Time seemed to stand still. The house was unusually quiet, with only the ticking of the kitchen clock on the wall beside them to tell the passing of time.

Molly’s mouth had gone dry, and color warmed her cheeks as she saw Gideon’s dark gaze follow the movement of her tongue across her lips.

She could barely breathe, was aware of Gideon with every sense and nerve of her body—aware of him in a way she had never been aware of any man before.

What would he say, this man who believed she had been his brother James’s mistress, if the two of them were ever to make love and he discovered that she had never had a lover—that, at twenty-nine, she was still a virgin?

CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written an amazing 125 books for Mills & Boon®. Carole is married to Peter and she has four sons, Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter Jr., and a bearded collie called Merlyn. They live in an old farmhouse in the English countryside.

Claiming His Christmas Bride
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I REALIZE this is a christening, but isn’t it a little early in the day’s proceedings to be wetting the baby’s head?’

Caught in the act of raising the glass of champagne to her lips, Molly froze. Unfortunately, the bubbly wine in the glass didn’t freeze, too, slopping over the side to splash over her hand and down her wrist, instantly soaking into the sleeve of her jacket.

‘Even for you,’ that taunting voice added derisively.

Molly looked up indignantly, glaring across at the man who stood in the doorway watching her with hooded eyes so dark a blue they were almost the same colour as the iris.

Gideon Webber…!

She closed her eyes briefly. It had to be him who caught her guzzling a glass of champagne, didn’t it? It just had to be!

He was the reason she had sneaked in here for this illicit glass of champagne in the first place, knowing she was going to need every bit of help she could find to face him later on this morning.

Except it wasn’t later. It was now. And as she glanced back across at Gideon Webber she could see that same look of contempt on his arrogant face as had been there the last time she had seen him. The first as well as the last!

Not that the man looked any less lethally attractive than he had just over three years ago, when they had last met; his hair was that strange but attractive mixture of golden blond and molasses, his eyes that deep cobalt-blue, his nose long and arrogant, over a finely chiselled mouth, his chin square and determined. The last time Molly had seen him he had been wearing casual denims and a tee shirt, but today he looked even more arrogantly attractive in the formal dark suit and snowy white shirt, the latter complementing his golden tan.

Which he had no doubt recently acquired at some expensive ski resort—it was all right for some! Molly thought uncharitably.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped, even as she put the glass down on the table. She reached into her bag to look for the tissue she had put in there earlier for emergencies, having decided she had to be ready for any eventuality today! The last thing she wanted was to start sniffing in the middle of her nephew’s christening.

Gideon Webber shrugged broad shoulders, the slightly contemptuous smile still curving that arrogant mouth. ‘You seem to be rather—fond of—the odd glass or six, shall we say?’ He arched mocking brows.

‘No, we will not say!’ Molly returned waspishly, stuffing the ineffectual tissue back in her bag. The sleeve of her jacket was still soaking wet. She just hoped it wouldn’t stain when it dried; she had paid a lot of money for the new suit she was wearing in honour of the day.

Gideon Webber grimaced unrepentantly. ‘We’ve only met twice—and both times you’ve had a glass in your hand!’

‘The last time it was Alka-Seltzer,’ she defended with another resentful glare.

‘So it was,’ he acknowledged with hard mockery. ‘I remember commenting at the time that you would probably have been better downing another glass of whatever had put you in that state in the first place!’

Molly drew in a sharp breath as he made no effort to hide his deliberately insulting tone.

She had been dreading today anyway, ever since Crystal had told her who Peter’s two godfathers were to be. But she had finally convinced herself that surely Gideon Webber was too polite to make any reference to their last memorable meeting. Obviously, in light of their present conversation, it was a totally erroneous assumption for her to have made about this—this—

This what? she questioned herself heavily.

Under any other circumstances she would have considered this man lethally attractive, ‘drop-dead gorgeous’, as some of her more colourful friends might have said. And he was gorgeous, no doubt about that—over six feet of lethal attraction. He just also happened to be one of the few people who had ever seen her the worse for wear because of too much alcohol…!

Time to take a bit more control of this conversation, she decided firmly. ‘Those were exceptional circumstances,’ she told him decisively.

He raised blond brows over enigmatic blue eyes. ‘And today?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Molly snapped impatiently. ‘At most, I’ve had two sips of champagne.’ She picked up the glass to take another assertive swallow. ‘That makes three now.’ She looked across at him challengingly.

He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘If you say so,’ he drawled.

Molly felt the colour enter her cheeks at this obvious scepticism as to the amount of champagne she had actually imbibed—a colour that didn’t exactly go with her blaze of rich Titian hair. But, damn it, the man was making it sound as if she were some sort of alcoholic who sneaked around swigging alcohol whenever there was no one else around—

Wasn’t that exactly what she had just been doing?

Well…yes. But—

She gave an irritable sigh. ‘I do say so.’ She nodded curtly. ‘I was just—it was only—’ Oh, give up, Molly, she advised herself self-disgustedly—While you’re not ahead! ‘Shouldn’t we all be leaving for the church?’ she prompted briskly.

