‘Because you’re happy in my company. And our earlier occupation does rather tend to stimulate the appetite. So what do you fancy, Gabriel?’
‘Whatever harmonises with champagne.’
‘Done. Get back into bed and I’ll see what I can do.’ He put down his glass on the small desk that served as a dressing table, gave Gabriel a swift kiss and went whistling from the room.
Adam was happy, she thought tenderly. And so was she. Gabriel took another look in the bronze-framed mirror on the wall over the desk, seeing a face rather different from the one she’d confronted in her own mirror lately. The anxiety was gone from her eyes, and in its place shone something new. Was this what love did for the looks? Because by now she had no doubt that what she shared with Adam wasn’t just sex of a standard she’d never dreamed of experiencing, but the forever kind of love that came in the same category. Gabriel turned away to tidy the chaotic bed, and by the time Adam came back with a plate of sandwiches she was sitting against propped-up pillows, waiting impatiently for him.
‘I hope you like smoked salmon.’ He gave her the plate, took a couple of paper napkins from his pocket, tossed the robe on a chair and got into bed as matter-of-factly as though they’d done this a hundred times before. ‘Best choice with champagne.’
‘As I said before, decadent,’ said Gabriel, smiling at him happily. ‘And I love smoked salmon.’ And everything else. The house, the bedroom, the evening they’d spent together, the bliss of Adam’s lovemaking. And, most important of all, she loved Adam Dysart.
‘That’s a pensive look, darling,’ he commented, taking a sandwich. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Just that this has been the happiest day—and night— I’ve ever spent,’ she said simply.
Adam turned her face to his, his face very grave. ‘You mean that?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘To quote someone near—and very dear—to me, I always say what I mean,’ she assured him, and received an oddly reverent kiss of gratitude as her reward.
They both polished off the sandwiches, drank a little more champagne, and Adam got out of bed to put the plate and glasses on the tray, totally unselfconscious of his nudity, then got back into bed and took Gabriel into his arms.
‘Time you were asleep, my angel,’ he said caressingly, and she smiled up at him.
‘Are you tired?’
He thought about it. ‘I should be,’ he agreed, ‘but I’m not.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘So how shall I lull you to sleep? I can’t sing.’
She sighed. ‘And I’m past the age for a bedtime story.’
Adam began unbuttoning her shirt. ‘Only one thing for it, then,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, please,’ she whispered back, and with a smothered laugh Adam reached up and switched out the light.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS noon next day before Adam drove Gabriel home, and, just as he’d forecast, all was normal in bright sunshine very different from the torrential rain of the day before. The rapidly drying mud showed no tyre marks or footsteps to betray the presence of any intruder, and Gabriel, reassured that there had been no break-in during her rapturous night away from Haywards Farm, told Adam to read the Sunday papers bought en route, then rushed upstairs to switch off the lights and change her clothes.
Afterwards Gabriel pounded garlic and rosemary to blend with olive oil and lemon juice to sprinkle over the chicken breasts bought the day before, while Adam scrubbed potatoes, then on the cook’s request shelled the peas to prevent her from devouring them raw before they made it to the pot.
They talked non-stop as they worked, filling in the gaps in the years they’d spent apart from each other as they lingered over the meal. Afterwards they went out for a walk through lanes which wound through fields which had once all been Hayward land, and later returned to spend the evening in front of the television, entwined in each other’s arms in one of the armchairs, until Gabriel fell asleep on Adam’s shoulder and had to be woken up to go to bed.
‘Heavens, I’m sorry,’ she said penitently, and yawned so widely Adam laughed indulgently.
‘Go on. Get ready for bed, then I’ll come and kiss you goodnight, and because you insist on sleeping here alone tonight, you can lock your bedroom door, and I’ll take myself off home.’
The following week flew by as Gabriel spent her days applying a succession of thin coats of varnish to the portrait, and her evenings and nights at the Stables with Adam, who after the Sunday night had refused to let her sleep alone again at Haywards.
‘But the portrait—’ she’d objected.
