could be.’ She shrugged dismissively, more interested in cooking dinner for them all than worrying about hang-up calls.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Molly,’ he snapped.
Her eyes widened indignantly. ‘I’m being ridiculous?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘Every time something bad happens around here you automatically assume I have to somehow be involved. No doubt you think I’m somehow responsible for these calls, too?’ she challenged scathingly.
‘Hardly, when you’re standing right here beside me,’ he returned harshly.
She shook her head disgustedly. ‘I suppose that’s one thing in my favour.’
Gideon drew in a harsh breath, obviously controlling his temper with effort. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I was wrong earlier, concerning that article in the newspaper…’
‘Are you?’ Molly’s eyes flashed disbelievingly. ‘Are you really?’ she repeated.
‘Yes,’ he hissed, his jaw tightly clenched, eyes darkly blue in his pale, strained face.
Molly frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Do you think those calls could be from another reporter after a story? Or possibly even the same one?’ she added hardly.
‘They could be, I suppose,’ Gideon said slowly. ‘Although why would they keep hanging up in that way?’
Molly shrugged. ‘Because it isn’t Crys or Sam answering the calls?’
‘But how would they know that?’ Gideon didn’t look convinced by this theory.
Neither was Molly, if the truth were known, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation for them. Unless they really were just wrong numbers…
‘I’ve disposed of the newspaper, by the way,’ he added harshly.
‘I never had any doubts that you would,’ Molly returned with obvious sarcasm.
‘Molly—’
‘Gideon,’ she interrupted firmly. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but I’m trying to cook dinner for all of us.’ She indicated the potatoes she had been peeling, and the duck sitting in the baking tray waiting to go in the Aga.
He frowned for several seconds, and then his attention shifted to the partly prepared food. Amusement glittered in those dark blue eyes when his gaze finally returned to hers. ‘Do you actually know how to cook?’ That amusement was reflected in his mocking tone.
Christmas is a time of ‘peace and goodwill to all men’, Molly, she reminded herself firmly. And one thing she had learnt about Gideon Webber these last few days—he was definitely a man.
She drew in a controlling breath. ‘More than you do, I’m sure,’ she told him with determined control; the duck would be much better cooked and then enjoyed by them all than aimed at this man’s arrogant head.
‘I’m sure, too,’ he conceded with an acknowledging tilt of his head. ‘The only thing I know about cooking is that one should keep the chef readily supplied with wine. Red or white?’ he offered lightly.
Molly stared at him incredulously. Just when she thought she really detested this man, he did something nice. Throwing her into complete confusion.
As if she wasn’t confused enough already. She had every reason to loathe and detest this man, and yet every time he walked into a room she was physically totally aware of him.
Like now!
‘Red, thanks,’ she accepted stiltedly, before turning sharply away to bend down and put the duck in the oven. ‘And, just to put your mind at rest about the cooking,’ she told him, ‘when I was “resting” about five years ago…’ her tone was dry, as she knew that Gideon would be as aware as anyone else that the term ‘resting’, when applied to an actor, actually meant ‘out of work’ ‘…I helped Crys out in the kitchen of her restaurant. I’m sure it won’t be up to her standard, but—Oh!’ She had turned to find Gideon standing only inches away from her, and was suddenly breathless as she stared up into eyes the colour of a clear midnight sky.
‘Oh, indeed,’ Gideon murmured huskily, making no effort to give her the glass of wine he held in his hand.
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 them of the passing of time. Even Merlin was quiet as he dozed in front of the Aga.
Molly’s mouth had gone dry, and colour 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?
Well, that particular solution might be a little drastic—but at least he would know that his suspicions concerning herself and James were completely unfounded.
‘Why are you smiling in that “I know something you don’t” way?’ Gideon prompted huskily, his dark gaze once again warily guarded.
It completely broke the moment of shared intimacy…
Thank goodness.
Molly sighed as she stepped thankfully away. ‘I was merely wondering when you were going to give me my glass of wine,’ she invented pointedly, at the same time drawing in deeply controlling breaths, completely flustered by these moments of intense intimacy she seemed to be sharing with Gideon more and more.
In the future—for the next three days, in fact—the less time she spent alone with Gideon, the better she would like it.
He looked down frowningly at the glass he still held, as if surprised to see it there in his hand. ‘What can I do to help?’ he offered abruptly, at the same time putting the glass of wine down on the worktop beside her.
Leave the kitchen and give her a few moments’ respite from his totally evocative company seemed like a good idea to Molly right now.
Although, from the efficient way he picked up the vegetable knife and looked at her expectantly, she didn’t think that suggestion was going to work. ‘Finish the potatoes for me, if you will,’ she dismissed airily, determinedly turning her own attention to preparing Brussels sprouts with almonds.
Molly wasn’t under any illusions that the silence between them was in the least comfortable. She knew that just one word—the wrong word—could trigger hostilities between them once again.
Peace and goodwill—ha!
‘WELL, isn’t this a nice scene of domestic harmony?’ David murmured approvingly a short time later.
