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‘Well, that’s a first,’ he murmured. ‘Do a twirl,’ he suggested. ‘I’d like to see the full effect of that beautiful dress.’
Kate’s brows rose fractionally before she obeyed. But Guy didn’t make her feel like a clothes-horse, he made her feel like a valued, cosseted… She actually stamped her foot as she ground to a halt in front of him. This was ridiculous! What was she thinking of? ‘Look, Guy, this dress—’ She lifted the diaphanous skirt, subtly shadow-printed in shades of blue, and unconsciously ran her other hand over the figure-hugging bodice. ‘Well, it’s fabulous. But quite frankly—’
‘Quite frankly?’ he pressed, his silver-grey eyes dancing with amusement.
‘It must have cost a fortune and, well, I’ll never wear it again, will I?’ she said, trying reason on him.
‘I don’t see why not,’ he argued. ‘It’s perfectly lovely.’
Kate’s striking green eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of emerald light. ‘That’s exactly my point.’
Guy’s face adopted a mildly bemused expression. ‘You don’t like it because it’s lovely?’ he queried, sliding one strong tanned hand into the pocket of his grey tailored trousers.
Conscious that her eyes had followed his every move and he’d probably noticed, Kate shifted position uncomfortably. In the process she almost toppled off the high-heeled Jimmy Choos, forcing Guy to reach out and steady her. As he stood back again she protested, ‘That’s exactly my point. I don’t live your kind of life. I’m more of a—’
‘Garçon manqué?’ he supplied. ‘Tomboy, I believe, is how you say it in English.’
‘You know very well how we say everything in English,’ Kate scolded, noticing how he lifted his hand and kept the back of it across his mouth so that she had no idea if he was laughing or not. ‘Well, I’m hardly the Countess de Villeneuve, am I?’ The words flew out of her mouth.
‘Indeed. But surely it won’t hurt you to wear this lovely dress for one day?’
‘But if I’m clearing the cottage—’
‘True,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘I’ll have a selection of dungarees and work-boots delivered to you later this afternoon.’
Kate narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. It was hard to tell if he was serious or joking.
‘Meanwhile,’ he said, ‘we’ll have lunch…here,’ he added, pointing to the lakeside, where she could see a table had been laid with all the finest china and glass and a taupe canvas parasol had been erected to protect them from the midday sun.
‘I should be getting back.’
‘You will eat something first,’ he said firmly, offering her his arm.
Slipping her hand through the crook of Guy’s arm was like putting a key into the gate to paradise, Kate warned herself. But surely there was no harm in sampling the role for which he had dressed her, just for lunch. There was something almost unbearably seductive about strolling with a devastatingly handsome French count through an avenue of sculpted box to a winding path that led down to the edge of a crystalline lake in front of his château. And, just in case her imagination faltered, the glade in which their table was set was shielded by a group of willow trees in their first flush of greenery. They provided a whispering chorus as the light breeze danced through their supple branches and, in front of these, streamers of skylarks offered a scintillating cabaret as they dive-bombed the water to drink.
‘Mademoiselle,’ Guy murmured, releasing her arm. And then a manservant, so still, so discreet Kate hadn’t even noticed him standing there, stepped forward to hold out her chair, then pour the wine and serve the salad. Guy was doing everything he could think of to help her get over the shock of the fire, she realised.
‘I could get used to this,’ Kate confessed as the man faded into the background again.
As Guy’s sensuous lips pressed together he hummed a sound she failed to interpret.
‘But, Guy, I must insist—’
‘You must?’ he murmured, making it sound like a challenge as he gazed at her over the rim of his wine glass.
Trying to ignore the heat that sped to the area currently enclosed by the tiniest lace thong she had ever seen in her life, Kate steeled herself to continue. ‘I cannot possibly wear any of those clothes I found in the dressing room. They are far too—’
‘What? Beautiful? Feminine? Tell me,’ he demanded, still in the same low and very disturbing voice.
‘They are all very beautiful and extremely feminine,’ Kate admitted, ‘but that’s not what concerns me.’
Twin furrows appeared between his sweeping sable brows. ‘So, what does concern you?’ he pressed.
‘I only needed one outfit at most,’ Kate explained. ‘But you must have ordered half a summer collection.’
‘All of it,’ he said casually. ‘And the fashion house was good enough to track down shoes, bags and lingerie for me too—and at such short notice. Of course, I haven’t had a chance to examine every item. So, you must choose, Kate. Keep whatever you want and I’ll send the rest back. Keep everything, or nothing. It’s up to you, Kate.’
