To Tame the Playboy: The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall / A Night with the Society Playboy / Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion. Элли Блейк

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ ‘You must be joking!’ she exclaimed. ‘My goodness, Sebastian has been a very kind host, I can’t deny that, but I assure you that’s all he is. I know neither of us is looking for a relationship…I’m very dedicated to my work…but though I’m flattered that you place me in the elevated position as a possible partner for him, I don’t think he would share your enthusiasm. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ she added, remembering the morning’s conversation.

      ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Pat said flatly. ‘I know the bloke, have known him all his life, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’ She shook her head briefly. ‘Mum and I have been chatting and we think it would be fantastic if you could bring him out of his shell again, bring him back to how he used to be. When that woman departed—whatever the reason was—it took the life right out of him.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, we can’t do anything about it, but we just wanted you to know what we think. We think he’s fallen in love with you, and that’s all there is to it. And it would be wonderful for Pengarroth Hall to have someone like you around permanently.’

      Fleur smiled at the two women. ‘Beryl—Pat—you’ve been reading too many of those romantic novels,’ she said. ‘Life—real life—isn’t like that. Sebastian and I only met a few weeks ago; he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. But thank you for all the nice things you’ve said—and I’m sure that someone will eventually be the right one for him. It’s just not me, I’m afraid.’

      No more was said after that and presently, after Fleur had thanked Beryl again for her hospitality, she and Pat made their way back down to the house so that Pat could prepare the evening meal.

      ‘I hope you don’t think we spoke out of turn, Fleur,’ Pat said as they reached the house. ‘You know—about you and Sebastian…what we were hoping…’

      Fleur smiled quickly. ‘Of course I don’t, Pat,’ she said. ‘I thought it was rather sweet of you to be so concerned for Sebastian’s well-being. He’s…very lucky to have such concerned friends. And he will meet someone soon, I’m sure. Just give him time.’

      As Sebastian showered and changed in time for supper, he felt angry with himself, at his undeniable disappointment that Fleur was going home tomorrow. He’d planned one or two things they could do, places he could show her, because she was such an easy woman to please. When Mia had asked him to ‘look after’ her, he hadn’t realized how much he was going to enjoy it!

      He put on light trousers and a black open-neck shirt and brushed out his thick hair vigorously, wondering how she would be looking this evening. Then he stopped what he was doing, his expression closing in. They’d had quite a spat this morning, and he knew it was all his fault. Unable to stop himself, he’d done it deliberately. Because he’d known very well that she had not found Rudolph Malone attractive. He was beginning to know her well enough to sense what she was feeling. And she had behaved impeccably—naturally. He wouldn’t have expected anything less.

      No, what had disturbed him that morning when he’d awoken, had been the memory of how she’d looked as she’d stood, poised, at the head of the stairs, coming down to meet Rudy. She had not taken the trouble to dress herself up like that before and, far from admiring her spectacular appearance, he had been filled with an unexpected dread. Because it was so reminiscent of how Davina had always put in an appearance. Asking to be admired, to be the centre of attention. And this did not fit Fleur’s personality one bit. He knew that very well—yet he could not rid himself of the sense of distaste he’d experienced in seeing her like that. It was an unpleasant sense of déjà vu that he could have done without.

      Then he shook himself angrily. She was going home tomorrow and a good thing too. He had his life to get on with.

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      AT ABOUT eleven o’clock the next morning, Fleur made her final preparations to go home. Sebastian had already left the house, but not before wishing her a casual goodbye and a safe journey, adding a slightly non-committal invitation to come and visit again some time. He had already brought her car around to the front entrance, and put her case in the boot.

      Now, she gave one last look around the bedroom to make sure that she’d not left anything behind, then zipped up her hand luggage, slung her bag over her shoulder and went downstairs. Pat was in the kitchen and Fleur was aware of the tangibly sad atmosphere which prevailed. She bent down to smooth the head of the sleeping dog.

      ‘I shall miss you, Benson,’ she said softly. ‘Even if you did disobey me the other day.’

      ‘Not as much as we’re going to miss you,’ Pat sniffed.

      They made their final goodbyes, with Fleur making vague promises to come back to Pengarroth Hall some time in the near future—though she knew that that was not likely to happen. She felt in her bones that her time here should have a final line drawn under it, and that now she should get back to the safety of work.

      She smiled faintly as she passed the big gate at the top end of the estate—the one she’d mistaken for the main entrance, remembering Sebastian’s reaction when he’d spotted her sitting there in the semi-darkness. And, automatically, her mind did a rerun of everything that had happened since and her smile deepened. She had had a great time, as she’d told them all, but she finally admitted that the towering influence over the holiday had been that of her reluctant host.

      Pausing for a moment at the crossroads before joining the B road which would eventually lead her to the motorway, Fleur made a face to herself as she thought about Sebastian. He hadn’t been reluctant at all, she decided, or, if he had been, he’d covered it up very well, because after his initial antipathy to Mia’s request that he should look after Fleur, he appeared to have warmed to the task with every day that had passed. If he’d wanted to avoid her, he could have done it easily enough. And, although she had deliberately tried to shut out of her mind all the things which Pat had said yesterday, the woman’s remarks would keep floating back into her consciousness. To imagine, even for a second, that Sebastian fancied her was too ridiculous for words! He was clearly not looking for another emotional relationship—he’d made that abundantly clear during one of their early minor discussions on the subject, and, even if he was, there’d be a plentiful selection of women in the elevated life he led from which to choose. She would not be top of his list, that was for sure. Then, having hardened those thoughts in her mind, Fleur experienced the familiar tingle of sensuousness when she remembered what had happened a few nights ago in her bedroom…how she’d clung to him and, more importantly, how he’d responded. Did he fancy her? Or had that been the automatic, passing reaction which any red-blooded male might have made in those circumstances? She shrugged. It was difficult to tell but, anyway, it was too late now. That incident had passed like water under a bridge, and neither of them had alluded to it since.

      As she drove swiftly along the smooth, well-maintained road, her mind flipped to the time they’d spent together in Truro. They had both enjoyed their time together there—she had certainly enjoyed experiencing the city and then, when he’d joined her in the cathedral, his attitude had been so…so special. It had been a simple, yet magical day and he had been so considerate, so warm, and there seemed to have been that certain thread of familiarity between them which only a couple—a devoted couple—might expect to enjoy.

      Irritated with herself for dwelling on things—things which were now of the past—she put on a CD and let the music of one of the Verdi operas swell around her like a comforting tide, filling her mind with its beauty.

      The traffic began to thicken as she sped along, hampered largely by various delivery trucks and milk and petrol tankers, but as the distance between herself and Pengarroth Hall—and its owner—lengthened, СКАЧАТЬ