‘If you’re that worried about it we’ll take it with us,’ he said flatly, ‘but I couldn’t sleep last night for worrying about you, so from now on you spend the night at the Stables. With me.’
‘Only until your parents come home, then.’
Adam frowned. ‘What difference will that make?’
‘I’d rather they got used to me by degrees before—’
‘Before you move in with me?’ he said swiftly.
Gabriel looked startled. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘How will your family feel about that?’
‘Since the question’s never arisen before, I can’t say for sure. But, knowing them as I do, I’m sure they’ll be happy I’ve found someone to share my life. Especially,’ he added, taking her in his arms, ‘when that someone is you, Gabriel Brett.’
On that Monday morning of the following week Wayne arrived earlier than usual, just as Adam’s car was disappearing up the lane to make for Pennington.
‘I thought I’d make an early start, Gabriel,’ he said, in response to her surprised greeting. ‘Can I have the keys?’
Gabriel, who had been looking forward to a quiet half-hour on her own before starting work, handed the keys over, then switched on the kettle, determined to enjoy a peaceful cup of coffee alone before going to the barn. She had barely taken a sip when Wayne burst back into the kitchen, wild-eyed.
‘The portrait,’ he gasped. ‘It’s missing!’
Gabriel ground her teeth in frustration. Adam had taken so long to kiss her goodbye he’d forgotten about the painting, which was still in the back of his estate car, now en route for Pennington. ‘It’s all right, Wayne,’ she said calmly. ‘Adam’s got it.’
He frowned. ‘But I thought you were going to reframe it today.’
‘I am. Adam’s taken it away by mistake. I’ll call him.’
‘No need,’ he said belligerently, looking through the window. ‘He’s on his way down the lane right now.’
‘So he is. Go and unlock the barn, please, Wayne. Adam can take the portrait straight to my bench.’
When Adam came in a few minutes later he gave her a wry grin. ‘Sorry, darling. I forgot about the portrait. Wayne is very uptight about it.’
‘I know!’ She pulled a face. ‘Which means permafrost in the barn today.’
‘I told you he had a crush on you, sweetheart.’ Adam put a finger under her chin. ‘Handle him carefully, but if there’s any trouble, call me. I’ll deal with it.’
‘Which would only make matters worse.’ She reached up to kiss him. ‘I’ll bring him round, but I think I’ll wait until Eddie arrives before I start work.’
‘I’ll ring you tonight. And I’ll miss you like hell.’ Adam crushed her close. ‘Are you sure you won’t come round this evening?’
‘No. Enjoy it alone with your parents. It’s not fair to spring me on them the moment they come home.’ Gabriel rubbed her cheek against his. ‘Besides, you and your father will want to talk shop. And with the preview looming you’ll be tired anyway.’ She pulled away, smiling up at him. ‘We haven’t had much sleep lately, you and I.’
‘Why would I waste time in sleep with you in my bed?’
‘Thank you, kind sir. Now go. Oh, and tomorrow you can come and take Henrietta away for good.’ Gabriel smiled ruefully. ‘Though I’m going to miss her.’
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As anticipated, the atmosphere in the barn was arctic, even with Eddie’s attempts to lighten it. By lunchtime Gabriel had returned the canvas to its frame, and was glad to escape into the house to eat a sandwich on her own, without Wayne’s hostile eyes following her every move. After treating herself to a longer lunchbreak than usual once the portrait was finished, Gabriel went back to the barn and asked Eddie to go down to the vault to fetch the canvas she’d been ready to start on when Adam had appeared with the Singleton.
‘So what’s up, Wayne?’ she said bluntly, the moment they were alone.
‘Up?’ he said defensively.
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
He took his headband off and ran his fingers through his fair, tousled curls, his eyes sliding away. ‘It’s just that I promised your father to—well, to take care of you while he was away. It was a shock to find the portrait missing this morning.’
‘Especially when you learned it was in Adam Dysart’s car.’
‘If anything had happened to it you couldn’t have claimed on insurance,’ said Wayne self-righteously.
‘It’s Adam’s property,’ she reminded him.
