The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (28 page)

But to find the reason for that she would have to delve into her own emotions. And she had already done enough of that where Gabriel Vaughan was concerned.

“That just about sums it up, yes!” she confirmed hardly. “It probably has something to do with the time of year, too,” she added insultingly. “Let's face it, no one likes to be on their own at Christmas!”

And strangely, despite the fact that this Christmas was actually going to be no different from the last three she had spent with her parents, she had a feeling she was going to feel very much alone…

What had Gabe done to her? What was it that she felt towards him? Because it was no longer that mixture of fear and apprehension she had felt before.

Gabe gave a pained wince at her deliberate bluntness. “I had better make myself scarce, then, hadn't I?” He picked up his jacket, but didn't put it on. “That way you still have time to meet someone else before the big day!”

Although his words hurt—as they were meant to do!—Jane offered no defence. Nor did she try to stop him as he walked out of the door, closing it softly behind him.

There would have been no point in stopping him. They had said all that needed to be said. Probably more than needed to be said!

And she still had no idea why Gabe had pursued her so relentlessly for the last twelve days. She felt he had
offered no real explanation for such extraordinary behaviour when he had known all the time she was Janette Smythe-Roberts.

Two things she did know only too clearly, though.

One; Gabe must have loved his wife very much; he must have done to have tolerated her behaviour. Secondly—and this was against all that she had tried to do for herself for the last three years—she didn't need to delve into her own emotions to find out why she had responded to Gabe in the way that she had. She had known the answer to that question as soon as he had closed the door behind him…

Somehow—and she wasn't sure how such a thing could have happened—she had fallen in love with Gabe!

Stupidly.

Irrevocably!

J
ANE
made the drive to her parents' home on Christmas morning with more than her usual reluctance. The last few days, since Gabe had walked out of her life for good, had been such a strain to get through, and as a consequence she looked paler than usual, despite the application of blusher.

And even in those few days she had lost enough weight for it to be noticeable. She had put on a baggy thigh-length jumper, burnt orange in colour, and styled black trousers, in an effort to hide this fact from her parents. But there was nothing she could do to hide the gauntness of her face, or the dull pain in her eyes that wouldn't go away.

She had let Gabriel Vaughan get to her. Not only that, she had allowed herself to fall in love with him.

Maybe that was what he had hoped for, she had told herself over and over again in the last few days, when not even her work could blot him from her mind and senses. If it was, then he had succeeded, even if he wasn't aware of it.

At least, she hoped he wasn't aware of it. That would be the ultimate pain in this whole sorry business!

Jane drew in a deep breath after parking her van, forcing a bright smile to her lips as she got out and walked towards the house. It was only a few hours of forced
gaiety; surely she could handle that? After all, it was Christmas Day!

“You're looking very pale, darling,” her mother said, sounding concerned, kissing her in greeting as she did so.

“And you've lost weight, too,” her father added reprovingly after giving her a hug.

So much for her efforts at camouflage!

“You're both looking well too,” she returned teasingly. “And one of your Christmas lunches, Mummy, should take care of both those things!” she assured them lightly.

“I hope so,” her father said sternly. “But first things first—a glass of my Christmas punch?”

“Guaranteed to put us all to sleep this afternoon!” Jane laughed, finding she was, after all, glad to be home with her parents on this special day.

“I sincerely hope not.” Her mother smiled. “We have guests arriving after lunch!”

It was the first Jane had heard of anyone joining them on Christmas Day, but even if company was the last thing she felt in need of she was glad for her parents' sake. Whatever it was her father had become involved with on a business level, it had obviously given their social life a jolt too; it was years since they had spent Christmas with the house full of people.

Besides, company would take the pressure off her.

“In that case, I suggest we drink our punch and open our presents.” She had brought her parents' presents with her. “And then I can help you cook lunch, Mummy,” she offered—Mrs Weaver always spent Christmas with her sister in Brighton. “Windy, cold place this time of year”, the housekeeper invariably complained, but
Jane's parents insisted she must be with her family at Christmas-time.

“Busman's holiday, Janie?” her father teased.

Her smile wavered for only a fraction of a second. The last person to call her Janie had been Gabe. No, she wouldn't think of him any more today! Her parents were in very good spirits, and she would allow none of her own unhappiness to spill over and ruin their day for them.

Which proved more than a little difficult later that afternoon when the “guests” turned out to be Gabe and his parents!

It hadn't even occurred to Jane to ask who the guests were going to be, having assumed it was friends of her parents whom she had known herself since childhood, friends she could feel perfectly relaxed with.