‘Crys sent me in search of you for just that reason,’ Gideon Webber confirmed dryly.

Crys had sent this man to find her? But why not? Crys, of all people, could have no idea how much Molly had dreaded seeing him again. And that was the way she wanted it to stay!

She put the champagne glass down on the table. ‘I’m ready if you are.’

He gave a mocking inclination of his head before turning to open the door for her. ‘After you,’ he invited smoothly.

Molly straightened her shoulders, aware of that hooded gaze following every inch of her progress, knowing what he would see, too: a small redhead with warm brown eyes—eyes usually full of fun and laughter!—dressed formally today, in a dress and matching jacket, her legs shapely, the heels on her shoes a little high for comfort, but their colour exactly matching that of her suit.

‘Just one more thing,’ Gideon Webber murmured softly as she would have passed him in the doorway.

She raised wary eyes, suddenly tense. ‘Yes…?’ she prompted cautiously, wondering what the ‘one more thing’ he wanted to say to her could possibly be. Apart from mentioning their unforgettable first meeting, of course!

He gave a humourless smile, that gleam of white teeth looking almost feral. ‘Has anyone ever mentioned to you that women with red hair shouldn’t wear certain shades of pink?’

His remark was so unexpected, so insulting in view of the fact that she did have red hair, and that the suit she was wearing was pink, that for several seconds all Molly could do was open and shut her mouth like a goldfish in a bowl, with no actual sound passing her lips.

She had loved the style of the dress and jacket as soon as she’d seen them in the shop, but although she often did wear pink, had been a little unsure about this particular pale shade, debating long and hard while in the shop and trying the suit on whether or not it was actually the right colour for her. The shop assistant, probably sensing her uncertainty, and, in retrospect, probably feeling in danger of losing her commission on a sale, had assured Molly that she looked wonderful in it.

So much for wonderful!

Her eyes sparkled angrily as she turned to give Gideon Webber a haughty glare. ‘Most men would be too polite to say such a thing,’ she bit out scathingly.

Humour glinted in his eyes now. ‘Most men couldn’t tell you what any woman was wearing yesterday—let alone whether or not it suited her!’

He had a point there, Molly acknowledged ruefully, thinking affectionately of her stepfather. As long as her mother wasn’t actually walking around in something indecent, she was sure Matthew wouldn’t notice what Caroline was actually wearing. ‘I—’

‘Molly!’ Crys cried thankfully as she spotted them at the end of the hallway. ‘And Gideon,’ she added with even more relief, strolling down the hallway to link her arm with Molly’s. ‘We thought the two of you must have decided you didn’t want to be Peter’s godparents after all and run away together!’

Molly gave a disbelieving snort at this possible scenario, not even daring to look at Gideon Webber for his own reaction to the remark. She was easily able to guess at the derision that would be curling those arrogant lips.

Especially as she was wearing a shade of pink that clashed with her red hair!

Damn him for telling her that; she now felt decidedly uncomfortable in the suit, what little confidence the champagne had given her evaporating like mist.

But she still had the christening and the rest of the day to get through yet. After that she could scream and stamp her feet in the privacy of the guest bedroom on the third floor above them!

She and Crystal had been friends since schooldays, going their separate ways careerwise after that. Crys had become a first-class chef before opening and running a successful restaurant, as well as appearing in her own cookery programme, and Molly had chosen to go into acting.

Crys had also married three and a half years ago, that marriage tragically coming to an end when her husband, James, died of cancer only months later. But to Molly’s delight Crys had met and married Molly’s stepbrother Sam almost two years ago, and the couple now had three-month-old Peter James. Hence this christening, three days before Christmas.

The only fly in the ointment—in fact the only cloud on Molly’s present horizon!—was that Sam and Crys had asked her previous brother-in-law, James’s older brother Gideon, to be one of Peter’s godfathers. An honour, Crys had informed Molly happily, he had been only too pleased to accept.

Which had put Molly in something of a quandary. She didn’t have happy memories of her one and only meeting with Gideon Webber, and she was sure his own feelings towards her were somewhat less than cordial. But as she had already been asked by Sam and Crys to be Peter’s godmother, and had readily accepted, she could hardly turn round and tell them she had changed her mind because Gideon Webber was one of the godfathers, now, could she?

Of course she couldn’t, and so she had armed herself with every feminine weapon she could think of to give her the self-confidence she needed to face the man: new hairstyle, professional make-up, new clothes and shoes. Even a surreptitious glass of champagne to give her an extra boost! She just hadn’t taken into account the fact that Gideon Webber, like his younger brother, was an interior designer. And that he would instinctively know she was wearing a shade of pink that didn’t go with her red hair!

But at least Crys had interrupted the exchange, and spared her any further insults from the man.