‘Are you Adam’s property now, too?’ he blurted.
There was a sudden, deadly silence. ‘When my father asked you to help,’ said Gabriel, her eyes like ice, ‘he did not mean intrusion into my private life. Is that understood?’
Eddie came back in and stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Is this a private row, or can anyone join in?’ he asked.
‘Just a little air-clearing,’ said Gabriel. ‘Let’s get back to work.’
Without the excitement of the work on the Singleton canvas the day seemed endless, and Gabriel was deeply thankful when Wayne and Eddie had gone home and she was safely locked in the kitchen which, for once, felt like sanctuary after hours of trying to ignore Wayne’s jealous disapproval.
When Adam rang later he spent a few moments telling her a great many gratifying things before confirming that his parents had arrived home safely.
‘Good,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’ve reframed the portrait, so for heaven’s sake come and take it away tomorrow. Wayne was impossible after he found it missing this morning. I’ve spent the entire day in the deep freeze.’
‘As I said before,’ said Adam, suddenly grim, ‘just say the word and I’ll tell him you belong to me, Gabriel Brett. And that I belong to you, just in case he, or anyone else, harbours any doubts on the subject.’
‘I don’t, Adam.’
‘Say that again?’
‘I’m not in any doubt.’
Adam breathed in deeply. ‘I wish I had you in my arms right now.’
‘Likewise. But you’re due home. So go.’
‘I’ll see you first thing in the morning.’
‘After the boys arrive, please. I can’t face another day like that again!’
Gabriel made herself some supper while she watched something undemanding on television, then made her usual call to her parents.
‘Your father’s in really good shape now,’ said Laura. ‘The weather’s been so good we’ve walked for miles.’
‘No fighting?’
‘None. As I’ve told you before, we give each other plenty of space, go out for meals, or I cook dinner here. I promise that nothing’s happened to retard Harry’s convalescence.’
‘I’m sure it hasn’t,’ said Gabriel gratefully. ‘Thanks, Mother. I finished the Singleton portrait today, by the way.’
‘Then I’ll call Harry. He’s sure to want every last detail.’
After a long chat with her father, to report on her success with the varnish and reframing, Gabriel had a word about the current restoration she’d returned to, then asked to speak to her mother again.
‘I thought you’d like to know, Mother dear, that Adam and I are now good friends.’
‘Good friends,’ repeated Laura, after a pause. ‘How good?’
‘Very good.’
‘Am I allowed to report this?’
‘Yes. Dad will be pleased.’
‘So am I. I liked Adam a lot.’
‘I like him, too.’
‘Like him?’
‘Oh, all right. I’m madly in love with him. Are you happy now?’
‘Very. But only because you are, darling.’
Gabriel was in the barn early next morning, absorbed in cleaning a small landscape while Eddie and Wayne tackled another set of prints, work that Harry Brett considered good training for the more demanding job of restoring water colours. When Adam’s car drew up outside she pushed up her headband and went to the door to find that he hadn’t come alone. A tall man with greying fair hair got out of the car, smiling, his hand outstretched as he reached her before Adam.
‘Good morning. I’m Tom Dysart. We’ve met before.’
‘Have we?’ She smiled at him, wishing she looked more appealing. ‘How do you do?’
‘You were a toddler in pigtails, apparently,’ said Adam, and took Gabriel in his arms and kissed her. ‘Good morning, darling. How did you sleep last night?’
‘Very well,’ she said breathlessly, her colour high. ‘I’m sorry I don’t remember meeting you, Mr Dysart.’
‘Call me Tom.’ He eyed her workmanlike outfit with approval. ‘I would have known you anyway; you’re so much like your father, Gabriel. How is he?’
‘Doing well, according to my mother. Lots of long walks and my mother’s cooking are doing the trick, apparently.’
‘I’m please to hear it. And talking of cooking, Gabriel,’ said Tom Dysart, ‘I am bidden to ask you to supper tonight. Frances said nothing special, just a family meal.’
‘Why—thank you,’ she said, exchanging a wild look with Adam. ‘It’s very kind of her.’
