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?’
‘More than possible, I’m afraid,’ her mother sighed. ‘You know, Bryn,’ she said slowly, evenly, ‘it took me years to accept this, but your father was responsible for everything that happened to him.’ Exactly the words Gabriel had used to Bryn just days ago.
‘Not me. Not you,’ her mother continued firmly. ‘Not anyone else involved in that mess. Just your father. He gambled not just with his own future but with ours too, and he lost. We all lost. But having met Rhys, finding such happiness with him, has shown me that we don’t have to continue to let ourselves be the losers, darling.’
‘I’m not a loser—’
‘Bryn, I’ve watched the way you’ve avoided all involvement with men these past five years,’ her mother admonished gently. ‘And I’m telling you now that the only way of allowing yourself to go forward is to let go of the past.’
Tears blurred Bryn’s vision. ‘Sometimes that’s easier said than done.’
‘But it can be done.’ Her mother reached out and grasped Bryn’s hand tightly in hers. ‘I’m living proof of that.’
Yes, her mother’s happiness with Rhys now was living proof of that. Except... Gabriel had been directly involved in that past her mother spoke of. Not as a spectator, or someone removed from the situation, but as a full participant.
‘We’ll see.’ She squeezed her mother’s hand reassuringly. ‘But could we just forget about this for now? Talk about something else?’
Her mother looked less than happy with the idea. ‘If that’s what you really want.’
‘It is.’
Mary nodded. ‘You know where I am when and if you want to talk.’
Yes, Bryn knew; she just couldn’t see a time she would ever be able to tell her mother of the emotional tangle she had got herself into with Gabriel.
* * *
‘Did you have a good time in Wales last week?’ Gabriel’s expression was guarded as he looked down at Bryn and saw the way the colour drained from her cheeks. She slowly looked up from the magazine she was reading at the back of the coffee shop, the girl who had prepared his coffee having told him where Bryn was sitting taking her evening break.
Gabriel knew that Bryn had to have been back in London for four days now, but she hadn’t come anywhere near the gallery, or him. Mainly him, Gabriel suspected.
The fact that his unexpected appearance at the coffee shop this evening had caused Bryn’s face to pale so dramatically, as well as striking her uncharacteristically dumb, would seem to confirm that suspicion.
He pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down before placing his mug of coffee down on the table between them. ‘Everything all right at home?’
Her throat moved as she swallowed before answering him. ‘Fine, thank you.’
‘That’s good.’ Gabriel leaned back in the chair to stretch his long legs out in front of him as he continued to study Bryn.
She appeared somehow fragile to his critical gaze. Her face was pale, and there were hollows in her cheeks that hadn’t been there a week ago, implying that she had lost weight since he saw her last. Her eyes were also shadowed and bruised-looking, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.
Because she had been