Kate was far too stunned to come up with a reasoned argument. ‘But I can’t possibly—’
‘OK, so now I’ve got an even better idea,’ Guy said decisively.
Kate’s sigh of relief was audible as she laid down her knife and fork.
‘You always did like dressing up. I remember you coming to your aunt’s in that hideous school uniform and then pouf! The next day you would reappear in some exotic concoction she had dreamed up for you. One day you were stiff and anxious and the next…’
As he paused to view her thoughtfully, as if searching for a way to describe how she had looked back then, Kate found her own concerns centring on her current appearance. Making a discreet check, she discovered just how diaphanous the top of her new dress really was.
‘And the next?’ she pressed, hoping to deflect Guy’s interest, which she saw she had drawn to the generous amount of cleavage currently overflowing the cunningly designed bodice.
‘And the next day you would be anyone you wanted to be,’ he said, relaxing back with an open-armed shrug. ‘Bandanna and jeans meant I had to beware of the pirate queen. Those pretty muslin skirts much like the one you wore yesterday…’ He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe you would be a romantic peasant girl for the day, or maybe even a fairy princess.’
‘Yuk!’ Kate grimaced and then looked down at the dress she was wearing. ‘And this?’
Guy shrugged as he threw back his head to give a short, very masculine laugh. ‘The Countess de Villeneuve, perhaps? For the day at least,’ he qualified provocatively. His stare was like a challenge to which she responded exactly as he anticipated.
‘I’m warning you, Guy. Don’t tease me.’ Kate waited for a moment until she was sure she was ready to return to the attack. ‘Why don’t we get back to this idea of yours?’
‘Leave the clothes here,’ Guy suggested casually. ‘That way, any time you feel like some role play—’ His brows rose infinitesimally, but enough, and there was laughter in his eyes and something darker and far more disturbing. Some of the underwear was—Kate didn’t even dare think about it, at least not while she was sitting so close to him.
‘Are you ready to go to the cottage now?’ he said when they had finished lunch.
Kate agreed that she was. She had realised instantly that she wasn’t up to sexual jousts with Guy, even if they were only verbal. Her arena was business, and if she’d had any sense that was where she would have kept their relationship. ‘Yes, I’m ready,’ she confirmed. ‘And if the cottage has been pronounced safe—if the bedrooms are in any way habitable—I should like to stay on there. I know there will be a lot of clearing up to do before the builders and decorators can start their work and I’d like to help.’ She watched his jaw tighten but, like her, Guy was intent on keeping his thoughts to himself. The most he permitted himself now was a brief nod of agreement.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he agreed, ‘Madame Duplessis will send hampers of food and drink and I’m sure we have some oil lamps and an old oil heater somewhere that will do for now.’
‘There’s really no need to bother. I’ll be fine,’ Kate said, knowing what she really needed was a clean break with the château. Her body told her that anything other than the most limited contact with Guy, Count of Villeneuve was going to lead to complications she would never be ready to handle.
‘Nonsense!’ he said, springing up before she could think of any more excuses. ‘I’m going to take you back there now and find out exactly what you need.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#u980907a6-e312-53db-8103-36f3f3c12f63)
THE drive back to the cottage took just a few minutes in one of the estate’s four-wheel drive vehicles, but it was a few moments more before Kate could bring herself to check out the damage.
‘Come on,’ Guy urged impatiently, slamming his door. Flinging her door open, he stood there waiting. Only then did Kate’s mind click into gear. He’d been up half the night on her behalf and he was sure to have other things to do. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, making light of her shock at seeing the smoke-blackened exterior. ‘I was just steeling myself.’
As soon as he was sure she was following, Guy strode briskly up the path. ‘I wouldn’t have brought you up here if the cottage was burned beyond redemption,’ he called over his shoulder. Reaching the front door, he pushed it open. The first thing that hit Kate was the smell, a dank, rancid stench that caught in the back of her throat as she adjusted her eyes to the gloom.
‘Look, it’s not too bad,’ Guy said as he forced the door across a heap of something damp that squelched as they walked over it. ‘And we’ve had the “all clear” from the fire service and… What?’ he said when she made a small wounded sound.
Maybe it didn’t look too bad to him, but as far as Kate was concerned it was the end of an era and there wasn’t even time to mourn. And with the deadline she had to meet the devastation inside the cottage was nothing short of a total disaster.
