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

‘Just some toast will be fine for me,’ she said. She paused. ‘Shall I make some for you as well?’

‘Go on, then. I’ll keep you company,’ he replied.

Making enough for both of them, she brought it over to the table, together with some butter and a jar of home-made honey, then sat down opposite him. Raising her eyes briefly, she said matter-of-factly, ‘I really must apologize for last night, Sebastian. I don’t know what came over me.’ She paused to butter the toast carefully. ‘I’m very sorry that you were disturbed.’

He was about to say, I wasn’t sorry…not a bit. How could any red-blooded male feel regret at being allowed to kiss a delectable woman in the middle of the night? Then he thought better of it. It was different today—totally, utterly different. She was cool, composed, almost indifferent towards him. He wondered whether she remembered that he’d held her so closely, that she’d given him her lips so willingly. Perhaps that, too, by now had become part of her dreaming, he thought.

‘There’s absolutely no need to apologize,’ he said smoothly. ‘If I’d waited for just a few more moments, you’d have recovered by yourself, and there would have been no need for me to…intrude…on your privacy. But…’ he paused ‘…when I heard you calling out, I did feel that I should at least enquire. The comfort of our guests is always paramount at Pengarroth Hall.’

His remarks were neatly put, Fleur had to give him that. He might have said, When I heard you screaming your head off, I thought you were being murdered. Or something like it.

‘The strange thing is, I don’t think I usually have nightmares,’ she said, ‘but, as I sleep alone, there’s no one who could confirm that.’ She shook her head briefly. ‘But last night that ghost seemed so very real…How the mind can play stupid tricks sometimes.’ She pretended to giggle, to be amused, but there had been nothing amusing about the effect it had had on her. She had been utterly terrified. Still, there was no need to prolong the experience by going on and on about it. She decided to change the subject. ‘So, you have meetings today,’ she said, biting into her slice of toast. ‘Do you expect to have lengthy discussions?’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t be too long,’ he said, ‘but it’s always hard to tell. I fully expect to be able to pick you up in time for some lunch.’ He picked up his mug. ‘We’ve got some literature hanging about somewhere, about Truro—I know there’s plenty to keep you interested there while I’m gone.’ He glanced over to her as he drank his coffee. He couldn’t believe that their physical encounter last night was being totally disregarded today. As if it had never happened. When anything so stirringly emotional as that had taken place, it was usual for those involved to acknowledge that it had happened—by a word or a gesture. But…that was good, wasn’t it? he asked himself. It fitted in with his plans exactly as he wanted it to. He wanted to forget the feel of Fleur’s body enveloped in his. Wanted to forget the tide of feeling which had hit him with the force of a tsunami as he’d claimed her sweet, moist lips. And she was clearly of the same mind because the emotional distance between them now was vast—and obvious. It was clearly going to be the host/guest relationship from now on. So—that was good…wasn’t it?

‘Yes, I noticed the leaflets about Truro on the table in the hall,’ she said, ‘and, from what I could see, I don’t expect to have time to fit it all in. Quite apart from visiting the cathedral and the museum—and all the shops, of course—I just like wandering around places I don’t know, walking along the alleys and side streets, getting a feel of how a place ticks. I even like peeping in at people’s windows,’ she admitted. She smiled across at him quickly. ‘So please don’t give me a thought, or worry that I may be at a loose end. I assure you, I shan’t be.’

‘OK, that’s fine,’ he said casually. ‘But I’ll ring you on your mobile as soon as the meeting’s over, and come and pick you up, wherever you happen to be.’ He paused. ‘There are plenty of coffee houses for you to refresh yourself, but we’ll have some lunch at a rather special place later.’ He threw her a glance. ‘Mia instructed me on the phone that I must take you there, so I’d better do as she says.’

Fleur stirred some cream into her coffee thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You don’t have to do that, Sebastian—really you don’t. Why waste any more time in Truro?’ She hoped she wasn’t sounding offhand or ungrateful, but it still rankled with her that Mia had more or less put him in a corner, to ‘look after’ her. She was quite all right on her own—as she’d tried to convince him before.

