, and that it was the knowing that had added to her resentment of Gabriel, not because he had kissed her, not because she had fallen in love with him, not even because of his involvement in her father’s downfall, but because that involvement had made him part of the disenchantment she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge all these years.

‘Why the interest in all of that now, Bryn?’ her mother prompted softly, her gaze sharp. ‘Has something happened? Something that’s made you start thinking, questioning the past?’

Gabriel D’Angelo was what had happened! A man who was making it impossible for Bryn not to question the past. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault; Bryn was the one who had chosen to come into contact with him again when she’d entered the exhibition.

No, it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault, but Bryn’s reaction to meeting him again, her response to him, had set in motion those same feelings of guilt inside her that she had felt five years ago when she had looked across that crowded courtroom and known that, despite everything he was saying and all the damage he was causing to her father and her family, she still wanted him.

It had been bad enough then for Bryn to realise she was infatuated with the arrogant and handsome Gabriel D’Angelo, but she found it harder still to realise, all these years later, that she was still attracted to the man who had helped shatter her world.

Admittedly her mother was happily remarried, but still the past had to overshadow, to make impossible, there ever being any sort of relationship between Bryn and Gabriel. A relationship she would have to tell her mother about.

Even if her traitorous body seemed to have other ideas on the subject!

Just thinking about that last evening with Gabriel, of the depth of intimacy the two of them had shared, the way she had totally fallen apart in his arms, climaxing so spectacularly, was enough to make her blush.

‘Okay, now I really want to know who this man is if he can make my sensible daughter blush so prettily,’ her mother stated firmly.

‘I can’t tell you,’ Bryn groaned.

‘Why on earth not?’ Mary looked stunned. ‘We’ve always been able to talk about anything in the past— Bryn, if it’s a woman making you feel this way, then I hope you know that I’m broad-minded enough not to—’

‘It’s not a woman!’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘But I appreciate knowing how broad minded you are!’ she added dryly.

‘Is this man involved with someone else, then? Maybe married?’ her mother added worriedly.

‘It’s worse than that!’ Bryn groaned as she began to pace the lawn Rhys had recently cut. Her mother’s brows rose. ‘What could possibly be worse than—? Is he older than you?’

‘Marginally.’ Bryn shrugged. ‘Maybe ten years or so.’

‘That’s nothing.’ Her mother sighed her relief. ‘But I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me who he is.’

‘Because I can’t.’ She sighed heavily. ‘He’s just not—suitable for me to be involved with, okay?’

‘No, of course it’s not okay, Bryn.’ Mary frowned worriedly. ‘I’ve never known you to— He isn’t a drug dealer or something like that, is he?’

‘Of course not,’ Bryn denied ruefully.

Her mother didn’t look reassured. ‘But he’s unsuitable in some other way?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Bryn sighed.

Mary continued to look at her searchingly for several long minutes, that worried frown between her eyes. ‘Does your interest just now, in the past, have anything to do with your reluctance to talk about this man?’ she finally prompted.

‘I— Maybe.’ Bryn’s teeth worried her bottom lip. ‘Do you know—? Is it possible that Daddy was the one to tell the press about the painting, as a way of ensuring the D’Angelo gallery, or some other gallery, couldn’t just dismiss the painting as a forgery?’

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