A tall, handsome man, dark hair showing grey at his temples, entered the room first with her mother, her parents having gone together to answer the ring of the doorbell. Her father entered the room seconds later with a tall, blonde-haired woman, elegantly beautiful, her soft American drawl as she spoke softly sending warning bells through Jane even before Gabe entered the room behind the foursome.

Jane was dumbstruck. Never in her worst nightmare could she have imagined her parents inviting Gabe and his parents here on Christmas Day! They barely knew Gabe, let alone his parents, so why on earth—?

But even as she stared disbelievingly across at Gabe, his own gaze coolly challenging as he met hers, Jane knew exactly what Gabe and his parents were doing here. That day, when her mother and father had come to London so unexpectedly, had also been the day Gabe
had told her he had an important business meeting he had to get to for ten o'clock…!

Gabe
was the person who had offered her father some sort of business opening, was the reason why her father looked so much younger, and her mother looked so much more buoyant!

He couldn't! He couldn't be going to hurt her parents all over again? He—

No, she answered herself confidently even as the idea came into her head. The man she had come to know over the last two weeks, the man she loved, wouldn't do that.

Then why? What was it all about? What did it all mean?

“Think about it a while, Jane.” Gabe had strolled casually across the room to stand at her side, his tone pleasant, but those aqua-blue eyes were as cold as ice.

Like the blue of an iceberg Jane had once seen in a photograph…

“Really think about it, Jane,” he muttered harshly. “But in the meantime come and say hello to my parents.”

The trouble was, she couldn't think at all; she wasn't even aware that she was being introduced to his father, although she did note that he was an older version of his son, the only difference being that on the older man the aqua-blue eyes were warm and friendly as he shook her hand.

Marisa Vaughn, although aged in her early sixties, was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, possessed of an air of complete satisfaction with her life.

Jane found she couldn't help but like and feel drawn to both the older Vaughns.

“Janette is such a pretty name,” Marisa Vaughn murmured huskily. “It suits you, my dear.” She squeezed
Jane's arm warmly before turning away to accept the glass of punch being poured to warm them all.

“Janette has just suggested the two of us go for a walk,” Gabe put in loudly enough that the four older people could hear him over their own murmur of conversation. “Would any of you care to join us?”

“Excellent idea.” His father nodded approvingly. “But after the drive this fire—” he held out his hands to the blazing warmth of the coal fire “—has much more appeal!” He grinned at his son.

“Take my coat from the hallway, Janette,” her mother told her. “We don't want you to catch cold.”

She didn't want to go for a walk, had made no such suggestion in the first place, but with the four older people looking at her so expectantly she didn't seem to have a lot of choice in the matter. Not without appearing incredibly rude.

“I thought it best that you say what you have to say to me away from our parents,” Gabe bit out once they were outside in the crisp December air, walking over to the paddock where Jane had once kept her horse stabled.

She wasn't sure she could say anything to him, wasn't sure she could speak at all. She was still stunned by the fact that he was here at all. She had thought she would never see him again…

And how she had ached these last few days with that realisation!

How she ached now. But with quite a different emotion.

“Why, Gabe?” she finally managed to say.

He had been staring across at the bleak December landscape, a little snow having fallen in the night, leaving a crisp whiteness on everything. “Why did I come
here today with my parents?” he ground out. “Because we were invited, Jane,” he responded harshly. “It would have been rude not to have accepted.” He turned back to look over the paddock.

Jane looked up at his grim profile, his cheeks hollow, his jaw clenched. As if waiting for a blow…

She swallowed hard. “I didn't mean that.” She shook her head. “Why did you try to find me three years ago?” She felt that if she had the answer to that she might, just might, have the answer to the whole puzzle…

He looked down at her again, frowning slightly now. “I thought you already knew the answer to that one,” he rasped scathingly. “I was out to wreak vengeance, wasn't I? On a woman who had not only been deserted by her husband because of my wife, but had also been bombarded with reporters because of the scandal when the two of them died together in a car crash. Not only that, that woman had also lost her baby! That's the way it happened, isn't it, Jane?” he challenged disgustedly. “You see, I've been doing some thinking of my own!” He shook his head. “My conclusions aren't exactly pretty!”

She still stared up at him, couldn't seem to look away. She loved this man.

