To Tame the Playboy

Just then, Joy appeared with the wine, and she glanced down, her quick eyes taking in the scene. Sebastian Conway had not had a woman with him for far too long, in her opinion. And this one was obviously someone special. Even with all the hubbub on New Year’s Eve she’d noticed her amongst Mia’s crowd. And she’d also noticed Sebastian’s eyes following her every move. Well, about time, the woman thought.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘THIS is always the worst bit of Christmas,’ Pat said, from her lofty position on top of the stepladder as she handed down the last of the decorations to Fleur.

‘Yes, it is rather sad—the ending of something you’ve really enjoyed,’ Fleur agreed, kneeling down to coil all the fairy lights into a large box. ‘But time goes by so quickly, it’ll soon be happening all over again.’

Just then, Sebastian came in and glanced at the two women. ‘Hi there,’ he said briefly. Then, ‘Good—putting all the junk away and getting back to normality.’

‘Oh you, Sebastian!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘Talk about not being in the spirit of the season!’

Still intent on her task, Fleur glanced quickly up at Sebastian and their eyes met for the fleetest of seconds. He was dressed, as usual, in outdoor gear, and his hair was tousled and wet from the early morning rain.

‘I could murder a black coffee,’ he said. ‘Can I get us all some?’

‘No, you cannot,’ Pat said firmly, as she climbed carefully down from the ladder. ‘I’ll do that, Sebastian, if you’ll be so kind as to take this tree outside.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said at once, as Pat left the room.

Fleur finished putting the lights away, then closed the box carefully and got to her feet.

Sebastian said, ‘How’ve you been doing, Fleur, over the last few days?’ He was feeling somewhat guilty because he’d seen hardly anything of her since her fall, not only because he’d had to be elsewhere, but because he was determined to avoid—as much as he could—any emotional entanglements, and he was honest enough to admit that Fleur could, if only she knew it, change his mind on the matter. When they’d sat together in the pub the other lunch time, two whole hours had passed like five minutes…He’d found her an engaging conversationalist, unpretentious without being coy, and with firm opinions which, though freely expressed, were never combative. And, as she’d become thoroughly relaxed in front of the fire, her face had glowed, enlivened by her eyes glistening in the light from the flickering flames. At the point when he’d reached for her hand and held it for those few moments—ostensibly to make sure she wasn’t really hurt—a sudden warmth had coursed through him, too. But with that sensation had come a wariness of being entrapped again. Easier to start than to stop, he’d reminded himself cynically. Hadn’t he always considered himself an astute judge of human nature—didn’t his profession hang on that premise?

So how could he possibly have been blinded to the essential components of Davina’s nature? He’d learned the truth eventually—fortunately before he’d made her his wife. But it had been a close run thing, the possibility of their union becoming the subject of much discussion, both at work and down here. The news of their split had travelled fast too, and his independent, rather private nature had resented the publicity bitterly. Not that all the facts of the debacle had ever generally been known, which was somehow worse because what people didn’t know they made up. And the locals who’d been expecting a glitzy wedding to talk about had had to go away empty-handed. The lesson, for him, had been a hard one, and there would never be a next time. That much he’d promised himself.

Besides, was there a twenty-first century woman alive who’d be prepared to incarcerate herself down here in the wet Cornish countryside for the rest of her life? He very much doubted that! Today’s women were different. They didn’t want to be tied to someone else’s expectations and demands. It might work for the first few months, or a year, but after that the novelty would soon wear off. No, he had set his singular course straight ahead, with no distracting turnings. Here, pretty much alone, was where he was to spend his days. And he knew that that was the best possible thing for him, and for Pengarroth Hall. It would have to be a child of Mia’s who, eventually, took charge of the estate. Even if the name died out, the blood line would almost certainly continue.

‘Oh, I’ve been having a great time, thanks,’ Fleur replied cheerfully, in answer to his question. ‘I’ve had the chance to really explore the area, and I’ve finally stopped getting lost every time I leave Pengarroth Hall. All the locals are so friendly…they love to stop for a chat. I feel as though I’m becoming part of the scenery!’