In the rush that followed their mass departure, Molly found herself in a car with her stepfather on the way to the church in this ruggedly beautiful part of Yorkshire where Crys and Sam lived most of the time now. Her mother and the second godfather had elected to travel with Gideon Webber in his dark green Jaguar, and Sam and Crys were travelling separately with Peter James.

Merlin, Sam’s Irish Wolfhound and Peter James’s guardian from the very first day the baby had arrived home from the hospital where he had been born, sat forlornly on the driveway, watching their departure with the obvious intention of waiting there until they returned with his precious charge.

‘Matthew, what is Mum wearing today?’ Molly prompted casually.

‘Wearing?’ Matthew repeated frowningly as he concentrated on following Sam’s car the short distance to the church.

‘Yes—wearing,’ Molly confirmed dryly. ‘As in colour?’ she added helpfully.

Her stepfather’s frown deepened as he obviously gave the question some thought. ‘Well,’ he finally said consideringly, ‘it’s a sort of blue thing. Or possibly green. A dress, I think. Or it might be a jacket and skirt. In any case, I’m almost certain it’s blue or green,’ he added, with a decisive nod of his head.

Molly had already seen her mother on her arrival a little over an hour ago, and knew for a fact that the ‘blue or green’ suit, of whatever description, was actually a dress and long jacket in a beautiful shade of turquoise. Which, to most men, probably could be described as ‘blue or green’…!

And that, in Molly’s estimation, just went to prove that Gideon Webber wasn’t like other men!

Well, she already knew that, Molly acknowledged with a sigh as she turned to look out of the car window at the Yorkshire Moors.

How she wished today were already over. Then she could get on with enjoying Christmas with Crys, Sam and baby Peter James. Her parents were leaving tomorrow on an extended cruise to somewhere warmer than England—which was probably just about anywhere in December—and so wouldn’t be here for the holidays, which was why they were having the christening today, before the parents’ departure for warmer climes.

After all, what was it? Molly reasoned with herself. One day. Not even that, really. Just a few hours. And then Gideon Webber would depart and the four of them could get on with anticipating Christmas.

But those next few hours, spent in Gideon Webber’s acerbic company, could feel like a lifetime if he continued with the insults!

‘Glass of champagne?’

Molly turned frowningly towards the sound of that voice, her frown dissipating as she recognised David Strong, an actor who starred in a television series written by her stepbrother, Sam. David was Peter’s other godfather.

Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, aged in his early forties, David brought his own brand of charm to the television series Bailey. But he had been widowed several months ago, when his wife had been killed in a car accident, and the sadness in his eyes and the lines beside his mouth, despite the warmth of his smile, were testament to his recent grief.

‘Thanks.’ Molly accepted the glass he held out to her. Having met David socially several times before, she was perfectly relaxed in his company.

Though she couldn’t repress her furtive glance around the room to check whether or not Gideon Webber was watching her accept the glass of champagne, and she frowned her irritation as he raised his own glass of what appeared to be sparkling water to her across Crys and Sam’s crowded sitting-room.

Molly turned quickly away from the easily discernible mocking humour in those dark blue eyes, the unbecoming colour once again flooding her freckle-covered cheeks. Damn the man. What was he? A one-man vigilante on the consumption of alcohol? Or was it just her consumption…?

Probably, she accepted heavily, wishing once again it had been anyone else but him who had seen her condition on that morning just over three years ago.

Although the world of acting was very often awash with the stuff, Molly very rarely drank alcohol herself—had found that it didn’t mix with early set calls or late-night theatre appearances. Which was probably why the downing of that bottle of wine just over three years ago had completely knocked her off her feet!

But there had been good reason for that, she reminded herself defensively. Knowing yourself in love with a married man—a married man who assured you he had every intention of remaining that way—would induce any sane woman to turn to the bottle. Besides, it had only been one measly bottle of white wine—not the whole crateful Gideon Webber seemed to be implying!

Did wine come in a crate? she wondered illogically, or—?

Get a grip, Barton, she instructed herself severely, determinedly turning her attention to David Strong. After all, he was almost as good-looking as Gideon Webber—and much nicer to boot!

‘It’s good to see you again, David,’ she told him warmly.

‘And you.’ He nodded, brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. ‘Although from what I hear we should be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future…?’ He raised dark brows questioningly.

Ah. Obviously someone had told him. Possibly Sam, as a courtesy to the leading man in his award-winning television series? Or had the secret leaked out in some other way? Probably the latter, she accepted ruefully; the supposed secrecy of the acting world had more holes in it than a sieve!

She gave David a quizzical smile. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Not at all,’ he answered easily, giving her the famous grin that had made him such a hit with female television viewers. ‘I think it’s past time Bailey had a more permanent love-interest in his life,’ he added reassuringly.

That wasn’t quite what Molly had meant by her question. It was one thing having the writer of a television series pop up in the studio whenever he felt like it—as Sam often did—it was quite another to have that writer’s stepsister appearing in the series with you. As the main character’s permanent but definitely whacky girlfriend!

