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‘Oh, do stay!’ Penelope implored him. ‘I’m sure it would mean a lot to Phoebe if you were here tonight, and we all want a chance to meet you properly. It’s not as if we can’t squeeze you in, either,’ she added with a twinkling look. ‘Phoebe’s got a huge room over in the tower, and she’ll be rattling around in it all on her own. You’d much rather Gib was with you, wouldn’t you, Phoebe?’
What could she say? Phoebe gritted her teeth and managed a smile. ‘I just don’t want to affect Gib’s work. I know he’s under a lot of pressure at the moment,’ she added with a look that she hoped would remind Gib just what work he was supposed to be doing today.
‘You’re more important than work,’ said Gib, ignoring it completely.
Penelope beamed at him, delighted. ‘So you’ll stay tonight?’
‘Yes, I’d like to. Thanks.’
‘Wonderful! Oh, there’s Ben.’ His mother waved him over excitedly. ‘Look who’s here,’ she told him, ‘and with the most marvellous news!’
Ben had become separated from his bride somewhere in the crowd, so he had to face Phoebe unsupported while his mother bustled happily off. He looked a bit uncomfortable—as well he might, thought Gib sourly as he watched the other man plant an awkward kiss on Phoebe’s cheek.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he told her. ‘I hoped you would.’
‘Of course I came,’ said Phoebe, feeling very poignant as she returned his kiss. Once they had been everything to each other, and now Ben couldn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘I couldn’t miss your wedding.’
Gib watched her narrowly. She was smiling, but he thought he could see a strained look around her eyes and a sadness in her smile. He wanted to punch Ben on the nose and gather her into his arms and make everything better. As it was, all he could do was stand there and watch her being brave.
‘I hope you and Lisa will be very happy,’ she was saying to Ben. ‘I’m sure you will.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ben, which Gib thought was a bit inadequate. He could at least have acknowledged what a difficult moment this was for Phoebe, or said how much he appreciated her efforts to pretend that everything was absolutely fine and that he hadn’t broken her heart.
As it was, the other man looked distinctly ill at ease. Gib studied him, unimpressed. What did Phoebe see in him? He looked pleasant enough, but dull, Gib decided dismissively. Not enough character in his face to deal with Phoebe. She needed someone with a bit more fire to appreciate her.
‘This is Gib,’ Phoebe introduced him awkwardly, and the two men shook hands without any noticeable enthusiasm.
‘Congratulations,’ said Gib.
There was a tiny pause. Phoebe kept her smile pinned to her face and tucked her hand in Gib’s arm. ‘Congratulate us, too, Ben. Gib and I are thinking about getting married.’
‘Really?’ Ben looked taken aback for a moment.
Gib could practically see the relief warring with surprise and a touch of chagrin in his face. No doubt Phoebe was supposed to stay broken-hearted for ever, not find someone else.
‘That’s great news,’ Ben recovered, kissing Phoebe again. ‘Congratulations, Phoebe.’ He looked warily at Gib. ‘You’re a lucky man.’
‘I know,’ said Gib discouragingly.
The moment Ben had moved on to greet other well-wishers, Phoebe rounded on Gib. ‘Did you have to be quite so unfriendly?’ she demanded. She had never seen him behave like that before. For a moment there he had looked quite grim. ‘This is Ben’s wedding day. You’re supposed to be nice to him!’
‘You can’t expect me to fawn all over the man who hurt the woman I love,’ said Gib with a slight edge.
‘I don’t think there’s any need to take your role that seriously! Ben looked as if he were afraid you were about to punch him.’
‘It might have livened him up a bit,’ Gib beckoned a waiter over and exchanged his empty glass for a full one. ‘What do you see in that guy, anyway? He’s not exactly a ball of fire, is he?’
‘Ben is a very nice man,’ said Phoebe defensively. ‘He’s kind and honest and … and reliable—unlike some people I could mention! Why on earth did you tell Penelope you would spend the night when we had already agreed you would go back to London?’