The flimsier objects as well as the soft furnishings had been utterly consumed, and the heavy cupboard doors as well as the beautiful oak table and rustic-style benches appeared scorched beyond redemption; the wood charred to dust in some places. But it was far more than the loss of a deadline Kate saw as she looked around. It was the loss of a very important part of her life. Shattered ornaments lay scattered about the floor, and there was no sign at all of the photograph albums she had been studying amongst the stinking wet debris. Of the two old carver chairs, one slumped miserably on three legs instead of four and the ceiling had fallen down in the far corner of the room, exposing the rafters above, though they seemed unharmed, Kate saw thankfully. But the white walls had been transformed into an ugly mishmash of yellows and browns shaded with banners of soot. A groan escaped her as she forced herself to turn full circle.
‘Arrêtes!’ Guy insisted, taking her upper arms in a strong grip as if to shake some sense into her. ‘There’s nothing here that my men can’t repair. It’s all superficial.’
As his touch ripped through her, she burst out, ‘Superficial!’ Kate shook her head incredulously. ‘I can’t believe you just said that, Guy de Villeneuve. You’re such a man!’
‘I certainly hope so—’
As their eyes met, the furious look she flashed at him ricocheted back on her senses. ‘Only a man could look at a home reduced to a cinder and insist that the damage is superficial,’ she said, shifting the heat into her accusation.
‘But it is,’ Guy insisted. ‘The structure’s sound.’
‘But everything’s lost!’
‘Ah,’ he murmured, releasing her to slip his hand into his pocket. ‘Not quite everything.’
‘My locket!’ Kate gasped.
‘The men brought it to me this morning,’ he revealed, holding it so that the chain was wrapped around his wrist and the locket swung free in front of her face.
But Kate’s mind was still over-loaded with emotion and for a few seconds she couldn’t think straight.
‘Aren’t you going to say thank you?’ Guy said as he took hold of her arms.
‘You kept it from me,’ Kate said irrationally, trying to pull away.
Guy’s voice was low and intense as he stared into her eyes to deliver the correction. ‘I chose my moment to give it to you. Didn’t you think I would know how distressed you would be when you saw this—?’ He gave a brief glance around. ‘I wanted the recovery of the locket to put this calamity in perspective…make it seem what it is—superficial.’
‘OK,’ Kate mumbled, facing away as she struggled to untangle the jangling impressions in her head.
‘That’s not good enough,’ Guy insisted, cupping her chin in his hand and bringing her round to face him again. ‘And I’m still waiting,’ he said, directing his words at eyes tightly shut.
‘For?’ Risking a glance at his face, Kate instantly wished she hadn’t.
‘For you to say thank you,’ Guy murmured in a voice that made her breathing seem noisy by comparison.
Their frozen tableau of clean, neatly pressed normality should have formed an oasis amidst all the devastation, but Kate felt as if she was standing at the gateway of another world…a world she wasn’t sure she should enter. It hadn’t always been easy standing on the outside looking in, but it was safe.
Silence wound around them like a shield, protecting her against the reality that would have to be faced some time, but not yet, whilst ribbons of sunlight slipped through the damaged shutters to light up their faces. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, dipping her head with relief that it had been safely said.
But as Guy released the chain into her hand he slipped a hand either side of her face. ‘Better now?’ he murmured. And this time there was no escape from his eyes. As Kate looked into them she knew that if this was another of his games it was one she hadn’t played before. Her heart stopped as she saw his intention reflected in his fast darkening stare and in the curve of his sensuous mouth. But then he let her go and stood back as if to show that she was free to move, free to pretend the moment had never happened.
Then of its own accord her body inclined towards him and his mouth brushed hers with the lightest touch—a reassurance maybe, support in a difficult moment, a gesture of friendship. She didn’t mean to sigh her encouragement, to move closer until his tongue teased the seam of her mouth, parting her lips, tasting, touching and exploring in the lightest most leisurely dance of retreat and advance. Her breathing raced as she felt her lips swell in response to the languorous teasing and the nip of his teeth. But he made no move to address the ache between her thighs and only went on tormenting her with the same unflinching control so that each time she tried to close the short distance between them he moved away, always denying her the firmer touch she craved.
‘Stop… Stop it now, Guy!’ She managed to force out at last as she stumbled away from him. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing but whatever it is I’m not ready for it.’
‘Really?’ he murmured sardonically.