Molly had been working mainly in American theatre the last few years, with the occasional television role thrown in, and until recently had had every intention of remaining out there. But a couple of months ago Sam had sent her the first script he had written for the new Bailey series, due to begin filming in the New Year, along with a cryptic message. ‘As I wrote the Daisy role based on you, only you could possible play her! Come home. I need you.’ Enough to evoke anyone’s curiosity.

Although Molly hadn’t been quite so sure after reading the script of that one episode!

The character of Daisy was an outgoing, dangerously inquisitive private detective, endearingly naive when it came to the vagaries of human nature, and most of all accident-prone—to the point where objects—usually bodies—seemed literally to throw themselves in her path for her to fall over.

Based on her? she had wondered, slightly dazed. She was outgoing, yes, and could be slightly eccentric, yes. But she wasn’t too sure that any of the other character traits fitted her, no matter what Sam might think to the contrary…

But the director of the programme had seemed happy enough with her audition when she’d returned to England a couple of weeks ago, and hadn’t hesitated about offering her a contract to cover the next Bailey series.

She had thought that particular snippet of information hadn’t yet been leaked, but obviously she was wrong; it was one of those well-guarded secrets that everyone knew about!

‘I actually meant, do you mind that I’m going to appear in the Bailey series with you?’ Molly corrected ruefully.

David raised dark brows. ‘The director assures me you were brilliant at your audition; why should I mind?’

She gave an awkward shrug. ‘Well…Sam is my brother.’ She pointed out the obvious. ‘And I wouldn’t like you to think—some people might think that had something to do with my getting the part.’ She grimaced.

‘The word you’re looking for is nepotism,’ drawled an insulting voice.

Gideon Webber’s voice. Of course. He seemed to lose no opportunity to insult her.

Was it acceptable for the godmother to hit one of the godfathers at a christening party? Molly wondered angrily.

Probably not.

Pity.

‘Gideon!’ David greeted the other man warmly—giving Molly the necessary time to clasp her hands tightly together in order not to give in to her initial impulse, after all. ‘It’s really good to see you again,’ the actor added smilingly.

Again? Molly wondered frowningly. Since when did television actors’ and interior designers’ paths ever cross? Never, or so she had hoped when she had decided on this move back to England. Although it now appeared she might have been wrong about that…

‘You can forget nepotism,’ David added with a grin. ‘From all accounts, this little lady can act her socks off.’

‘And any other part of her clothing. Or so I’m led to believe,’ Gideon Webber returned dryly.

Molly’s gasp of indignation was lost in David’s roar of laughter. Obviously he thought the other man was just joking. Molly knew better.

She looked up at Gideon Webber with narrowed eyes. His expression was openly scathing, and the colour slowly crept up into her cheeks. Exactly what had he meant by that remark?

‘How did you know she has to take her clothes off in episode four?’ David prompted the other man humorously.

Gideon’s gaze didn’t waver from Molly’s as he answered the other man. ‘Just an educated guess.’

Molly had no privacy to digest what David had just said. She had to take her clothes off?

Having only returned from America a couple of weeks ago, and been busy since then moving into the flat she had found in London, there hadn’t been time yet for her to read any of the other episodes in the new Bailey series.

She didn’t have a bad figure, definitely had curves in all the right places, but nevertheless Molly wasn’t sure she wanted to take all her clothes off for public display. Even with someone as nice as David.

And, if the derisive look on Gideon Webber’s face was anything to go by, he didn’t think her body was good enough for public display, either…

CHAPTER TWO

DAMNED cheek!

There was nothing wrong with her body—no excess bulges, her breasts pert, her waist narrow, hips slender, legs shapely—so why didn’t Gideon Webber think she was up to playing a nude scene?

Molly angled her chin challengingly at Gideon before turning to smile at David. ‘I think it might be rather fun,’ she assured him airily, hoping that none of her inner trepidation showed.

Until this moment there had been no mention of the fact that she had to appear nude in episode four or anywhere else. And she had signed the contract now!

Just wait until she got hold of Sam!

‘So do I.’ David grinned boyishly. ‘I have to say that Sam’s happy marriage to Crys has certainly livened the series up!’

So it would appear. She really did need to talk to Sam—if only to see if there were any other surprises that he hadn’t told her about.

‘They are happy together, aren’t they?’ Gideon murmured ruefully, looking across now to where Sam and Crys were talking softly together, their eyes glowing with the love they felt for each other, which had only deepened on the birth of their son.

‘Of course they are,’ Molly said waspishly, frowning.

Surely this man, just because Crys had once been married to his younger brother, didn’t begrudge her the happiness she had now found with Sam?

Molly knew that Crys had loved James very much, but she was only twenty-nine now—the same age as Molly herself. Surely Gideon didn’t think Crys should have remained faithful to his brother’s memory for the rest of her life? If he did, then he should never have agreed to be Peter’s godfather.

Gideon turned back to her, blue eyes hard as sapphires. ‘Then let’s hope they stay that way,’ he bit out harshly.

