Four Christmas Treats. Jessica Hart
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them.’
The retort Tilly was longing to make had to be smothered in her throat when she saw her mother’s please don’t look.
What the hell had he got himself into? Silas wondered angrily as he watched the two women walk up the stairs arm-in-arm. Whatever was going on, mother and daughter were both in on it—and deep in it too, right up to their pretty little necks. He was being used, and not just for the escort duties he was being paid for. Annabelle had let the cat out of the bag with regard to Tilly’s sexual expectations. No woman asked to share a room with a man unless she expected sex to be on the agenda. Tilly had lied to him when she had claimed they would be having separate rooms, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed information from Art he would be calling a cab right now, to take him straight back down to the airport in Madrid. Because he didn’t want to have sex with a woman he had just spent the last few hours acknowledging had a mind-blowingly intense erotic effect on his body.
Who was he kidding? Okay, so he did want to have sex with her—but on his terms, not hers. And he certainly wasn’t going to let her get away with lying to him—even if she had surprised him with her determination to show Art she wasn’t going to let him put Silas down for being an actor. That had surprised him, Silas admitted. The last woman to protect him from someone’s unflattering opinion had been his mother, and he had been all of five.
Tilly was gutsy; he had to give her that. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with manoeuvring him into her bed. There was no real danger to him in being plunged into this kind of situation. He could handle it. But what if it had been Joe she had tricked into sharing her bed? The young idiot was green enough to have had sex with her without any thought for the possible consequences: to his health, to the fate of any child that might be conceived, to anything other than giving in to a young heterosexual male’s natural reaction to being in bed with a sexually attractive woman who had invited him there.
Whereas he, of course, wouldn’t be facing any of those problems? Okay, he would be facing one of them, since he wasn’t in the habit of travelling everywhere with a packet of condoms. Would Tilly have thought to deal with that kind of necessity? She was certainly old enough and no doubt experienced enough to be as aware of the risks as he was himself, he decided cynically as he turned to follow his uncommunicative host into the bar.
‘HERE is your room, darling. It’s lovely, isn’t it…?’
Annabelle had thrown open the door into a room on the second floor of the castle.
More because she wanted to make sure they weren’t overheard than because she was genuinely interested in her accommodation, Tilly stepped past her and into the room.
It was large, certainly. Large, and cold, and very obviously an attic room, decorated in faded cabbage rose wallpaper, and scented with the unmistakable odour of damp.
‘It’s got its own bathroom. With the most fabbie real Edwardian bath.’
The determined brightness in her mother’s voice made Tilly’s spirits plummet. Annabelle looked so vulnerable, getting angry with her felt like being unkind to a child.
Very gently Tilly took hold of her mother’s hands and led her across to the large double bed, pulling her down until they were both seated on it, facing one another.
‘Ma, what is going on?’ she asked, as calmly as she could. ‘You know that Silas and I aren’t really engaged. We don’t even know each other. He’s just someone I’ve hired to pretend to be my fiancé.You know that. We were supposed to have separate rooms. I’ve told him that we are having separate rooms.You assured me that we would be having separate rooms. So what’s gone wrong?’
Tears filled her mother’s eyes. ‘Oh, Tilly darling, please don’t be cross with me. It isn’t my fault. I had planned to put you and Silas—he is gorgeous, by the way, and he would be just perfect for you—in the most heavenly pair of interconnecting rooms. More like a suite, really, both with their own bathrooms and the most divine little sitting room, but then Art’s daughters arrived and everything went horribly wrong.’
Tilly waited while her mother paused to blow her nose and clear her throat. ‘You see, I hadn’t realised that Susan-Jane and Cissie-Rose would want to have their children sleeping on the same floor with them, or that they would expect to have connecting rooms. But of course once Susan-Jane had explained that she and Cissie-Rose need to be close by, and how it made much more sense for them to have the suite I’d earmarked for you and Silas…
‘She said that the children’s nannies, and the personal assistants to Dwight and Bill—that’s their husbands, of course—would also have to be on the same floor, because Dwight and Bill frequently work late at night. They have to be in touch with Head Office at all times, and having to come all this way has caused them so much disruption. I felt so guilty about that—especially when Cissie-Rose told me that the children had been upset because they wouldn’t be spending Christmas at home. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow or other it turned out so that they practically took up the whole of the first floor, apart from the suite Art and I are sharing, and that meant the only rooms left were up here on the second floor.’
Inwardly Tilly counted to ten. Something was telling her that her relationship with her new stepsisters-to-be was not going to be one made in heaven, she thought grimly.
‘Okay, but there must be more than one room up here, Ma. I mean, there’s only one bed in here—’
‘Darling, I know, and I am truly sorry. But I’m sure that Silas will behave like a perfect gentleman. I mean, a man like him doesn’t need to go around persuading women to have sex with him, does he? Do you know what I think?’ she said brightly. ‘I think that he’ll probably be glad of the opportunity to be with a woman who isn’t coming on to him.’
‘Ma, let’s stick to the point. How many rooms are there on this floor?’
‘Oodles,’ Annabelle told her promptly. ‘But there’s been a problem with the roof, apparently, and most of them are damp, and the ones that aren’t are already occupied by the staff. Strictly speaking we aren’t supposed to be using any of the rooms up here, according to the contract the Count’s legal people gave us, but when I spoke to the major-domo and explained the problem he was really sweet about it, and everyone has worked so hard to get this room ready for you. I’d hate for them to think that we aren’t grateful.’
Tilly wrapped her arms around her cold body. ‘Ma, it’s freezing in here.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry about that. The Count’s PA did explain to us how the heating system worked, and that we weren’t to turn up any of the radiators because if we did it would mean that some others wouldn’t work. And I did try to explain this to Art’s daughters, but I can see their point about the children needing to be kept warm.’
Tilly could hear a strange noise in her ears. It took her several seconds to realise that it was the sound of her teeth grinding in suppressed frustration.
‘Ma—’
‘Please don’t be difficult about this, darling. I so want everything to go well, and for all of you to get on. Art’s daughters have been so sweet—offering to help me once Art and I are married, explaining to me how their social circle works. They’ve even warned me that some of Art’s late wife’s friends will be hostile to me, and that some of the men might behave towards me in a flirtatious way because of the way that I look, and because I’ve been married before. It’s kind of them, really.’
‘Is it? It sounds more to me as though they’re trying to undermine you,’ Tilly told her mother shrewdly, and then wished that she hadn’t been so blunt when she saw the hurt look on her mother’s face.
‘Darling, don’t say that. You’re going to love them, I know.