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No big deal, Etta.
Gabe needed advice from one of the only people who knew the true facts. So she needed to focus on practicalities, not on the immense joy that wanted to surface at the sight of him. No way could she allow herself to reach out and touch him to check that he wasn’t a hallucination from her dreams.
Yet she couldn’t help but cast surreptitious glances across the car. Her body and mind absorbed his presence, stored the sight of his face, his blond hair, the depth of his blue-grey eyes, and the breadth of his shoulders into the Gabe Derwent treasure trove of her memories.
The drive to Derwent Manor was achieved in near silence as he concentrated on negotiating the roads through the snow that still cascaded down in lazy white flakes. Once they arrived Gabe drove past the imposing wa
lls of the manor and parked outside a dilapidated old building.
Gabe unclipped his seatbelt. ‘What do you think?’
Etta studied the house—it was old, and in need of repair, but in her mind’s eye she cleaned and plastered the walls, replaced the cracked panes of glass, resurrected the roof, and tended the neglected lawn.
‘It has potential.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
He smiled at her then—a smile so full of warmth that her toes curled in her boots and the yearning to wrap her arms around the breadth of his chest had her scrambling to get out of the car.
‘Could I have a closer look?’
‘Sure, but first I want to show you something.’
Etta followed Gabe towards a small glade at the edge of the building and halted at the scene before her.
The spruce trees were alight with the twinkle of lights—a magical glitter that evoked memories of the first time she’d met Gabe at the Cavershams’ Castle Hotel. In the middle of the wooded area a picnic table held a crystal vase overflowing with a burst of colourful flowers. The snow had slowed now, but still fluttered in lazy flakes to create a tableau that took her breath away.
Emotions jostled inside her: hope, perplexity, and wariness all attempted supremacy.
‘Here.’
Gabe reached into the crook of the tree and produced a box, opened it and handed her a gold-wrapped package. Etta let out a soft sigh as his hand brushed hers and hurriedly attempted to disguise it with a cough.
‘Open it.’
Etta complied, her fingers shaking as she gently tore off the embossed paper and opened the dark blue cardboard box inside. She lifted out an exquisite snow globe.
‘Oh...’
Slowly she turned it in the dusky air and felt tears prickle her eyelids. Inside the globe were memories of Vienna—a miniature Ferris wheel, a Christmas tree, the palace, and a pair of ice-skaters. She shook it gently, watched the flakes swirl inside even as she tasted the cold tang of real snow on her tongue.
‘It’s beautiful. I’ll treasure it and the memories always.’
‘I wanted to say thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For being you. And for showing me something precious.’
His voice was serious, yet with an overtone of warm chocolate that shivered over her skin. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You showed me the power of unconditional love. I thought everything in life was a barter, an agreement. You don’t live your life like that. Your love for Cathy is and always has been without condition. From the minute she was conceived through to now. My parents don’t work like that. We—Kaitlin, Cora, and me—we have always had to earn their approval. You are always there for Cathy, to help and support her regardless. You were there for me without any request for yourself. You went the extra mile at the fair—even bought champagne and cooked to celebrate its success. You gave up your own Christmas for Cathy’s safety, but without martyrdom. Instead you made Christmas special for me, gave me a stocking.’
‘You made Christmas special for me as well,’ Etta pointed out.
Gabe shook his head. ‘As part of a deal.’
‘No.’ Etta shook her head. ‘There was no need to order pancakes, or set me up for a lifetime of self-defence. There was no reporter there to record those things. You didn’t have to try and convince me to face up to Tommy, to trust Cathy. You’re a good man, Gabe. I know that.’
