To Tame the Playboy

Sebastian admitted to feeling absolutely furious that he’d been more or less obliged to invite Rudolph Malone to supper. Why hadn’t he just offered the man a drink and sent him on his way? Why should this lovely day have to be spoilt by an intruder—an intruder who was making one pass after another at Fleur? If he hadn’t been so quick with his offer of hospitality, it needn’t have happened. He speared a morsel of meat savagely with his fork. Good grief—was he jealous? Jealous that he was having to share Fleur with another man, even for one evening? What the hell was going on?

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE following morning, Fleur woke up later than usual. At midnight, she’d eventually excused herself but had not been able to get to sleep. Rudolph Malone’s rather annoying voice—not to mention his persistent and unwelcome flattery—had stayed in her mind like a record that had become stuck in the groove. She couldn’t imagine how on earth he could possibly be a friend of Sebastian’s, but as they were long-time neighbours she supposed it was a social obligation to offer hospitality now and then.

She frowned briefly as she showered and got dressed. Sebastian had seemed distinctly on edge a few times during the evening…she’d noticed a look on his face that was undeniably dark and moody. After all, she thought, as she brushed out her hair and began working it quickly into one long plait, if he really disliked Rudolph Malone’s company that much, why ask the man to supper? He could have made some excuse, surely? She bit her lip. She’d found Sebastian’s overt coolness a touch embarrassing. It had made her feel awkward, though she wasn’t really surprised, not when she thought about it. Her host was the type who didn’t suffer fools gladly, and it seemed obvious to her that Rudy fell quite easily into that category. She stopped what she was doing for a moment and stared at herself in the mirror. The two men could not have been more different, she thought. Rudy was smooth-tongued, his languid gaze as he’d kept on studying her unashamedly making her cringe, his touchy-feely mannerisms distinctly offensive. While Sebastian…Well, Sebastian was something else entirely…

Then she coloured up, remembering the way his lips had found hers a couple of nights ago, the way he’d practically wrapped himself around her so closely she’d actually been aware of his heart hammering against her breast. But…had it really happened? Because neither of them had referred to it since, which was so incredibly odd. Then she shrugged. Who cared, anyway? She was going home tomorrow. It was time to move away, move on. With no emotional complications.

Anyway, she thought, as she went towards the door, a kiss was no big deal, surely—didn’t mean a thing. She paused for a second before going down the stairs. Liar, she thought. That had been no simple kiss. Sebastian Conway—no doubt highly experienced in the art—had filled her whole body with such intense longing he could have taken her that night with no effort at all. And she felt ashamed to admit it. If she’d said yes, instead of no to him staying, what would that have done to her long-term plans? Because one-night stands were not for her, and never had been. If she and Sebastian had been lovers that night—as she’d known he’d wanted them to be—it would have been merely a passing pleasure to him. But not for her. It would have meant far more to her than that. Yes, it was certainly time to go home.

When she went into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Sebastian there. It was gone nine-thirty—he always breakfasted far earlier than this. He was sitting at the table, turning the pages of a daily newspaper casually, his mug of coffee untouched. He barely looked up as she came in.

‘Morning, Sebastian,’ she said brightly, glancing down to see that her place had already been laid at the table.

‘Morning…er…Fleur…’ he replied, almost as if he’d forgotten her name! When he did look up, his eyes were totally impassive as they met hers. ‘I trust you slept well?’ he said briefly.

Fleur’s heart sank for a moment. This was not the same man who’d driven her to Truro, who’d bought her that delicious lunch, who’d sat with her for those few brief minutes in the cathedral and so thoughtfully handed her his handkerchief to dry her tears. This was another man, someone else, someone unknowable and mysterious—and not particularly friendly!

‘Pat’s gone down to the shops,’ he added, without looking at her. ‘She’ll be back mid-morning, so she says, and then you’re expected up at the cottage for tea, I believe.’ He paused. ‘Coffee’s just been brewed, by the way.’

Fleur swallowed. What had happened to make him so cool with her? she asked herself. He was in a funny mood and it certainly wasn’t her imagination. She sat down opposite him and began pouring out her drink.

‘It looks as if I have to go back tomorrow, Sebastian,’ she said. ‘I’ve just received a call from the lab. There’s a flap on about something that needs everyone there.’ She reached for the cream. How easily that complete lie had slipped from her lips. It hadn’t even made her blush. ‘So my holiday is going to be cut short, I’m afraid,’ she added. ‘But I’ve had a great time, and I feel rested and fully restored.’ She paused. ‘I hope I haven’t been too much of a nuisance.’