‘Because no self-respecting fiancé would leave you on your own the very night you most need support. Even if you were madly in love with me, it would be hard for you to see Ben getting married, and Penelope obviously knows that. If I’d gone back to London making some lame excuse about flying to Switzerland on Monday it really would have looked suspicious.’
Gib told himself that he was only trying to offer her support. He did think it would be easier for Phoebe if she had a friend with her tonight. He had hated the idea of getting on a train and leaving her to cope on her own. She might not want him, but he thought that she would need someone, and it might as well be him. The fact that he had leapt at the opportunity of staying had absolutely nothing to do with knowing that this might be the only chance he would have to get this close to her.
Of course not.
Phoebe eyed him with some frustration. It sounded reasonable enough, and the only argument she could really come up with was that he wasn’t doing as he was told, which would come across as a bit childish.
Feeling rattled, she sipped edgily at her champagne. How could she tell Gib that she was far more bothered by the prospect of spending the whole night with him than she had been about coming face to face with Ben? She wasn’t even sure that she was ready to admit it to herself.
‘It’ll certainly look suspicious if you leave now!’ she said crossly. ‘Then Penelope really would think we’d had a row. I suppose we’ll just have to make the best of it.’
Suppressing a sigh, she looked around her, and forced a smile as she caught the eye of an old friend of Ben’s family. ‘We’d better circulate. From now on, could you please not introduce any more variations on the story we agreed? If we get separated, say as little as possible, and when you do, stick to neutral topics. Talk about cricket or something.’
Gib snapped into a mock salute. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’
* * *
Phoebe picked up a plate and joined the queue for the buffet. Round tables had been set out where the guests could sit down or move around informally, and she looked around as casually as she could, trying to spot Gib, who had drifted from her side in far too relaxed a fashion. She didn’t trust him now.
A girl who had known her when she was going out with Ben was standing next to her, rabbiting on about some skiing holiday, but Phoebe was too busy wondering where Gib was and what he was saying to concentrate. She nodded and put in an occasional ‘yes’ or an ‘oh, really?’ while her eyes scanned the crowd with increasing nervousness.
There he was! Phoebe’s gaze did a double take and swung back to where she had spotted Gib sitting at a table with—oh, God!—her parents and Lara, and they all seemed to be getting on famously.
Typical, she fumed. There must be a hundred strangers here Gib could have picked to sit and make small talk with, but no! He had to choose the three people who were most likely to interrogate him closely and pick up on any weaknesses in their story!
Hastily grabbing a couple of vol-au-vents and a chicken leg, Phoebe muttered an excuse and, leaving Vanessa still yapping about drag lifts and chalet girls, fought her way across the room towards him to try and stop him before he embellished any more aspects of their supposed relationship. It took ages, though, as people kept hailing her, all delighted to see her again and eager to tell her how much they liked Gib.
He was so charming, they told her.
So funny.
So interesting.
‘So attractive!’ sighed more than one girl enviously. ‘You are lucky, Phoebe.’
Hadn’t she told Gib very clearly to stick to neutral topics? It didn’t sound as if he had listened to a word she had said, Phoebe thought furiously. Far from lurking quietly on the sidelines talking about the weather or the lack of hold-ups on the motorway, he had obviously been in the thick of things, circulating breezily and talking to everyone who knew her!
Smile fixed, she agreed for the umpteenth time that Gib was wonderful and struggled on through the tables to her family.
‘Ah, there you are!’ her mother waved gaily and Gib turned quickly to see Phoebe suck in her breath to squeeze in between two chairs, holding her plate high to clear the heads. She looked hot and flustered, and beneath her hat he could see that her jaw was gritted and her smile decidedly brittle.
He got to his feet and pulled out a chair for her to sit down beside him. ‘I lost you,’ he said, taking the plate from her as a precautionary measure. Now that she was close, he could see that her eyes were flashing an unmistakably irate message, and he didn’t want vol-au-vents all down his suit. ‘I was hoping you’d find me eventually.’
‘Gib’s been keeping us entertained,’ Lara told Phoebe, who was half tempted to refuse to sit next to Gib but couldn’t think of a reason that wouldn’t make her look childish.
