At The French Baron's Bidding. Fiona Hood-Stewart

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘At the risk of sounding nosy, were you expecting to become Marie Louise’s heir?’

      ‘Actually, I had no idea. It never occurred to me. I hadn’t seen my grandmother in ages. She—she and my father had a falling-out a few years ago,’ she finished, not prepared to get into intimate details regarding her family.

      ‘I remember. The Comtesse didn’t accept his marriage to your mother. Very foolish, since it made her into a lonely old lady. But understandable.’

      ‘You think so?’ Natasha’s hackles rose immediately. Her mother’s background was something she defended tooth and nail.

      ‘Yes. Your father would have had problems whoever he married. Unless, of course, it had been someone of the Comtesse’s own choosing. She was nothing if not authoritative. Liked getting her own way. We had a few tussles ourselves.’ He smiled wryly and their eyes met, locking in the candlelight for a few interminable seconds.

      ‘You and my grandmother?’

      ‘Yes. Ever since my parents’ demise several years ago I have been Lord of the Manor, so to speak. The Comtesse deemed it her duty to tell me how to run my estate. When I didn’t follow her advice to the letter we had a few tiffs. But we got over them and remained fast friends. Strange that you should have arrived so suddenly and that her death should have ensued in such a precipitate manner.’

      ‘If you think it was my fault I can assure you it wasn’t,’ Natasha replied coolly, hating herself for justifying something she’d had nothing to do with.

      ‘Of course it wasn’t. Perhaps she was waiting for you to come before she let go. She’s been fairly ill for a while. Did she tell you about the will?’

      ‘No. I only found out when the notary—look, I really don’t see what business it is of yours,’ she said, suddenly clamming up.

      ‘Pardon,’ he said, with a smile that was anything but apologetic. ‘You must excuse my curiosity. But you must admit that the circumstances are somewhat unexpected.’

      ‘They are. Which is why I haven’t taken any decisions regarding the future, and don’t plan to for a while.’

      ‘Very wise.’ He nodded, aware that he’d pushed her too far. So the little English girl had fangs under that smooth bland exterior. Interesting. Raoul felt an inner stirring which he immediately recognized as lust. Banishing it at once, aware that a quick hot affair with this woman would hardly be conducive to good neighbourly relations, he rose and extended his hand. ‘Let us proceed to dinner,’ he said, taking her arm in his. ‘I hope you will like what’s on the menu.’

      ‘And what is that?’ Natasha asked archly. She was finding her feet in this game of light flirtation more easily than she would have believed.

      ‘Oh, ris de veau. A speciality my chef loves to prepare.’ His eyes sparkled with laughter.

      Natasha hesitated, swallowed. ‘Isn’t that brain?’ she asked warily.

      ‘When it is prepared by Alphonse you will not think at all about its origin,’ he assured her, leading the way into a vast baronial dining room, where liveried footmen stood behind two chairs at the long table.

      ‘Is everything always so formal?’ she asked impulsively as they stood in the entrance. ‘I don’t think I could live as you do and Grandmère did on an everyday basis. I think it would drive me mad.’

      ‘You prefer a more casual lifestyle?’ he asked, looking down at her from his six foot two.

      ‘Yes. I’ve lived in Africa with refugees in the desert for the past three years. It makes one focus on the essentials in life.’

      ‘I can believe that,’ he said as they sat down, and he watched her, intrigued. So she was not some dull little secretary from a provincial backwater but rather a woman who sought adventure in her life. The thought was alluring, gave her an extra aura, and as the candlelight flickered and she unfolded her napkin he took a good look at her face, aware now of just how perfect her features were, and how lithe and attractive her body. Would it be pliant and lithe in bed? he wondered, a sudden image of her lying naked among the sheets causing him to divert his thoughts quickly to avoid any embarrassing consequences.

      ‘Tell me about Africa,’ he requested, truly interested in learning more about his intriguing neighbour. Perhaps he’d underestimated her.

      Dinner went smoothly. Comfortable talking about a place she was familiar with, a culture which she’d taken the trouble to study, and the humanitarian crisis that she felt so strongly about, Natasha relaxed and became her true self. By the time they’d had coffee and after-dinner drinks, it was close to midnight.

      ‘Gosh, it’s getting awfully late. I’d better go home…to the Manoir, I mean. Could I call a taxi?’ she enquired, glancing at him across the fireplace.

      ‘Out of the question. I’ll drive you.’

      ‘That’s very kind, but I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

      ‘A beautiful woman is never a nuisance. In fact, ma chère, it is a pleasure,’ Raoul replied smoothly, executing a small formal bow, his lips curved in a half-smile.

      Despite her new desire to be cool and sophisticated, Natasha swallowed. The man was positively devastating when he smiled, she realized, and she was still unused to compliments. To her annoyance the earlier flush returned to her cheeks. Still, letting him drive her home was hardly a big deal.

      Once downstairs, they stepped outside into the courtyard and Raoul opened the door of his sleek red Ferrari, clearly amused.

      A woman who blushed.

      That was an interesting concept—one he hadn’t come across in a while. For an instant Clothilde flashed across his mind. He doubted she’d blushed at twelve, let alone now. The thought of the other woman reminded him that tomorrow he would have to go back to Paris and deal with her. For some strange reason it all seemed rather further away than it had earlier in the day, as though his evening with Natasha had somehow obliterated any vestiges of feeling he might have had.

      Soon they were driving down dark country lanes before heading into the drive of the Manoir.

      ‘I suppose our families have been neighbours for ever,’ Natasha remarked as the wheels crunched the gravel and the vehicle drew up at the front door.

      ‘We have, in effect, been neighbours for going on approximately six hundred years.’

      ‘Who was your ancestor—Regis?’ she asked suddenly, remembering Henri’s words and turning to try and distinguish his expression in the half-light coming from the outside lamps.

      She saw him stiffen. ‘Who told you about Regis?’ he asked warily.

      ‘Oh, somebody mentioned him. I can’t remember who,’ she lied, sensing there was more to this story than met the eye. More that she definitely planned to find out.

      ‘Regis was a rather flamboyant character. All families have them, I suppose—a sort of black sheep, in a way. I’ll tell you about him some time. It would take too long tonight, ma chère.’

      ‘All right.’ Natasha pretended not to be intrigued by the story. Someone else could СКАЧАТЬ