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He should go home more often. Talk to his papa about his future plans. Help out a little.
‘Sorry for gatecrashing, Pol.’ Raff was twinkling up at his sister. ‘Grandfather insisted.’
‘Clara explained. It’s okay, of course you’re all welcome but there’s not much I can tell you today. Gabe and I haven’t had an opportunity to pull our research together, although after seeing what Natalie is doing with the software on a smaller scale I have to say I’m very close to being completely convinced if we can make the numbers add up...’
‘This isn’t about Rafferty’s,’ her grandfather interrupted and Gabe could feel the shock reverberate through Polly as her cheeks whitened and she took a step closer to her grandfather’s chair.
‘Not about Rafferty’s? Are you ill? I knew you should have stepped down earlier!’
‘Charles isn’t ill, at least, no worse than he was before the angina attack.’ Polly’s grandmother spoke calmly and Polly held her stare, looking for and apparently finding reassurance.
‘Then what?’
‘Polly dear, your grandfather and I are going to remarry.’
* * *
Polly looked down the wooden table at her family and resisted the urge to rub her eyes. It was ironic, just last night she would have given anything to have her family congregated in her kitchen the way the Beaufils did, all eating together.
And here they were. Sure, it was a little more formal, a tad more awkward than in the Provence farmhouse. Summer was unusually tongue-tied and Gabe evidently embarrassed about being caught up in the family drama. Clara...
Clara only had eyes for Raff and he for her.
A hollow pit opened up in Polly’s stomach. What would it be like for someone to look at her like that? As if she were the answer to every question? To every prayer.
Yesterday with Gabe she had come close. Close to letting him in. Colour flushed her cheeks as she remembered. She had almost begged him. No wonder he couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘Not hungry, Polly?’ Clara looked pointedly at Polly’s almost untouched plate.
‘Sorry, Clara. Please don’t tell your father. It was delicious as always. I’m just tired, I guess.’ Without meaning to, Polly allowed her eyes to wander over to Gabe, somehow at the head of the table. Of her table. He looked completely at ease, mid-conversation with her grandfather, long fingers playing on the stem of his wine glass.
Fingers that just yesterday had been playing on her skin.
Polly shivered. How could a kiss be that sensual? More erotic than the most practised lovemaking?
What would it have been like if they had been somewhere more private? If they had gone further? If she had been able to explore that tattoo the way she had burned to, tracing it with the tip of her finger. With kisses. With her tongue, slick on salty skin.
She clenched her hands, allowing the nails to dig into her palms. She was at dinner, for goodness’ sake. With her grandparents.
With her brother.
With Gabe...
He looked up, with that sixth sense he seemed to possess whenever she thought about him, eyes dark and intent.
‘We should celebrate,’ he said abruptly. ‘Two engagements require champagne.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She should have thought of that. It was her house after all. And she was the only one without news to celebrate. Publicly at least. ‘There’s a couple of bottles out back.’
‘I’ll get them.’ He pushed his chair back and disappeared into the pantry, reappearing with one of the bottles that had been chilling in the old stone cold room.
‘Summer, ma chérie, could you go to the cupboard there and get me six of the long glasses? Oui, clever girl.’ He flashed his warmest smile at the small girl as Summer proudly put the glasses on the table and Polly pushed her still-full wine glass to one side.
It had been easier to accept the glass and not touch it rather than face any questions. Gabe was right, she needed to say something. But how?
With an expert twist Gabe loosed the cork and began to pour the bubble-filled amber liquid into the first glass, handing the first to her grandmother and the second to Clara. When every glass had been filled and handed around every face turned expectantly to Polly.
Of course. This was her role. Head of the family firm.
She got to her feet, trying to drag her thoughts back to the here and now, to the unexpected news that had greeted her return home.
‘So there are two engagements to celebrate,’ she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. Raff and Clara were smiling up at her, her grandparents regarding her with more warmth than she had seen from them in a long time.
Her eyes flickered to Gabe. His eyes were fixed on her, expression inscrutable.
