Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King. Susan Stephens
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‘No sleep,’ he warned softly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Why not?’ she said faintly in a sleep-slurred voice.
‘Because,’ he murmured, moving on to his side, ‘I’m not finished with you yet.’
‘Oh, really?’ Kate breathed as she stretched out languorously with her arms flung up to rest on the soft mound of pillows.
‘Yes, really,’ Guy insisted in a voice laced with dry humour as he moved one of her legs over his thighs, spreading her wide again.
As he settled in closer Kate felt him brush against her as he turned her on to her side. And this time when he thrust inside her there was no fear, only moans of sheer delight as he proved she still needed his attention. ‘Are you never satisfied?’ she gasped as he took up the familiar rhythm and intensified the sensation with the steady movement of his fingers.
‘I just want to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m away,’ he said as he used the heel of one hand to nudge her into the best position.
‘Away?’
But this was not the time for discussion, and Guy made sure that pleasure took her over until the thought that he might be leaving soon was submerged beneath tidal waves of sensation.
Kate woke to find Guy dressed ready to go out. The dark formal suit, together with the tailored shirt and silk tie instantly rang warning bells in her mind. ‘Where are you going?’ she said, suddenly wide awake. As he bent to plant a kiss on her mouth she sat up and they clashed with an awkwardness totally at odds with the harmony they had enjoyed only hours before.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly as he straightened up. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you. Something urgent’s cropped up—business,’ he explained reassuringly when he saw the look on her face. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be away long. Go back to sleep.’
His voice was soothing, and maybe he stayed until she went back to sleep, or maybe she simply never woke up properly in the first place, Kate thought drowsily when she woke up later that same morning. But Guy had said nothing about going away, she thought, tossing back the covers. A pang of uncertainty hit her square in the stomach. They hadn’t exactly had a proper conversation, she remembered as she sat up. Torrid images hit her all together, blotting out the tenderness and leaving doubt in its place. This just wasn’t like her, Kate realised, clutching her knees as she struggled to hang on to the fact that she was rational, sensible and cautious by nature and that Guy was the most honourable man she knew. No, she argued with herself as she buried her face. That was how she used to be, until Guy turned her whole world on its head—and he had only taken what was freely offered.
Why should he tell her where he was going? What hold did she have on him? Had last night meant nothing to him? She felt physically sick as she bit down hard on her lip and tried not to care. The trouble was she loved him; she had always loved him and always would love him. And what if he didn’t feel the same? She cast about in desperation for some strong independent woman theme to provide her with a survival strategy, but it didn’t work. She knew she would take whatever Guy had to give her and on whatever terms he chose.
‘WHAT do you mean, the electricity is off again?’ Kate asked Megan as soon as she arrived back at La Petite Maison. ‘Guy’s only just had it reconnected.’
‘Some snip of a woman turned up with a clipboard under her arm and a sheaf of papers under her arm. These are for you,’ Megan said grimly, handing Kate a package. ‘Where is his Lordship?’ she said, scarcely pausing for breath. ‘You might need him.’
‘Guy?’ Kate said distractedly as she headed for the kitchen table. ‘He had an urgent business meeting.’ Already she felt as if they had been apart for a lifetime—even a moment without him was too long.
‘At the château?’ Megan said, breaking into her thoughts.
‘I don’t know where he’s gone,’ Kate admitted, suddenly feeling very unsure of herself.
‘You did discuss the guest house with him?’ Megan said confidently.
‘No,’ Kate said uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry, Megan, but we just never got round to it. I saw to the plants and then went to bed and…’ Her voice tailed away. She was no better than Megan was at telling lies. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m afraid you won’t find our next batch of guests half as accommodating as the last if their e-mails are anything to go by,’ Megan said, looking anxiously over Kate’s shoulder while she emptied the documents from the foolscap envelope on to the table. ‘And I’d bet a pound to a penny that this isn’t good news either,’ she added ominously.
‘Where is everyone?’ Kate said, realising the cottage was very quiet as she focused on the first page.
‘With the Countess at the château,’ Megan explained, cheering up a little. ‘She invited everyone to take a tour of the gardens. That young chauffeur of hers came for them in a mini-bus.’
‘That young chauffeur,’ Kate echoed wryly, relishing the moment of distraction. But soon she was frowning again as she skimmed through the sheaf of papers. ‘But these are yet more translations of the covenants,’ she said, ‘and a covering letter that says if we continue to trade as a guest house the Villeneuve estate will close us down.’ Badly shaken, she dropped the whole lot on the table in disgust. Had Guy orchestrated this little surprise for her, knowing he would be well out of the way when the bombshell struck? Or could it be someone working independently—someone with much to gain, seizing the moment while he was away?
‘They’re not the translations you’re paying for, are they?’ Megan asked anxiously, cutting into her cogitations.
‘No, of course not,’ Kate confirmed. ‘I’ll only have sight of those when my solicitor returns from holiday.’
‘So these could be any old tripe and onions,’ Megan proclaimed contemptuously. ‘It’s not as if they were even delivered by Guy. He probably knows nothing about them.’
‘How can I be sure of that?’ Kate said, as the fear that Guy had betrayed her reared up and demanded a hearing.
‘You can’t be sure of anything until you speak to him,’ Megan pointed out sensibly. ‘You know his mother loves the idea of you having the guest house here. And you said it yourself—he was grateful for the part our activities are playing in her recovery.’
‘He didn’t say that exactly,’ Kate said. ‘He just guessed what we were up to and decided to turn a blind eye—for the duration of the party, at least. I’m not sure he would approve if we turn La Petite Maison into a full-time business.’
‘All right, then.’ Megan dismissed the licence she’d taken with a theatrical gesture. ‘So, all you need to do now is talk to him, Kate—’
‘If only life was that simple.’
‘But it is that simple, if you’ll only slow down and allow it to be,’ СКАЧАТЬ