Susan Stephens Selection

‘The bathroom’s next,’ he murmured, confirming her supposition that he was already planning his next job.

Giles had made sure that she had water, even if the electricity supply was proving more of a problem. But the old range was most important of all. It would heat the water and provide cooking facilities until the mains supplies could be connected. As yet there was no sign of this happening, a matter that had been referred back to the Villeneuve estate office to sort out.

‘Monsieur le Comte is your friend?’ Giles said as he rolled down the sleeves of his red and white checked shirt and rebuttoned the cuffs.

‘That is correct,’ Kate said, wondering where this was leading.

As Giles settled his omnipresent black beret to a more secure position on the crown of his head he beetled a look at her. ‘Monsieur le Comte will speak to the authorities on your behalf when he returns and then you will have electricity.’

Kate smiled at his blind faith. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Giles. But I’m quite capable of doing that myself. And I have no idea when Monsieur le Comte is returning.’

‘Allow me to put you out of your misery.’

‘Guy!’ Kate exclaimed accusingly. ‘You startled me!’ But the sight of him, darkly tanned in a casual linen suit over a simple white T-shirt, striding in through the open doorway was enough to make anyone jump, she reassured herself, swallowing deeply.

‘My word, Giles,’ he said, clapping the builder on the back. ‘What a transformation!’ Then, turning to Kate, he executed a mock-bow. ‘Allow me to apologise for the intrusion, mademoiselle. And for causing you to jump, however elegantly, into the air.’ But then he spoiled it all by adding sardonically, ‘I haven’t known you so timid before, Kate—or so feminine,’ he finished, looking her up and down.

Kate could see he was clearly in the mood for tormenting her. His gaze lingered on her working uniform of bare feet, flower-sprigged cotton skirt from the village store and the same white blouse that had let her down once before.

‘I would have changed if I had known you were coming,’ she said acerbically.

‘Mais non. I like it,’ he declared with a touch too much relish. ‘I can see La Petite Maison is bringing out the best in you.’

Did he mean dishevelled and decidedly grubby while she toiled at what he clearly considered were suitable tasks? Kate’s lips tightened as she squared her shoulders. ‘Don’t go there, mister—’

Now it was Giles’s turn to jump with alarm. Clearly embarrassed at finding himself between his Count and a disrespectful maiden, the elderly builder, having snatched his beret off his head, was attempting to back his way out of the room.

In a trice, Kate was standing between him and the door. ‘No, Giles, I must insist that you share a glass of lemonade with us. It’s freshly made,’ she added, fluttering around him in decidedly un-Kate-like mode as she tried appealing to the older man’s chivalrous inclinations.

‘Well, if you insist,’ he said hesitantly, gazing anxiously at Guy and then back again to Kate.

‘Of course she insists. We both do,’ Guy said, putting an arm around Giles’s shoulders as he led him to one of the well-upholstered benches. ‘You’ll share a glass with me, won’t you? And then you can fill me in on all the latest gossip,’ he insisted with a wink to Giles, sparing a look of amused triumph for Kate.

Kate’s hands were trembling when she reached for the pitcher of juice she had left cooling in the shady depths of the vast porcelain sink. It would be nice to pretend it was righteous indignation at the way Guy always assumed control that gave her the shakes, but she knew his arrival was all it took to set her trembling. Already his presence seemed to pervade every atom of the home she was trying to build for herself. She might be tough and shrewd in business, but in business there wasn’t this degree of emotion to contend with, she realised as she reached for the tumblers.

‘Let me help you.’

She hadn’t even realised Guy was right behind her until she heard his voice. Turning, she saw Giles comfortably ensconced on the bench where Guy had been sitting, whilst Guy had picked up one of her new beech trays.

‘I’ll serve,’ he offered, nodding towards the heavy jug she had balanced on the side of the sink. ‘That looks heavy. Let me take it.’

‘I can manage.’

‘You don’t have to manage when I’m here,’ he pointed out. ‘Come on, Kate,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Don’t make a scene. Why should we make Giles feel uncomfortable? Give me the jug.’

Loading the tray as he asked, Kate made a detour to the old meat safe she had pressed into service until the electricity was restored before following him back to the table.