‘No kindness involved,’ Adam assured her. ‘Once I told her about you my mother couldn’t wait to meet you.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said, not quite truthfully.
‘I’ll come for you on my way home,’ said Adam, the gleam in his eyes telling her he understood only too well. ‘Sevenish. Now. Let’s take Henrietta off your hands.’
Gabriel called to Eddie to fetch the portrait out into the bright morning light, and watched in anticipation as Tom Dysart’s astute eyes gleamed at the sight of it.
‘I know this is your specialty, Adam,’ he told his son, ‘but even a furniture buff like me can tell a quality painting when I see it. What a beauty.’
‘Which one?’ said Gabriel.
‘The girl with the blue eyes.’
‘Violet,’ corrected Adam, gazing at long-dead Henrietta Scudamore so possessively Gabriel felt a ludicrous stab of jealousy.
‘Richard Taylor Singleton, eh?’ said Tom thoughtfully as his son stowed the painting in the car. ‘What price are you expecting?’
‘I rang my pal at Sotheby’s and asked him to put out discreet feelers. He’s getting back to me today,’ said Adam. ‘And talking of today, it’s time you got back to work, Dad, after all this lazing about in Tuscany.’
‘True.’ Tom smiled warmly at Gabriel. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I’ll see you tonight.’
‘So will I,’ said Adam, and kissed her again before driving very carefully down the potholes of the lane, as though he had a cargo of dynamite in the car instead of a painting.
Fully expecting a return to icy hostility in the barn, Gabriel was surprised by an offer from Wayne to make coffee.
‘Sorry about yesterday,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Realise what?’ she said, surprised.
‘That things were—well, serious between you and Adam. Which is none of my business, I know,’ he added hastily.
‘OK, Wayne, let’s forget it,’ she said, and smiled. ‘And I’d love some coffee.’
The work on the landscape was so much less exacting than Gabriel’s labours on the Singleton portrait that it left her mind free to worry over the coming confrontation with Adam’s mother. Adam had made his rela
tionship with Gabriel Brett very clear to his father, and as far as she could tell Tom Dysart seemed perfectly happy about it. But mothers were different. And Adam was Frances Dysart’s only son.
By the time Adam arrived Gabriel was ready in the pink dress, her face tense beneath her hair she’d brushed into a severe twist. ‘Do I look all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘No,’ he said bluntly, and took down her hair, muffling her protests with a kiss. ‘That’s better,’ he said in approval, as the heavy mass came tumbling down. ‘Why the Jane Eyre look?’
‘I wanted to make a good impression on your mother,’ she said irritably, diving for hairpins. ‘Now I’m a mess.’
‘You impressed my father in your overalls with your hair stuffed under a baseball cap,’ Adam pointed out.
‘Mothers are different.’
‘Come here,’ he said gruffly, and held her close. ‘I love you, Gabriel Brett, and I missed you last night. Did you miss me?’
‘Horribly.’
‘Show me how much.’
Gabriel obliged to such effect that Adam thrust her away from him at last. ‘Any more of that and you know what will happen. And we don’t have time.’
‘And now I need to do my face again!’
Gabriel brushed her hair, but left it down on Adam’s orders, redid her face, collected the small but expensive box of chocolates Wayne had volunteered to ride into town to buy for her, and told Adam she was ready.
‘Or as ready as I’ll ever be,’ she said glumly, as she got in his car.
‘Would you prefer to plead a headache and call the whole evening off?’ demanded Adam.
‘Of course not!’ She glared at him. ‘But what if your mother doesn’t like me?’
‘Everything will be fine, I promise.’
And, much to Gabriel’s relief, he was right. Any awkwardness at the moment of arrival vanished when a large, yelping blur of golden fur launched itself at Adam, who pushed the dog down, laughing, and called it to heel.
‘This is Pan, son of Marzipan, Fenny’s dog, the elderly gentleman plodding along behind. They’ve been in kennels while Mother and Dad were away,’ said Adam, fondling the excited retriever.
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