‘Isn’t that out of order,’ he said abruptly, ‘telling you to return early? Surely everyone needs a decent break to really unwind—especially in your particular field.’ He drank from his mug. ‘Can’t you tell them that if you stay until next week, as you’d intended, you’ll be in a better state of health so that they get their pound of flesh when you do return?’

Fleur was surprised at that. She’d have thought he’d have been delighted to see the back of her!

‘Sadly, a couple of people are off sick,’ she said. ‘So they didn’t have any option but to call in the rest of us.’ Another lie, she thought. Well, wasn’t it the case that one little lie led to another and another until you couldn’t stop?

There was silence for a few moments while he finished what he’d been reading. Then, again without looking at her, he said, ‘Well, what did you think of Rudy?’

Fleur hesitated. ‘I…well, he’s rather…outspoken, isn’t he?’ she replied slowly. She’d better be careful because the man was Sebastian’s friend. It wouldn’t do to express herself too freely.

‘If you mean he’s rather full of himself, then I would certainly go along with that,’ he said flatly.

Fleur shrugged. ‘He’s in the theatre, so you said. I believe they’re all a bit like that. Goes with the territory.’

‘Did you…find him attractive?’ was the next question, which caught Fleur right off guard.

She frowned briefly. ‘I didn’t think about him in those terms,’ she said.

‘Oh, come off it. All you women size us men up and down, make instant assessments, don’t you?’ he persisted. ‘Viewing the potential candidate to progress the human race…All way back in the subconscious, of course, but I believe it to be a substantial fact.’

‘I can’t speak for others,’ Fleur said calmly. ‘I certainly didn’t find him…interesting…if that answers your question.’

‘Oh, well, I just thought you two were getting on rather well, that’s all,’ he went on. ‘You seemed to be hanging on to his every word, giving him all the attention, which he was clearly lapping up. It saved me from having to entertain the man,’ he added. ‘You did that all by yourself.’

Right, Fleur thought. If he wanted a battle, she was up for it.

‘He was a guest in the house, Sebastian,’ she said coldly, ‘as I am. And if I had thrown the evil glances at him that you did, I would have failed to discharge my duty in that capacity. So if you really want me to give you my honest opinion of the gentleman, here it is. I thought he was the most revolting little creep that I’ve met in a long time, curling his ankle around mine like some disgusting worm. Would you like me to have slapped his face, demanded an apology, and then run from the room? Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not combative by nature. I prefer to avoid trouble if possible. And, incidentally, it was your feelings that were uppermost in my mind. It would have been embarrassing for you if I’d made a scene. So, to answer your enquiry, I did not find him attractive, not one bit. And, as for that squeaky little giggle of his, I’m sure that’s a condition he could get treatment for.’ She paused, her face flushed. ‘The man is a complete buffoon,’ she finished.

He closed his newspaper with a flourish and stood up. ‘I think I’ve got the message,’ he said, ‘but you acted out the part very well. So perhaps I should thank you for that. He left almost as soon as you’d gone to bed, by the way, so clearly he thought there wasn’t anything else worth staying for.’ He turned away to fetch his jacket from the hook. ‘I’ll be away for the rest of the day, so…enjoy your…last one,’ he added, going out and closing the door.

When he’d gone, Fleur sat back, completely confused. What on earth was all that about? she asked herself. The man was a peculiar mixture, there was no doubt about that. Often kind and considerate…even beguiling…but today he was like a quarrelsome child. And, this morning, undeniably irritable. Perhaps he and his ‘friend’ had drunk too much last night. Perhaps that was it. There was no other reason that she could think of. Then she made a face to herself. Let him get on with it. This time tomorrow she’d be well out of here.

Pat returned later on in the morning and Fleur was really pleased to see her, to see her open, friendly, uncomplicated face. Sebastian’s attitude earlier had upset her more than she wanted to admit, and it was comforting to have the older woman around.

‘I’m roasting a little duckling for tonight, for you and Sebastian,’ Pat said. ‘He’s very partial to game, so that’ll please him.’

‘Hmm,’ Fleur said non-committally. The fact was, Sebastian Conway had always been a spoiled brat, she thought. Brought up to expect the best of everything, and getting it, thanks to his heritage.

‘Are you happy enough with bread and cheese and some soup, now, Fleur?’ Pat asked, ‘or do you fancy something else?’

