up,’ Sebastian said cheerfully. ‘The dog’s fine. The only one suffering any discomfort is me, because you’ve kept me waiting for my lunch.’
‘Well, why didn’t you go on and have it without me?’ Fleur began.
‘What, knowing that my dog and my…er…charge…were missing, believed lost?’
Fleur decided to ignore the word he’d used because she knew he was teasing her.
Back at the house, she had a quick wash, then took her place opposite Sebastian at the kitchen table. He had placed the ham and pickles and the piping hot, gloriously brown jacket potatoes in front of them, and soon they were both tucking into it all, while Benson lay flat out on the floor, snoring.
Without asking her whether she wanted any, Sebastian filled Fleur’s glass with water from the jug, before taking some for himself. She was glad that there was no wine on offer because, as she’d already told him, she seldom drank alcohol during the day. That must have made her sound terribly goody-goody, she thought, because most of her friends had no problem with having a glass or two at lunch time. But she didn’t care what Sebastian Conway thought of her, anyway—about anything at all—she’d always made a point of never altering her principles to suit others, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Finishing his lunch, he asked mildly, ‘What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?’ He realized that it wasn’t a polite enquiry, but he was curious and admitted that he would much rather spend the rest of the day with Fleur than helping Frank. But suddenly the phone on the wall rang and he stood up to take the call. It was Pat and, after listening for a few moments and glancing across at Fleur, he said, ‘No, you must stay with her, Pat…That’s no problem. For heaven’s sake, we can cope alone, sort ourselves out.’ There was a pause. ‘Sorry? Oh, yes…of course. I found them…up Middle Hill. Yes, right up there. Soaking wet, with Benson having gone on strike. He didn’t want to come home, apparently. But they’re both here, safe and well, and we’ve just enjoyed the lunch—thanks, Pat.’ Another pause. ‘Absolutely not—you stay with Beryl. We’ll be fine.’ He listened again, then, ‘OK, got it. And it’s best you don’t come back tonight at all—your mother needs you more than we do just now. See what the doctor says, and we’ll see you tomorrow some time, when the panic’s over. OK? Cheers, Pat.’
He replaced the receiver. ‘Pat’s mother has just had another of her angina attacks, so I’ve told her that we can look after ourselves for twenty-four hours.’
‘Of course we can,’ Fleur said at once.
‘And apparently we’re having steak for our supper—they’re in the ’fridge, along with mushrooms and tomatoes and stuff…’ He eyed her hopefully. ‘Can you cook? I’m not the greatest,’ he added.
‘Well, then, you’d better leave it all to me,’ Fleur said, realizing how quickly she and her host had become so…so comfortable with each other, with no pressure, no emotional vibes cutting into the warmly pleasant atmosphere they seemed to be enjoying. Well, what else did she expect? He was Mia’s brother. She had always loved her friend…and she was beginning to love him, as well…in a purely brotherly way, naturally, she assured herself. ‘Not that I shall hope to come up to Pat’s standards,’ she went on, ‘but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s me or nothing.’
He treated her to one of his rather enigmatic smiles. ‘You’ll do nicely,’ he murmured.
She took their empty plates over to the sink, thinking that he needn’t concern himself. She’d always enjoyed cooking, and she knew she could produce a meal to satisfy anyone. And she’d bet anything that he’d like his steak cooked rare.
He turned to go. ‘Right, I’ll be back up the top with Frank for the rest of the day.’ He paused. ‘You don’t envisage wearing my dog’s paws out again, do you?’
‘No. I shall be having a long, hot bath and washing my hair.’ She made a slight grimace, knowing that she must be looking totally scruffy after the morning’s drenching. ‘After which, I might watch a DVD, and then think about our supper.’
He stopped to look down at her, suddenly feeling a wave of pleasure sweep through him. It would be rather good to think of coming home to Fleur after a heavy day outside, he thought, for them to share a meal and just sit and relax and chat. And to have her here, all to himself, at Pengarroth Hall. As he dwelt on that for a second or two, and despite his avowed intention to watch it where women were concerned, a ripple of anticipation coursed through his veins and stopped him in his tracks. It had been a long time since he’d experienced these sensual instincts. The need to be with a woman, close enough to touch, and it had taken this rather unusual friend of Mia’s to make him realize how much he’d missed it!
CHAPTER FIVE
‘WELL, that was a surprise,’ Sebastian said as he and Fleur were relaxing in the sitting room after supper. ‘Eleven out of ten for the way you did my steak, Fleur—thanks.’
He glanced across at her as he spoke. Curled up as she was on the sofa, with her knees drawn up comfortably and her eyes closed, she looked ridiculously at ease.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, rather than an insult, if you mean that you were surprised I didn’t ruin that wonderful meat,’ Fleur said drowsily.
When he’d returned late in the afternoon, he’d lit the fire and now the logs were crackling and hissing in the flames. With the lamps turned down low, the room was swathed in a gentle, soothing light, adding to the contented atmosphere which both of them were very much aware of. Sitting opposite her in one of the huge armchairs, he was wearing chinos and a light open-neck sports shirt, his bare feet thrust into loafers, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
He was quietly amazed at how totally comfortable he felt in Fleur’s company—as if he’d known her for ages. She was certainly the only woman he’d ever met who didn’t send out the usual signals that he was accustomed to receiving—the telling eye contact or suggestive comment, or any kind of simple gesture that told him she might fancy him. He thought she seemed to quite like him, but nothing more than that—and that pleased him. Because it made it easier for him to keep her emotionally at arm’s length. Neither of them—certainly not him—were interested in having a meaningful relationship with anyone, so that obviously explained why there was no tension, he thought. He smiled faintly to himself. The only slight problem was that she was so attractive…It would have helped if he could have looked at her dispassionately, but there was no hope of that. Still, soon they’d be going their separate ways and he doubted that he’d ever see her again. All of their lives, his and Mia’s and their respective friends, were so busy these days, it was difficult for any of them to get together.
He’d brought in the half-empty bottle of wine they’d shared the evening before, and now he leaned forward to refill their glasses, glancing across at her. He didn’t want her to go to sleep—which she seemed in imminent danger of doing—he wanted her to talk to him, wanted to hear some more of her opinions.
‘I take it you’ve no objection to helping me out with the remains of this?’ he enquired.
Still not moving, she opened her eyes lazily. ‘All right, but please make it a small one,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t have a very strong head for alcohol, but it was delicious.’
She watched his strong, completely steady, tanned hand pour the ruby liquid. He placed the bottle down on the small, low table in front of them with a gentle thud. ‘Good. That’s a dead one,’ he said.