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, as if that was all it took to hide her arousal. But from the look on his face the moment had passed—she might even have imagined it to judge from the steely determination on his face. But what was his game? Was this a test? If so, it seemed his intention was to prove to her that in spite of all her denials she was as attracted to him as ever. And the way he had closed himself off now from her was simply to make the point that she should not think, even for one moment, that he felt the same.
‘This might look bad,’ he said coolly, turning his attention to the ruined kitchen. ‘But upstairs there’s hardly any damage at all. And even this is all cosmetic.’
Kate’s mind was still churning as she fixed her gaze on Guy’s broad, uncompromising back. He was so focused, so composed. How could that be when his kiss had left her reeling and confused? And did he really expect her to be able to enter into a rational discussion about the state of the kitchen?
‘Look at this, for example,’ he continued, apparently unaware of her state of mind as he pointed to a row of cupboards. ‘These doors can easily be replaced and they’re so solid—’ He rapped one with his fist and opened it. ‘Everything inside is completely unharmed. ‘See,’ he said, whipping out a couple of terracotta bowls. ‘Not even a crack in one of these. You could easily serve up a meal for half the village.’
‘All of them, I hope,’ Kate murmured, determined to show she could be as untroubled as he was by The Kiss.
‘Ah, yes,’ Guy said as he replaced the bowls. ‘Your house-warming party in three weeks’ time.’ Planting his hands on his lean hips, he looked at her. ‘I guess that’s my target for getting everything here back to normal for you.’
He was clearly pleased to see what he must have imagined was her return to clear thinking, Kate thought, imposing a smile on her strained features. Lucky for her he couldn’t sense the mayhem in her mind. Suddenly it was all too much for her—the loss of Aunt Alice, the deception, the devastation at the cottage, not to mention Guy’s reminder of the impossible deadline she had set herself. She had to get out of the cottage—into the fresh air.
‘You can cook?’ Guy demanded, oblivious to the storm clouds brewing as he followed her out. ‘If not, don’t worry about it. I’ll arrange something with Madame Duplessis. No one need ever know.’
That suggestion doused the aftershock of his kiss more effectively than any bucket of cold water. As a child, her life had been ordered for her, but things were very different now. She was in charge of her own life. ‘I can manage, thank you,’ Kate broke in, turning her face to the sun as she gulped in air. Perhaps it did sound ungrateful, but she had to put him straight.
‘I’m sure you can,’ he said. ‘But if you need any help, don’t be afraid to ask.’
She couldn’t let him go on. ‘When I knew my career as a dancer was over…’
He broke in, taking hold of her arm for emphasis. ‘I noticed your limp. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
‘I retrained as a Cordon Bleu cook,’ Kate went on steadily in an attempt to avoid discussing something that could only strengthen his impression of her as being the same headstrong character he had known years before.
‘I’m impressed,’ Guy said with a small shrug. ‘But I’m more concerned about the tragic loss of your dancing career. That must have been terrible for you.’
‘Not as terrible as what happened to your father…and Aunt Alice,’ Kate pointed out. ‘Compared to that, it hardly seems worth mentioning.’
‘Of course it’s worth mentioning,’ Guy insisted calmly. ‘You must have been at the peak of your career when it happened. I used to read about you all the time in the arts columns…and then nothing.’
Kate’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘That’s right. But I was too tall.’
‘Nonsense,’ Guy argued. ‘All the critics said you were a dream.’
‘Yes,’ Kate said, forcing out a short laugh. ‘But it was always my mother’s dream, not mine. And in a strange sort of way the accident freed me.’
‘Freed you?’ he said in a puzzled voice.
‘Yes. To be myself,’ Kate explained. ‘To do what I wanted to do.’
‘To start up in business?’
He clearly found the idea bewildering, but for Kate breaking into the world of commerce had fulfilled her dreams however crazy that might seem to Guy. ‘That’s right,’ she confirmed. ‘At first I thought of becoming a chef, but that wasn’t quite right for me. Then one day when I was trawling the Internet to find a holiday I hit on the idea of opening a travel agency with a difference. A one-stop shop which you could access via the Internet, put a package together yourself, but also with the option to ask for advice from staff who really knew what they were talking about. At first I was the only staff member,’ she said with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘But if there was one thing my career as a dancer had given me it was the chance to see the world. So Freedom Holidays took off like a rocket—beyond all my wildest expectations. At last I’d found something I wanted to do—something I enjoyed.’
‘Past tense,’ Guy observed shrewdly.
‘Not at all,’ Kate returned quickly. ‘I still love what I do. But now it’s time to expand.’