Guy had already poured the lemonade and she watched Giles begin to gulp it down. She knew he would drink quickly. He was clearly eager to be anywhere but where he found himself right now. But as Guy relaxed back against the table to take his first sip, Giles stopped drinking and stared at the glass in astonishment.

‘This is delicious, mademoiselle.’

And then Guy’s eyes flamed with approval too. ‘This is seriously good, Kate,’ he murmured.

‘Well, don’t sound too surprised,’ she murmured to Guy, raising her brows in gentle reproof. But all the same she took real pleasure watching the two men enjoying the drink she had prepared. ‘Try a few of these to go with the lemonade,’ she suggested, pushing the bowls and plates she had brought from the old-fashioned cooler across the table. ‘Tell me what you think. And be honest. They’re a trial run for the house-warming party.’

Both looked equally impressed as they surveyed the rainbow selection of sauces and neatly prepared salad vegetables.

‘Absolument delicieux,’ Guy declared after he had tried a few and exchanged several glances of appreciation with Giles.

‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything more,’ Kate told them. ‘But I had no means of cooking until Giles fixed the solid fuel range…’

‘What else needs to be done now, Giles?’ Guy cut in.

Giles continued to tuck in as he spoke. ‘Nothing major on the building front, Monsieur le Comte. But the electricity is still not connected…’

‘Not connected!’ Guy exclaimed. ‘How can that be? I left instructions before I went away that the reconnection of all the main services here was to be a priority. Why didn’t you say something, Kate? How on earth have you been managing?’

‘I’ve managed just fine, thank you.’

‘But I don’t understand. How could you?’

‘With your oil fire and lots of candles,’ she said, reminding him of the offer he had made and that Madame Duplessis had thoughtfully ensured was carried through.

‘But before I went away I told my estate office to inform the authorities that La Petite Maison was being lived in once more.’

Did he mean the same secretary who had tried to prevent her from seeing Guy in the first place? Kate wondered. ‘Don’t worry,’ she insisted. ‘I shall take up the matter myself. I’m sure it’s only a question of time…’

‘But you do not have much time, mademoiselle,’ Giles exclaimed, immediately looking contrite when he realised that he had nearly let the cat out of the bag now he was sworn to secrecy over her plans for the guest house.

Instantly Kate felt guilty for having embroiled him in her plans too—plans that were rapidly getting out of hand. Laying her palm across his gnarled fist, she hurried to reassure him. ‘There’s really no need for either of you to be concerned. It’s something that I can take up myself now that the worst of the damage has been put to rights.’

‘But Monsieur le Comte can make things happen,’ Giles protested anxiously.

‘So can I. So can I, Giles,’ Kate told him firmly.

‘Well as soon as Monsieur le Comte arranges for your electricity to be reconnected,’ Giles said, clearly unconvinced that anyone could make things happen with quite the same speed as the Count de Villeneuve, ‘I will be back to help you again.’

‘I appreciate that more than I can say, Giles,’ Kate said, standing as Giles prepared to leave.

‘That was the best lemonade I have ever tasted, mademoiselle,’ he said, putting his glass down on the kitchen table. ‘And the dips, the crudités too—delicious! I shall be sure to tell Elise, my wife. We are already looking forward to your party, but now—’ He rolled his eyes in a great show of anticipation.

‘It looks as if I was rather presumptuous in offering you the services of my chef,’ Guy remarked once Kate had seen Giles out.

‘No, no,’ Kate said. ‘It was kind of you to offer.’ Gathering her thoughts for a moment, she leaned back against the door. Even though she had been the owner of La Petite Maison for six months she had occupied the cottage for such a short while, yet it had been long enough for Guy to turn her whole world upside down. And the worst of it was that she prided herself on her integrity above everything. In all her business dealings her word was her bond—yet here she was holding so much back.

‘What’s this, Kate?’

She made a small interrogative sound as she looked at Guy and, following his gaze, she felt her stomach lurch. She should have known it would only be a matter of time before he began to tease out all the loose threads of her deception. He was standing in front of the mirrors Giles had installed for her. ‘They are for…’

‘Oui?’ he pressed. ‘What is this—the house of mirrors?’

‘They reflect the light,’ she pointed out lamely, hoping that would deflect his interest.

