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

‘What the ’ell were you thinking about just then?’ he asked. ‘You were miles away.’

‘Um…sorry, Frank,’ Sebastian muttered, thinking that he’d been about fifty miles away, which was where she’d be by now.

Much later, back at home, Fleur made herself a large mug of tea and started to unpack. As she pulled everything out of her case, she realized that she’d brought one of Mia’s tracksuit pants with her by mistake. She shrugged—it didn’t matter because she’d be sure to meet up with her friend again soon. And Mia would expect a blow-by-blow account of everything she’d done at Pengarroth Hall. She paused for a second, her mind going backwards again. One thing she would not be describing was her ghostly nightmare. She must try and pretend that had never happened—and she was certain that Sebastian would never bring the subject up. Least said, soonest mended, she thought.

As she took the last of her things from the case, she suddenly spotted Sebastian’s handkerchief—the one he’d so thoughtfully passed to her in the cathedral—nestling in amongst her tights. What was it doing there? And why hadn’t she given it back to him straight away, or given it to Pat to go into the laundry? She bit her lip. Well, she’d give that to Mia as well, when she saw her, she thought. There’d be no need for any explanations. But, as she picked up the handkerchief, she held it to her nose for a second. It could only belong to Sebastian, she thought…It had his distinctive smell—a mixture of aftershave or cologne and the pervasive fresh, sweet scent of country air and leaves and bracken. She stared across to her window, where the only sight she could see was the tall brick wall of the building next door…Why had she come home early? she thought. She could still be there in Cornwall, she and Benson could go for a gentle stroll before she sat down with Sebastian to one of Pat’s mouth-watering meals! No regrets, she told herself crossly. She’d made the right decision.

She switched on the television to distract herself, then stood back and looked around her with some distaste. The flat needed a good clean, she thought. It was time to roll up her sleeves and get stuck in. Energetic housework had been the time-honoured way she’d found usually lifted her from any feelings of ennui. She had to confess that for several weeks before Christmas when they’d been so busy at work, and had then gone on to one or two festive gatherings afterwards, she’d not spent much time at home at all. Certainly not enough to move furniture about and do some cleaning and polishing. Counting the weekend, she still had six days left before her holiday was finally over, so that ought to be long enough to bring the place back up to standard. She’d begin tomorrow.

She was about to unwrap the small packet of ham she’d bought for her supper from the deli nearby when the phone rang. It was Mia.

‘What are you doing at home?’ Mia demanded ‘You should still be on holiday!’

Fleur hesitated for only a second…She just could not go on with this deception, not with her friend, anyway. Although she would have to manipulate the truth, just a tad.

‘Oh hi, Mia. How…how did you know I was back?’ she asked—but thinking that there could only be one answer to that.

‘I rang home to talk to you, and was told by Pat that you’d been called back to work. Honestly, what a pain.’

Fleur took a deep breath. ‘Mia—look, I’ll come clean. The lab hasn’t been in touch at all. It was just that I thought…I got the impression that…’

‘What? Don’t tell me Sebastian was being difficult…’

‘Oh, no, no, of course not,’ Fleur replied quickly, ‘but I did think that I might be outstaying my welcome. He’s very, very busy with everything, and I began to think I was in the way…’ The words petered out as she tried to give a rational explanation. ‘And Pat has put in so much effort on my behalf—I’ve never eaten meals like it in my life.’ She patted her waistline as she spoke. ‘But it was a wonderful break, Mia, thanks to your kind offer that I should stay, and I felt so well the whole time. In fact, I’ve had to keep reminding myself to take those tablets.’

‘I think you were probably over-sensitive, Fleur, because Pat couldn’t stop going on about how much she liked you,’ Mia said. ‘Now, tell me everything. I hope Sebastian showed you around the area, took you one or two places…’

‘Sebastian was extremely kind,’ Fleur began carefully, sitting on the arm of her sofa and preparing herself for a long discourse. Mia liked all the details in Technicolor.

After making plans to meet up next week, they were about to ring off when Fleur said casually, ‘By the way, Mia, don’t tell Sebastian, you know, that I came back because I felt in the way…It’s best that he thinks I’m indispensable at work.’