Molly’s frown deepened. ‘Why shouldn’t they?’

‘I think those two have already had their fair share of bad luck where love is concerned.’ David was the one to put this in quietly.

Molly knew exactly what bad luck David was referring to: Crys’s past loss was obvious enough, and Sam hadn’t looked at a woman until Crys after being publicly persecuted by his ex-fiancée twelve years before.

But, after David’s own recent loss, it was insensitive of Molly and Gideon to be carrying out this conversation in front of him at all. Even if the antagonism between the two of them was so intense it could be cut with a knife.

‘You’re right, David,’ Molly soothed, putting an apologetic hand on his arm. ‘Isn’t he, Gideon?’ she prompted hardly.

‘I think so—yes,’ Gideon agreed lightly, but a much stronger emotion burned briefly in the darkness of his gaze as he continued to look down at Molly.

And just what did he mean by that remark? And that look?

This man was too deep for her, too enigmatic; in fact, she could definitely feel a headache coming on!

She drew in a sharp breath as she deliberately turned away from that compelling gaze. ‘If you’ll both excuse me…? I just want to go and spend a few minutes with my parents before they leave,’ she added apologetically, knowing her parents had to go shortly.

‘Don’t let me stop you,’ Gideon Webber assured her abruptly.

If he so wanted to avoid her company, then why had he come over here and joined in this conversation at all? Molly wondered bad-temperedly.

‘See you later.’ David had recovered enough from the reminder of his recent loss to smile at her.

‘Of course,’ Molly said gently, not even sparing Gideon Webber a second glance before walking away to join her parents as they stood together across the room.

Damn the man. Damn. Damn. Damn!

Today’s christening should have been a wonderful family occasion, full of warmth and love, with all of them doting on Peter James. Instead, because of Gideon Webber’s presence, it had become something of a nightmare for Molly. But it was a nightmare she intended putting an end to at the earliest opportunity.

‘You!’ Molly gasped her dismay the following morning as she entered the kitchen to get herself a cup of coffee and found herself confronted by Gideon Webber, obviously doing exactly the same thing.

She had managed to excuse herself from the christening party the day before as soon as her parents had left, her claim of a headache completely genuine by that time.

She had certainly had no idea that Gideon Webber had spent the night here, too.

‘Me,’ he confirmed, his smile taunting her obvious displeasure at finding him here. ‘Coffee?’ He held up the coffee-pot in his hand.

A brandy would have been preferable after the shock she had just received. But that would only confirm for this man that she was some sort of dipsomaniac!

‘Thank you,’ Molly managed to squeak, through a throat that suddenly seemed extremely dry and lips that had gone numb.

What was he still doing here? she wondered wildly.

Unusually for December, the sun was actually shining, and the birds had been singing, too, as Molly made her way lightly down the stairs, filling her with pleasurable anticipation for the day ahead.

Anticipation that had just taken a definite nosedive!

‘Here—drink some of this.’ Gideon pushed a mug of steaming coffee into her unresisting hand. ‘Headache still bad?’ he prompted mockingly.

He was the headache! And, yes, it was bad—a terrible pounding had started behind her eyes and it hadn’t been there seconds ago.

‘I wasn’t sure whether or not you took sugar,’ he drawled as she sat down to take a much-needed swallow of the coffee—and almost choked on it. Not only was it unsweetened, it was also strong enough to strip the enamel from her teeth.

‘It’s fine,’ she managed to gasp, her eyes watering from the resounding slap Gideon had given her on her back. The thin green jumper she wore with denims was no barrier against the force of that hand.

Why hadn’t he just asked her how she liked her coffee? Or would that have been too easy?

Probably, Molly instantly answered herself irritably. It might also have deprived him of the pleasure of hitting her as well as choking her.

Okay, so he had stayed the night, for whatever reason. She accepted that, but that didn’t answer the question: what was he still doing here?

‘Crys and Sam have taken the baby and Merlin for a walk on the moors,’ he supplied economically, before sitting down in the chair opposite hers across the kitchen table.

As she had been rather late coming down it didn’t in the least surprise her that her stepbrother and Crys had already gone out for their usual morning walk with the dog. What she did find unsettling was the fact that she was left alone here for some time with a man who obviously despised her.

‘Don’t let me keep you from anything,’ she invited stiffly as Gideon still sat across from her, calmly drinking his own strong coffee.

He raised mocking brows. ‘What did you have in mind?’

She shrugged. ‘Having your breakfast? Packing?’ Leaving!

The sooner he made his departure, the sooner she could get on with relaxing—something she certainly couldn’t do around this man, either physically or mentally. Every remark he made to her, it seemed, had some sort of double meaning.

‘I don’t fancy breakfast,’ he answered her evenly. ‘But you go ahead.’

‘I’ll pass, thanks.’ She didn’t fancy breakfast, either.

