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

Sighing briefly, she snuggled down.

And that night Fleur dreamed, her subconscious mind teeming with thoughts, events, voices, memories and feelings…For several hours, she tossed and turned restlessly. In her dreams, she and her mother were having one of their discussions about other-worldly things, about Helen’s inexplicable forebodings, which often turned out to have some verity, about the second sense which she seemed to possess, about the angels that she implicitly believed were all around…And then, without any warning, and with a huge wave of anxiety sweeping over her, Fleur sat bolt upright, her forehead spangled with perspiration. Because she was no longer alone! She could see him—he did exist! The ghost of Pengarroth Hall, his top hat firmly on his head, was right there in her room, and he was walking slowly towards her! Pulling the duvet right up around her shoulders, she opened her mouth to say something, to cry out, to tell it to go away and leave her alone! But no words would come! Her tongue had stuck fast to her dry mouth, rendering her impotent and helpless…She was his prisoner and she was trapped with no means of escape. With her shaking knees drawn up to her chin, her eyes huge with fright, she watched him come nearer and nearer all the time, and suddenly…suddenly…amazingly…she recognized him…It was her father—her father was here! But how…why? She could make out the familiar features, the determined expression, the permanently puckered brow, and at last Fleur did find her voice and she screamed, ‘No! Go away! You shouldn’t be here! Leave me alone—leave me alone!’ But the figure kept on walking and Fleur kept on screaming a high-pitched, frantic scream until, cowering now, she could almost feel him, he was so close…Suddenly the door burst open and Sebastian stood there, a look of shocked disbelief on his face.

‘Fleur…Fleur! What the hell is it?’ He strode right over to the bed and, without a second’s hesitation, she sprang up into a kneeling position and clutched him feverishly around his neck, almost bowling him over in her desperation to feel him near her. And with that human contact, feeling the comforting warmth of his bare chest against her flimsily clad form, she burst into tears. Helpless, hopeless tears. Tears partly of shock, partly of relief—and partly of release. She could not remember the last time she’d cried—it must have been years and years ago, and she sobbed unashamedly.

Sebastian let her cry, saying not another word, but now sitting down on the bed with her, his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

‘I saw him…I did see him,’ she gasped tremulously between sobs, and he held her even closer to him.

‘Hush, Fleur…it’s OK…you’re OK. I’m here…’ he murmured.

Afterwards, she couldn’t recall how long they’d stayed like that, but eventually her tears began to lessen and she raised her eyes to look up at him. And then, as if it were the obvious, natural sequence of events, his mouth came down upon her lips—lips that were parted with the effort of trying to breathe normally after her anguished weeping. And the moist warmth of that brief union sent thrilling waves coursing down her spine…She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want to pull away because, in a kind of wonder, she found herself glowing in this intimate contact, Sebastian’s overt masculinity making her feel desired, wanted, protected…but not overpowered. Not threatened in any way. And, as her terror finally died, she stayed quite still in his arms, not wanting him to leave her. Amazingly, she felt no embarrassment that they had kissed like that, no shyness that she had felt his body harden against her, had felt the muscles of his broad shoulders tense against her fingers as she’d clutched him to her.

Eventually, reluctantly, he drew away and said softly, ‘Fleur, you did not see anything…You’ve just had a horrible dream, that’s all, and I’m really sorry that I told you about the wretched ghost…It was a silly thing to do, just before going to bed.’ He gazed down at her for a long moment…Her brief nightwear exposed her slight shoulders and the cleft of her smooth breasts, her hair tangled and damp. Gently, he pulled a lock of it away from her forehead, smoothing his fingers across her cheek for a second. Then, reaching across, he took a tissue from a box on the bedside table and carefully wiped away her tears.

Fully awake—and aware—now, Fleur suddenly became very conscious that he was clad only in dark boxer shorts, conscious of the black hair on his bare chest, of his broad, muscular thighs, and she shivered briefly. Was this part of the dream, would she wake up in a minute and find him gone? But she knew it was no fantasy…His throbbing body, melding with hers, was no figment of her imagination.

After a moment of trying to control his own heightened awareness, he murmured, ‘Do you want me to stay?’ He paused, feeling a surging, burgeoning hope that she would say yes.

But, after a second’s hesitation, she replied, ‘No…no, there’s no need, thank you…I’m fine now, really. And I’m so sorry.’ She swallowed, taking the damp tissue from him and dabbing at her eyes. ‘Of course you’re right, Sebastian. I was dreaming. How could it possibly have been anything else? But I’m sorry I disturbed you, sorry that you had to come and…and sort me out…’

He smiled briefly, releasing her gently, and got up straight away and went over to the door, glancing back at the crestfallen woman half-kneeling, half-crouching on the bed. ‘Can I make you a warm drink, Fleur? Something to help you get back to sleep?’ he said quietly.