“I—” She moistened dry lips, swallowing hard. “I could have been wrong—”

“Could have been?” Gabe turned fully towards her now, grasping her arms painfully. “There's no ‘could have been' about it, Jane; if that's what you thought, you were wrong!” His eyes glittered dangerously, a nerve pulsing in his cheek. “In fact, you're so damned far from the truth it's laughable. If I felt like laughing, that is,” he muttered grimly. “Which I don't!”

She had done a lot of thinking herself over the last few days, and knew that somehow, some way, there was something wrong with what she had believed until two weeks ago, when she'd actually met Gabe for the first time. Maybe Gabe had been devastated by Jennifer's death, but the man she had come to know wouldn't blame anyone else for that death; he'd known the destructive streak that had motivated his wife better than anyone.

So if he hadn't wanted retribution all those years ago, what had he wanted…? It was that Jane wanted—needed—to know.

“Gabe, I was wrong,” she told him chokingly, putting her hand on his arm, refusing to remove it even when she felt him flinch. “I know that now. I know
you
now.”

He shook his head. “No, you don't, Jane. Not really.”

And now she never would? Was that what he was saying?

She didn't want that, couldn't bear it if she were never to see him again after today. The past few days had been bad enough, but to go through that pain all over again…!

“Gabe, I'm trying to apologise. For what I thought,” she explained abruptly.

“Accepted.” He nodded tersely, his expression still hard. “Can we go back inside now?” he added gratingly.

“Why are you helping my father, Gabe?” She refused to move, knowing that once they were back inside the house Gabe would become a remote stranger to her. And after telling him for days that that was what she wanted him to be it was now the last thing she wanted.

He gave a rueful grimace. “So you know about that
too now, hmm?” He nodded dismissively. “Well, obviously I'm up to something underhand and malicious, entangling your father in some sort of plot—”

“Gabe!” Jane groaned her distress at his bitterness. “I was wrong! I know I was wrong! I'm sorry. What else can I say?” She looked at him pleadingly.

He became very still now, looking down at her warily. “What else do you want to say?”

So many things, but most of all, that she loved him. But how cautious she had, by necessity, been over the last three years of her life held her back from being quite that daring. What if he should throw that love back in her face?

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I think your mother likes me,” she told him lightly, remembering what his mother's opinion of Jennifer had been.

His expression softened. “You're right, she does,” he acknowledged dryly. “But then, I knew she would,” he added enigmatically.

“Gabe, tell me why you tried to find me three years ago!” She tried again, because she was still sure this was the key to everything. “Please, Gabe,” she pleaded as he looked grim once again.

“Do you have any idea what it's like to love someone so badly you can't even see straight?” he attacked viciously. “So that you think of nothing else but that person, until they fill your whole world? Do you have any idea what it's like to love someone like that?” he groaned harshly. “And then to have them disappear from your life as if they had never been, almost as if you had imagined them ever being there at all?” His hands were clenched at his sides, his face pale.

She was beginning to. Oh, yes, she was beginning to!
And if he could still talk about his dead wife like this, still felt that way about her, then her own love for him was as worthless as ashes.

She drew in a deep breath. “I'm sorry Jennifer died—”

“Jennifer? I'm not talking about Jennifer!” he dismissed incredulously. “She was my wife, and as such I cared what happened to her, and could never actually bring myself to hate her—I felt pity for her more than anything. I hadn't loved her for years before she died. If I ever did,” he added bleakly. “Compared with what I now know of love I believe I was initially fascinated by Jennifer, and then, after we were married, that fascination quickly turned to a rather sad affection. Beneath that surface selfishness was a very vulnerable woman, a woman who saw herself as being less than other women—I've already explained to you why that was. So you see, Jane, I felt sorry for Jennifer, I cared for her, but I was not in love with her. Before or after she died,” he said grimly.

“But—” Jane looked at him with puzzled eyes. If it wasn't Jennifer, then who was this mysterious woman he loved…? “That perfect woman—the woman who evaporated, disappeared before your eyes.” She painfully recalled what he had told her of the woman he loved. The woman she had for so long assumed was Jennifer…

“What about her?” he echoed harshly.

Jane shook her head. “Where is she?
Who
is she?”

Gabe looked down at her with narrowed eyes, his expression softening as he saw the look of complete bewilderment in her face. “You really don't know, do you?” He shook his head self-derisively, moving away from her to lean back against the fence, the collar of his
jacket turned up to keep out the worst of the cold. “I was at a party one night—one of those endless parties that are impossible to enjoy, but you simply can't get away from. And then I looked across the crowded room—that well-worn cliché!—and there she was.”