‘So I saw,’ she said rather grimly instead as she sat down in the chair he still held.
‘He’s been telling us all about how you met,’ Lara went on. ‘You never told us it was quite that romantic, Phoebe!’
Romantic? What had he been telling them? Phoebe looked at Gib with foreboding, which only deepened when she saw his eyes dancing. She wished they wouldn’t do that. It only made her more nervous.
‘I didn’t tell them everything,’ he assured her, straight faced, and to Phoebe’s consternation her family laughed merrily, as if he had already told them more than enough.
‘Perhaps I should know what he did tell you,’ she said, holding on to her temper with difficulty.
‘He said it was a very easy mistake to make.’
‘And that it was wonderful to meet someone without any preconceptions about him.’
‘Yes, and that one of the reasons he loves you is that you just don’t care what he does.’
They beamed at her.
Phoebe looked at Gib. ‘Is that right?’ she said, unable to think of anything else, other than the obvious option which was that she had no idea what any of them were talking about.
‘I didn’t tell them what an idiot you felt when you realised that I was the president of the bank and not the layabout you thought I was when you were trying to get an interview.’ Gib’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he saw her struggling to come to terms with the sheer nerve of him. ‘You were expecting the president to be someone a lot more formidable, weren’t you, darling?’
Somehow Phoebe managed to stretch her mouth into a ghastly smile. ‘It was quite a surprise,’ she said.
‘I must say, darling,’ said her father, ‘you might have told us what Gib did. You just told your mother he worked for a bank, as if he was some teller. I felt a complete fool when I realised!’
‘It sounds wonderful, too,’ said Lara, equally impressed. ‘It’s not as if an ethical bank is something to be ashamed of. Not like … I don’t know … being an arms dealer or a politician or something.’
Gib put a consoling arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. ‘But that’s exactly what I love about Phoebe. She just doesn’t care what I do or how much money I have.’ He smiled teasingly into her eyes. ‘You love me for what I am, don’t you, bunni—’ He pretended to catch himself up guiltily. ‘Don’t you, honey?’
‘You know exactly how much I love you,’ she said, meeting his gaze directly, and he laughed and released her.
‘What did you feel when you found out that Gib was actually the president?’ Lara asked eagerly. ‘You must have felt a bit stupid, didn’t you?’
‘To tell you the truth,’ said Phoebe, a decidedly crisp edge to her voice, ‘I didn’t believe a word of it!’
‘President!’ she bit out the moment the door to their bedroom closed behind them. The guests had begun to drift away from the reception and they had a couple of hours to recover before they had to go back down for dinner and dancing. ‘Couldn’t you have chosen something a bit more likely, like Chancellor of the Exchequer or Director General of the United Nations?’
‘I always fancied myself running a bank,’ said Gib by way of an excuse.
‘Why stop at a bank? Why not pretend you were President of the United States?’
‘They would have known that wasn’t true.’
Phoebe ground her teeth at the reasonableness of his tone. ‘Whereas, it’s so believable that you should be running your own bank?’
‘They did believe me, didn’t they?’ he replied, unanswerably.
‘I thought we agreed that you would stick to our story?’ she accused him, wrenching off her hat. She had a massive tension headache, and the champagne she had been reduced to gulping to cope with the stress of Gib’s increasingly ridiculous lies hadn’t helped any.
‘No more variations, we said. Now I’m not only supposed to be engaged to you and spending the night with you, I’m an accessory to illegal impersonation! Have you thought what will happen if J.G. Grieve hears that you’ve been impersonating him?’
‘I don’t think that’s very likely,’ said Gib soothingly. He hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to tease Phoebe a little by elaborating on the basic outlines they had agreed. ‘How’s he going to know what goes on at an obscure English wedding?’
‘These people have lawyers, you know,’ said Phoebe with a dark look. ‘If he sues you, you needn’t think I’m going to support you. God, what a day!’ she sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the vast four-poster bed and easing off her high-heeled shoes so that she could rub her sore feet.
