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He laughed and kissed her hard and fast. “So long as I can rip them off you again as soon as she goes.”
Carrie nodded, wide-eyed.
“Good. Hurry.” He strode out of the bed, dressing with impressive haste. At the door, he paused to turn back and look at her. Carrie was sitting up, the sheet pooled around her waist. The milky afternoon sun bathed her in a soft light, and her body looked vulnerable and small. He ached to wrap himself around her and keep her safe.
“Gabriella,” he said with a warm smile, when he emerged downstairs a moment later.
“Hello, darling,” she greeted in their native language. “This is a pleasant surprise. I had thought to venture to the mainland next week to see you, but so much the better that you’re here now.”
Gael dipped his head forward, and put an arm around her back. “Let’s have a wine.”
She nodded. “I don’t have long. I’m meeting Maria for tea, but when I saw the boat, I had to stop in.”
“I’m glad you did. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Meet?” Gabriella frowned, not comprehending. She knew her son occasionally used the island for business conferences, but it was exceptionally rare. And on those occasions, he never asked Gabriella to meet his staff.
As if on cue, Carrie appeared, framed by the door and backlit by the pale sun. Her slender figure, encased in the pretty dress, h
er hair neatened, and her face relaxed – giving no hint of the way he’d been driving her to the edge of her pleasure boundaries all day. He smiled at her slowly, catching Gabriella’s breath. She had never seen him look at a woman in such a way, and it made something burst inside of her.
“Hello,” she greeted the young woman, instinctively employing English. With her complexion and wide blue eyes, she had to be English. Or perhaps American.
“Gabriella, this is Carrie Beauchamp.”
Gabriella’s body momentarily sagged and Gael cursed his insensitivity. This was the daughter of the woman who had married Diego – the man Gabriella loved, to this day. She recovered quickly, but the pain had been sharp and acute.
Carrie saw it and she too felt a stab of regret at being the unwitting instrument of hurt. A long-forgotten, but apparently still present, loyalty to her mother kept her from apologising – but only just.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said genuinely. Both women regarded one another with open curiosity.
“Yes,” Gabriella nodded, trying to recall the social conventions of such a situation. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Carrie knew it was just something people said. It wasn’t true in this instance. It couldn’t be. The only person she could have heard reports of Carrie from was Gael, and she knew he hadn’t mentioned her. Not if the blindsided expression on the older woman’s face was anything to go by.
Gabriella walked closer to Carrie, studying her pretty face as she went. The bitterness was an actual taste in her mouth. She tried to ignore it, but having seen photographs of Alexandra, she knew that Carrie was the spitting image of her. “You are so like her. So like your mother,” she said, her voice gravelly.
Carrie would have considered that the ultimate compliment at one point in time. Now, she brushed it aside. People often observed it, but it wasn’t true. Their hair and eyes yes, but their features were completely different. Carrie didn’t let her smile drop by a millimetre. “Thank you.” It was the expected response to what people deemed to be a compliment.
“We were just about to take wine. You’ll join us?” Gabriella said, slipping an arm through the crook of Carrie’s arm, and guiding her towards the kitchen.
“Carrie doesn’t have a taste for wine, Gabriella,” Gael observed with a teasing drawl, as he fell into step behind the two women.
“She will learn, no?” Gabriella responded with a shrug, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Carrie’s laugh was like music. “You’re as persuasive as your son, I see.”
“Oh, he learned from the best.” The pride in Gabriella’s voice was obvious. She settled herself on a stool at the bar, and patted the seat beside it. Gael rescued a particularly fine bottle of Tempranillo from his wine storage area and poured out three glasses. He passed one to Carrie, though he knew she wouldn’t do more than taste it.
Carrie was surprised to find herself relaxing in the company of Gael’s mother. In fact, as time ticked forward, she found that she was truly enjoying herself. Gael was quiet, only speaking every now and again, interjecting a statement or issuing a warning to his mother not to be so inquisitive.
“And tell me, Carrie, how is Gael’s father?” Gabriella asked finally, wine glass finished and pushed across the bench.
“Oh.” A crimson flush of guilt stole across Carrie’s cheeks and her blue eyes flew to Gael’s. But Gael simply looked at her, interested to hear how she would respond.
“His health is poor but his spirits are good.”
“I’m glad,” Gabriella said finally. “That his spirits are good, I mean.”
