One Man's Mistress: One Night with His Virgin Mistress / Public Mistress, Private Affair / Mistress Against Her Will. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      But she couldn’t answer that, any more than she could explain to herself why she’d volunteered to cook this meal. It had been an absurd thing to do, especially when she owed him less than nothing. She could so easily have left him to sort out his own dilemma—and been perfectly justified in doing so.

      Yet, maybe, in some weird way, she’d wanted to prove to Mark Benedict that she wasn’t simply a freeloader with grandiose ideas about her own talent and an aversion to working for a living. That she was, in fact, as practical as the next person.

      Maybe she also wanted to show him that she was large-minded enough to overlook his past behaviour. Heaping coals of fire on his head, as the saying went, instead of pouring petrol over him and chucking a lighted match.

      And now all she had to do was prove her point, she told herself, determinedly turning her attention back to the task in hand.

      Within the hour, her Mediterranean chicken was flawlessly assembled and already sending out a mouth-watering aroma of tomatoes, garlic and wine as it simmered slowly in the oven.

      The smoked salmon would be served with a simple lemon wedge, a watercress garnish and little rolls of paper-thin brown bread and butter. She’d already whipped up the Chantilly cream to go with the tarte tatin that Mark had bought, arranged a platter of cheese flanked by a bunch of green grapes at one end and some celery sticks at the other, and spooned a rich Colombian blend of coffee into the cafetière.

      All that was left was the saffron rice, which she’d cook at the last minute.

      She looked down at her plain top and boring trousers, wondering if she should change into a skirt, make herself rather more presentable for the arrival of Mark Benedict’s guests.

      Don’t be silly, she adjured herself crisply. You’re the skivvy. You belong in the kitchen and no one’s going to give a second glance at what you’re wearing. Least of all the host.

      Promptly, at eight o clock, the door buzzer sounded and she heard voices and laughter in the hallway. Then, a minute later, she was joined by a tall, dark girl with an engaging grin. ‘Hi, I’m Penny Marshall, Mark’s cousin. I gather you’re Natalie Paget, otherwise known as our saviour—rescuing us from the queue at the local pizza parlour.’

      Tallie smiled back. ‘I don’t think it would have come to that.’

      ‘But I’d like to have seen Sonia’s face if it had.’ Penny lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘It might almost have been worth it.’ She glanced round. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

      ‘Thanks, but I think everything’s under control.’

      ‘In that case, why not come along to the sitting room and have a drink with us?’

      Tallie moved restively. Picked up a spoon and put it down again. ‘That’s … kind, but I’d really rather not.’

      ‘We don’t bite, you know. Well, one of us might, but she’s not here yet, so you’re quite safe.’

      Tallie smiled with an effort. ‘I see. Do I take it that you don’t like your cousin’s girlfriend?’

      ‘Let’s just say that, for me, she comes pretty low down on his current list of playmates.’ Penny shook her head. ‘Mark, of course, is a total commitment-phobe, which is probably why he spends so much time abroad when he has good people who could take his place perfectly well.

      ‘And he seems to have rounded up every female in London who shares his views—or lets him think she does, anyway. I think a few of them have their own agenda, much good may it do them. So if Sonia believes she’s extra-special, she’s fooling herself.’

      Tallie became guiltily aware that she was paying too much attention to these indiscreet disclosures.

      She said firmly, ‘Well, I must get on.’

      ‘But you just said everything was fine.’ The other girl gave Tallie a coaxing smile. ‘So come and meet the others, while the coast is clear.’

      ‘It just—wouldn’t be appropriate.’

      ‘Because you happen to be doing the cooking? Oh, come on now …’

      ‘No.’ Tallie met the other girl’s gaze squarely. ‘Because I’m only staying here temporarily, and very much on sufferance, and Mr Benedict wouldn’t like it.’

      ‘My dear girl, it was Mark’s idea, or I wouldn’t have dared, believe me. He said you might be more amenable if the invitation came from someone else.’

      Tallie bit her lip. ‘And I feel that things are best left as they are.’

      ‘Ah, well,’ Penny said with a sigh, and walked to the door. Where she turned back. ‘As a matter of interest—and because I’m irredeemably nosy—how do you come to be here? Mark’s the last person in the world I can envision taking in a lodger.’

      Tallie’s smile was wintry. ‘I’m the one who was taken in. The offer came from Kit Benedict, who made me think the flat belonged to him.’

      ‘Kit the Curst, eh?’ Penny gave a short laugh. ‘Now, why didn’t I guess? Egged on by his ghastly mother, no doubt. Sticking like glue to Ravenshurst clearly isn’t enough. It must really gall her to know there’s another desirable piece of real estate that she can’t stake a claim on.’

      ‘Ravenshurst?’ Tallie queried.

      ‘The family home in Suffolk. Lovely old house where Mark was born, and was growing up perfectly happily until the frightful Veronica got her hooks into his father and played the “I’m pregnant” card.

      ‘Which was bloody clever of her, because Mark’s mother couldn’t have any more children. My parents have said it was the most frightful, heartbreaking time, but after the divorce Aunt Clare put herself back together and bought this flat with some money Grandfather had left her. And she got custody of Mark, although he had to spend part of each school holiday under the new regime at Ravenshurst.’ She grimaced. ‘You can imagine what that must have been like.’

      Tallie thought of the love and security she’d always taken for granted, and shivered. ‘Yes—I suppose I can—almost.’

      ‘And as soon as his father died, Veronica sold the house without reference to Mark, who was abroad at the time. She moved to London on the proceeds and had a high old time. Then, within six months she’d got married again—to Charles Melrose of Melrose and Sons, the wine people.’

      ‘Oh,’ Tallie said slowly, ‘I see.’ So that was where Kit’s job had come from. ‘Did Mark mind very much about the house?’

      ‘He doesn’t mention it. But I don’t think his memories of the latter years were good ones.’

      She paused. ‘And he had another problem too.’

      ‘And what problem is that?’ Neither of them had heard Mark’s approach but he was there, just the same, standing in the doorway, making Tallie wonder apprehensively how much he’d heard and, at the same time, be thankful she hadn’t contributed her own viewpoint to the topic under discussion.

      He’d changed, she realised, into close-fitting black trousers СКАЧАТЬ