Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.
much of the food on one long table in the garden. The Countess had offered several trestle tables that could be placed together to fit her needs, but the flowers—
‘Marie Therese said…’ Megan began.
‘Marie Therese?’ Kate said, her mouth curving in a wry smile. ‘My, we are on good terms.’
‘The Countess expressly asked me to call her by her first name, just like your aunt used to do,’ Megan revealed, her plump cheeks flushing pink as she revealed this development.
‘Well, go on then,’ Kate encouraged. ‘What did Marie Therese say to you?’ she enquired, her happy emerald eyes glowing like jewels.
‘She said we could have the pick of her nurseries and the garden,’ Megan said with a contented flourish as she forked up the last scrap of her dessert.
‘But that’s wonderful!’ Kate said, mentally erasing another worry. ‘So,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Our first house-guests arrive just before noon…and everyone else will be here shortly after that.’
‘That’s right,’ Megan said, watching Kate’s face, knowing they had set themselves an almost impossibly tight schedule.
But in spite of all the problems, not least of which was the possibility that Guy could turn up unannounced, Kate felt a rush of incredible excitement rather than apprehension. ‘Then I think we’d better get to bed,’ she said with a last glance around. ‘It’s going to be a hectic day tomorrow.’
‘You can say that again,’ Megan muttered as she started blowing out candles. ‘And I only hope you’re right about our guests finding the lack of electricity a novelty.’
‘As long as they have plenty of hot water they’ll be fine,’ Kate said confidently, ‘and the old range is firing on all cylinders since Giles came to service it.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Megan repeated as she handed Kate a candle to light her way upstairs. ‘And I hope they’re careful. The last thing we need is another fire.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, Megan,’ Kate said wryly. ‘I told you Guy promised to sort out the electrical supply if I hadn’t managed to influence the local authorities by the time he returned home from his business trip.’
‘He told you this during that fishing trip of his, I suppose. The same fishing trip where you disappeared off on that walk and returned home looking like a love-struck mermaid? Yes, I remember,’ Megan said dryly. ‘And will you be telling him why you need the electricity so badly?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Kate said distractedly, knowing that Megan had just guaranteed her a sleepless night.
Three anxious-looking elderly spinsters from the dramatically desolate Pennine region in the North of England, one ashen-faced retired rocker from Bermondsey and an exotically dressed middle-aged man with more facial hair than Father Christmas constituted something less, and yet, at the same time, rather more than the high-flying executives Kate had envisaged for her first guests after advertising La Petite Maison in the business section of one of the broadsheets. Fortunately, Megan took it all in her stride.
‘It couldn’t have worked out better,’ she declared, leaning over Kate’s shoulder to peer out of the window at them. ‘They’re an interesting group of people and they won’t be so edgy. And, my word, those men certainly add some colour!’ She squinted professionally along her paintbrush as they both stared at the gold brocade caftan of one and the fit-where-they-touch, shiny vinyl pants of the other.
‘It couldn’t have worked out better?’ Kate echoed. ‘And how do you make that out?’ she said as she loaded some tumblers on to a tray. ‘They’ll hardly blend in. How am I going to explain them to the Countess?’
‘Say they’re house guests,’ Megan suggested promptly. ‘Well, it’s true,’ she added as she turned to greet the three ladies, who were just coming down the stairs. Far from being alarmed by the lack of electricity, they had declared themselves enchanted by the rustic charm of the cottage. ‘Now, wait a minute,’ Megan said, stalling midway across the room. ‘Who’s that I see coming up the path?’
‘Oh, no.’ Kate’s poise slipped as she followed Megan’s gaze. ‘I don’t believe it.’ As her heart took off at the sight of Guy striding towards the front door, she became vaguely but very thankfully aware that Megan had the good sense to usher their three female visitors out of the back door.
A distinctive rap sounded on the door, then Guy walked into the kitchen. ‘Kate—’
‘Guy!’ she exclaimed rather too energetically. ‘What a surprise!’
‘Is it?’ he said curiously. ‘I have got the right day, haven’t I?’ And, when she looked at him blankly, he added a reminder, ‘Your house-warming party?’
So, he had made it after all… The fact that her heart was roaring in her ears had nothing whatever to do with the fact that her first house guests were currently walking right by the window, Kate realised, as she shifted position so that he was forced to look in the opposite direction. ‘Oh, yes…yes, of course,’ she said, trying not to accept that her throat had dried just at the sight of him in his casual linen suit and crisp white shirt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, clapping her hands together in pretended recovery. ‘Of course I’m expecting you. I’m not quite ready yet, that’s all.’
‘Good,’ he said, oblivious to the sexual waves with which he was flooding out her kitchen. ‘Well, I’m glad I got here before everyone else because I’ve got a surprise for you. Bien, aren’t you going to ask me what it is?’
Kate tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said with a smile that would have melted a heart of stone, but only succeeded in making Kate stand rigid in an attempt to hide her feelings. ‘It’s just the man to connect the electricity for you,’ he said, sounding pleased with himself, patently unaware of the riot he was causing to her senses. ‘I brought him with me so there could be no mistake and no more delays. I left him up at that small electrical station on the hill, where he’s sorting out the supply for you right now.’
‘Oh, wonderful…’ Kate said, wondering insanely if he could hear her heart jangling in her chest.
Almost as if drawn by invisible hands, Guy moved slowly past her to stare out of the window.
‘Who are those people?’ he said mildly. ‘I don’t think I recognise them.’
‘Which people?’ Kate said, hearing her voice come out in a squeak.
‘Are they actors come to entertain at the party?’
She realised she was wringing her hands in alarm—and Guy could read body language with the best of them, Kate realised, shoving them behind her back fast.
‘Or are they perhaps—’ it was like being held by her ankles over hot coals, Kate thought as she waited for him to finish ‘—paying guests, Kate?’ The edge in his voice wasn’t half as effective as the prolonged silence that came after the accusation.
‘Well?’ he demanded quietly. ‘Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?’
There was something approaching menace in his voice and it rattled Kate’s faltering hold on composure. ‘You said you wouldn’t mind my opening an office,’ she reasoned, gulping hard.
‘An office, no,’ Guy agreed in the same measured tone.
‘So? Is this so different?’
‘Is what so different?’
‘My guest house.’
‘Your what?’ he spat out.
‘You heard me,’ Kate insisted, drawing herself up. She would not be intimidated—she would not. His arms shot out like two steel girders, keeping her