Flopping back across the bed, she stared tensely up at the embroidered canopy. ‘And we’ve still got tonight to get through!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘OH, COME on, it hasn’t been that bad.’ Gib loosened his tie with a sigh of relief as he wandered around the room, inspecting the wood panelling and the magnificent stone fireplace.
‘Not for you, maybe,’ she grumbled, ‘but it’s been a nightmare for me, not knowing what ridiculous story you’re going to make up next, and just waiting for someone to turn round and spot that you’re here under false pretences. I’m going to feel great when that happens, aren’t I?’
‘Relax,’ he said soothingly. ‘Everything’s fine. You’re just tired. What you need is a nice bath.’
Without waiting for her to reply, he disappeared through a door in the panelling, and the next minute Phoebe heard the sound of water gushing into the bath. ‘I’ll bring you a drink, and you can unwind,’ he shouted over the noise. ‘You’ll feel much better then.’
Phoebe was tempted to tell him that she would be the judge of what would make her feel better, but a wonderful fragrance of foaming bubbles was drifting through into the bedroom and, when it came down to it, the thought of a long hot soak with a long cool drink was immensely appealing. No point in cutting off her nose to spite her face.
So she leant back against the pillows and let Gib run the bath for her. ‘Your bath awaits, madam,’ he said grandly at last, holding the door open with a flourish.
The bathroom turned out to be almost as impressive as the bedroom. It was panelled throughout, apart from a deep stone window, just wide enough to stick your bow and arrow through. A stuffed bear’s head was fixed to the wall. There was a selection of imposing antique chests and, in the middle, a vast claw-footed tub, filled to the brim with scented foam. Averting her eyes from the bear, Phoebe saw that Gib had put fluffy towels conveniently to hand on a wooden chair and set out the tempting array of luxurious freebies provided by the hotel along the side of the bath.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, touched in spite of herself by the trouble he had taken.
He smiled at her, that unsettling, daredevil grin that never failed to make her nerves jump alarmingly. ‘It’s my way of saying I’m sorry,’ he said disarmingly. ‘I didn’t mean to wind you up today.’
‘That’s OK,’ Phoebe said awkwardly, feeling as if the wind had been rather taken out of her sails.
‘Now, what would you like to drink?’
‘Really, you don’t need to—’
‘I’ll add it to my expenses if that will make you feel better,’ Gib offered.
Phoebe wasn’t sure whether being reminded that he was only doing his job made her feel better or worse, but decided in the end that the most dignified course of action would be to relent.
‘Something long and cold would be wonderful,’ she said.
‘You get in,’ said Gib. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
When he had gone, Phoebe got undressed and stepped into the bath. It was enormous, more of a swimming pool than a bath, and she lay back with a luxurious sigh, immersing herself completely beneath the scented water. Maybe Gib wasn’t so bad after all, she thought as she emerged, blowing bubbles out of her mouth, and smoothing the wet hair back from her face.
Perhaps she had been overreacting. Gib was right, everyone had accepted him without question and there had been no need for her to be so nervous. She had been wound up about the whole situation, she realised, but in the end it hadn’t been the wedding or meeting Ben or fooling her family that had made her nervous. It had been Gib himself, Gib with his glinting, unsettling smile, and his warm hand on her back.
You’re beautiful and you’re brave, he had told her, and it had been the look in his eyes she had been thinking about when she watched Ben getting married, not the ache in her heart. The look in his eyes and touch of his mouth and the feel of his palm against her cheek.
It would have been much easier if he hadn’t kissed her. Really, there had been no need for it, Phoebe scolded herself. If she’d thought, it would have been obvious that no one would expect them to kiss like that in the middle of Ben’s wedding. She should have told Gib that it was a stupid idea and pushed him firmly away.
Instead of which she had wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer and kissed him back. A wave of heat that had nothing whatsoever to do with the bath tingled through her as she remembered how it had felt, and when a sharp knock fell on the door her heart jerked painfully.
‘I’ve got a long, cold G&T here for you,’ came Gib’s voice. ‘If I promise to keep my eyes closed, shall I bring it in to you?’
