The Tempestuous Flame. Кэрол Мортимер
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if I choose to walk around naked?’ he taunted.
‘That’s up to you, of course,’ she said coldly. ‘But I would prefer you to curb these instincts if possible. I’m afraid I’m not used to seeing strange men walking about without their clothing.’
‘Only men you know, hmm?’
‘Don’t be crude! You’re very insulting, Mr Gregory. If you would prefer it I’ll put the statement another way, I’m not used to seeing any man without his clothing. Does that satisfy you?’
He grinned. ‘The name is André, and as I have every intention of calling you Caroline I would suggest you use it. As for satisfying me, only the best does that, I’m afraid.’
Caroline hadn’t missed the intimate undertones beneath his words, and she realised how precarious her position was as she stood just inside his bedroom. ‘I’ll—um—I’ll just get the bed linen.’
‘You do that,’ he laughed, shedding his jacket and beginning to peel off his thick sweater.
She fled before he took off anything else, like his trousers. She sorted through the linen cupboard, collecting sheets and blankets, but taking her time over it. She had no desire to find him in the state he had earlier described, although she felt certain he wouldn’t feel in the least embarrassed if she did.
She tapped lightly on his bedroom door but receiving no answer decided he must already be in the bathroom. His clothes were scattered on the bare mattress, and picking them up she folded them neatly and placed them on the bedroom chair. It didn’t take her long to make up the bed and she was just putting the finishing touches to the bedspread when he came back into the room.
She turned around quickly as she heard the door open, her face apprehensive. But she needn’t have worried, he was clothed quite adequately in a thick white towelling robe, his dark hair gleaming damply. Caroline stood up from her task, rubbing her hands nervously over her slim hips, and unconsciously drawing attention to herself. ‘I’ve—er—I’ve made up your bed,’ she told him needlessly.
The green eyes mocked her. ‘I can see that. And as you can see, as a concession to your supposed modesty, I’m wearing this robe,’ he threw the damp towel on to the chair on top of his clothes. ‘Was there something else?’
‘No—no, of course not.’ She snatched the towel off the clothing. ‘You’ll ruin these doing that. I’ll put the towel on the radiator in the bathroom to dry.’
‘Thank you,’ his voice taunted.
‘Right. Well, I’ll—I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight,’ and she hurriedly made her escape, conscious of his mocking laughter behind her.
She found it even more difficult to settle down to sleep with the knowledge that André Gregory was in the room opposite her own. She could hear him moving about and wondered what he could possibly be doing now. Strangely enough, although she resented his presence, she also felt comforted to know he was there. She must telephone her father in the morning and ask about this friend of his, and perhaps warn him to back up her story when André Gregory called him.
CAROLINE awoke to thin watery daylight filtering through her lemon curtains. She blinked rapidly. Whatever time was it? She glanced quickly at her wrist-watch, jumping hurriedly out of bed as she saw it was already eight-thirty. If she didn’t call her father within the next fifteen minutes he would have left for the office. She grabbed her housecoat off the back of the door and rushed out to the bathroom, only to find the door firmly locked against her.
She rattled the door handle frustratedly. ‘Are you in there, Mr Gregory?’ she demanded crossly.
‘I would have thought that was obvious, Miss Rawlings. So if you wouldn’t mind going back to your room until I’ve finished shaving?’ his deep voice sounded from the other side of the door.
‘I most certainly do mind! You’ve had more than your fair share of time in the bathroom, and I’m going to wait right here until you decide to vacate it,’ she told him stubbornly.
‘Okay, please yourself. But I think I should warn you that I didn’t bother with the robe today. I didn’t think it was necessary as you appeared to be fast asleep.’
Caroline blushed hotly, feeling herself forced to return to her room. He knew very well that she wouldn’t wait here until he came out of the bathroom, naked. ‘All right,’ she admitted defeat. ‘I’ll just go downstairs and put the kettle on,’ and telephone Daddy, she could have added, but didn’t.
‘Quite domesticated, aren’t you,’ he taunted.
She didn’t deign to answer him, running quickly down the stairs, her housecoat flapping aside as she ran. Thank heaven she would have this chance to speak to her father privately before that man came downstairs. The telephone rang five or six times and Caroline wondered if anyone was going to answer when suddenly the telephone was picked up and her home number related to her gruffly.
She held the telephone close against her ear. ‘Daddy?’ she whispered questioningly.
‘Caroline?’ he queried sharply. ‘Is that you, Caroline?’
She chuckled softly. ‘Well, I hope so,’ she teased. ‘Who else do you know who calls you Daddy?’
‘Where are you?’ he demanded without preamble. She could imagine the anger on his face, he hated to be thwarted, and she had certainly done that by running out on him and his guest.
Caroline hesitated. ‘I’m—er—I’m at the cottage.’
‘You’re what!’ he exploded. ‘What the hell are you doing there on your own this time of year? You know you aren’t strong enough to chop wood and carry in the coal, and it’s damn freezing there now.’
‘I didn’t need to chop wood and carry in coal,’ she told him calmly, ‘there was some already in the cottage. But as it happens, I’m not here alone, I have a man here who can do all that for me.’ She grinned wickedly to herself as she imagined his anger.
‘You have a what! What are you doing there with a man? You’ve always told me that sort of thing wasn’t your scene, and now you calmly announce to your own father that you’re staying alone in a secluded cottage with a boy-friend!’ he predictably lost his temper.
‘Calm down, Daddy,’ she chuckled. ‘You misunderstood what I said, I didn’t say he was a boy-friend, merely that he was a man.’
‘Same thing,’ he cut in. ‘I will not allow—–’
‘Daddy! Will you let me finish. The man staying here is called André Gregory, and he says he’s a friend of yours’.’
‘Gregory? André—–? André! Oh God,’ he sighed deeply. ‘Did he arrive late last night?’
‘So late it could almost have been this morning. But how did you know?’
‘Because I told him he could use the cottage for as long as he liked. At the time I didn’t realise you were going to walk out on me in a childish temper and take up residence. You’ll have to come home, of course.’
‘I will not! Why should I! This is my cottage, you’ve always said so. And I did not walk out on you in a childish temper,’ she said with disgust. ‘You forced me to leave by inviting that man to stay for the weekend.’
‘Yes, well, as Greg couldn’t make it you can come home now.’
‘What do you mean he couldn’t make it?’ Caroline almost laughed. ‘Do you mean to tell me that after all that sales talk you did on his behalf he didn’t even bother to show up?’ she couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. ‘Oh, Daddy,’ she chuckled, ‘that’s really funny!’
‘Hmp.