But what about his packing? He was dressed casually today, in fitted black denims and a deep blue tee shirt, which meant he had his suit from yesterday to pack, at least…

‘It was a pity you left the party so early yesterday evening,’ Gideon drawled lightly.

Surely he hadn’t missed having her there? Or was it just that he hadn’t had anyone to sharpen his rapier tongue on once she had gone upstairs to bed? That was probably nearer the truth.

‘David had us all in hysterics with some of his more risqué stories of the acting profession,’ Gideon enlightened her dryly.

She would just bet that he had. In her experience, there was always more action going on behind the scenes than in front of the camera. Although, thankfully, she had never worked with David before, so none of those stories could have been about her.

She gave a grimace of a smile. ‘I’m sure we all have some of those we could relate.’

‘Even you?’

Why had that sounded like especially you? Or was she just ultra-sensitive where this man was concerned? In the circumstances, was that so surprising?

She moistened dry lips. The strong coffee might have woken her up, but it had done very little to quench her morning thirst. ‘Gideon, I think the two of us need to talk—’

‘Morning, you two,’ David greeted them heartily as he breezed into the kitchen, also dressed casually in denims and a tee shirt, his feet bare of socks and shoes, his dark hair still ruffled from sleep.

Molly stared up at him in stunned surprise; had David spent the night here, too? Obviously. It seemed she had missed more than risqué stories by going to bed early the evening before.

‘I don’t know whether it’s the bracing Yorkshire air or the champagne I drank yesterday,’ David said lightly as he moved to pour himself a mug of coffee, sipping at the strong brew with obvious enjoyment, ‘but I slept better last night than I have for months,’ he went on with satisfaction as he sat down at the table to join them. ‘So, where’s our godson this morning?’ he prompted interestedly.

Their godson… For the first time Molly realised that the three of them were forever linked by this connection to Peter James. That wasn’t so bad when it came to David, but Gideon Webber was another prospect altogether!

‘Out for a walk with his parents and Merlin.’ Gideon was the one to answer the other man. ‘You’ll have to excuse Molly, David; I don’t think she’s a morning person,’ he told the other man dryly, before turning to look at her mockingly.

She wasn’t at her best this morning, no, having so far received one surprise after another, but ordinarily she woke bright and ready for the new day.

Although somehow she didn’t think Gideon was necessarily referring to this morning…

Her gaze narrowed as she glared at him. ‘I’m not used to company in the morning,’ she bit out tersely.

‘Really?’ He raised sceptical brows.

He did mean something else.

This man had judged and sentenced her on the evidence of that one morning just over three years ago—just one morning, when… When what?

When she had been tousle-haired and heavy-eyed from lack of sleep. When she had obviously been suffering from the effect of too much wine. When he had seen her dressed only in another man’s shirt…

Yes, but…

Yes, but what? There was an explanation for all that Gideon had seen—or thought he had seen—but she very much doubted that this man wanted to hear it. Or whether he would believe it!

She stood up abruptly. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk outside and wait for Crys and Sam to come back,’ she said tautly.

And she would hope that Gideon might have taken his leave before she came back. Although somehow she doubted he would leave without saying goodbye to Crys and Sam.

‘If you hang on a minute while I put on some shoes I’ll join you,’ David told her as he stood up. ‘Gideon?’ he prompted brightly.

‘You two go ahead.’ He shook his head. ‘I have a couple of calls I need to make this morning.’

‘See you later, then.’ David nodded, confirming that he, at least, expected to see more of Gideon today.

Which was no consolation to Molly at all as she waited outside for David to join her. If he was now making calls, exactly how long did Gideon Webber intend remaining here?

‘What is it between you two?’ David prompted a few minutes later as the two of them strolled across the gravel driveway. ‘You and Gideon?’ he enlightened her as she looked puzzled.

‘Me and…? Nothing,’ she scoffed forcefully. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she repeated firmly as David didn’t look convinced.

David quirked teasing brows. ‘That wasn’t the impression I got either yesterday or today. Come on, Molly, the two of us are going to be working together for months. I’m sure to find out if you’re involved with anyone.’ He grinned boyishly.

‘Well, it certainly isn’t Gideon Webber!’ she snapped, two bright spots of angry colour in her cheeks now. ‘The man does nothing but insult me every time he opens his mouth,’ she added disgustedly, knowing it was the truth, and also well aware of the reason for it.

But what could she do about it? If she protested her innocence too strongly Gideon Webber was the sort of man who would only see her vehemence as an admission of guilt on her part. But not to protest was just as unacceptable—and more damning. It seemed that with this particular man she couldn’t win.

Not that she hadn’t had her share of romantic entanglements in the past, because she had. Gideon Webber just happened to have been a witness to the one time she had made a complete idiot of herself.

David chuckled. ‘If we were all teenagers that would be a sure sign that Gideon likes you.’

‘Well, we aren’t,’ Molly said disgruntledly. From the evidence she had seen so far Gideon Webber had never been a teenager—had just gone straight from babyhood to the acerbic man he now was. ‘And I can assure you he doesn’t.’ She sighed heavily, knowing that Gideon’s feelings towards her were much more complicated than that.