Guy’s scepticism showed in the way his lips quirked down at the corners, but he made no comment until he turned to survey the impressive new cooking station in the centre of the room. ‘Well, I must say you’re well equipped,’ he observed mildly. ‘And this is a massive kitchen now…for someone living on their own.’

‘I plan to entertain a lot,’ Kate said quickly.

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Guy said as he wandered across to take his pick from the plate of appetisers. ‘From what I’ve tasted so far, an invitation to La Petite Maison is guaranteed to be the hottest ticket in town.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Kate said, remembering the pleasing number of forward bookings she had already received for the cottage in its latest guise as a guest house.

‘But mirrors round three sides of the room?’ Guy said curiously. ‘Isn’t that a little excessive? You’re not thinking of opening a bordello, are you?’

Kate’s cheeks flamed as quite suddenly the mirrors took on a whole new range of possibilities. ‘Certainly not,’ she said. ‘I’m fond of light, that’s all.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’

A few moments passed between them before Guy broke eye contact. Then, reaching inside his jacket, he extracted an envelope from the pocket.

‘What’s this?’ Kate asked as he held it out to her.

‘A copy of the restrictive covenants presently in force on La Petite Maison,’ he said evenly. ‘I thought you should have a look at them as it may be some time before you are able to arrange an appointment with your solicitor.’

‘I’ll take a good look at them,’ she promised, making no move to open the envelope.

‘I think you should,’ Guy said as he walked to the door. ‘I’d better go. I’ve been away from things long enough.’ He paused with his hand on the door handle. ‘We’ll have a chat about those covenants over dinner some time.’

Kate managed a tense nod. Her fingers were burning with the urge to rip open the package and see just what new problems stood in her way. Guy would never have wasted a visit for no reason. Whatever information was contained within the documents was sure to be dynamite. His expression now was impenetrable and she didn’t flatter herself that he had come round for a replay of The Kiss. In fact, since that moment he hadn’t betrayed by so much as a glance or a smile that he had kissed her in so skilful, so knowing a way—while Kate wondered, on the other hand, if she would ever be able to put it out of her mind.

As Guy strode off down the path Kate’s grip on the envelope tightened. Seeing him swing into the driver’s seat, she looked around the room, trying to see the kitchen through his eyes. Had he guessed what she intended to do? Had he been convinced by her explanation that she loved cooking…loved to share her passion with friends? Whatever he thought he would find out the truth soon enough.

Somewhere just beyond the tousled hedge she heard the engine roar into life, bringing on another rush of guilt. She swallowed it back fast. There was nothing between them. Even The Kiss had meant nothing to him. He had just slipped back into the habit of a lifetime—teasing her as he always had—except that she wasn’t a child any longer. Impatient with herself for dwelling on a hopeless situation, Kate turned her attention to those things she could do something about.

By the time she reached the long oak table she already had the documents out of the envelope. Business was her anchor, a forum in which she excelled and, most crucially, an arena where emotions played no part. A sense of relief swept over her as she sat down. But she could only bring herself to skim the top sheet. However hard she struggled to keep her mind on the task and her eyes firmly focused on the page, all she could think of was Guy.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘MEGAN! I can’t believe it’s you!’ Enveloped in a hug that went the best part to smothering her, Kate clung to Aunt Alice’s friend as if she would never let her go.

‘There now, stand back and let me look at you for a minute, will you?’ the older woman insisted. ‘Tears? What’s this, pet?’

‘Surprise at seeing you,’ Kate lied as she dashed them away. Tears were completely out of character, but since returning to France everything seemed to have gone haywire. And now she was so pathetically grateful to see Megan O’Reilly, who was to be Course Leader for the art groups Kate planned to host, it was ridiculous. It was a thrill just to hear the lilt of her Irish accent again and such a relief not to be alone in the venture any longer. Pulling herself together, Kate began, ‘Megan, you look…’

‘As disreputable as ever, I know,’ Megan said dismissively. ‘Kettle on?’ she added hopefully, looking past Kate into the kitchen as she heaved the bulging carpet bag at her feet back on to her ample shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said as she took in the state of Megan’s colourful multi-layered clothing. ‘It’s so hot today. You must be exhausted. Come on in.’

‘My, my… You’ve made quite a few changes since your aunt Alice lived here,’ Megan observed as she looked around the room. ‘And all these mirrors—what’ve you got planned, Kate? Something naughty, I hope?’

