The Tempestuous Flame. Carole Mortimer
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‘I happen to have been given permission to come here,’ he informed her haughtily. ‘And you?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? My—my friend gave me permission to use this cottage too. It has a studio, you see.’
‘A studio? What sort of studio?’
‘The type you paint in,’ she told him sarcastically.
‘Oh, I see.’ The contempt couldn’t be missed in his voice and her resentment towards him grew.
‘Who are you?’ she asked angrily.
He showed his dislike of her tone by the faint lift of his arrogant eyebrows. ‘My name is André—André Gregory.’
‘André? You don’t look French. It is French, isn’t it?’
‘Mmm. And I’m half French, on my mother’s side. And your name?’
‘Caroline…’ she hesitated. ‘Caroline Rawlings.’ Why had she lied? It would serve him right if he felt uncomfortable when she told him her name, although she had the feeling it wouldn’t bother him one way or the other. He seemed equally unconcerned that they had both come to stay here on the same night. He was the type of man that would be in control whatever the situation. She looked up to find him also looking at her, his face becoming a shuttered mask under her questioning gaze.
‘So, Miss Rawlings,’ he drawled her name, ‘it appears that we both have the intention of staying here for the night. I could of course be a gentleman and say that I’ll leave, but as good manners have never been one of my finer attributes, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Of course I only have your word that you are a friend of Matt’s daughter—you could be an intruder for all I know.’
‘But so could you,’ she pointed out reasonably.
‘Hardly likely. I happen to know the name of the owner.’
She thought for a moment. ‘But if I were an intruder I wouldn’t know if that were his name anyway. I would have to take your word for that.’
Reluctantly he smiled, showing firm even white teeth between his well-shaped lips. ‘I see your point. Okay, we’ll accept that we both have permission to stay here. The trouble is what are we going to do about it?’
‘I’m not going to do anything. I was here first, so I think you should be the one to leave.’
‘Why should either of us leave?’ André Gregory asked calmly. ‘There are two bedrooms, aren’t there? Surely in this permissive day and age you aren’t afraid to share a cottage with a member of the opposite sex?’
His tone could only be described as taunting, and Caroline blushed. ‘I don’t happen to belong to the permissive society.’ And she didn’t, hard as the pressure from some of her friends had been. Most of the men in her set thought she was frigid, although that didn’t stop them trying to get her to sleep with them. Daddy’s money again, she thought dryly. She didn’t seem to realise that she was beautiful enough for any man to find attractive, her elusiveness making her even more so.
‘You surprise me. Especially as you’re a friend of little Miss Rich Rayner.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ She glared at him crossly.
‘You heard me. That little girl is no better than she ought to be from what I’ve heard, and if you mix with the same crowd she does and are as innocent as you say you are I’ll be very much surprised.’
She stood up, her bearing almost regal in her anger. ‘It may surprise you to know this too, Mr Gregory, but whether you believe what I’ve told you isn’t of paramount importance to me. As long as I have my self-respect that’s all that matters to me.’
She saw grudging respect enter those deep green eyes before it was quickly veiled and replaced with a taunting smile. ‘All right. So which bedroom do I use?’
‘If you intend staying you’ll have to use the one to the right at the top of the stairs—I’m in the one to the left, so you can’t use that one.’
He grinned. ‘I could—but I won’t. So,’ he stood up, ‘I’ll use the one to the right. I trust that meets with your approval?’
‘Would it matter if it didn’t?’ she said resentfully.
‘No, your approval isn’t important to me,’ he ran a tired hand through his thick vibrant hair. ‘I hope your story stands up, young lady, because if it doesn’t you’ll be out of here so fast your feet won’t touch the ground.’
Caroline’s eyes sparkled angrily. ‘And just how do you propose to ascertain whether I’m lying or not?’
André Gregory smiled mockingly. ‘Have you never heard of the telephone? I presume you have no objection to my using it?’
She shrugged her shoulders, thinking how ridiculous all this was anyway. Why didn’t she just tell him who she was and ask him to leave, instead of continuing this pointless deception? If he hadn’t been so condescending about her she would have never started this in the first place. ‘Who am I to object?’ she answered his question.
‘Quite,’ he said dryly, picking up the case he had deposited on the floor on entering the cottage. ‘Now I’ll wish you a goodnight—or should I say good morning.’
Caroline looked amazed at his calmness. ‘You surely aren’t going to go on with this farce? Look, it isn’t that late,’ she said desperately. ‘You could stay at a hotel, there’s a small one in the village.’
‘Then why don’t you use it? Because I’m certainly not going to. For heaven’s sake, girl,’ he snapped suddenly, regarding her through half-closed eyes, ‘I’m not proposing to share your bed, only the accommodation. Or is that what’s upset you? The fact that I haven’t made a move to get you into bed with me?’
She flushed with heated anger. ‘Some women might find your outrageous behaviour fascinating, Mr Gregory, but I simply find it disgusting!’ She flicked her head back haughtily, meeting head on the angry sparkle in the eyes of this man she had only known for an hour. An hour too long in her opinion! ‘And as you insist on staying here you’ll need some bed linen. I presume you have no idea where it is?’
André Gregory regarded her through narrowed eyes, lingering insolently on the soft curves of her young body as if assessing what lay beneath her warm clothing. She resisted an impulse to put up a shielding hand, and saw the cynical twist of his mouth deepen as though he had guessed her thoughts. ‘You’re right, I don’t. But I’m sure if you leave me long enough I’ll find it. After all, there can’t be many places to keep bed linen in a place this size.’
‘It happens to be in the bedroom I’m using,’ she snapped. ‘And I’m certainly not having you barging in there when you finally realise that’s where it is.’
‘Why not?’ he returned softly. ‘It might be fun.’
Caroline’s mouth tightened. ‘Not for me it wouldn’t.’ She stood up. ‘Now if you would like to come upstairs, I’ll show you your room,