‘Oh, we might as well have lunch before we head back,’ he said casually. ‘I’ll be hungry, even if you aren’t. And, by the way,’ he added, ‘Pat rang earlier—her mother’s much better, apparently, so she’ll be back to take up the reins again tonight.’ He paused. ‘I did tell her that we were managing OK on our own, but she’s very possessive of her position here, and I didn’t want to make her feel unnecessary, or unwanted…so I didn’t try and persuade her to stay at their cottage for a bit longer. Anyway, that means you won’t be on supper duty tonight.’

Fleur looked across at him as he spoke. Despite his overtly purposeful nature, and undoubtedly rather imperious streak at times, he was always thoughtful. Even if on their very first encounter he’d made her feel as small as a five penny piece. But she must forget that, she told herself. First impressions, though often valid, did not tell the whole story. As had been proved!

She suddenly remembered the dog. ‘Where’s Benson?’ she asked.

‘Oh, Frank’s got him.’ Sebastian poured himself another coffee. ‘And then Pat’ll be here later on.’

Soon they were ready to leave and, going outside, Fleur saw that Sebastian had brought his car around to the front door. It was the latest BMW model, a hazy, sensuous blue-grey, and she smiled up at him as he opened the passenger door for her. ‘This is…rather…beautiful,’ she said. ‘A slightly more elevated specimen than my own car,’ she added. She’d not seen her car since arriving—Sebastian had parked it for her in the garages, which were obviously around the back somewhere.

‘Your car is a very sensible size,’ he said, ‘especially if you don’t need to use the motorways too much. Perfect for London.’

For only the second time since she’d been here, the sun started to break warily through the grey skies and, as Sebastian drove smoothly along the drive, Fleur’s spirits rose with every turn of the wheels. She loved a day out, to go somewhere different, and in spite of her misgivings about Sebastian—as well as her own deep-seated feelings—being with this outstandingly-good looking, elegant man certainly put the icing on the cake! She gave him a sidelong glance. He was dressed formally in a sharp suit, plain shirt and knotted tie—the perfect picture of British masculinity, she thought. And his rugged profile, hinting at just an element of harshness, seemed to confirm her view of him as possessing a many-layered personality. Then she amended her thoughts slightly. No, not harsh, she decided…just faintly mysterious, as though no human being would ever be able to reach the real man, to get to the very heart and soul of him. She turned to look steadily ahead.

It took less than an hour to get to Truro and, after they’d exchanged mobile numbers, Sebastian pulled into the car park of the offices he was visiting. ‘As soon as I’m done,’ he said, glancing across at her, ‘I’ll ring and come and find you.’ He smiled slowly at her as she got out. ‘Have fun,’ he murmured.

* * *

For the next hour or so, Fleur strolled through the streets, lapping up the atmosphere of the ancient city. Even in early January, there were plenty of tourists about. She soon came upon the County District Offices, and the new Crown Courts, wondering idly whether Sebastian had ever had to flex his professional muscles there. But it was the cathedral that dominated the city centre as it gazed down authoritatively on the Georgian streets that meandered and weaved their way through the city.

Wandering on she came to the two covered markets which were thriving and busy as they set out to encourage early shoppers, but it was Lemon Quay’s Creation Centre that Fleur knew would absorb her interest. It was a fascinating arcade, housing specialist shops which were calling out to be explored. This was a holiday experience she certainly hadn’t known she’d be enjoying—spending time at the shops! With her head on one side thoughtfully, she assessed the well-dressed windows, wondering whether to buy anything. She seldom shopped much in London, not unless she really needed something, so just wandering about and not having to worry about what time it was added to her sense of freedom and well-being.

In the end, she bought a dainty silver bracelet to take back to her mother, and some unusual embossed notepaper for herself, then decided that she would get something for Pat and Beryl as well. But what? she wondered. She didn’t know either woman well enough to know their tastes. She’d have to go on thinking, and hope for inspiration.