‘Bread and cheese will be absolutely perfect, thanks, Pat,’ Fleur replied, smiling at the woman gratefully. She paused. ‘I’m going to miss you terribly when I go home tomorrow…’

‘Oh, but you’re not going until next week, are you?’ Pat said, turning to look at Fleur, her face crestfallen.

‘Sorry—no, I’ve got to go back early,’ Fleur replied. ‘Duty calls. But—’ she smiled ‘—I’ve had the most super time, and most of it is thanks to you. You’ve treated me like one of the family, like a queen in fact, and my own cooking is going to seem pretty ordinary after yours.’

‘Well, well, that’s a disappointment,’ Pat said. ‘It’s been lovely having you around, Fleur. Makes such a difference being with another woman, someone young to chat to.’ She sighed. ‘Mum and I do all right, and we love our lives here, but it can be lonely, and the best times are when the family are here, and bring their guests. Then the place comes alive. Still—’ she turned back to what she’d been doing ‘—we mustn’t grumble. We feel very privileged to work at Pengarroth Hall.’

Presently, they sat together at the kitchen table enjoying the lunch—a simple meal which, in Pat’s hands, seemed to turn into a banquet. Especially as it began with a piping hot bowl of homemade curried parsnip soup.

‘I hope I’ve left enough room for the duckling,’ Fleur said, sitting back.

‘Mum’s making some lovely saffron buns and a potato cake for our tea first!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘She’s so looking forward to you coming up to the cottage.’

Fleur groaned inwardly. She’d momentarily forgotten about the afternoon tea appointment! But, if it killed her, she’d eat some of Beryl’s home-made cakes!

At three o’clock, with Pat leading the way along the wooded paths, they went up to the cottage and Fleur was surprised at how soon they arrived. ‘It doesn’t take you too long then, Pat, to come down to the house?’ she asked. ‘Which is just as well, seeing you have to do it so frequently.’

‘Oh, my, no, dear,’ Pat said. ‘Doesn’t take any time at all, especially when you know the way, like I do. It takes Mum a bit longer, but then, she only comes to the house when I need a bit of extra help. There are other cottages on the estate, which are rented out, but ours is the nearest—for obvious reasons.’

As they pushed open the door, the smell of fresh baking greeted them and Fleur sniffed the air like a hungry child. ‘Oh…I wish I hadn’t eaten so much lunch, Pat!’

The woman grinned, calling up the narrow staircase, ‘Mum? We’ve arrived. Are you decent?’ She turned to Fleur. ‘Mum has a rest after lunch every day.’

‘Of course,’ Fleur said. ‘Is she really all right, Pat—to have me up here, I mean…Has she recovered?’

‘Perfectly,’ Pat assured her. ‘She gets these funny turns fairly regularly, but they soon pass. And she’s been looking forward to your visit—insisted on baking the cakes. I could have done it, but no, she’s the one in charge here.’

Just then Beryl appeared, wearing a pretty pink jumper and navy skirt, with her almost-white hair brushed up into a knot.

‘You look nice, Beryl,’ Fleur said.

‘Well, we don’t often have visitors,’ the woman replied. ‘Now, let me have your jacket and scarf and you sit there—kettle’s already boiled.’

The modest-sized room was simply furnished but cosy and immaculate, the small dining table laid with a white lace cloth and rose-patterned china. Fleur leaned back and looked around her admiringly. ‘This is the sort of room you’d see in a child’s picture book,’ she said, looking up at Beryl. ‘So…appealing…and lovely.’

‘Old fashioned, you mean,’ Pat said good-naturedly. ‘But it’s how we like it, don’t we, Mum?’

Beryl poured boiling water into the pot, then brought the plates of cakes over to the table. ‘Now, dear, have you ever tasted potato cake—the real thing, I mean? Like we make down this way?’

Fleur studied the plate she was being shown, on which was a rather flat-shaped cake, criss-crossed on the slightly browned top and dusted with sugar. ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied, her mouth already watering. ‘How’s it made, Beryl?’

‘Easy,’ Beryl said. ‘Cooked, mashed potatoes, big spoonful of fresh beef suet and the same of sugar, all mixed up by hand, add a few currants, shape it up on a baking sheet, mark it out so it’s easy to serve, and let it cook slowly for about an hour. Eat it hot. Like this.’ And, with the deft use of a sharp knife, she lifted a generous piece onto Fleur’s plate and stood back. ‘Try it,’ she said.

