But, as Ellie knew only too well, Gareth most certainly wasn’t the right man to share that option!
“You’re only twenty-one, Sarah,” she teased. “There’s plenty of time for that once you’ve done all the other things you want to do with your life. Didn’t you once mention that you wanted to do some fashion designing of your own?”
“I’ve already done some,” Sarah told her excitedly. “I had totally forgotten in the excitement of the last few weeks,” she went on ruefully, “but I’m waiting for Jacques, the designer I worked with in Paris, to tell me what he thinks of them.”
Ah. So Sarah hadn’t completely given up on her life in Paris after all…
“That sounds interesting,” Ellie encouraged. “Do you think that will affect your engagement to Gareth?”
Sarah looked startled. “I must admit I hadn’t given that much thought.” She grimaced. “This being engaged and having to think of another person is all new to me,” she added self-derisively. “But I would really like to follow it through if Jacques thinks I have any talent at all.”
Again, this was encouraging, Ellie thought; it showed the other woman wasn’t yet quite so tied up in her relationship with Gareth that she had given up on her own ambitions.
“I’m sure Gareth will understand if we have to wait a while before getting married,” Sarah added dismissively.
Ellie thought the other woman was being slightly optimistic concerning Gareth’s patience in that direction—after all, the sooner Sarah was his wife, the sooner his position at Delacorte, Delacorte and Delacorte was secured—but wisely she didn’t voice any of those doubts to Sarah.
She did, however, relay the conversation to Patrick when he arrived to collect her that evening.
“You look wonderful, Ellie.” He stood back to look at her appreciatively.
Ellie felt warmth in her cheeks at his praise. “Patrick, didn’t you hear what I said? Sarah—”
“Still has plans to become a fashion designer,” he finished dismissively. “That’s great. But—”
“Just ‘great’?” Ellie persisted frowningly. “Don’t you realise this could be the way to drive a rift between her and Gareth?”
“Well, of course I realise that,” he confirmed lightly. “He isn’t going to like the idea of a delayed marriage at all.”
“Exactly,” Ellie said with satisfaction. “Which is good—isn’t it…?” she added uncertainly when Patrick didn’t look as thrilled by the news as she had been earlier.
“Very good.” He nodded. “But at the moment I’m more interested in the way you look, Ellie. That dress is—you look wonderful,” he said again.
Ellie had given in to impulse and gone back to the shop to buy the blue silk gown, aware that it was costing a small fortune but for the moment not caring. She had also swept up her hair and applied kohl to her eyes, as Sarah had suggested. The finished effect was pretty good, even if she did say so herself. And it was also good that Patrick liked the way she looked this evening. Wasn’t it…?
That was the particular problem she had at the moment. There was no denying that she was attracted to Patrick, that she more than liked being in his company, but at the same time she was still very much aware that their relationship was nothing but a sham. It certainly wouldn’t do for either of them to forget that. Because once this situation had been sorted out she and Patrick would go back to being strangers—perhaps occasionally mentioned to each other by Toby, but other than that strangers.
The fact that Patrick was once again dressed in evening clothes, and it made her heart flutter just to look at him, was not something Ellie could allow herself to dwell on!
There was also the matter of the large flat white box he had carried in under his arm…
“You told me off yesterday evening for repeating things,” she reminded him dryly.
“Telling you how beautiful you look in that dress deserves to be repeated,” he said unrepentantly, his gaze still appreciative. “It’s blue too,” he added with satisfaction.
“Shouldn’t we be going?” Ellie prompted sharply, after a glance at her wristwatch, not particularly wanting to get into a conversation about why she had chosen this particular gown. “After all, there’s politely late and then there’s just bad manners!”
Patrick laughed softly. “You sound like my mother!”
Great! Just the person she wanted to be likened to!
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Patrick removed the heavy winter coat from her hand as she would have put it on, throwing it back over a chair before laying the white box on the kitchen table and removing the lid. “I bought you a present today,” he told her lightly, folding back the tissue paper in the box.
“A present?” Ellie gaped. “For me? But—”
“For you,” Patrick repeated firmly, taking something black and woollen out of the box. “It’s a pashmina. It’s made from the soft wool of goats in Northern India—”
“I know what it’s made from,” Ellie cut in dazedly, staring at the soft woollen shawl. She also knew that it was very expensive! “Patrick, you really shouldn’t have—”
“I really should,” he told her firmly, shaking out the long shawl to drape it decorously about her shoulders. “You deserve something in the way of thanks for what you’re doing. Think of it as an early Christmas present. Besides,” he added as she would have protested again, “that black coat does absolutely nothing for you,” he told her dryly.
Or for the image of the woman who was to be his partner for the evening, Ellie realized ruefully.
Not that he wasn’t right about her long black winter coat; it had been bought more for warmth rather than as any sort of fashion statement. It was just the fact of Patrick having bought her a gift—an expensive one at that—that was so disturbing. And it might be Christmas in just over a week’s time, but Patrick wouldn’t have been buying her a present anyway…
But the shawl did feel so warm, and it had such panache—its front drape fell to just above her knees; the other drape was thrown stylishly across one shoulder by Patrick. She didn’t want to refuse it!