She stopped for a few minutes for coffee in one of the small restaurants before deciding to go into the cathedral. Although she knew it to be one of the newest in the country—work only starting on it in 1880—that did not detract from its powerful grandeur or sense of history, its towers and spires dominating everything around it.

Just before she decided to go in, her mobile rang. ‘I’m finished here,’ Sebastian said. ‘Where are you?’

‘About to go into the cathedral.’

‘OK. I’ll come in and find you.’

As soon as she set foot inside, Fleur was struck by how large and wide it was, its slender pillars and tiers of pointed arches automatically making her look upwards to the vaulted roof. There were other visitors looking around too, and presently Fleur trod quietly along the nave, musing at how many sacred buildings like this there must be around the world, places of sanctuary and worship. And, for a reason she couldn’t explain, a huge lump formed in her throat. But it was the sudden magical music from the organ as it spilled out and filled every corner of the building with its awesome sound that took Fleur’s breath right away. That majestic instrument of praise echoed and re-echoed around, so that every single stone and pillar might hear the timeless messages of hope, solace and inspiration.

She decided to sit down for a few moments, closing her eyes and conscious that a solitary tear was drifting slowly down her cheek. Followed by one or two more.

And then…Sebastian moved in to sit quietly beside her and, without saying a word, he touched her arm gently. Quickly opening her eyes, she saw that he was offering her his handkerchief and she took it from him, touching her face with it briefly. He looked down at her quizzically.

‘These places can get to you, can’t they?’ he said unexpectedly.

‘Oh…they make you feel so small, so insignificant, so…pointless, somehow,’ she replied with a small smile.

He was still looking at her, and his expression had softened as she spoke. ‘I think it’s high time I bought you some lunch. Come on. You’ve done enough soliloquizing.’

He took her arm and drew her to her feet. ‘I’ve had a very successful morning,’ he whispered cheerfully. ‘All problems laid to rest.’

She smiled up at him quickly, glad to be brought back down to earth. ‘Oh, that’s great,’ she said, automatically thinking that whatever the ‘problems’ were, they would undoubtedly have been solved to his advantage. It would take a very strong person—whoever he was—to get the better of Sebastian Conway.

‘We’re going to eat at a very special inn—one that my sister and I have visited several times,’ he said, as they arrived outside, ‘but we mustn’t overdo it because Pat’s cooking for us later, remember.’

And it was special, Fleur thought as they entered. It had a robust atmosphere but it was obviously a well-run and welcoming place. They found a convenient corner table by a window and, while Sebastian was ordering some drinks at the bar, Fleur gazed outside at the busy streets, the comings and goings of passers-by. She felt almost dizzy with contentment as she glanced over at Sebastian’s lean, athletic figure, the handsome head held high, and suddenly he glanced back at her and their eyes met in a way that she would remember for a long time. Then he came back with a lemonade for her and a lager for himself, and handed her the menu.

‘I recommend the crab sandwiches,’ he said, ‘which are very generous and served with an amazing salad…but if you want anything cooked, then the steak and beer pie is equally wonderful, though somewhat filling.’

Fleur smiled up at him. ‘Crab sandwiches will suit me very well,’ she said happily.

When the food came, it was absolutely delicious and after she’d finished it Fleur unashamedly ran a forefinger around her plate to mop up the last bit of the dressing. ‘Yummy,’ she said softly, looking up at him gratefully. ‘Thank you.’

Yummy was a word he might have used to describe her, he thought. Why did she look so good in everything she wore, and why did those soft eyes with that occasional lazy blink affect him every time…? For crying out loud, this was a Monday morning in early January, he’d just sat through nearly three hours of an important business meeting, and yet all that was consuming his interest was the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. He pulled himself together. She was going home next week, and she’d be out of his life. Why waste his feelings on a ship that would pass in the night? Or waste his feelings on any woman? He’d already made his mind up about that—and he seldom, if ever, changed his mind about important issues. It was not in his nature.

After their meal they wandered back to the car and Sebastian drove them home—much more slowly than he would have done if he had been alone. He’d enjoyed himself much, much more than he could have imagined. Enjoyed being with Fleur. And when he’d thrown out the invitation to take her with him to Truro, he’d only really done it to satisfy Mia.

