Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.
a picnic.’
Kate sighed with frustration. And she’d thought she was self-willed! She hadn’t known the meaning of that state until now!
At least she succeeded in getting her own way over one thing. Pleading a muddle at the cottage, she set out the food Guy insisted on buying for them on the grassy bank above the narrow stream that meandered through the garden. And somehow the years seemed to peel away until it was almost like being back in the time when groups of holidaymakers, villagers, estate workers and even members of Guy’s own family had congregated on the banks of the main river that ran through the town to loll away the sunny afternoons eating and chatting. But then Guy wouldn’t always have chosen to sit with her…or, more precisely, lie by her side, Kate realised as she took the greaseproof wrapping paper off the cheese. The bread shop had furnished her with a red gingham cloth and a wicker basket in which to put the mountain of food Guy had acquired on his trawl round the village square. There was chilled wine, a fragrant crusty loaf, some fat green olives and a selection of cheeses to arrange on top of the makeshift table she had adapted from a tree stump.
Removing a graceful strand of meadow grass from his mouth, Guy rolled over on to his side. Resting his head on the heel of his hand, he gazed up at her. ‘Ready yet?’ he murmured. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Ready,’ Kate confirmed, feeling her face growing hot beneath his scrutiny. He looked gorgeous, she realised, trying to find comfort in the fact that he seemed so at ease…deceptively so, she warned herself, and not a moment too soon.
‘Feed me,’ he called across to her in a softly seductive voice.
‘Get it yourself,’ Kate blurted, too shaken to realise she had reverted to the way she might have spoken to him when she was a cheeky teenager.
Picking up on her mood, Guy countered by falling back into the role he had once played in her life…and it was a dangerously provocative role that carried far more risk than the sophisticated manner that had marked his behaviour towards her since her return.
‘It’s a no to that, Katie Foster,’ he drawled lazily. ‘You feed me, or you pay the penalty. You owe me a favour. And now I’m calling it in.’
Guy’s apparent languor didn’t fool Kate for a moment. He was just as likely to launch himself on her at any moment and tickle her to death, she remembered, trying not to let her disappointment at the likely outcome become too apparent.
‘I need to build up my strength for the hard work to come,’ he reasoned, tossing a languid glance towards the cottage.
Kate doubted that, judging by the muscles bulging beneath the pewter-coloured polo shirt he was wearing…and his thighs. She dragged her eyes up again, conscious that he was still watching her. ‘Don’t worry about that now, Guy,’ she said, forcing her attention back to more mundane problems. ‘There’s really no need if your men are coming tomorrow—’
‘I can’t allow you to go another day with boards across the windows,’ he insisted. ‘It’s intolerable.’ His voice grew harsh, as if they had both returned at the same time from their brief visit to the past. ‘If I’d had any idea at all that you were trying to live here—’
‘I haven’t been here all that long.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said firmly. ‘It must have been a shock for you finding the cottage in this condition.’ He sat up abruptly and levelled a penetrating stare straight into her eyes. ‘And on top of everything else—’ He pressed his beautifully shaped lips together as he shook his head. ‘Please accept my apologies.’
‘Accepted,’ Kate said as she broke the bread into chunks. She wasn’t sure which was safer—Guy playful or Guy serious.
‘So now you can feed me,’ he murmured, rolling on to his back again.
Kate’s hands remained suspended in mid-air. For a moment it seemed as if the bees stopped humming and the soft breeze rustling through the leaves died away. Then Guy’s laugh splintered her trance.
‘Hurry up, Kate. Or I’ll just have to come over there and make you,’ he warned.
Kate’s eyes cleared and the soundscape burst into life again. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she said confidently.
‘Vraiment?’ he countered softly.
Before his intentions could be put to the test, she switched to a subject that was both important to her and safe. ‘Guy, I know I’ve only just arrived. But, if it’s possible, I would like to make arrangements to see your mother.’
His mood altered in an instant. ‘She isn’t seeing anyone.’
‘Are you quite sure she wouldn’t see me?’
‘Anything that reminds her of the accident— And in particular anything that reminds her of her dearest friend, your aunt—’
‘I understand,’ Kate broke in softly. ‘I’d just like her to know that I was asking after her, that I’m thinking about her. You will tell her that?’
‘Naturellement,’ he said. ‘And thank you, Kate. It’s very good of you to be so concerned. I think she gets very lonely up at the château. As soon as she feels up to it I’ll suggest that you pay her a visit.’
‘Or she’s always welcome here at La Petite Maison,’ Kate said quickly. ‘At least when everything’s back to normal,’ she qualified. ‘I’d hate her to see the cottage as it is right now.’
A muscle worked in Guy’s jaw as he sprang to his feet. ‘Now you’re making me feel guilty,’ he said, coming over to help her with the food. ‘If I had even suspected you meant to come back—’
‘Don’t,’ Kate said firmly. ‘It’s not all your fault.’
‘Well, I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on my estate manager in future,’ he said. ‘It seems my request to dispose of the holiday cottages was handled with more rigour than I had bargained for.’
‘I’m sure that’s the way business is usually conducted,’ Kate said wryly. ‘I know I won’t brook any time-wasting once I set my sights on achieving a certain goal.’
‘But this isn’t business,’ Guy pointed out as he cut a slab of creamy Brie and pressed it into the soft heart of the fresh bread for her. ‘It’s you.’
His eyes were dancing with laughter. At her? With her? Kate had no idea as she took the bread from him and sucked her thumb appreciatively. ‘This is delicious.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Guy murmured as he poured them both a glass of chilled white wine.
After the picnic Guy insisted on staying on until he had removed every single board from her windows. And he promised that his workmen would bring tubs of plastic wood with them to repair any holes made by the nails. Then the decorators would arrive.
Waving him off, Kate decided that the cottage would be back to normal in no time. Except that it never would be completely back to normal, she thought wistfully, taking the wicker trug laden with flowers they had collected inside with her. Her intention was to keep everything just as it had been during Aunt Alice’s lifetime. A memorial? No, a tribute, she corrected herself as she dropped the bunch of garden blooms into a vase of water. And when Guy found out what she really planned to do with La Petite Maison? She would have found the opportunity to explain her plans to him long before that became a problem, she told herself confidently.
IT WAS deep in the still and secret part of the night when time had no meaning that Kate woke up coughing. Reaching out still half-asleep for the switch on the lamp by her bed, she suddenly realised that her eyes were stinging too. Squinting her eyes as she peered at the clock she became slowly conscious of the sharp, throat-catching tang of fire. She could taste it,