LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      ‘YOU never did answer my question earlier.’

      Molly tensed at the sound of Gideon’s voice, turning slowly to find that he had joined her where she sat on the hearthrug in the sitting-room, playing with baby Peter’s toes while the other adults all sat in chairs—or lay on the sofa in Crys and Sam’s case—dozing after the filling lunch they had all eaten. Until this moment she had thought Gideon asleep in a chair, too.

      ‘You like babies, don’t you?’ Gideon murmured huskily before she had a chance to answer his initial statement, gently touching Peter’s hand as he sat on the rug beside them.

      She frowned, keeping her voice low so that they shouldn’t disturb the others with their conversation. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

      He shrugged. ‘I haven’t always found that to be the case, no,’ he answered ruefully. ‘For instance, my own mother wasn’t particularly maternal.’ He grimaced.

      Molly’s eyes widened. ‘But she had you and James.’

      He nodded. ‘I was the necessary “heir”. James’s arrival, ten years later, as the “spare”, was an accident she never let anyone forget. Including James himself,’ he added grimly. ‘She walked out on all of us, taking most of my father’s money with her, I might add—when James was only four. I was fourteen.’

      Molly blinked, surprised by this confidence coming from a man she knew to be completely sufficient unto himself. But maybe this was an insight into the reason he was like that…?

      Gideon gave a humourless smile as he glanced up and saw the expression on her face. ‘Not exactly what you expected, was it?’

      What had she expected? From his obvious wealth and self-confidence now, yes, she had assumed that Gideon had always led a charmed life—as had James seemed to. But these revelations seemed to point towards a completely different sort of childhood from the one she had imagined for them.

      But why should Gideon assume she had expected anything? That she had even given his past life a second thought…?

      ‘My father did the best he could, of course. He sent me to university, engaged nannies and then found a boarding-school for James,’ Gideon continued softly. ‘But unfortunately he died from a heart attack when I was twenty and James only ten.’

      Not the background she had imagined at all for this often seemingly arrogant man!

      She frowned slightly. ‘Why are you telling me these things, Gideon?’ she asked slowly, voicing her puzzlement.

      He gave a husky laugh. ‘Truthfully? I have no idea!’ he admitted self-derisively. ‘Perhaps it was watching your gentleness with Peter just now. Or to explain why a family Christmas like this is special to me.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Or, more probably, I just drank too much wine with lunch!’

      Molly stared at him for several seconds—at the way his hair fell endearingly over his forehead, the softness in his eyes; even his mouth was not set in that forbidding line as he gazed down at Peter.

      ‘Which question were you referring to a few minutes ago?’ she prompted huskily.

      Gideon glanced up at her. ‘About my being the one to leave here. Because if you want me to go—’

      ‘I don’t,’ she hastily assured him; it would be cruelly insensitive of her to even suggest he leave this place where he obviously felt so much at home, when he had no other family to go to.

      That could have been the reason he had told her those things about his childhood, of course—although somehow she very much doubted that Gideon was a man who would ever play upon another person’s feelings in that way; he was simply too emotionally aloof to ever welcome an emotion in others that might be interpreted as pity.

      He seemed to guess some of her thoughts, his mouth twisting scornfully. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, Molly,’ he rasped harshly. ‘I can assure you I’m actually doing very nicely, thank you!’

      Yes, he was. He was obviously financially secure, and had a career that made him much in demand. It was only in the area of having a family of his own that Gideon seemed lacking, but Molly felt sure that had to be from personal preference; she didn’t doubt for a moment that there were dozens of women who were attracted to his blond, arrogant good looks, who would willingly have married him and shared their life with him.

      Herself, to name but one…

      She straightened, knowing she must never let him guess that. ‘And I can assure you I don’t feel in the least sorry for you, Gideon,’ she told him briskly, keeping her face averted as she bent down to pick Peter up, at once feeling more relaxed as she held his scented softness against her. ‘He’s adorable, isn’t he?’ she murmured indulgently as the baby nuzzled into her neck and promptly fell asleep.

      Gideon gave a brief smile. ‘He’s certainly found a comfortable place to sleep!’

      Molly gave him a searching glance, frowning slightly. Had there been a slight edge of wistfulness in Gideon’s tone, or had she just imagined it?

      You just imagined it, she told herself firmly, knowing from the way he had virtually ignored her during lunch that there was absolutely no reason why Gideon should ever want to fall asleep on her shoulder.

      If it was her shoulder he had been referring to…

      Her gaze narrowed on him questioningly, and was instantly answered by Gideon’s mocking grin.

      No, it wasn’t her shoulder he’d been referring to.

      ‘Let me take him from you and put him in his cradle,’ Gideon offered, reaching out to take the baby, his fingers brushing lightly against Molly’s breast as he did so.

      Molly’s skin seemed to burn where those fingers had lightly touched.

      Had that touch been accidental or deliberate? she wondered as she watched Gideon cross the room and carefully place the baby in the cradle before covering him with a blanket. She still had found no answer to that question when Gideon returned to stand beside her.

      ‘Shall we leave them to sleep and take Merlin for a walk?’ he suggested huskily, even as he held out a hand as an offer to help pull her to her feet.

      Molly looked at that long, artistic hand, clearly remembering its touch upon her skin, its caresses seeking, finding her complete response. It

Скачать книгу