Patrick’s hands moved up to cradle either side of her face as he looked down at her intently. “Just say, ‘Thank you, Patrick’, politely,” he told her dryly. “Give me a kiss for good measure. And then we’ll be on our way.”
She tried to swallow, knowing which part of those instructions had suddenly caused this obstruction in her throat. Verbally thanking him would be no problem—
“Too difficult?” he teased mockingly. “Okay, just kiss me and we’ll forget all about saying thank you!”
That was the part that was bothering her! And Patrick knew it too. The light of challenge burned in those otherwise enigmatic grey eyes.
The problem was, if she “just” kissed him, as he suggested, would either of them be able to forget about that? Ellie knew that she wouldn’t!
“Don’t take too long deciding, Ellie,” Patrick told her dryly. “Or the party will be over before we even get there!”
Which, to Ellie’s mind, wouldn’t be a bad thing!
But she was prevaricating. She knew she was. Patrick knew she was, too. Why not just kiss him and get it over with?
“Thank you for my present, Patrick.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “But you shouldn’t have—”
Patrick put silencing fingertips over her lips. “Don’t ruin it, Ellie,” he told her huskily. “And do you call that a kiss?” he added derisively. “Sarah shows me more enthusiasm than you just did!”
Sarah was his cousin, and perfectly free to kiss him as enthusiastically as she chose. Ellie—who wasn’t quite sure what she was to him—felt rather more constrained.
“How about you try again, hmm?” Patrick encouraged throatily.
He was suddenly very close. Ellie was able to feel the warmth of his body, smell his spicy aftershave, and as she looked up into his eyes she could see that his pupils were dilated, so that only a ring of grey showed a
bout the eyes.
“Patrick…!” She groaned huskily, before she once again rose on tiptoe, her mouth soft and pliant against his as she kissed him with all the pent-up longing inside her.
Patrick’s arms moved about her waist as he pulled her in against his body, although he let Ellie continue to control the kiss.
If you could call it control when she just wanted to melt against him and give in to the languorous yearning of her body!
“Wow!” he breathed slowly when Ellie broke the kiss, lightly resting his forehead against hers. “Now, that’s what I call a kiss. You have hidden talents, Miss Fairfax,” he added warmly.
Ellie swallowed hard. “I—”
“Will I do?” Toby burst unceremoniously into the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw how close Ellie and Patrick were standing to each other. “Sorry.” He grimaced self-consciously. “I had no idea— I mean—”
“You’ll do, Toby,” the older man told him dryly as he stepped away from Ellie. “I was just telling your sister how beautiful she looks this evening,” he prompted pointedly.
“Er—yes, sis, you look great,” Toby said, a perplexed frown on his brow. He still sounded slightly flustered—as well he might; the last thing he had expected was to see Ellie and Patrick in what must have looked like a clinch!
Ellie was a little puzzled as to why Toby was dressed in a black dinner suit and white shirt…
Patrick shot the younger man a searching look, and whatever he saw there in Toby’s face caused him to give an impatient shake of his head. “Did I forget to mention that Toby is coming with us this evening?” he said blandly, turning to pick up his car keys from where he had left them on the table earlier.
Not only had he forgotten to mention it—but so had Toby!
CHAPTER SIX
ELLIE still had no idea, seated beside Patrick in the front of the car as he drove competently through the busy streets, why her brother should be accompanying them.
Obviously he was Patrick’s assistant, but this was a family party, to celebrate—or commiserate!—with Sarah on her engagement to Gareth. Admittedly, Toby obviously knew much more of the Delacorte family than Ellie had at first realised, but what possible place did he have amongst such a gathering?
She gave a dismissive shake of her head, giving up on trying to work that one out; she already had enough to think about this evening without worrying about why her brother should have been invited too.
Patrick’s present, for one thing…
Even now Ellie snuggled down into the warmth of the shawl, loving the feel of the soft wool against her arms. And Patrick had obviously been out and bought the gift himself. Which made it doubly precious.
That kiss, for another thing…
Given enough opportunity, she could quite get used to kissing Patrick. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything she enjoyed more, could still feel the sensuous warmth of his lips against hers…
Stop it, she instantly ordered herself exasperatedly. There was no point in getting used to Patrick kissing her. In fact, it might never happen again, so she had better get used to that!
The Delacorte house was ablaze with lights as Patrick parked the car outside. Over twenty cars were already parked in the long driveway—Jaguars, Mercedes, Rolls Royces and the occasional Range Rover, Ellie noted with a self-conscious grimace.
As Gareth had quickly realized when he’d come to work for Delacorte, Delacorte and Delacorte, Ellie was quite a favourite with George Delacorte, but she had never actually been to George and Mary’s house before. She now found a butler opening the door to their ring, a maid taking their coats and wraps. The luxurious décor and furnishings of the house were all a bit overwhelming.
Did Patrick’s parents have a house like this one too?
Probably, she acknowledged heavily. Even if, as she vaguely remembered Toby once telling her, as a bachelor of thirty-eight Patrick lived in an apartment of his own in town.
All this luxury made their own little house seem positively minute in comparison!