‘I thought they’d be useful for teaching—help people see what I’m doing during demonstrations,’ Kate explained. ‘You’re the second person to remark on them,’ she admitted, smiling to herself as she put the kettle on the hob.

‘How is his lordship?’

‘How did you know I meant Guy?’

‘Oh, come now, Kate,’ Megan said as she eased her bare feet out of a pair of shabby loafers and wiggled her toes. ‘There’s no need to be coy with me. Don’t tell me you two haven’t been catching up on old times?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Kate said, glad to have her back turned as she buried her head in a cupboard to search out some crockery.

‘I might be an old fogey,’ Megan remarked dryly, ‘but I can still remember the sparks flying between you two when you used to come here as a youngster. I can’t believe he’s ignoring you now you’re here for good…’

‘Ah—’

‘You haven’t told him!’

‘Not exactly,’ Kate admitted, spooning coffee granules into the mugs.

‘Don’t you think it’s about time you did?’ Megan demanded as she replanted the chopsticks holding up her cloud of magenta hair.

‘It’s not that easy, Megan.’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course it’s that easy,’ Megan argued, bustling over to the range to assume control of the coffee preparation. ‘Go and sit down and tell me what’s been happening. I know something’s up—and if we’re going to be working together…’

‘You’re right,’ Kate said, going to perch on a stool. ‘It’s only fair to tell you that this latest business venture of mine probably won’t even get off the ground.’

‘What?’ Megan said, throwing a stare over her shoulder. ‘I can see I got here in the nick of time. This is more serious than I thought. Here,’ she said, advancing towards Kate like a galleon in full sail. ‘Drink your coffee and then you’d better start right back at the beginning and tell me what I’ve missed.’

‘But you’ve seen enough contracts in your time,’ Megan remarked when Kate had brought her up to speed. ‘How different can this one be?’

‘Strictly speaking it isn’t a contract, it’s a list of covenants,’ Kate explained. ‘Secondly, the only document I’ve read so far is a translation—’

‘And the original is where?’ Megan said between bites of her third slice of lemon drizzle cake.

‘With my solicitor,’ Kate reassured her. ‘No wonder he was desperate to speak to me…’

‘But you’ll ask him to obtain an independent translation?’ Megan cut in.

‘Already done. I telephoned him just before you arrived.’

‘Good,’ Megan said, pushing her plate away as if the whole matter had been put to bed. ‘So while your solicitor’s attending to that side of things, why don’t you and I concentrate on Freedom Holidays’ newest new venture, Freedom Breaks? Our first guests arrive when?’

‘Too soon.’

‘Well, don’t sound so worried,’ Megan said, patting Kate’s arm with a plump, lavishly beringed hand. ‘This old carpet bag of mine is like a magician’s trunk.’ She opened it up to illustrate her point, allowing a shambles of well-used artists’ paraphernalia to spill across the floor. ‘I’ve got everything in here to keep the world and his wife hap… Who’s that now?’ she said, breaking off to stare towards the door. ‘Could this be our first guest?’ She cocked her head to one side like a super-alert squirrel.

Kate’s gaze switched desperately from Megan, to the mess on the floor, to the door. If it was Guy he wouldn’t wait to be invited into the cottage, he would walk straight in as he always had… Springing to her feet, she pelted across the room, hoping to get there before he could…hoping somehow to distract him so he wouldn’t notice. It never occurred to her once that it could be anyone else, and by the time she opened the door her heart was leaping around in her chest like a demented rabbit.

‘Guy, what a surprise,’ she lied, flinging open the door and then closing it again quickly to just a crack. She saw his eyebrows quirk with bemusement as she tried in vain to block his view into the cottage.

‘Are you busy?’ he said, peering over her head. ‘If so, I can always call back another time—’

‘We’re not too busy to see you,’ Megan called out before Kate had the chance to stop her. ‘There’s only me here, Your Worship—’

‘Now, Megan, stop that,’ Guy insisted, moving past Kate to sweep Megan off her feet as if she weighed no more than a baby. ‘I’ve told you before, Megan O’Reilly, I’m the only one licensed to tease around here—’

‘Licensed to thrill, more like,’ Megan declared, making a great fuss of straightening her clothes as he set her down. ‘Look at you!’ she said, standing back to give him a proper inspection. ‘Blue jeans and work shirt! And here was me thinking that real counts walked around in powdered wigs with a flurry of flunkeys trailing after them.’