‘Oh, I forgot something! Can you…is there…?’ Fleur interrupted his thoughts.

He turned and looked at her briefly. ‘Why—what is it? What have you forgotten?’

She tutted to herself, irritated. ‘I wanted to buy some little gift for Pat—and her mother,’ she said. ‘Going into the cathedral pushed everything else out of my mind. I meant to do it later. They’ve both been so kind to me,’ she added.

‘No worries,’ he said easily. ‘Do you know what you want to buy?’

‘Haven’t a clue,’ she admitted.

‘Well, we’ll be passing a very good garden centre in a mile or so, and they’ve got splendid little gifts.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Beryl will very much appreciate a bottle of dry sherry, so don’t worry about her. There’s plenty of the stuff at home and you can have one of our bottles. And I’m sure you’ll see something for Pat.’

Stopping at the garden centre, a very pretty hand-painted ceramic watering can, mainly for indoor plants, was decided upon and, as the assistant wrapped it carefully in tissue, Fleur looked up at Sebastian. ‘If Pat never actually uses this, it’ll look lovely as an ornament, won’t it?’ she said.

‘Oh, she’ll use it,’ he said. ‘Pat likes nice things around her. She’s a wizard with anything that grows. And she’ll like it especially because you’ve given it to her.’

As they neared Pengarroth Hall, Fleur suddenly thought of something else she’d forgotten! To tell him of the non-existent phone call asking her to come back early…She’d been so enjoying herself, it had completely slipped her mind. It would seem odd to mention it now, she thought. Never mind—she’d invent the message for later on, when she and Sebastian had been apart for a while.

When they got home, Pat was already back in harness in the kitchen and, after staying around for a few minutes to make enquiries about Beryl, Fleur went upstairs to her room. She realized that she was feeling quite tired and, with the last of the daylight filtering in through the curtains, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Just for a few minutes, she thought. Well, she was on holiday, wasn’t she, and being lazy was allowed.

It was the ringing of the doorbell which woke her a whole two hours later, she saw, as she glanced at the bedside clock. It was pitch-black outside and she’d been asleep for two hours! She hadn’t heard that bell since the arrival of Mia’s friends on Christmas Eve. Not many visitors came to Pengarroth Hall, obviously.

She jumped out of bed quickly, deciding that today she’d have a long, leisurely bath rather than a shower.

For a full half hour she luxuriated thoughtfully in the expensive bubbles. She’d had quite long enough to make up her mind that she was definitely going home the day after tomorrow. She did not want the feelings she had about her host to trouble her common sense for a moment longer…She needed to get back to work! But first, if Beryl really was well enough to receive visitors, she’d go up to their cottage for afternoon tea tomorrow, as they’d arranged. Pat had reminded her about it when they’d come back earlier. But after that, it would be Goodbye Pengarroth Hall!

Fleur smiled to herself as she brushed out her freshly-shampooed hair in long sweeping strokes, feeling bright and light-hearted. Apart from last night’s ridiculous episode, she’d slept brilliantly the whole time she’d been here, and eaten even more so, thanks to the hospitality of Pat and her host. Her host! How could she ever think of Sebastian as that, now? He would have to rank as one of her friends, surely—a friend she would keep in casual contact with, and perhaps meet up with once a year—or once every two years! She knew the saying that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, but she also knew that absence from anyone, or anything, would eventually dull the appetite to the point where it was no longer important, no longer needed. And that was exactly what must happen here. She liked Sebastian, a lot—she may even have fallen in love with him, just a little, she acknowledged ruefully—but she was also too wary of his type to endanger her future. Her future was already mapped out. And it did not include the Sebastian Conways of this world.