But then there was no point in comparison; the obvious wealth of Patrick’s relatives only served to emphasise the differences between the two of them. Differences she would do well to remember.
There was the sound of voices and laughter coming from a sitting room that led off to the right of the huge reception hall, and it was to this room that Patrick took them, his hand lightly under Ellie’s elbow. Almost as if he knew that what she really wanted to do was turn tail and run!
“My family doesn’t bite, Ellie,” Patrick told her mockingly now. “At least not on first acquaintance!” he added tauntingly.
“How reassuring,” Ellie drawled, taking a glass of champagne from the circulating waiter.
“If the two of you will excuse me…?” Toby muttered distractedly, before disappearing into the throng of people already crowded into the room.
Ellie watched his departure with puzzlement. “What—?”
“Let’s go and say hello to George and Mary,” Patrick suggested lightly. “You had better hold my hand.” He held it out to her. “I would hate to lose you in the crush.”
Ellie would hate to lose him too; she hadn’t recognised a single face in the room so far, apart from George and Mary Delacorte where they stood over by the huge fireplace, chatting to another middle-aged couple.
It was undoubtedly a large room, seeming to run the entire width of the house, with a huge bay window at one end and doors out into the garden at the other, but with fifty or so people in it there was barely room to move.
“We have a large family,” Patrick told Ellie ruefully as he managed to push his way through in the direction of the fireplace.
Ellie and Toby had several aunts, uncles and cousins too, but they would be hard pushed to fill even their small sitting room with the dozen or so that made up their family.
It didn’t help her nervousness when she instantly saw the likeness between Mary Delacorte and the tall dark-haired man who made up half of the other couple the Delacortes were chatting to. She knew she was right in the conclusion she had come to as the man gave a light laugh; his likeness to Patrick was unmistakeable.
Saying good evening to George and Mary was one thing, meeting Patrick’s parents was something else entirely!
Ellie came to an abrupt halt before they reached the foursome, giving Patrick an accusing glare when he looked down at her questioningly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Patrick,” she bit out tautly.
He gave her a considering look. “Ellie, introducing you to my parents is not tantamount to making a declaration about our relationship,” he finally drawled teasingly.
“No, Patrick.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “Helping out with this situation concerning Gareth is one thing, but I won’t complicate things by meeting your parents.” She determinedly released her hand from his. “You go and say hello to them. I’ll go and find the ladies’ room.”
He frowned darkly. “But—”
“I said no, Patrick.” Her gaze met his unwaveringly. “I’ll be standing over by the bay window when you’ve finished talking to them.”
“Wearing a pink carnation in your lapel?” he returned, with obvious impatience at her determination.
She gave the ghost of a smile. “I don’t have a lapel.”
Patrick shook his head as he looked down at her frustratedly. “You are undoubtedly the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met!”
Her smile was more genuine this time. “Nice to know I have the distinction of being something,” she returned unconcernedly.
His expression lightened. “Oh, you’re a lot more than that, Ellie,” he assured her dryly, before sighing resignedly. “Okay, no introduction to my parents. But try not to get lost, hmm?” he encouraged.
As it happened, despite directions from the busy maid in the hallway, she did get lost—several times—and it was almost fifteen minutes later when she came back down the stairs. Only to walk straight into Gareth—literally�
��as he began walking up them.
The words of apology died on his lips as he looked up and recognised her. The boyish smile turned to one of derision. “I thought you had decided not to come to the party after all when I saw your boyfriend was in there alone,” he bit out caustically.
Ellie straightened her shoulders, her hand tightly gripping her evening bag; Gareth was the last person she’d wanted to find herself alone with! “Obviously you thought wrong,” she returned, non-committal—about the “boyfriend” or the fact that she was there!
“Obviously,” Gareth acknowledged hardly. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve by all this, Ellie, but—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she interrupted firmly, glancing over his shoulder in the hope that Patrick or Toby might see her predicament and come to her rescue; neither of them was in sight.
He grimaced. “I realise that you’re in love with me, Ellie, but—”
“You realise no such thing!” Ellie interrupted heatedly, knowing that briefly she might have thought herself in love with this man. But it had only been briefly. She was most certainly over whatever she had once felt for him! “If I’m in love with anyone, it most certainly isn’t you,” she added scathingly.
Gareth’s gaze narrowed. “McGrath?”
She didn’t know what she felt for Patrick—had spent most of the last twenty-four hours determinedly not giving herself time to even think along those lines.
Her chin rose challengingly. “And what if it is?”
He gave a pitying shake of his head. “Then you’re wasting your time there more than you were with me,” he scorned. “Delusions of grandeur!” he added nastily.
“And what about you?” Ellie flushed angrily—more so because she knew what he said was true. “Isn’t Sarah Delacorte just as much out of your league as Patrick is out of mine?”
“Ah, but I’ve already succeeded with Sarah,” he reminded her confidently.
“Not for long, if I have my way,” Ellie snapped furiously. “You— Let go of my arm, Gareth!” she gasped as he grasped her painfully on exactly the same spot he had the previous evening. And she had the bruises to prove it!
The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction Page 6