To Tame the Playboy. Kate Hardy
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Fleur’s eyes narrowed slightly. The man was laughing at her, she thought, irritated.
‘Well observed,’ she said coolly. ‘But I avoided a swim.’
‘You’re not hurt…?’ he asked, and now the dark eyes were serious, the hint of amusement no longer there.
‘Absolutely not. I’m fine. If a little sticky,’ she replied, flapping her hands together and making it worse.
‘Well, then, let’s get you cleaned up,’ he said purposefully, in a way which left no room for argument. ‘They’ll sort you out at the Black Horse.’
‘Oh, but I’d better go home…I mean, back to Pengarroth Hall…’ Fleur began. ‘I thought…’
‘And I thought we might as well have some lunch at the pub first,’ he interrupted. ‘They do good food—I know you enjoyed New Year’s Eve, didn’t you?’ He glanced down at her again, and suddenly his heart missed a beat—or two! Although her somewhat crestfallen face was liberally smeared with mud, it did nothing to detract from her overt desirability—a characteristic he’d tried to dismiss since the very first moment he’d seen her…and Sebastian Conway almost stopped in his tracks. What was that word which had slipped, almost unnoticed, into his stream of consciousness? Desire? That had disappeared, along with Davina’s departure, a long time ago. Had this small, unassuming, mud-smeared woman, dressed in unglamorous winter wear, woken up his libido? He swallowed, a surge of pleasure—or was it relief that he wasn’t dead after all?—coursing through him, and he looked away from her. Because if she gazed at him once more, with those beautiful, expressive sad eyes, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions!
He walked slightly away from her as they reached the lane, and he cleared his throat. ‘I do think that a glass of wine and a spot of lunch will do you good, Fleur. The slightest fall can be a shock to the system. And, anyway, I’m hungry,’ he added.
Fleur didn’t bother to reply. He’d decided that they were going to eat at the pub, and that was what would happen, even though she would have much preferred to go back to Pengarroth Hall. But still, on reflection, it would get lunch out of the way, she thought. Pat was not coming back until it was time to prepare the evening meal, so she might just as well fall in with his wishes and eat here, now.
As soon as they set foot inside the pub, Joy, the landlady, took one look at Fleur and sized up the situation at once. ‘Oh, my good lor’,’ she said in her lilting Cornish way. ‘Just look at you!’
Fleur smiled apologetically. ‘I was taking a walk—or rather a slide—by the river,’ she began.
Sebastian cut in. ‘Fleur would appreciate the use of your toilet facilities to get cleaned up, Joy,’ he said, ‘and then I think we’d like some lunch, please, plus a good bottle of red.’
There were, as yet, only a few customers drinking at the bar, and the woman beckoned to Fleur to follow her. ‘I’ll get you a decent towel, dear,’ she said. ‘There are only paper ones in there.’ She smiled at Sebastian, handing him a menu. ‘And you can be looking at this, Sebastian.’
Alone, Fleur sighed briefly. Why did she have to fall down and make such a fool of herself? She took off the jacket, examining it closely. All that mud would hopefully brush off when it was dry, she thought, putting it over the back of a chair for a moment, and noting that her jeans were relatively unscathed. She stared at her reflection in the rather dingy mirror and groaned. She had nothing with her to restore some of her confidence—no blusher, no lipstick, not even a comb to run through her hair, which she’d left loose that morning.
Sitting at a table by the roaring log fire in the bar, Sebastian half-stood as Fleur came back to join him, and he pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look better,’ he said casually. Then, ‘Are you really sure there was no physical damage, Fleur?’
She smiled up at him quickly, shaking her head. ‘Quite sure, thanks,’ she replied.
While he’d been supposedly studying the menu, Sebastian’s thoughts had been more occupied with what could have happened to Fleur, down there by herself. She could have badly sprained—or even broken—an ankle, and been lying there for goodness knew how long if he hadn’t decided to try and find her. And it had only been a last-minute thought as he’d left the farm that had prompted him to check whether she was still around. He shuddered slightly, reminding himself that he’d actually not intended to go back to the house until much later on—so, if Fleur hadn’t returned, it could easily have been dark before anyone had realized she was missing.
He’d handed her the menu and, after studying it for a moment, she gave it back and looked up at him, properly. ‘I’m really sorry if I’ve…interrupted…your day,’ she murmured.
Her bewitchingly long eyelashes were still wet from washing her face, and he noticed again the way she had of sometimes blinking in a kind of slow motion…which he admitted to finding strangely titillating. At this moment, she was totally unadorned, he thought, her face rather pale and her unusually untidy, loosely flowing, wavy hair touching her shoulders.
‘You’re not interrupting anything,’ he lied. ‘Stop worrying. And I’ve ordered red wine because I’ve noticed that’s what you seem to prefer…’
Fleur couldn’t help feeling surprised at the remark. She wouldn’t have thought he cared enough about her—or any of Mia’s friends—to be that observant. She bent forward slightly to warm her hands by the fire. ‘I don’t ever drink at lunch time,’ she said, ‘but I could be persuaded to make an exception—under certain circumstances. Thank you, Sebastian. Just one glass will be perfect.’
He grinned at her now, and she was aware again of his startlingly white teeth, which seemed to light up his rather serious bronzed features. ‘And, as I’m driving, I’d better follow suit.’ He paused. ‘Joy will keep the bottle safe for us. We’ll finish it another time.’
Fleur was about to say—Look, there doesn’t have to be another time—you don’t have to do this, Sebastian. I’m all right by myself…but she didn’t. Because after that first stab of embarrassment when he’d turned up by the river, she’d been grateful of his presence and his company.
Suddenly, he bent forward too and took one of her hands in his, looking down intently. ‘Look, you have hurt yourself, Fleur,’ he said, almost accusingly. ‘See—there’s quite a bad graze here on your knuckles…Didn’t you see it, feel it?’
‘A bit,’ Fleur conceded. ‘But it’s nothing, Sebastian, really. No blood. So, no blood, no tears. My father’s maxim all my life.’
He said nothing, but didn’t let go of her hand, gently tracing the affected part with his forefinger, and Fleur couldn’t help liking the sensation it gave her!
Just then, Joy appeared with the wine, and she glanced down, her quick eyes taking in the scene. Sebastian Conway had not had a woman with him for far too long, in her opinion. And this one was obviously someone special. Even with all the hubbub on New Year’s Eve she’d noticed her amongst Mia’s crowd. And she’d also noticed Sebastian’s eyes following her every move. Well, about time, the woman thought.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘THIS is always the worst bit of Christmas,’ Pat said, from her lofty position on top of the stepladder as she handed down the last of the decorations to Fleur.
‘Yes, it is rather sad—the ending of something you’ve really enjoyed,’ Fleur agreed, kneeling down to coil all the fairy lights into a large box. ‘But time goes by so quickly, it’ll soon be happening all over again.’
Just then, Sebastian came in and glanced at the two women. ‘Hi there,’ he said briefly. Then, ‘Good—putting all the junk away and getting back to normality.’
‘Oh you, Sebastian!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘Talk about not being in the spirit of the season!’
Still intent