For Christmas, Forever: The Yuletide Engagement / The Doctor's Christmas Bride / Snowbound Reunion

But, as Ellie knew only too well, Gareth most certainly wasn’t the right man to share that option!

‘You’re only twenty-one, Sarah,’ she teased. ‘There’s plenty of time for that once you’ve done all the other things you want to do with your life. Didn’t you once mention that you wanted to do some fashion designing of your own?’

‘I’ve already done some,’ Sarah told her excitedly. ‘I had totally forgotten in the excitement of the last few weeks,’ she went on ruefully, ‘but I’m waiting for Jacques, the designer I worked with in Paris, to tell me what he thinks of them.’

Ah. So Sarah hadn’t completely given up on her life in Paris after all…

‘That sounds interesting,’ Ellie encouraged. ‘Do you think that will affect your engagement to Gareth?’

Sarah looked startled. ‘I must admit I hadn’t given that much thought.’ She grimaced. ‘This being engaged and having to think of another person is all new to me,’ she added self-derisively. ‘But I would really like to follow it through if Jacques thinks I have any talent at all.’

Again, this was encouraging, Ellie thought; it showed the other woman wasn’t yet quite so tied up in her relationship with Gareth that she had given up on her own ambitions.

‘I’m sure Gareth will understand if we have to wait a while before getting married,’ Sarah added dismissively.

Ellie thought the other woman was being slightly optimistic concerning Gareth’s patience in that direction—after all, the sooner Sarah was his wife, the sooner his position at Delacorte, Delacorte and Delacorte was secured—but wisely she didn’t voice any of those doubts to Sarah.

She did, however, relay the conversation to Patrick when he arrived to collect her that evening.

‘You look wonderful, Ellie.’ He stood back to look at her appreciatively.

Ellie felt warmth in her cheeks at his praise. ‘Patrick, didn’t you hear what I said? Sarah—’

‘Still has plans to become a fashion designer,’ he finished dismissively. ‘That’s great. But—’

‘Just “great”?’ Ellie persisted frowningly. ‘Don’t you realise this could be the way to drive a rift between her and Gareth?’

‘Well, of course I realise that,’ he confirmed lightly. ‘He isn’t going to like the idea of a delayed marriage at all.’

‘Exactly,’ Ellie said with satisfaction. ‘Which is good—isn’t it…?’ she added uncertainly when Patrick didn’t look as thrilled by the news as she had been earlier.

‘Very good.’ He nodded. ‘But at the moment I’m more interested in the way you look, Ellie. That dress is—you look wonderful,’ he said again.

Ellie had given in to impulse and gone back to the shop to buy the blue silk gown, aware that it was costing a small fortune but for the moment not caring. She had also swept up her hair and applied kohl to her eyes, as Sarah had suggested. The finished effect was pretty good, even if she did say so herself. And it was also good that Patrick liked the way she looked this evening. Wasn’t it…?

That was the particular problem she had at the moment. There was no denying that she was attracted to Patrick, that she more than liked being in his company, but at the same time she was still very much aware that their relationship was nothing but a sham. It certainly wouldn’t do for either of them to forget that. Because once this situation had been sorted out she and Patrick would go back to being strangers—perhaps occasionally mentioned to each other by Toby, but other than that strangers.

The fact that Patrick was once again dressed in evening clothes, and it made her heart flutter just to look at him, was not something Ellie could allow herself to dwell on!

There was also the matter of the large flat white box he had carried in under his arm…

‘You told me off yesterday evening for repeating things,’ she reminded him dryly.

‘Telling you how beautiful you look in that dress deserves to be repeated,’ he said unrepentantly, his gaze still appreciative. ‘It’s blue too,’ he added with satisfaction.

‘Shouldn’t we be going?’ Ellie prompted sharply, after a glance at her wristwatch, not particularly wanting to get into a conversation about why she had chosen this particular gown. ‘After all, there’s politely late and then there’s just bad manners!’

Patrick laughed softly. ‘You sound like my mother!’

Great! Just the person she wanted to be likened to!

‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ Patrick removed the heavy winter coat from her hand as she would have put it on, throwing it back over a chair before laying the white box on the kitchen table and removing the lid. ‘I bought you a present today,’ he told her lightly, folding back the tissue paper in the box.

‘A present?’ Ellie gaped. ‘For me? But—’

‘For you,’ Patrick repeated firmly, taking something black and woollen out of the box. ‘It’s a pashmina. It’s made from the soft wool of goats in Northern India—’

‘I know what it’s made from,’ Ellie cut in dazedly, staring at the soft woollen shawl. She also knew that it was very expensive! ‘Patrick, you really shouldn’t have—’

‘I really should,’ he told her firmly, shaking out the long shawl to drape it decorously about her shoulders. ‘You deserve something in the way of thanks for what you’re doing. Think of it as an early Christmas present. Besides,’ he added as she would have protested again, ‘that black coat does absolutely nothing for you,’ he told her dryly.

Or for the image of the woman who was to be his partner for the evening, Ellie realized ruefully.

Not that he wasn’t right about her long black winter coat; it had been bought more for warmth rather than as any sort of fashion statement. It was just the fact of Patrick having bought her a gift—an expensive one at that—that was so disturbing. And it might be Christmas in just over a week’s time, but Patrick wouldn’t have been buying her a present anyway…

But the shawl did feel so warm, and it had such panache—its front drape fell to just above her knees; the other drape was thrown stylishly across one shoulder by Patrick. She didn’t want to refuse it!

Patrick’s hands moved up to cradle either side of her face as he looked down at her intently. ‘Just say, “Thank you, Patrick”, politely,’ he told her dryly. ‘Give me a kiss for good measure. And then we’ll be on our way.’

She tried to swallow, knowing which part of those instructions had suddenly caused this obstruction in her throat. Verbally thanking him would be no problem—

‘Too difficult?’ he teased mockingly. ‘Okay, just kiss me and we’ll forget all about saying thank you!’

That was the part that was bothering her! And Patrick knew it too. The light of challenge burned in those otherwise enigmatic grey eyes.

The problem was, if she ‘just’ kissed him, as he suggested, would either of them be able to forget about that? Ellie knew that she wouldn’t!

‘Don’t take too long deciding, Ellie,’ Patrick told her dryly. ‘Or the party will be over before we even get there!’

Which, to Ellie’s mind, wouldn’t be a bad thing!

But she was prevaricating. She knew she was. Patrick knew she was, too. Why not just kiss him and get it over with?

‘Thank you for my present, Patrick.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the mouth. ‘But you shouldn’t have—’

Patrick put silencing fingertips over her lips. ‘Don’t ruin it, Ellie,’ he told her huskily. ‘And do you call that a kiss?’ he added derisively. ‘Sarah shows me more enthusiasm than you just did!’

Sarah was his cousin, and perfectly free to kiss him as enthusiastically as she chose. Ellie—who wasn’t quite sure what she was to him—felt rather more constrained.

‘How about you try again, hmm?’ Patrick encouraged throatily.

He was suddenly very close. Ellie was able to feel the warmth of his body, smell his spicy aftershave, and as she looked up into his eyes she could see that his pupils were dilated, so that only a ring of grey showed about the eyes.

‘Patrick…!’ She groaned huskily, before she once again rose on tiptoe, her mouth soft and pliant against his as she kissed him with all the pent-up longing inside her.

Patrick’s arms moved about her waist as he pulled her in against his body, although he let Ellie continue to control the kiss.

If you could call it control when she just wanted to melt against him and give in to the languorous yearning of her body!