‘More’s the pity, hmm?’ David teased.

‘No, thanks.’ Molly grimaced. ‘The strong, silent type has never appealed to me,’ she added derisively.

Although she had a definite feeling that as far as she was concerned Gideon wasn’t going to remain ‘silent’ for long. At the moment his antagonism towards her was just bubbling below the surface, giving her the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t stay that way for much longer, that he was going to have his say concerning their first meeting.

‘If you say so,’ David accepted teasingly, giving the clear impression that he didn’t believe her lack of interest in Gideon was genuine.

Well, David certainly wasn’t in the minority when it came to that; Gideon obviously didn’t believe a word she said, either.

‘This is a great spot, isn’t it?’ David enthused happily as they strolled around the extensive grounds. ‘I thought Sam was insane when he first decided to bury himself up here, but I can see the attraction now. Even more so now that he’s married to Crys. You and she have been friends a long time, haven’t you?’ he prompted interestedly.

‘Since school,’ Molly confirmed.

‘So you must have known James Webber, too.’ David nodded.

Molly frowned at this mention of Gideon’s younger brother, Crys’s first husband. Her gaze narrowed and she looked sideways at David in search of any hidden meaning in his words. But he was totally engrossed in the rugged beauty that surrounded Falcon House, and was apparently just making conversation as they walked.

‘Yes, I met James at university,’ she said evenly. ‘In fact, I introduced him to Crys,’ she added wistfully. The guilt she felt at having ultimately caused Crys such unhappiness when James had died only months into their marriage had never been completely erased, despite Crys’s now happy marriage to Sam.

David turned to her with raised brows. ‘So you must have known Gideon, too? After all, the two brothers worked together.’

Thankfully, Gideon Webber, ten years older than his younger brother, had never been included in their group of friends. In fact, Molly had only met him the once. But that once had been quite enough, thank you!

She gave David a reproachful grimace. ‘You really are wasting your time fishing in that particular direction, David—Gideon Webber and I dislike each other intensely.’

He made a face. ‘Does Crys know that?’

She frowned. ‘Of course not,’ she dismissed abruptly. ‘Why should she?’

David shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s only that… Ah, here they all are.’ He nodded in the direction of the battered Land Rover coming up the driveway. ‘Excuse me, won’t you?’ he added hastily as he turned back towards the house. ‘But I don’t think Merlin has made his mind up yet as to whether I’m friend or foe!’

Molly chuckled appreciatively as David beat a hasty retreat to the house; Merlin could appear quite intimidating until you got to know him. Or, more precisely, until he got to know you.

Having known the dog from when he was a puppy, Molly felt no such hesitation in waiting for her stepbrother and Crys to get out of the car. Baby Peter was lifted from the back of the vehicle by his father, and Merlin followed quickly behind him.

‘I thought I saw David with you.’ Crys looked around frowningly after taking her son into her arms. She was ethereally lovely, with her silver-blond hair loose down her back, and the beauty of her face dominated by misty grey eyes. She was boyishly slender, in spite of having given birth to Peter James only months ago.

‘You did.’ Molly nodded, grinning. ‘He seems to think Merlin needs a little more time to get used to him.’

Sam gave a rueful shake of his head as he absently stroked the huge dog behind the ears. ‘I’ve assured him that Merlin won’t bite him as long as he doesn’t bite Merlin!’

‘I’m sure that helped to convince him of Merlin’s tameness.’ Crys chuckled huskily. ‘Time for breakfast, I think,’ she announced briskly, placing the sleeping baby in Molly’s arms. ‘Pancakes all round!’ she decided brightly as she walked towards the house.

Molly followed slowly behind Crys and Sam. Ordinarily she would have been one of the first to appreciate Crys’s pancakes—they were to die for, light and fluffy, delicious with maple syrup or sugar. But not today. Not when the dark green Jaguar parked in the front driveway clearly told of Gideon Webber’s presence inside the house still.

‘Perhaps he’ll choke on one of Mummy’s pancakes,’ Molly suggested hopefully to baby Peter as he opened his lids to look up at her with alert blue eyes. ‘I know, I know, he’s your godfather,’ she accepted apologetically. ‘But you do have another one—and I can hope, can’t I?’

‘Talking to yourself?’ drawled a mockingly recognisable voice.

Molly looked up sharply to find Gideon Webber approaching the kitchen door from the front of the house, having moved so quietly she hadn’t heard his footsteps on the gravel. Merlin obviously had, and was walking at the man’s side, the two of them obviously happy in each other’s company.

He raised dark brows derisively, obviously aware of her surprise at seeing him there. ‘I had to get something from my car.’

Perhaps it was too much to hope that he had been putting his suitcase in the boot at the same time.

‘I was talking to baby Peter, not myself,’ she told him stiffly.