‘Once upon a time, maybe,’ Guy said, grinning. ‘But this is here and now, Megan, when even real counts have to get down and dirty checking out the stock in their cellars.’

Megan’s brows rose in twin arches of mischief. ‘If you need any help with the stock-taking—’

Kate shut the door with a bang as if to shock some sanity back into Megan’s thinking. She shouldn’t be encouraging Guy; she should be finding some way of getting rid of him before he drew his own conclusions from the dozens of paint brushes littering the floor… But even Megan seemed dazed when presented by such an impossibly virile and aristocratic male.

‘If I do need any help, Megan, you’ll be the first person I call on,’ Guy promised.

But, in spite of his warm assurances, Kate felt herself growing increasingly tense. His hail-fellow-well-met eye-line might be resolutely fixed on Megan’s face but his lips were tugged down in an unmistakable show of speculation. And what he said next only confirmed her suspicions.

‘So, what are you doing here, Megan?’ he said, affecting a harmless interest. ‘I thought you had settled into that teaching job at the college. The term hasn’t finished already, has it?’

The silence only lasted for a moment, but for Kate it seemed to go on for ever. And when Megan did speak her voice had lost its customary brightness, leaving it dry and unconvincing. ‘I had a better offer—’ Her gaze glanced apologetically off Kate’s.

‘Really?’ Guy said mildly. ‘Anything exciting?’

‘Ooh, yes,’ she began enthusiastically. Then, remembering she wasn’t supposed to talk about it, she pressed her lips flat.

‘Aren’t you allowed to discuss it?’ Guy prompted sympathetically. ‘The details aren’t finalised yet,’ Megan explained awkwardly, spreading her arms wide in a gesture of innocence and resignation.

Kate knew Megan had always found it impossible to tell untruths, but at least Guy didn’t press her. He just stood viewing them both with his arms loosely crossed over his chest as if they were a couple of naughty schoolgirls and he their indulgent master.

‘Perhaps you can enlighten me, Kate?’ he said, switching his attention abruptly to her.

The suggestion was made so lightly…almost playfully, anyone else might have been taken in and been tempted to lower their guard, but it didn’t fool Kate for a minute. Guy was hot on the trail. He probably only needed a few more pieces of the jigsaw and—

‘So, how is her ladyship bearing up, Guy?’ Megan demanded in a voice grown unusually strident.

‘Well enough, I think.’

A few moments passed during which Kate was relieved to see Guy accept Megan’s conversational detour.

‘You don’t sound too sure,’ Megan observed gently, with the familiarity years of acquaintance with Guy’s family had conferred upon her.

‘She’s taking a long time to get over the loss of my father.’

‘Of course,’ Megan agreed softly. ‘As you must be, Guy.’

His expression and the tilt of his head confirmed her deduction. ‘And she misses Madame Broadbent too—we all do…’ His gaze found Kate’s and held there for a moment.

That look was the key to unlocking Kate’s feelings…and her doubt too. What would Aunt Alice have made of her plans and the deception she now seemed locked into? She had to remind herself that it was for love of Aunt Alice that she found herself in Villeneuve at all. But surely Aunt Alice must have intended her to live in the cottage when she left it to her…and everything Aunt Alice stood for was encapsulated in her plans for La Petite Maison—love, sanctuary, happiness, fun and relaxation, self-fulfilment…

Dragging her eyes away from Guy, she found them drawn back to Megan. Even the little she had read about the covenants had told her that carrying out any form of business at the cottage was expressly forbidden… Forgetting the potential for financial loss, Megan had given up her job, her whole way of life, to come and teach at La Petite Maison. Kate’s mouth firmed as she considered the implications. One thing was sure—she had gone too far to back out now.

‘Did you come for anything special, Guy?’ She forced a little steel into her voice so that the subtext suggested she had lots of things to be getting on with, as must he…

‘Should I have made an appointment?’ he demanded, throwing her a darkly amused glance from beneath an extraordinary fringe of pitch-black lashes.

‘An appointment would have made everything possible,’ Kate said innocently, just to show she hadn’t forgotten their initial confrontation at the château.