‘Hmm,’ Sebastian said briefly. No doubt tongues were beginning to wag already, he thought. He’d been aware of the landlady at the Black Horse darting them knowing glances from time to time. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while,’ he said, ‘but I knew I was going to be caught up…’

‘Please—there’s no need to apologize,’ Fleur said quickly, ‘and…’

‘No, perhaps not,’ he said, ‘but I did promise Mia that I’d be able to sort of…’

‘You shouldn’t have promised Mia anything—and she shouldn’t have asked!’ Fleur said, her colour rising, and angry again that Mia had taken it upon herself to interfere. Perhaps now was the time to invent that phone call, she thought, and go back home. ‘If I’d thought,’ she went on more calmly, ‘that you—or anyone—were going to feel responsible for me, I’d have refused the invitation in the first place. I told you, I’m used to being alone, and I like it! I like doing my own thing without the constraints of having to fall in with other people’s wishes.’ She paused, looking up at him, her face flushed. ‘Please—for heaven’s sake—pretend I’m not here!’

He half-smiled as he looked down at her, resisting the temptation to cup her chin in his hands and place his lips on hers. How could he—or anyone—pretend this woman wasn’t here? Even Pat, who had been known to show her disapproval of one or two of Mia’s friends, seemed to genuinely like Fleur.

‘OK,’ he said easily, ‘but first, you can guide this tree outside for me…We’ll have to use the side door to the garden. Here, put these on.’ He handed her his gloves, then went across and with surprisingly little effort heaved the tree out of its pot and leaned it towards Fleur, who immediately took it by a bough near the top and helped him guide it out of the hall, appreciating the gloves which protected her hands from the prickly pine needles.

‘Coffee’s ready,’ Pat called out and, after they’d deposited the tree outside, Fleur and Sebastian joined her in the kitchen. Benson was stretched out in front of the warm stove and Fleur automatically bent down to pet him.

‘I suppose Benson’s tired from his walk?’ she said, glancing up at Sebastian.

‘No, because he hasn’t had one yet,’ Sebastian replied. ‘I couldn’t persuade him to accompany me earlier. And I’m seeing Frank up at the top end of the estate this morning, so this lazy dog will have to wait until later on for his stroll.’

‘Oh, can I take him?’ Fleur asked eagerly. ‘I know the places we’re allowed to go. Will he come with me?…I haven’t been out myself yet, anyway.’

‘I’m sure he’d love to go with you,’ Sebastian replied, taking his mug of coffee from Pat.

The three of them sat there for a few minutes making light conversation, then Sebastian got up decisively. ‘I must go,’ he said, then turned to look at Fleur. ‘I’m going into Truro tomorrow morning—would you like to come? And you too, Pat,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘I know how you women like shopping.’

‘It’s kind of you to offer, Sebastian,’ Pat said firmly, ‘but I’ve lots of things to do and, besides, I want to be with Mum as much as possible. But Fleur will enjoy Truro—there’s lots to see, apart from the shops.’ She threw a shrewd glance at the two of them as she spoke. Sebastian had always been a bit of a dark horse where women were concerned, but she could definitely feel something in the air every time she caught him looking at Fleur. So she wasn’t going to play gooseberry, thank you very much. Her expression softened as she looked at Sebastian. He was a good man, and a fantastic employer—as his parents had been—never over-demanding and always appreciative. And, although he had a bit of a short fuse at times, it was usually justified; he had a very keen sense of right and wrong. She knew Frank worshipped him, would do anything for him, and now Frank’s son, Martin, always a bit of a tear-away, had come to work on the estate as well. And Sebastian had seen the youngster’s potential as a carpenter and was paying for him to go part-time to college to learn the trade properly. But Fleur…this young woman…she could be just the one for Sebastian, Pat thought. She was different from other hopefuls who’d turned up occasionally at Pengarroth Hall…She seemed to sort of fit in with the atmosphere of the place, and to really enjoy being here and wandering about by herself. And she wasn’t always looking at herself in the mirror, either.

‘Oh, fine,’ Sebastian said casually. ‘How about you, Fleur? I promise there’s enough to keep you interested while I’m seeing the accountant.’

She looked up at him. ‘Are you sure it won’t be rather inconvenient, thinking about me when you’ve got other more important things on your mind?’ she asked.

He was just about to reply when Fleur’s mobile rang, and she paused to answer it. It was Mia.