She returned his smile, beginning to feel calm and more in possession of her self-control. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have a glass of water and take one of my tablets,’ she said. ‘I’ll…I’ll sleep now, Sebastian. And I really do apologize for being such an idiot.’

He nodded at that, going out and closing the door softly behind him.

On his way back to his own room, he was aware that his nerves had quickened dangerously, making him feel frustrated and edgy, and he cursed under his breath. It would have only taken one word from her to make him slide into that bed beside her and take and hold her in his arms, and make tender, unhurried love to her until dawn broke. How had she managed that? Would he really have succumbed that easily? There may not have been any ghost about, but she’d certainly cast a spell on him!

He went into his own room and shut the door, leaning against it for a second. Thank heavens she’d turned down his offer to spend the rest of the night with her. He must have been out of his mind to suggest it. He went across to the window and stared out moodily into the darkness for a moment. He’d thought he was impervious to the lure of beautiful, vulnerable women—but obviously not. Well, it had been a timely warning to keep his distance! And especially with this one, and for whom his restless body still ached. Would he never learn?

CHAPTER SIX

FLEUR stood for several moments, staring at the small bottle of tablets in her hand. She knew she wasn’t going to take any—because she didn’t want her mind to become even slightly numbed, or hazy, about what had just happened. She wanted the memory, the sensation of Sebastian’s mouth hard on hers to stay with her for as long as possible. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her, she wanted the manly fragrance of him to linger in her nostrils.

She glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror—what a sight she looked. Her face was pale and tear-stained, her hair a tangled mess of damp waves, yet that hadn’t seemed to matter to Sebastian. She knew that he had wanted her just now—even looking like this—he had wanted her badly, and it had taken all her common sense and control to deny him. And to deny herself, she admitted. Because for those few moments her need had been as acute as his. How had she managed to send him away?

She frowned slightly…What a bizarre thing to have happened, she thought…that their ‘ghost’ should have suddenly taken on her father’s face…What on earth was that all about? Then she shrugged. That was the thing with dreams and nightmares. They were bizarre, and had no rhyme or reason.

She filled a glass with water and drank freely. She knew very well how she had managed to resist Sebastian. Even though he had been so kind and thoughtful…and gentle…she knew him to be yet another powerful man, an important man whose self-worth was never in doubt, used to giving orders and to being in command. To having things his way. The very sort she didn’t want to become involved with, to have any meaningful relationship with. And, anyway, something he’d once said had made it clear that he wasn’t the committing sort either. So that was all right then, she thought. His philosophy would undoubtedly be to enjoy any fleeting moment of passion and pass on unhindered.

Slowly, she climbed back into bed. Tomorrow was another day, and tonight’s little episode must be forgotten, ignored, as quickly as possible. She was sorry that she’d accepted his offer of a trip to Truro, but when he was otherwise engaged she’d invent the phone call asking her to return to London. It was safer to get back, to get away from Pengarroth Hall.

She did, finally, drift off to sleep and this time her dreams were pure luxury. Sebastian was there all the time beside her, cradling her in his arms, caressing her in a way that no one had ever done before. It was comforting, it was calm…it was exquisite.

When she woke up, she felt refreshed and resolute. That ridiculous nightmare had resulted in her behaving in an unbelievable way. She’d allowed Sebastian—her host, after all, and Mia’s brother—to kiss her passionately, in very intimate circumstances. What they’d been wearing had left nothing to the imagination!

She showered and put on jeans and the silver-grey sloppy sweater which her mother had given her for Christmas. Then she brushed her hair up into a knot on top, touched up her face lightly with blusher and a hint of eye-shadow, and went downstairs.

She could hear Sebastian already in the kitchen and as she opened the door she felt her heart lurch inexplicably. Upstairs, she’d felt so confident of herself, of her feelings, of her determination, so sure that she could appear as if nothing special had gone on last night, and now her legs felt as if they belonged to someone else.

He was at the stove with his back to her as she entered, and he immediately turned to face her, fleeting admiration in his eyes as he took in her appearance. But then his expression changed almost immediately and, clearing his throat, he turned back to making the coffee. ‘Morning,’ he said briefly. ‘Did you manage to sleep OK—eventually?’

‘Yes, thank you, I had a good night in the end.’ She went over to the fridge. ‘Would you like me to cook you something—eggs poached, boiled or fried?’ she asked casually, as if she was asking the question of just anyone rather than the man who could have seduced her last night if he’d wanted to.

He put the lid firmly on the percolator, then took it across to the table, where he had already laid two mugs and plates. ‘No, I seldom eat breakfast,’ he said, pulling out a chair to sit down, ‘but you carry on if you want to.’

‘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.