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.’