Fleur did—and it was delicious. Her obvious enjoyment naturally pleased Beryl, and for the next half an hour all three women tucked into it, their teacups being refilled regularly.

‘Now, how about a saffron bun—have you ever had saffron buns?’ Beryl said, really getting into entertainment mode, but Fleur shook her head regretfully.

‘Honestly, Beryl, I’ve had three slices of potato cake! I couldn’t eat another mouthful!’

‘Well, have a rest and come back in a minute,’ Beryl said happily. ‘I’ve looked out those two books we were talking about the other day, by the way.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to read them,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m going home tomorrow, Beryl—a bit earlier than I originally thought.’

‘Well, take them with you, dear, and you can bring them back next time you’re here.’

There won’t be a next time, Fleur thought, but instead she said, ‘I can’t thank you both enough for all you’ve done to make me so welcome…I’ve never had a holiday like this, and I’ve loved every minute of it.’ Bending down, she reached for her bag and took out the tissue-wrapped bottle of sherry which Sebastian had left out for her. ‘This is just a little thank you, Beryl—and don’t drink it all at once!’

‘Oh, my goodness—thank you so much,’ the woman replied, ‘but you shouldn’t have, you know. You’ve been a rather special guest—it’s been a pleasure to look after you. Not that I’ve done much, but I know Pat’s enjoyed your company.’ She hesitated, then added rather slyly, ‘To say nothing of our lord and master.’

Fleur looked away at that, then reached for her gift for Pat. ‘And I hope you’ll find a use for this, Pat.’

Pat unwrapped the watering can, holding it up to admire it. ‘It…it’s beautiful, Fleur,’ she said. She paused. ‘Of course I’ll use it. And I shall always treasure it.’

No one spoke for a few minutes after that, and Fleur wondered whether it was time to go back.

‘You’ve done Sebastian the world of good, Fleur. We’ve not seen him so…so relaxed in a long time,’ Pat said, breaking the silence. ‘And both Mum and I think that it’s because you’re here. He obviously likes you a lot and it’s good to see him happy again—especially after what happened.’

Fleur had coloured up at the words, but admitted to being curious as to what Pat was talking about. ‘What did happen?’ she asked.

‘Oh, don’t you know—hasn’t Mia told you?’

‘Told me what?’

‘Well, Sebastian was going to be married to one of Mia’s friends—well, actually, Mia hadn’t known her for that long but she introduced her to Sebastian and he fell for her. Hook, line and sinker. He never tended to bring girlfriends down here—though he had plenty of them, I believe, and he was considered a bit of a playboy when he was younger. Anyway, we all got excited when this one turned up—Davina, her name was. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine—and actually I quite liked her. She was friendly enough. But obviously something pretty disastrous must have happened because, out of the blue, they finished, everything was cancelled. And, after that, Sebastian didn’t come home for a while—he left everything here for Frank and the others to deal with. Most unlike him. Anyway, it became a taboo subject very quickly and no one ever refers to it now. But Mum and I think it’s high time he found someone else—and we think that you’d be just the one for him, Fleur.’ She sat back with the satisfied air of someone who had just made a profound and world-changing statement.

Fleur gave a slightly hysterical giggle and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘You must be joking!’ she exclaimed. ‘My goodness, Sebastian has been a very kind host, I can’t deny that, but I assure you that’s all he is. I know neither of us is looking for a relationship…I’m very dedicated to my work…but though I’m flattered that you place me in the elevated position as a possible partner for him, I don’t think he would share your enthusiasm. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ she added, remembering the morning’s conversation.

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Pat said flatly. ‘I know the bloke, have known him all his life, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’ She shook her head briefly. ‘Mum and I have been chatting and we think it would be fantastic if you could bring him out of his shell again, bring him back to how he used to be. When that woman departed—whatever the reason was—it took the life right out of him.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, we can’t do anything about it, but we just wanted you to know what we think. We think he’s fallen in love with you, and that’s all there is to it. And it would be wonderful for Pengarroth Hall to have someone like you around permanently.’

Fleur smiled at the two women. ‘Beryl—Pat—you’ve been reading too many of those romantic novels,’ she said. ‘Life—real life—isn’t like that. Sebastian and I only met a few weeks ago; he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. But thank you for all the nice things you’ve said—and I’m sure that someone will eventually be the right one for him. It’s just not me, I’m afraid.’

No more was said after that and presently, after Fleur had thanked Beryl again for her hospitality, she and Pat made their way back down to the house so that Pat could prepare the evening meal.