‘OK,’ Mia replied cheerfully, though thinking that she’d jolly well find out what her brother had said, or done, to give Fleur the impression she was in the way.

Much later, curled up comfortably in her dressing gown, Fleur rang her parents. Philip answered the phone and his pleasure on hearing his daughter’s voice was tangible.

‘Hello there, Fleur! Well, my word, you are having a good break, aren’t you, dear? All raring to go back to work, I expect? What? Oh, yes, Mum and I are fine, enjoyed Boston, but it’s good to be back in harness. Holidays are fine but too much of it addles the brain.’

Fleur let him go on, interspersing everything he had to say with casual remarks of her own about Cornwall. ‘Is Mum there?’ she asked.

‘No, she’s gone next door. New grandchild staying there, I believe.’ He sighed, clearly mystified as to why anyone should be interested in babies. ‘When she’s stopped drooling, I’ll get her to ring you, OK? Thanks for the call, and all the best. Let’s hope for a successful year for all of us.’

Fleur snapped the phone shut, smiling faintly. Dad’ll never change, she thought—and anyway, would she really want him to? At least he was consistent—and he was never unkind. Everyone had their faults, but no one was all bad, she mused.

She decided to go to bed. She’d had a lengthy drive and the day had seemed incredibly long. Snuggling under her duvet, she lay there staring up at the ceiling for a moment…It felt quite strange to be back home amongst her own things and she realized how quickly she’d settled into Pengarroth Hall—she’d felt at home there straight away. She wondered whether Pat was still there, or whether she’d returned to her cottage to be with Beryl. That potato cake had been absolutely scrummy, Fleur thought sleepily—she’d have a go at doing that herself one of these days. What was the recipe again…flour and suet and sugar and…?’

With a start, she was brought back from almost-sleep by the ringing of her phone and she sat up quickly. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was eleven o’clock and she frowned—her mother wouldn’t ring at this hour because Philip always said that telephone calls from, or to, anyone should cease after nine p.m., other than in emergencies.

‘Hello?’ she said sleepily—and the voice that answered sent a rush of pleasure right through her.

‘Oh, good—you’re home, safe and sound,’ Sebastian said. ‘Good journey?’

‘No problems to speak of,’ Fleur replied, smiling. It was so good to hear him.

‘I haven’t disturbed you, have I?’ he said. ‘You weren’t asleep?’

‘No,’ she replied truthfully, ‘I wasn’t asleep—though I am in bed.’

There was a pause after that, and Fleur imagined him lounging there alone, probably in the sitting room, fingering a glass of red wine or a whisky. And Sebastian pictured Fleur’s graceful, feminine curves as she lay in bed, pictured her hair spread out on the pillow, imagined the creamy smoothness of her skin.

He cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I’ve been talking to my sister, so I knew you were home,’ he went on. He would like to have said that he’d wanted to hear her voice—but didn’t think that was a good idea. ‘But I thought I’d ring anyway,’ he added.

‘I’m glad you did, because now I can thank you again for my holiday, Sebastian,’ Fleur said. ‘I…I did love every minute of it.’ Well, not quite every minute, she thought, but most of them. ‘I think Pengarroth Hall and the surroundings are just…idyllic,’ she went on, ‘and if I were in your shoes, I’d be counting the days before living there permanently.’

He ignored that last remark because it only reminded him of the distance which would soon separate him from the city life he enjoyed, from the people he was close to…And from any chance he might have found to spend time with this woman—a woman who had slipped so effortlessly into his life and to such significant effect! He still had difficulty in believing it because vulnerable was not a word he’d ever use to describe himself.

‘Oh, we were happy to have you stay…Pat’s gone into a sulk because it’s only me here now.’ He paused. ‘And you don’t need to thank me—it was all Mia’s idea, anyway.’

Fleur froze at that last remark, feeling an uncomfortable chill run through her. Yes, of course it had been Mia’s idea that she should prolong her holiday—plus the fact that he should spare some of his valuable time to act out the genial host. Let there not be any doubt about that! she thought. She bit her lip, wondering what to say after that.

‘Oh, by the way, I very stupidly forgot to give you back your handkerchief—the one you lent me when we were in Truro? I’ll let Mia have it when we get together next week.’

