Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie West

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      Ella swallowed down her embarrassment, lifted her chin and smiled politely as though she were greeting a garden-party guest and waved at him as graciously as she could with her wooden spoon, especially considering that they were both in their nightwear.

      ‘Good morning to you. And it’s Ella, remember?’ she replied. ‘I hope that you slept well. It’s a lovely morning.’

      The smell of warm earth, the garden flowers and a salty citrus tang of man sweat and whatever body spray he used hit her hard, then hit her again as she moved closer to shake his hand. Except one of her hands was holding a mixing bowl and the other was sticky with splashes of batter from the wooden spoon.

      His dark eyes under darker eyebrows flickered with something close to amusement as she changed her mind and simply gestured with her spoon instead.

      Even in shorts that revealed long powerful legs and a taut waist, Sebastien was every inch the sophisticated city millionaire businessman. And he was tall. At least a foot taller than she was. But there was also a presence about Seb. A gravitas that screamed loud and clear that this was a man who was used to giving orders and seeing them through.

      The main effect it had on her was to make her gabble to fill the silence between them.

      ‘And if you don’t like Ella some of my friends call me Cindy. You know—Cinderella. Like the fairy story. But I’ll answer to either Ella or Cindy. You choose.’

      She looked into his slightly stunned face and wondered if her Beatrix Potter T-shirt and pink pyjama bottoms were too much for that time in the morning. And she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

      And she had messy unbrushed bed hair.

      Oh, no. Not exactly the best look. The village was used to her creative dress sense. From the look on her employer’s stepson’s face, Seb was clearly not.

      ‘Ella,’ he said, sounding out the letters, ‘is perfect. But only if you call me Seb.’

      She opened her mouth to suggest Bastien or Sebby or Bast, and changed her mind. If this man wanted to be called Seb she could live with it.

      Seb was staring into her face so intently that she wondered if the pancake batter had splashed on her cheek or there was a pillow feather sticking out of her hair.

      ‘Thank you. Seb. Was the room okay? I am sorry if I woke you with my crazy singing this morning. I’ll try and remember to be quiet in the future.’

      ‘The room was fine. And you are free to sing any time you like. This is Nicole’s house and your home. Speaking of which, have you heard from Nicole?’

      Ella felt the tension in the air lift to match the sudden stiffness in his shoulders. And his dark eyebrows grew even more hooded.

      ‘Not yet, but I haven’t fired up my computer yet this morning. I’m just about to get dressed then make some breakfast, Seb. Would you like to join us in, say, twenty minutes and I can check my mail? Then I need to bring you up to date about the birthday party.’

      She paused and sucked in a breath. ‘Things are going to be a little interesting around here today.’

      The first thing Seb heard when he walked down the corridor to the kitchen was a series of big sighs followed by groans. Perhaps that was what Ella had meant by ‘interesting’.

      The shower had been hot. His suit trousers and business shirt were relatively uncreased and as he tied the laces in his shiny black shoes his uniform was complete and his brain more or less back to the state he was used to.

      In control and focused on the task in hand.

      His ten minutes of madness in the sun were over. He had things to do and people to see and a full agenda of work to get through—depending on when Nicole was expected back from holiday.

      Perhaps Nicole could meet them at the airport?

      What was really annoying him was that he didn’t have the information he needed at his fingertips. Yes, of course Nicole would make contact with her housekeeper as first point of call, but he found it surprisingly frustrating to be kept out of the loop.

      He checked his watch. Twenty minutes. Precisely. Ella should have logged on by now and picked up any emails.

      So he was not quite prepared for the sight of Dan sitting at the kitchen table with his chin in his hands, his face only inches from the screen of the oldest TV Seb had ever seen in his life.

      ‘Mu-u-um, it doesn’t work, Mum. I can’t see Aunty Nicole at all!’

      ‘I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Just enjoy your breakfast.’

      Ella had changed from kids’ pyjamas into slim-fitting cherry-coloured trousers and a sleeveless candy-stripe top in pinks and yellows. It was a riot of colour and he felt oddly drab and sombre. Perhaps he should have packed some casual clothing? He only ever carried hand luggage on business flights, which did not leave any room for casual clothing, but he just might be a tad too formally dressed for a French farmhouse.

      It was only as he moved closer that Seb realised that the TV was connected to a huge computer case with a well-worn keyboard and mouse attached.

      This wasn’t a TV. It was a personal computer. And, from the age of it, was probably powered by a steam engine.

      Another long sigh came from Dan and the little boy’s shoulders dropped even lower as Ella placed a brightly coloured plate with delicious-looking billowy fruit pancakes and a glass of milk in front of him.

      ‘Hello, Dan.’ Seb smiled down at the face that was twisted into a curious expression as Dan chewed. ‘What have you got there?’

      Dan gulped down his bit of pancake and waved the remaining portion towards the monitor, scattering soft crumbs onto the keyboard and table as he did so.

      ‘Aunty Nicole sent a letter and pictures of elephants! And big mountains with snow.’

      ‘And where exactly are these mountains, Dan?’ Ella asked.

      His lips twisted for a second and then he nodded with a big grin. ‘India. The elephants are in India.’

      Ella glanced once at Seb, then shrugged. ‘Close enough. Well done for remembering.’ She gestured to the table. ‘Please join us, Seb—I will have some scrambled eggs and ham ready in two minutes.’

      ‘Wonderful,’ he replied, his stomach growling in agreement, but as he looked at the display of large-size pancakes, croissants, preserves and baguette laid out for a more adult breakfast at the end of the long table furthest away from Dan Seb made his second executive decision of the day and sat down in the chair next to the little boy and leant forward so that they could stare at the screen together.

      The Internet browser did have emails, but the photographs attached to the message were taking so long to open up that Dan would be in school before he saw anything.

      ‘Um, see what you mean. Mind if I have a go?’

      ‘Mum. Is it okay if Seb touches the ‘puter?’

      Seb glanced up at Ella, who СКАЧАТЬ