Gideon gave a mocking smile. ‘Well, I suppose talking to a three-month-old baby has its pluses; at least he can’t answer you back!’

Unlike this man, who seemed to have an answer to everything!

Molly eyed him scathingly. ‘Unusual in a man,’ she acknowledged dryly.

‘In my experience, even more unusual in a woman,’ Gideon murmured softly, before opening the door for her to enter the kitchen ahead of him, effectively cutting off any sharp retort she might have liked to make at this arrogantly sexist remark. And there were several she would have liked to make.

But the laughter and warmth in the kitchen, with Crys busy mixing pancakes, Sam and David helping to lay the table, the three of them talking as they worked, made her desire to snap a reply seem churlish.

Falcon House was a large, three-storey-high building, but Crys and Sam both loved their privacy, and they preferred to do most things in the house themselves. A woman came in from the village three afternoons a week to take care of any heavy housework that might need doing, but Crys did all the cooking herself.

Despite its obvious size, it was definitely a family home, full of warmth, love, and laughter, and Molly usually enjoyed her visits here enormously. Usually…

Why did Gideon Webber have to be here to ruin it all?

Although she had a feeling she was in the minority in feeling that way. David and Sam were obviously enjoying the other man’s company, and Crys and Gideon were standing close together as he helped in the cooking of the pancakes, the two of them moving with an easy familiarity that spoke of a long friendship.

But was it just friendship, or did it go deeper than that? Molly wondered as she sat slightly apart from everyone else, still holding baby Peter as she silently watched them all. Certainly there was nothing more than that on Crys’s side—Crys’s love for Sam was absolute—but Gideon was definitely more at ease with Crys than Molly had seen him with anyone else. The two of them were talking softly together, Gideon smiling openly, his gaze warm as it rested on Crys—

Now what was she imagining? That perhaps Gideon was secretly in love with Crys? A man she had previously believed wasn’t capable of feeling love for anyone?

Ridiculous, she admonished herself impatiently. Gideon had known Crys for years, he was her ex-brother-in-law—of course he had feelings for her; it was only Molly’s own resentment towards the man that saw it as possibly being anything else.

‘All right?’ Sam prompted softly, having come to stand beside her without Molly even being aware of it.

She pushed her troubling thoughts firmly to the back of her mind, looking up to smile at her stepbrother. As well as being a highly successful screenwriter, Sam was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, and Molly had adored him from the moment she’d known her mother was to marry his father seventeen years ago.

‘Of course,’ she assured him brightly. ‘How could I not be when I’m holding my favourite nephew?’ she added teasingly.

Sam came down on his haunches beside her, briefly touching his son’s cheek in wonder. ‘Your only nephew—unless you know something I don’t?’ He looked lovingly across the room to where Crys was laughingly serving pancakes.

‘Not at all,’ Molly chucklingly assured him as he turned back to her.

‘Does it make you feel in the least broody yourself?’ Sam asked shrewdly.

That was a little harder to answer. She wasn’t even involved with anyone at the moment, had severed what had only been a casual relationship with a fellow actor before leaving New York. But she was twenty-nine now, the same age as Crys, and, if she were honest with herself, she envied her friend her loving husband and beautiful baby.

For all the good that would do her, Molly reproved herself ruefully. Without a man in her life, loving or otherwise, there would be no family of her own, either.

She grimaced. ‘Sam, I doubt it’s escaped your notice that I’m not involved with anyone just now.’

He shrugged. ‘What do you think of David and Gideon?’

Molly frowned her puzzlement at this abrupt turn in the conversation. ‘What do I think of them as what?’

It was Sam’s turn to grimace. ‘Well, I think Crys has one of them in mind as your future husband and father of your children.’

‘She what?’ Molly gasped her bewilderment, sitting rigidly in her chair now, unable to hide her horror at what Sam was suggesting.

‘Don’t tell her I said anything,’ Sam told her hastily. ‘I think it’s all this domesticity that’s gone to her head and infused her with this desire to matchmake for you,’ he added affectionately. ‘She wants everyone to be as happy as we are.’

Molly blinked dazedly. ‘Yes, but—’

‘Crys assures me that David and Gideon are both extremely eligible men,’ her stepbrother teased.

‘They may be—’ her voice rose slightly ‘—but David was only recently widowed. And as for Gideon—I don’t happen to—’

‘Not a word to Crys about any of this, Molly,’ Sam warned softly as plates were put on the table. ‘She won’t be very happy with me if she knows I’ve said anything to you.’

‘But—’

‘I’ll put Peter in his cradle and then we can all have breakfast.’ He spoke normally as he bent to take Peter and crossed the room to put him in the cradle that stood in the corner of the kitchen.

Molly stared after him, totally bewildered by their conversation.

What did he mean, Crys was matchmaking between her and David or Gideon? She wasn’t due to start working with David until the end of January, and after today she hoped never to meet Gideon Webber ever again, so exactly when was this matchmaking supposed to take place?

She had a definite feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer to that question.

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