‘Oh, yes…I remember,’ he said casually. ‘But don’t worry about it, Fleur, I’ve got others.’

For some unaccountable reason, neither of them wanted to be the one to hang up first, and Sebastian said seriously, ‘Don’t let them harass you at work, Fleur. I don’t want all that rest and relaxation to be swallowed up now, and ruined by undue pressure.’

Fleur was frankly amazed at his genuine concern. Did he really care whether she was hassled or not? She swallowed and said quickly, ‘No, I promise to do only my fair share, and to be sensible, not to stay on too long after hours.’

‘Well, I hope you mean it,’ he said firmly. It had been noticeable how well she’d begun to appear after the first day or so at Pengarroth Hall, how that winsome, wistful, rather tired look had been replaced by a healthy glow to her cheeks, by a tantalizing sparkle in her large eyes. Cornish air had obviously suited her, he thought.

She stifled a yawn. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go to sleep,’ she said softly. ‘I know it’ll be a busy day tomorrow.’ She crossed her fingers as she said it. Yes, she would be busy—cleaning her flat!

He paused before answering. ‘Yes, of course. So…I’ll be back in town myself in about ten days…and I’ll be seeing Mia at some point. Perhaps we could all get together for a drink.’

‘Perhaps.’ Fleur smiled. ‘Goodnight, then, Sebastian.’

As he rang off, Sebastian stared moodily into the dying embers of the fire. More than anything in the world at that precise moment, he wanted to be somewhere else. And he knew where that was. He wanted to be with Fleur, wanted to be holding her close to him, to mould her body to his, to possess her…fully…and all his senses rushed at him as he remembered the feel of her mouth on his when they’d kissed the other night. But he didn’t think she’d given it another thought…there’d been no look, no word, not the slightest sign that it had had the impact on her that it had on him. She liked men—oh, yes, he was sure that she liked men. She just didn’t want to be…how could he put it…cornered by anyone in particular. She wanted to be a beautiful Mary Celeste, sailing alone.

He stood up, kicking aside a footstool irritably. There was not the remotest chance that the relationship he wasn’t sure he wanted would ever come to anything. The best thing for him would be to try and forget that he’d ever met Fleur. But how the devil was he going to do that?

CHAPTER NINE

IN HER kitchen on the Saturday evening ten days later, Fleur stood rather precariously on her short stepladder and started to paint the ceiling, wielding the large brush back and forth vigorously.

Having used up some of her holiday, plus more time since, in spring-cleaning the flat, she’d come to the conclusion that the kitchen had gone beyond needing a mere clean-up—it needed redecorating. And, once she’d made up her mind that that was what she was going to do, she’d lost no time in buying everything that was needed. She’d decided that this time the walls would be the palest green—which would suit the oak cabinets—with the skirtings and other woodwork gloss white. And when she’d completed the job, she thought, straining her head back and looking upwards at the rather challenging area to be done, she’d have a great time purchasing some new stuff—towels and tea towels, and maybe replacing some of her china as well. All to blend in. She felt the definite need to inject something new, something original, something to kick-start the new year.

She’d been welcomed back to work with open arms by her colleagues, who’d all said how well she looked and teased her that she’d put on weight, and soon it felt to Fleur that Pengarroth Hall and her time there was becoming a distant memory. But lives were built on memories, she thought now, and she had so many locked away into hers…things she would never, ever forget.

Bending to dip her brush carefully into the paint pot, her thoughts were of Sebastian—as they seemed so often to be—and she was glad she’d not heard anything from him since his phone call. Time was already passing so rapidly, and it was only time which would help her to push him further and further away from her, so that he stopped being the first thing on her mind each morning when she woke and the last thought each night before going to sleep. But it wasn’t just him, Sebastian Conway, she tried to convince herself. It was Pengarroth Hall and its atmosphere, it was Pat and Beryl’s friendship, and the clear, melting Cornish air. As her thoughts ran on, she grimaced slightly as she remembered Rudolph Malone’s visit. His appearance on the scene had been the one thing—apart from Sebastian’s reaction to it—to mar the perfect holiday. Then she shrugged. Who cared, anyway? She’d never come face to face with that silly man again.