As this was to be her penultimate evening here, she decided to make an effort in the dress department, choosing the only skirt she’d brought with her—a three-quarter length swirly number in midnight-blue. It went perfectly with her fine, loose pearly top, especially when she pulled her hair back into a French pleat. She looked at herself in the mirror, hoping that she hadn’t overdone it, because she knew it was a glamorous ensemble. Then she shrugged. So what? Anyway, it was too much trouble to take it all off and jump into yet another pair of trousers—either her own or Mia’s. Have the courage to stick to your first decisions, she told herself. Stop dithering.

Faintly in the distance she’d heard voices and as she came down the wide staircase she saw Sebastian standing in the hall talking to another man. Fleur hesitated for a second, wondering whether to turn and go back to her room, or to go on down and be introduced to the newcomer. She didn’t have long to make up her mind, because both men looked up and watched her descend gracefully. It was the expression on Sebastian’s face that made her catch her breath, and he came forward at once.

‘Ah, Fleur…meet an old friend of mine, Rudolph Malone…We’ve been fairly close neighbours for yonks, haven’t we, Rudy? And this…this is Fleur—one of Mia’s cohorts, Rudy.’

The man came towards Fleur with his rather pale, podgy hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Well, well…you never fail to surprise me, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Where did you find this one, may I ask? You must let me know your source of supply!’

He was rather a short individual, Fleur noted, with indeterminate brown hair and a face which was dominated by rather thick lips. She supposed that he wasn’t that bad-looking but, comparing him to the god-like Sebastian, he didn’t have much of a chance. She let him hold her hand for longer than was necessary, before pulling away and smiling up uncertainly.

‘I told you, I didn’t find Fleur—she’s a friend of Mia’s. And staying for a short holiday before she heads back to London and a very exacting position in the field of medical research,’ Sebastian replied.

‘Well, well,’ Rudy said again. ‘How convenient that you happen to be here as well, old chap. You said that Mia had already returned?’

‘I did. She has,’ Sebastian replied, almost rudely, Fleur thought. She saw that his expression had darkened considerably in the last few moments—perhaps this man wasn’t liked here, she thought. So what was he doing here?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Sebastian said, ‘Rudy works in London too, Fleur, and he’s also having a break at home.’ He paused, as if regretting the next thing he was going to say. ‘And, since we haven’t seen each other for a couple of years—well, not to chat to anyway—he’s going to stay and have supper with us this evening.’

‘Aren’t I the lucky one,’ Rudy murmured. ‘I shall insist on being allowed to sit very close to your charming visitor, Sebastian. You won’t deny me, will you?’

The man hadn’t taken his eyes off Fleur from the moment he’d seen her, and suddenly she felt uneasy…She’d met his slimy sort before—the sort she avoided at all costs.

Pat called from the kitchen, ‘Supper’s ready—I’ve laid up in the dining room.’ Fleur knew that Pat would have been pleased to do that because she jumped at every opportunity to do things properly, and together the three of them strolled along the passageway and took their places at the table. Fleur couldn’t help admiring everything—the shining cutlery and glassware, the single decorative candle and a sweet arrangement of holly leaves and berries and Christmas roses in a small bowl in the centre. Yes, Pat would love that watering can, Fleur thought.

The meal was delicious, marred only for Fleur by Rudy’s proximity to her. He seemed gifted at being able to make their knees, their thighs, touch occasionally, and she tried not to shudder each time he did it. He hadn’t waited to be asked where he should sit, but had plonked himself down on the chair next to her, half-turning so that he could look into her eyes.

‘I know the sort of food that gets served up in this place,’ he said, ‘but the only feast I’ll need is to look at my charming neighbour. That will be food enough!’

‘Shut up, Rudy,’ Sebastian said. ‘Turn it off, for Pete’s sake.’ He looked over at Fleur. ‘Rudy inhabits the theatrical world,’ he said. ‘As if you needed telling.’

Fleur wished fervently that she’d decided to dress more casually. All the daft compliments which were being thrown at her were making her feel awkward, and she hated being admired by the absurd man sitting next to her. Once or twice she caught Sebastian’s eye, but the usual rather intimate look she’d become used to him sending her didn’t seem to be there. He looked as uncomfortable as she was feeling, a coldness in his expression making her feel unsure of herself.

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.