To Tame the Playboy: The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall / A Night with the Society Playboy / Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion

Fleur tried hard to stem her tears, and Sebastian put his hand in his pocket and gave her his handkerchief.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘have another one. I told you I had plenty.’

In spite of everything, they both managed to smile at his words. Fleur took the handkerchief and blew her nose and wiped her eyes, sighing heavily. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said. ‘I don’t feel like doing any more painting tonight. In fact, I don’t feel like doing anything at all.’ She blew her nose again. ‘I hate bad news,’ she said.

‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ Sebastian said quickly, pulling her into him even more closely. ‘I just wanted someone to be miserable with, and you were the first one I thought of. Sorry.’

‘Is that a compliment?’ Fleur asked, beginning to recover, and thinking that she’d shed more tears since knowing Sebastian than she’d allowed herself in half a lifetime. It had to be those tablets, she thought. She’d take the last few, and that would be it. It was not like her to give way so easily…She’d always been taught that undue emotion portrayed a weakness of character.

‘I hope you will take it as such,’ he replied. ‘I haven’t even told Mia yet.’

Fleur looked at him quickly. Well, it was a compliment, she thought, to have been put first in these circumstances, and it made her feel ridiculously important…and…special. She went over to the small cabinet in which she kept her modest supply of alcohol.

‘I think we both need a drink,’ she said, looking across at him. ‘I do have some whisky, Sebastian, or would you prefer wine?’

‘What I’d really appreciate is a good strong cup of tea,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘If you can actually produce one—in the present state of your kitchen, I mean?’

Fleur smiled quickly. ‘Yes, I can definitely manage a cup of tea,’ she said lightly, ‘and there’s an unopened packet of chocolate digestives to go with it, as well. But I’d better clean myself up a bit first.’

He followed her into the kitchen and looked around him speculatively. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘you’re halfway through the ceiling—and you’re making a good job of it too—it seems a shame to leave it.’ He shrugged off his coat, and looked down at her. ‘Let me finish it for you while you make the tea.’

‘Oh, honestly, Sebastian…I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I can do it tomorrow…’

‘No, we’ll finish it now,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s not good to leave your post in the middle of a job. If you’ll let me have the use of that somewhat roomy apron, I can do it in half an hour. And I think the tea can wait.’ He grinned down at her. ‘Come on, no arguments. It’ll do me good to do something positive.’

Fleur understood exactly where he was coming from with that remark and, without another word, she untied the massive apron and handed it to him. ‘This is certainly more your size than mine,’ she said. ‘And I must admit that my neck was beginning to ache, looking upwards all the time. It was taking longer than I thought it would.’

‘So it’s just as well that I turned up,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. Isn’t that what they say?’

Fleur watched as he set to with the brush, and was impressed with how quickly he was covering the area. ‘If I’d known you were going to arrive, I would have waited so that you could have done it all,’ she joked.

‘I should have let you know,’ he said apologetically, glancing down at her briefly, ‘but it was only as I was nearing town that I made up my mind to try my luck and see if you were in.’ He dipped the brush into the pot again and resumed painting.

‘How…how did you know where I lived, anyway?’ Fleur asked curiously.

‘All your details were written down on the pad in the kitchen—you obviously gave them to Pat, because they were in her handwriting,’ he said casually.

‘Oh, yes—of course,’ Fleur said. ‘I remember now. She wants us to keep in touch—which is what I want too, of course.’

In less than forty minutes the job was complete, and Sebastian surveyed his handiwork critically. ‘I think that’ll do,’ he said, ‘and if you see any bits I’ve missed—white on white is always difficult, especially in artificial light—I’ll drop back and touch it up.’ He put the lid firmly back on the pot and went across to the sink to wash the brush and, as Fleur watched him for a second, she thought how surreal it was that he should be here, painting her ceiling, when she hadn’t expected to see him ever again—or, at least, not for a very long time.

He finished what he was doing and turned, looking down at her as he took off the apron. ‘I’ve gone off the idea of tea,’ he said. ‘A glass of your whisky would be much appreciated—if it’s still on offer.’

Fleur smiled up at him. ‘Of course it is,’ she said, ‘and then I’ll prepare us some supper—unless you’re going on somewhere?’

He shook his head briefly. ‘No, I’ve got no plans,’ he said.

‘Then I’ll wave my magic wand and get us something to eat—though it won’t be up to Pat’s standard, I’m afraid,’ she said, going over to the drinks cabinet, and Sebastian sat down in the armchair with his whisky while Fleur went into the kitchen.

‘I’m doing us cheese omelettes—or you could have ham,’ she called. ‘Which do you want?’

‘Cheese will be fine,’ he replied. Then, ‘Can I help?’

She smiled to herself. ‘No, I think I can manage this all by myself,’ she said, ‘but I’ll let you make the coffee later.’

It was surprising how quickly they’d both managed to step back from thinking about poor, dear Benson, Fleur thought, reminding herself again how blessed routine and activity helped to dull pain—at least temporarily. It would take Sebastian—and the others—some time to come to terms with not having the lovely animal around, but at least for the moment Sebastian seemed less upset, though she had to swallow a lump in her own throat as she remembered the dog’s soulful eyes looking up at her. And she couldn’t help feeling an enormous sense of privilege that she had been chosen to be told the news. Even before Mia.

It was getting on for eleven o’clock by the time they sat down, with a tray each on their laps, and enjoyed the soft, buttery omelettes and thinly sliced brown bread.

‘I think Pat would say you have done us proud,’ Sebastian said as he mopped up the last of his supper with a piece of crust, then put down his knife and fork. ‘That was actually quite fantastic,’ he added. ‘And I hadn’t eaten since lunch.’

‘It probably seemed fantastic because you were hungry,’ Fleur said, ‘and so was I.’ She took his tray, then went back into the kitchen to put the kettle on. And almost at once he was by her side, standing behind her, with his hands lightly on her waist, before sliding them gently to rest on her hips—for just a moment…She had difficulty in not shivering in pleasure at his touch. Instinctively, she turned away and indicated the coffee things on the shelf.

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