Passionate Playboys: The Demetrios Bridal Bargain / The Magnate's Indecent Proposal / Hot Nights with a Playboy

He arched a brow. ‘Dressed like that.’

He had a point, she conceded, glancing down. The sweater covered as much as a dress, but it was a bit short and quite drafty. As for the man-sized woollen walking socks he’d dug out of the boot when she’d refused point-blank to allow him to carry her over the gravelled forecourt—well, they weren’t exactly ideal footwear for public transport.

There was also the slight problem of her having no money.

She hated to be even more in his debt, but what choice did she have? ‘I’m sorry to put you out. I’m sure you have more important things you should be doing.’

‘Yes.’

Rose bit her lip. Clearly he was not into making people feel comfortable.

‘Sorry,’ she said again.

His lips quivered. The word was ‘sorry’ but the sentiment behind it was clearly ‘go to hell’. His eyes slid to her feet encased in an old pair of Jamie’s walking socks. To get there he had to move past her legs—they were very fine legs. They were the sort of legs a man could not look at without imagining himself between the soft, smooth thighs.

You passed, the voice in his head reminded him. It sounded disgusted and he could see why.

‘What did the doctor say?’ He found her more attractive in this weird get-up than he had that night in his hotel room. Did that, he wondered, make him twisted?

‘He said what I said all along, I’m fine. He also said I was lucky.’ She took a deep breath; not liking the man was no excuse for bad manners and he had risked his life to save her. ‘And I am, thanks to you.’

He looked at the hand she had extended to him for a moment, then, just when she thought he was going to ignore it, he reached out and clasped it in his.

Rose’s eyes flew wide and a small startled gasp escaped her parted lips before she could prevent it. She grunted something guarded and snatched her hand away. It was difficult to stay in denial about being wildly attracted to someone when you had a reaction like that to a simple handshake. She swallowed as she wondered about the electrical thrill that had shot through her body.

Did he feel it too?

She pushed aside the thought, ran her tongue over her dry lips and, still not looking at him, directed her words to the wall over his left shoulder. ‘I really need to get back,’ she said, her voice cracking with nerves.

He bowed his dark head slightly in acknowledgement of her request. ‘Dornie House, you said …?’ His eyes narrowed in concentration as he sketched a mental map of the area. If it was the place he thought he could stop by the estate and reassure Jamie that he hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth.

‘That’s right.’

‘The place off the Inverness road?’

‘I think so.’ She lifted a hand to her head.

As Mathieu watched the intensely weary gesture he was startled to feel his protective instincts stirring. He reminded himself who and what this woman was, but found it hard to reconcile the predatory man-eater of his memory with this exhausted and white-faced figure who had just narrowly escaped death … and there hadn’t been a single tear.

You had to admire that. Whatever she was, she had guts.

‘You walked a long way this morning. Come on.’ She had to be tired because she didn’t object when he placed a light guiding hand on her arm.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘YOUR adrenaline levels are dropping,’ Mathieu said, studying Rose’s pale face with an expert eye. ‘The delayed shock is kicking in,’ he explained as he waited for her to swing her legs into the Land Rover before closing the passenger door. ‘Are you sure the doctor said you were OK to leave?’ he added when he slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

You had to wonder about the competence of someone who sent a woman who looked ready to collapse home.

Rose nodded, but did not mention that the medic had only released her on the understanding she had someone to take care of her once she got home.

Home.it was ironic, after she had had such a fight to leave, that she had been suffering dreadfully from homesickness ever since she had arrived.

She knew it would pass, but at that moment she was feeling it particularly acutely. So acutely that she had to clamp her teeth into her lower lip to stop it trembling. The idea of showing that sort of weakness before this man horrified her.

‘Have you moved here or are you visiting?’

With anyone else she would have suspected they were making conversation to give her time to compose herself. She lifted a hand to blot the moisture at the corner of one eye and sniffed. ‘I’m working. I’m cataloguing Mr Smith’s book collection.’

‘You’re cataloguing books?’ He doubted she could have given a reply that would have surprised him more.

‘Yes, when I’m not seducing men in their hotel rooms I’m a trained librarian.’

‘Librarian?’ He gave a sudden bark of laughter that brought a militant light to her amber eyes.

‘What’s so funny?’

He slid her a quick sideways glance. ‘Well, you must admit it’s not … well, a person doesn’t look at you and think …’ He turned his head again, the sweep of his eyes this time slow and sensual. Facing the road again, he grinned and shook his head. ‘Well, he doesn’t think librarian, ma petite.’

Why did French sound sexy even when a person was being sarcastic? And he must have been because nobody would call her his little one and be serious. ‘You appear to have a very stereotypical image of a librarian, Mr Demetrios.’ Did he make love in that language too?

Well, you’re not going to find out, Rose, she told herself sternly. He threw Rebecca out of his bed and she’s the size eight sexy one.

Was Rebecca right when she claimed being sexy was a state of mind? If she had meant thinking about sex, then that might well make me the sexiest person on the planet just now, Rose thought, embarrassed by her sudden preoccupation with the subject.

Meeting this man was going to put her in therapy.

‘I won’t ask what you think I look like.’ Knowing what he thought she was was more than enough information.

‘I try as a rule not to judge a book by its cover, but then you know all about books, don’t you? You don’t mind if I just swing by the estate to let Jamie know what’s happened?’ Without waiting for her response he took a sharp left. The entrance gates they passed through were grand but the tree-lined driveway beyond was potholed.

Rose had been here long enough to know that the estate, or Castle Clachan given its correct title, was occupied by the laird, a pretty important person hereabouts. She supposed it figured that someone like Mathieu would be on first-name terms with the man.

‘You’re staying here?’

He nodded and negotiated a particularly deep pothole. ‘Jamie raced for a season.’

‘Was he injured?’

‘No, he just … you need … Jamie was a brilliant driver, but he lacked the … he wasn’t, I suppose, ruthless enough. Jamie,’ he explained, ‘is much nicer than me.’

‘An unnecessary explanation, I promise you.’

This drew a laugh from him. Rose couldn’t help but notice what an attractive laugh he had.

They drew up on the gravelled area in front of the house. Well, actually there wasn’t much gravel left, but there were a lot of weeds, though the house itself, a large sprawling Victorian pile in dressed stone, was impressive.

Mathieu seemed to read her thoughts. ‘The original one dated to the fifteenth century; it burnt down, I believe. You wait here. I’ll just let Jamie know … oh, there he is.’