Kept At The Argentine's Command

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Alejandro suppressed a smile. He had to duck at the top of the stairs. The ceilings were low and age permeated the very beams of the place.

The older woman opened a door on a bedroom so snug the double bed itself and a chest of drawers took up most of the room.

There was an unlit fireplace that their landlady began fussing with.

‘We’ll have you warm in no time. I’ll bring ye up some dinner in a half-hour, if that suits. The bathroom is at the end of the hall and there are fresh towels.’

Lulu’s mouth had fallen open. ‘I am not sharing this room with you,’ she hissed as Mrs Bailey closed the door.

He was ready for this. ‘It’s fine, querida, I trust you.’

She rolled her eyes, but he noticed her gaze was expectant. He wasn’t going to be making the first move this time. He needed this to be very clearly her decision.

‘You should have explained the situation to her.’

He folded his arms.

‘There’s only one bed!’

‘Sí, it looks comfortable.’

It was her turn to fold her arms.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the floor,’ she said.

They both looked at the stretch of floorboards between them.

‘No,’ he said.

She flushed.

‘Maybe you can sleep in the chair,’ she suggested, as if she was being helpful.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘How about we toss a coin for it?’

She opened her mouth, and then at the expression on his face shut it.

He pulled a coin from his back pocket. ‘Heads or tails?’

‘Heads.’

He flipped the coin, slid his hand away. ‘Tails. I’ll give you a blanket.’

He could feel her eyes boring into him as he set about improving Mrs Bailey’s attempt at a fire. He was half minded just to scoop her off her feet and put her mind at rest. He had no intention of sleeping alone.

‘I need my things,’ she said, her voice a little loud given he was right there.

He shoved one of the logs deeper into the smouldering ash.

‘Are you going to do the right thing or make me go outside again?’

‘I’ll be a gentleman,’ he said, straightening up to find her watching him owlishly, ‘and get them.’

She backed up as he headed out. Timid as a dormouse.

‘The little blue case will be enough,’ she called after him when he was halfway down the hall. ‘And don’t shake it about.’

* * *

Alejandro was coming inside with the blue case he wasn’t supposed to shake when he met Mrs Bailey at the bottom of the stairs.

‘I’ll include a bottle of brandy with your dinner, laddie. Your wife looks like she needs a little warming up.’

Alejandro nodded a brief thanks, but knew the only thing warming up Lulu would be him.

If he’d been a less confident man he might have taken pause when Lulu met him at the top of the stairs, uttered an unconvincing ‘Merci beaucoup,’ snatched her suitcase and, with a suspicious look at him, as if he were a villainous seducer, fled for the bathroom at the end of the hall, slamming the door.

But confidence had never been his problem, and Alejandro grinned and went back downstairs to find out about their meal.

When he returned, carrying a wooden tray, Lulu was rummaging around in her suitcase. She looked up, her big brown eyes doing that uncertain thing again, but that was before she noticed the bottle under his arm and the two glasses wedged between his blunt fingers.

She leapt to her feet. ‘That’s my wedding crystal!’

‘Sí.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ll rinse them and they’ll never know.’

‘I’ll know!’

‘We can eat on the floor,’ he said, ignoring her outburst, and settled the tray on the hearth. Then he took a better look at her new outfit. It was wool, full-length, and buttoned up to her neck. ‘Whose grandmother did you steal that from?’

Lulu’s face fell as she glanced down at her dressing gown. ‘I heard that the Scottish nights are cold because of the North Sea,’ she said seriously.

‘The North Sea?’

‘Out there.’ She waved her hand vaguely at the wall.

By Alejandro’s calculations she was pointing inland, or at a stretch of the Atlantic.

He didn’t like her dressing gown, Lulu thought, tugging uneasily at the sleeves. But it was practical, and that was what mattered.

Lulu noticed his hair was wet from the rain, and that he’d brought the scent of the wild outdoors in on his clothes. Her senses stirred. More than stirred. He’d braved the elements for her. She shouldn’t find that sexy...but she did. Her gaze went a little helplessly to the stretch of damp fabric across his upper body, the swell of muscle, the hard male bones.

‘Are you going to eat?’

Lulu realised she’d just been standing there all this time, and that he’d caught her checking him out.

Flustered, she made a production of sitting down on the rug and surveying their dinner. It was stew and dumplings. The kind of food she would have been careful around if she hadn’t been on a break.

‘What’s that?’ she asked rather desperately as he uncorked the bottle.

‘It’s one of the bottles of burgundy I brought over for Khaled and Gigi. They won’t miss one.’

Lulu held out her hand and examined the old faded label. ‘1945?’ she said.

‘It was produced at the end of World War II—I sourced a handful of bottles through Christie’s.’

‘You bought wine at an auction?’

‘Why not?’

‘Wasn’t it a little expensive?’

He angled a speculative look her way that set all the hormones in her body aquiver. ‘Just a little.’

‘This feels so wasteful,’ Lulu half whispered as she watched him expertly decant the blood-dark wine into goblets. ‘I’m sure Mrs Bailey’s stew isn’t up to the standards of a forty-five burgundy.’

‘Good wine improves everything,’ he told her, and she knew he wasn’t talking about the wine.

She found herself checking to see that none of her buttons had come undone.

Non, all accounted for. To settle her nerves Lulu concentrated on sipping her wine. It slid down like heaven, and she gave a soft sigh of approval and looked over at him—only to discover he hadn’t touched his. He was watching her, and she was instantly back in the car with him, his hand at the back of her head, his mouth making all kinds of magic with hers, leaving her breathless and flustered all over again.