‘I hope you don’t think we spoke out of turn, Fleur,’ Pat said as they reached the house. ‘You know—about you and Sebastian…what we were hoping…’

Fleur smiled quickly. ‘Of course I don’t, Pat,’ she said. ‘I thought it was rather sweet of you to be so concerned for Sebastian’s well-being. He’s…very lucky to have such concerned friends. And he will meet someone soon, I’m sure. Just give him time.’

As Sebastian showered and changed in time for supper, he felt angry with himself, at his undeniable disappointment that Fleur was going home tomorrow. He’d planned one or two things they could do, places he could show her, because she was such an easy woman to please. When Mia had asked him to ‘look after’ her, he hadn’t realized how much he was going to enjoy it!

He put on light trousers and a black open-neck shirt and brushed out his thick hair vigorously, wondering how she would be looking this evening. Then he stopped what he was doing, his expression closing in. They’d had quite a spat this morning, and he knew it was all his fault. Unable to stop himself, he’d done it deliberately. Because he’d known very well that she had not found Rudolph Malone attractive. He was beginning to know her well enough to sense what she was feeling. And she had behaved impeccably—naturally. He wouldn’t have expected anything less.

No, what had disturbed him that morning when he’d awoken, had been the memory of how she’d looked as she’d stood, poised, at the head of the stairs, coming down to meet Rudy. She had not taken the trouble to dress herself up like that before and, far from admiring her spectacular appearance, he had been filled with an unexpected dread. Because it was so reminiscent of how Davina had always put in an appearance. Asking to be admired, to be the centre of attention. And this did not fit Fleur’s personality one bit. He knew that very well—yet he could not rid himself of the sense of distaste he’d experienced in seeing her like that. It was an unpleasant sense of déjà vu that he could have done without.

Then he shook himself angrily. She was going home tomorrow and a good thing too. He had his life to get on with.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AT ABOUT eleven o’clock the next morning, Fleur made her final preparations to go home. Sebastian had already left the house, but not before wishing her a casual goodbye and a safe journey, adding a slightly non-committal invitation to come and visit again some time. He had already brought her car around to the front entrance, and put her case in the boot.

Now, she gave one last look around the bedroom to make sure that she’d not left anything behind, then zipped up her hand luggage, slung her bag over her shoulder and went downstairs. Pat was in the kitchen and Fleur was aware of the tangibly sad atmosphere which prevailed. She bent down to smooth the head of the sleeping dog.

‘I shall miss you, Benson,’ she said softly. ‘Even if you did disobey me the other day.’

‘Not as much as we’re going to miss you,’ Pat sniffed.

They made their final goodbyes, with Fleur making vague promises to come back to Pengarroth Hall some time in the near future—though she knew that that was not likely to happen. She felt in her bones that her time here should have a final line drawn under it, and that now she should get back to the safety of work.

She smiled faintly as she passed the big gate at the top end of the estate—the one she’d mistaken for the main entrance, remembering Sebastian’s reaction when he’d spotted her sitting there in the semi-darkness. And, automatically, her mind did a rerun of everything that had happened since and her smile deepened. She had had a great time, as she’d told them all, but she finally admitted that the towering influence over the holiday had been that of her reluctant host.

Pausing for a moment at the crossroads before joining the B road which would eventually lead her to the motorway, Fleur made a face to herself as she thought about Sebastian. He hadn’t been reluctant at all, she decided, or, if he had been, he’d covered it up very well, because after his initial antipathy to Mia’s request that he should look after Fleur, he appeared to have warmed to the task with every day that had passed. If he’d wanted to avoid her, he could have done it easily enough. And, although she had deliberately tried to shut out of her mind all the things which Pat had said yesterday, the woman’s remarks would keep floating back into her consciousness. To imagine, even for a second, that Sebastian fancied her was too ridiculous for words! He was clearly not looking for another emotional relationship—he’d made that abundantly clear during one of their early minor discussions on the subject, and, even if he was, there’d be a plentiful selection of women in the elevated life he led from which to choose. She would not be top of his list, that was for sure. Then, having hardened those thoughts in her mind, Fleur experienced the familiar tingle of sensuousness when she remembered what had happened a few nights ago in her bedroom…how she’d clung to him and, more importantly, how he’d responded. Did he fancy her? Or had that been the automatic, passing reaction which any red-blooded male might have made in those circumstances? She shrugged. It was difficult to tell but, anyway, it was too late now. That incident had passed like water under a bridge, and neither of them had alluded to it since.