‘Hi, Mia! Yes…fine, absolutely fine! Having a great time…and feeling great, too.’ She smiled as she listened to her friend’s exuberant tones. ‘Oh, poor you, having to work so hard…but it’ll be the same for me in just over a week…unless I’m called back earlier,’ she added quickly, giving herself the option of cutting her stay short—and of letting Sebastian hear it. There was another pause, then, ‘Yes, he’s standing right here by my side. Do you want a word?’

She passed the phone up to Sebastian and listened as he and Mia exchanged the usual pleasantries. Then, ‘Yes, you know that I always do as you tell me, and I’m taking Fleur into Truro tomorrow so that she can have a look around while I’m with the accountant and the solicitor. What? Oh, yes, we might do that as well…OK, OK, I’ll pass you back. Be good.’

Fleur raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t said she’d go with him—he was assuming that she would. But then, why not? she thought. She knew Truro wasn’t that far away, and they’d only be gone for the morning…there’d still be plenty of day left for Sebastian after that, without having to think about her.

She watched his retreating back, then took their mugs over to the sink.

‘Now, you leave those things to me, dear,’ Pat said, thinking how pretty Fleur looked in her huge cream chunky sweater, her golden hair loose around her face. ‘And, by the way, Mum says why don’t you come up to the cottage for afternoon tea one day? Then you can bring back the novels she promised to lend you.’

‘That would be great, Pat—thanks,’ Fleur said. Pat’s mother had been at the house for almost the whole of the three festive days, helping out, and she and Fleur had chatted, among other things, about their favourite authors. And when Fleur had said she was into romantic novels at the moment and had finished the one she’d brought with her, the older woman had offered to lend some of hers.

‘Well, then, come up with me the day after tomorrow,’ Pat said now, ‘if you’re going with Sebastian to Truro tomorrow.’

‘I didn’t say I was,’ Fleur corrected. ‘He did.’ She smiled. ‘But yes, I will go because I’ve never been to the city before—it is a city, isn’t it, with a lovely cathedral? I mustn’t pass up the opportunity to visit it.’

‘You don’t know Cornwall?’ Pat asked curiously as she started slicing thick pieces of gammon from a delicious-looking joint for their lunch.

‘No, not really,’ Fleur said. ‘My father preferred Scotland and the Lakes, so we always went there when I was young. And in more recent years when I’ve been on holiday, it’s to foreign countries with friends.’ She paused. ‘I must be the only person in the whole world who doesn’t particularly look forward to going away. I’m much happier at home. But I have to, because that’s what everyone does.’ She watched Pat’s deft handling of the carving knife, the pink ham glistening with succulence, making her mouth water even though it was a couple of hours before she’d be eating any. ‘And thank your mother so much for the offer. She’s an interesting lady, and I’d love to come to tea.’

Pat smiled, pleased. ‘And I know she’ll love it too,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t see that many people any more and I think she’s a bit lonely sometimes. See, even when Mia or Sebastian are away, I’m here most days, checking up, cleaning up, doing the odd bit of decorating where I see it’s needed. And the kitchen garden round at the back is my domain too. Not that I do much to it this time of year,’ she added.

Fleur stood up. ‘I think I’ll take Benson now. The weather seems reasonably fine, so maybe it’s the best time of day to go.’

‘You do that,’ Pat said, giving the dog a gentle nudge with her toe. ‘Get up, you lazy hound,’ she said affectionately.

‘What happens to him when you’re not around?’ Fleur wanted to know.

‘Oh, he stays with Mum or me. Or Frank has him. He’s well looked after. Up until a couple of years ago, Sebastian would take him back to London with him, but that proved impractical, and the dog pined a bit for home and hearth, I think.’

‘Oh, well, then, Benson and I are of like mind.’ Fleur smiled.

Pat finished what she was doing, then wrapped the remainder of the joint in cling film and put it in the fridge. ‘Now, I’ll prepare the lunch for one o’clock,’ she said. ‘Sebastian said he might be a bit later than that, but it’ll all keep. And I’ll take some of this on up and have mine with Mum.’

Fleur looked over at the bustling housekeeper as she spoke, hoping that Sebastian and Mia knew how lucky they were to have such devoted people to look after them and their property, whether they were here or not. Such staff would be hard to find in London. Everything here seemed so efficient, yet so easy-going.

Fleur took her warm jacket from the hook on the back door where she’d noticed that Sebastian always kept his, then called to Benson to follow her. And, surprisingly, the dog immediately got up and padded after her.

