Introduction To Romance (10 Books). Кэрол Мортимер

appeared between her eyes. ‘Where’s this coming from, Bryn?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ She stood up restlessly. ‘I just— I’ve watched you and Rhys together, the teasing, the easy affection, the total respect you have for each other, and—and I don’t remember ever seeing you and Daddy together like that.’

      ‘We were happy in the beginning. When you were little.’

      Bryn gave a pained frown. ‘But not later on?’

      Her mother grimaced. ‘It became...complicated. Everything was fine to start with, but then William became restless working in an office day after day, and started coming up with these get-rich-quick ideas—all of which failed miserably. You’re old enough to know these things now, Bryn. William used up all our savings on those ideas, and I never knew what he was going to do next. Or whether we would all still have a roof over our heads the following week.’ She shrugged. ‘That sort of uncertainty in a partner can test even the best of relationships to its limits, and our marriage was already pretty shaky. It very quickly deteriorated into chaos.’

      Which was probably why her mother now appreciated Rhys’s steadiness, Bryn’s stepfather having been the local and much-respected carpenter for all of his working life.

      ‘But you stayed together....’

      Her mother smiled. ‘We had you.’

      ‘But did you never think of leaving Daddy?’ Bryn looked at her mother searchingly.

      ‘Many times,’ Mary admitted truthfully. ‘And I’m sure, as much as it would have hurt you, it would have come to that in the end.’

      Bryn gave a pained frown. ‘And yet, even during the trial, you stood by him.’

      ‘He was my husband. And your father,’ her mother added pointedly. ‘And you adored him.’

      Yes, Bryn had adored her father. But she hadn’t been able to get Gabriel’s outburst that last evening in London out of her mind. To question, to want to know if the things he had said were true.

      Her mother’s comments confirmed what Bryn had feared—that William had been the petty crook Gabriel had called him, for almost all of her life, involved in one scam or another. A petty crook who had tried to break into the big time by selling the fake Turner—and failed miserably.

      And these past few days Bryn had questioned whether she hadn’t always known that, and that it was the knowing that had added to her resentment of Gabriel, not because he had kissed her, not because she had fallen in love with him, not even because of his involvement in her father’s downfall, but because that involvement had made him part of the disenchantment she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge all these years.

      ‘Why the interest in all of that now, Bryn?’ her mother prompted softly, her gaze sharp. ‘Has something happened? Something that’s made you start thinking, questioning the past?’

      Gabriel D’Angelo was what had happened! A man who was making it impossible for Bryn not to question the past. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault; Bryn was the one who had chosen to come into contact with him again when she’d entered the exhibition.

      No, it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault, but Bryn’s reaction to meeting him again, her response to him, had set in motion those same feelings of guilt inside her that she had felt five years ago when she had looked across that crowded courtroom and known that, despite everything he was saying and all the damage he was causing to her father and her family, she still wanted him.

      It had been bad enough then for Bryn to realise she was infatuated with the arrogant and handsome Gabriel D’Angelo, but she found it harder still to realise, all these years later, that she was still attracted to the man who had helped shatter her world.

      Admittedly her mother was happily remarried, but still the past had to overshadow, to make impossible, there ever being any sort of relationship between Bryn and Gabriel. A relationship she would have to tell her mother about.

      Even if her traitorous body seemed to have other ideas on the subject!

      Just thinking about that last evening with Gabriel, of the depth of intimacy the two of them had shared, the way she had totally fallen apart in his arms, climaxing so spectacularly, was enough to make her blush.

      ‘Okay, now I really want to know who this man is if he can make my sensible daughter blush so prettily,’ her mother stated firmly.

      ‘I can’t tell you,’ Bryn groaned.

      ‘Why on earth not?’ Mary looked stunned. ‘We’ve always been able to talk about anything in the past— Bryn, if it’s a woman making you feel this way, then I hope you know that I’m broad-minded enough not to—’

      ‘It’s not a woman!’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘But I appreciate knowing how broad minded you are!’ she added dryly.

      ‘Is this man involved with someone else, then? Maybe married?’ her mother added worriedly.

      ‘It’s worse than that!’ Bryn groaned as she began to pace the lawn Rhys had recently cut. Her mother’s brows rose. ‘What could possibly be worse than—? Is he older than you?’

      ‘Marginally.’ Bryn shrugged. ‘Maybe ten years or so.’

      ‘That’s nothing.’ Her mother sighed her relief. ‘But I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me who he is.’

      ‘Because I can’t.’ She sighed heavily. ‘He’s just not—suitable for me to be involved with, okay?’

      ‘No, of course it’s not okay, Bryn.’ Mary frowned worriedly. ‘I’ve never known you to— He isn’t a drug dealer or something like that, is he?’

      ‘Of course not,’ Bryn denied ruefully.

      Her mother didn’t look reassured. ‘But he’s unsuitable in some other way?’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Bryn sighed.

      Mary continued to look at her searchingly for several long minutes, that worried frown between her eyes. ‘Does your interest just now, in the past, have anything to do with your reluctance to talk about this man?’ she finally prompted.

      ‘I— Maybe.’ Bryn’s teeth worried her bottom lip. ‘Do you know—? Is it possible that Daddy was the one to tell the press about the painting, as a way of ensuring the D’Angelo gallery, or some other gallery, couldn’t just dismiss the painting as a forgery?’

      ‘More than possible, I’m afraid,’ her mother sighed. ‘You know, Bryn,’ she said slowly, evenly, ‘it took me years to accept this, but your father was responsible for everything that happened to him.’ Exactly the words Gabriel had used to Bryn just days ago.

      ‘Not me. Not you,’ her mother continued firmly. ‘Not anyone else involved in that mess. Just your father. He gambled not just with his own future but with ours too, and he lost. We all lost. But having met Rhys, finding such happiness with him, has shown me that we don’t have to continue to let ourselves be the losers, darling.’

      ‘I’m not a loser—’

      ‘Bryn, I’ve watched the way you’ve avoided all involvement with men these past five years,’ her mother admonished gently. ‘And I’m telling you now that the only way of allowing yourself to go forward is to let go of the past.’

      Tears blurred Bryn’s vision. ‘Sometimes that’s easier said than done.’

      ‘But it can be done.’ Her mother reached out and grasped Bryn’s hand tightly in hers. ‘I’m living proof of that.’

      Yes, her mother’s happiness with Rhys now was living proof of that. Except... Gabriel had been directly involved in that past her mother spoke of. Not as a spectator, or someone removed from the situation, but as a full participant.

      ‘We’ll see.’ She squeezed her mother’s hand reassuringly. ‘But could we