A Husband For Christmas

‘What?’

‘I said, no. You really think I believe you will come back? No, Gellis, I will come with you.’

‘No!’

And he smiled. Like a wolf. ‘Yes.’

Glancing frantically round, she found to her despair and astonishment that the pavement was empty.

‘Intending to scream?’ he asked softly and really rather menacingly.

Could she? Dared she?

His smile widened, showed even white teeth—teeth she had touched with her tongue—and she began to feel slightly sick. ‘You’re English,’ he whispered in hateful amusement. ‘And the English don’t scream, do they? Don’t like to attract attention to themselves. Give in gracefully, Gellis.’

And that angered her—his mockery, his assumption. ‘No.’ Straightening her back, she forced one of his arms away. ‘No,’ she repeated.

His smile dying, he searched her defiant eyes. ‘What did I do?’ he asked sombrely. ‘In God’s name, what did I do?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU left!’ Gellis shouted. ‘Hurt me. Sent a terse little note to say you wouldn’t be back!’

Sébastien frowned. ‘No explanation? No reason?’

‘No.’

‘And so you don’t know why?’

‘No.’

‘But you would like to, wouldn’t you? That’s human nature—to want to know why. If you come with me, you might find out.’

Yes, she might find out. And if it was something she didn’t want to hear? At least she would know. Not be forever speculating. There was the future to think of. A need to put it all behind her.

Eyes too big in her white face, she slowly raised her lashes, forced herself to look at him. Really look at him. A hard face, but so very attractive. But no longer her husband’s face. Go with him? See their friends again? Be in his company? She didn’t know if she was tough enough.

‘You’re wavering,’ he said quietly.

‘Am I?’ she asked stonily. ‘All right,’ she decided.

‘I’ll come with you. But I can’t go for long—no more than a few days.’ No she couldn’t go for long.

‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord?’ he queried soberly.

‘What? No. I don’t want vengeance. Just to know the truth.’

‘As do I. Thank you,’ he added quietly. Straightening, he gave her an odd smile—quirky, a little bit wry. ‘Which way?’

Keeping her heart hard, her mind still, she pointed to their right.

He nodded. Hooking up his duffel bag and sailing jacket, he waited for her to lead the way.

‘Which is the nearest airport?’

‘Airport?’ she queried absently.

‘Yes, Gellis, airport.’

She shook her head. ‘We aren’t flying.’

‘Aren’t we?’ he mocked softly.

‘No. We’ll go by car.’

‘That will take two days.’

‘I don’t care. I’m not flying.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t like to!’ she gritted.

‘Fair enough.’

Surprised by his easy acceptance, she gave a bitter smile. This was madness.

He halted, swung her to face him, stared down into her expressionless face, then registered the pain in her lovely eyes. Big and brown and lost. Like a doe. With a muffled sigh, he turned to walk on. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To my car.’

He nodded. ‘You have a current passport?’

‘Yes.’

He smiled. ‘Didn’t even think of lying, Gellis?’

‘Would it have done me any good?’

He shook his head. ‘If I had to take your house apart to find your birth certificate, I would have done so.’

‘And then dragged me up to town to get a new one.’

‘Yes. However long it took.’

She believed him. Utterly.

‘We can get a ferry from here?’