‘See you later, Pat,’ she called as they went outside. They set off, soon leaving the house behind them as they began treading up the soggy paths, the dog happy to lead the way, stopping and sniffing every few yards.

Thinking about it, Fleur still didn’t know whether to say she’d been called back to the hospital or not…It was rather difficult now that she was going to Truro tomorrow, and to tea with Pat and her mother the day after. Which meant that there were only going to be five days left, in any case. She shrugged to herself. She’d see how things panned out. If she got the slightest suspicion that she was being a burden to Sebastian, or—perish the thought—that he was bored with her unasked-for company, she’d be gone within the hour. Until then no reason not to go with the flow, she told herself.

After half an hour or so of gentle strolling, she called out to the dog, who was investigating a scrubby bush. ‘Have you had enough, Benson?’ she called. ‘Shall we turn back now? Good boy. Come on.’

The animal emerged reluctantly from whatever had held his interest, but continued on without even looking around at Fleur, who followed on behind him. Well, he was obviously enjoying himself, she thought.

And then, as usual and without much warning, a fine rain began again. She called out, more decisively this time, ‘Come back, Benson…come on. We must go home now.’ But, staying where he was, the dog merely turned and looked back soulfully at her.

Fleur sighed briefly. Pat had told her to take the lead, just in case, and now she went forward to attach it to the dog’s collar. And, as if making a decision of his own, Benson sat down on the wet ground and refused to budge.

Fleur frowned, giving the lead a little pull. ‘Come on, there’s a good boy. We’ve had a lovely walk and it’s time to go back. Come on, up you get.’

But the dog had other ideas, and after a few pointless moments of trying to persuade him, Fleur began to feel slightly worried. What if Benson refused to come home at all? He was much too heavy for her to pick up and carry. And if she went back alone, what would Sebastian’s reaction be? She realized that the dog probably could make his own way home without any help from her, but that wasn’t the point, and she couldn’t take it for granted.

She crouched down by the dog. ‘Well, have a little rest and then come with me, Benson, please,’ she begged. She suddenly remembered that she had some mints in her pocket—maybe she could entice him with one of those. Getting up, she moved a few feet away and crackled the sweet paper between her fingers.

‘Come and see, Benson. See what I’ve got,’ she said cajolingly but, apart from a slight twitch of his nose, the dog expressed not the slightest interest.

‘OK, then, we’ll play it your way,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m going back now. See you later. Goodbye, Benson!’ She turned away and started walking back in the direction they’d come, in the hope that the dog would follow her. But, as she turned to glance back, she could see that he hadn’t moved an inch. He was not coming, and that was that.

Now Fleur was really exasperated. What now? she asked herself. She could not go home minus the dog; that would make her look silly. Glancing at her watch, she was horrified to see that it was almost one-thirty—they’d been gone far longer than she’d thought, or than she’d intended. But both she and her canine companion had been enjoying their walk so much that the time had slipped by. She shrugged. There was nothing else for it, she’d have to just wait and sit it out until Benson made up his mind to come home.

Feeling completely inadequate, she leaned against a tree for a few moments, then sat down on a piece of log a foot or two away from the dog. With her chin in her hands, she stared pensively at him and, hardly blinking, Benson stared back.

By now, the rain had become a steady downpour and both she and Benson were looking distinctly the worse for wear. Fleur had scarcely noticed that her hood had slipped off, or that her hair was hanging in wet ringlets around her face. ‘No one warned me that you were a difficult creature, Benson,’ she said sorrowfully. ‘What on earth am I to do with you?’

‘And what on earth am I to do with you?’ Sebastian’s voice intervened and, with an unmistakable sense of relief, Fleur saw him striding towards them. He stopped and looked down at her. ‘What’s going on?’ he said. ‘Pat’s gone on home, but she did tell you she’d arranged lunch for one o’clock—didn’t she?’

Fleur didn’t bother to get to her feet, but nodded towards Benson, who was viewing them both pensively. ‘Ask him,’ she said. ‘He just refused to get up. I couldn’t leave him here, could I?’ She sighed. ‘I must be rubbish at handling dogs.’

Sebastian cocked one slightly amused eyebrow, then clicked his fingers. ‘Come, Benson,’ he said masterfully, and at once the dog got to his feet and padded over to lick his hand.

Fleur could hardly believe it! The naughty animal, she thought. He’d seemed rooted to that spot, yet two words from Sebastian and he’d obeyed at once. ‘Obviously it’s his master’s voice that he responds to,’ she said sniffily, getting up and falling into step with Sebastian as they began to make their way home.

‘No, I think the fact was he was enjoying your company so much, he didn’t want the walk to end,’ Sebastian said generously, glancing down at her. She was soaking wet, her hair looking as if she had just come out of the shower, and he smiled faintly to himself. Not many of the women he’d known had shown such stalwart tendencies, usually running for cover at the first brush with the elements. But Fleur seemed to almost revel in being wet and untidy.

It took another half an hour to get back, with Benson now trotting quite happily ahead. ‘I don’t believe that dog,’ Fleur said. ‘Look at him. What did I do wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Sebastian replied. ‘I expect he just felt like a lie down, that’s all—you had gone quite a way—much further than I usually take him nowadays.’

Fleur looked up quickly. ‘Oh, dear…I hope we didn’t overdo it…I mean, I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble…’

‘Shut up,’ Sebastian said cheerfully. ‘The dog’s fine. The only one suffering any discomfort is me, because you’ve kept me waiting for my lunch.’

‘Well, why didn’t you go on and have it without me?’ Fleur began.

‘What, knowing that my dog and my…er…charge…were missing, believed lost?’

Fleur decided to ignore the word he’d used because she knew he was teasing her.

Back at the house, she had a quick wash, then took her place opposite Sebastian at the kitchen table. He had placed the ham and pickles and the piping hot, gloriously brown jacket potatoes in front of them, and soon they were both tucking into it all, while Benson lay flat out on the floor, snoring.

Without asking her whether she wanted any, Sebastian filled Fleur’s glass with water from the jug, before taking some for himself. She was glad that there was no wine on offer because, as she’d already told him, she seldom drank alcohol during the day. That must have made her sound terribly goody-goody, she thought, because most of her friends had no problem with having a glass or two at lunch time. But she didn’t care what Sebastian Conway thought of her, anyway—about anything at all—she’d always made a point of never altering her principles to suit others, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Finishing his lunch, he asked mildly, ‘What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?’ He realized that it wasn’t a polite enquiry, but he was curious and admitted that he would much rather spend the rest of the day with Fleur than helping Frank. But suddenly the phone on the wall rang and he stood up to take the call. It was Pat and, after listening for a few moments and glancing across at Fleur, he said, ‘No, you must stay with her, Pat…That’s no problem. For heaven’s sake, we can cope alone, sort ourselves out.’ There was a pause. ‘Sorry? Oh, yes…of course. I found them…up Middle Hill. Yes, right up there. Soaking wet, with Benson having gone on strike. He didn’t want to come home, apparently. But they’re both here, safe and well, and we’ve just enjoyed the lunch—thanks, Pat.’ Another pause. ‘Absolutely not—you stay with Beryl. We’ll be fine.’ He listened again, then, ‘OK, got it. And it’s best you don’t come back tonight at all—your mother needs you more than we do just now. See what the doctor says, and we’ll see you tomorrow some time, when the panic’s over. OK? Cheers, Pat.’

He replaced the receiver. ‘Pat’s mother has just had another of her angina attacks, so I’ve told her that we can look after ourselves for twenty-four hours.’

‘Of course we can,’ Fleur said at once.

‘And apparently we’re having steak for our supper—they’re in the ’fridge, along with mushrooms and tomatoes and stuff…’ He eyed her hopefully. ‘Can you cook? I’m not the greatest,’ he added.

‘Well, then, you’d better leave it all to me,’ Fleur said, realizing how quickly she and her host had become so…so comfortable with each other, with no pressure, no emotional vibes cutting into the warmly pleasant atmosphere they seemed to be enjoying. Well, what else did she expect? He was Mia’s brother. She had always loved her friend…and she was beginning to love him, as well…in a purely brotherly way, naturally, she assured herself. ‘Not that I shall hope to come up to Pat’s standards,’ she went on, ‘but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s me or nothing.’

He treated her to one of his rather enigmatic smiles. ‘You’ll do nicely,’ he murmured.

She took their empty plates over to the sink, thinking that he needn’t concern himself. She’d always enjoyed cooking, and she knew she could produce a meal to satisfy anyone. And she’d bet anything that he’d like his steak cooked rare.