at her mouth, devouring her, while his hands…
‘Your chain. If you leave it dangling there like that you’ll lose it…’
Courage froze as she felt him move away from her and saw the golden glitter of her broken chain as he slid it through his fingers. Humiliation washed over her in a scarlet tide. What on earth had she been thinking? Had she totally taken leave of her senses?
Thank God Gideon Reynolds couldn’t read her mind, see what she had been thinking and feeling. She felt almost sick with shock and disbelief. She had never been guilty of that kind of sexual fantasising before—not even about an imaginary lover, never mind a man who was all too real and very, very much too male for her cautious taste.
It must be the shock of him offering her the loan; something to do with the relief of not having to worry so much about her grandmother any longer. Some kind of peculiar mental and physical reaction to the release of stress and anxiety. Hastily Courage seized on this explanation for her behaviour with shaky relief.
Yes, that was it. Her body was just reacting to the release of all the recent tension and fear. That was all. That was all… And that would be all, she told herself firmly as Gideon Reynolds walked over to the door and held it open for her.
‘Until next week, then, and, in the interim, if there should be any problem Chris will—’
‘There won’t be any problems,’ Courage assured him firmly, determined to dispel any impression she might just have given him that she couldn’t be trusted to behave either professionally or competently.
‘I hope not.’
Dulcet though his voice was, there was no mistaking his warning.
WHEN she had made that statement she had reckoned without a chef who had given his immediate notice and walked out within hours of her taking up her new post, Courage admitted grimly as the irate Italian refused to allow her to placate him and departed to pack his bags.
The cause of his dissatisfaction was apparently a mixture of things, chief of which, so far as Courage could discern, was hurt pride at Gideon Reynolds’ apparent uninterest in allowing him to show off his culinary talents by never providing a sufficiently appreciative number of dinner guests.
‘I am master chef, but not once have I been allowed to show this. It is all single dinners, working lunches, healthy breakfasts. That is not what I spend ten years training for.’
‘But Alfonso, all that is going to change…’
‘It is too late,’ Alfonso had told her angrily. ‘I do not cook healthy breakfasts… working lunches… single dinners,’ he had recited with a contemptuous curl of his lips. ‘I am a chef… I create meals which are a work of art—a delight to the connoisseur’s taste-buds, a feast for the discerning.’
Courage knew when she was fighting a losing battle.
‘No luck with Alfonso?’ Chris commiserated. ‘The boss isn’t going to be too pleased to come back and find him gone.’
Courage had already decided that on a personal note she was never going to like Gideon’s PA, but professionally it was just as much her job to ensure that they could work well together as it was to find a replacement for Alfonso. And so she ignored the malicious pleasure which accompanied his comment.
‘You know why he’s bought this place, don’t you?’ Chris continued cynically, ignoring the fact that Courage had returned her attention to her own work and quite plainly did not wish to discuss the subject.
‘It’s obvious what he’s up to,’ Chris added contemptuously, when Courage refused to make any response. ‘They’re all the same, these self-made millionaire types. They all try to do it, don’t they, one way or another? Use their wealth to try and buy themselves a place in society. First the country house, then the attempts to buy or bribe their way into local society, followed by marriage to a suitably upper class and impoverished bride. It’s the classic way to do it, isn’t it? The final touch to their success, their entry ticket into the otherwise closed ranks of the upper classes. Not that it ever works. Oh, they think they’ve succeeded, but they are never properly accepted… not really.’
As she heard the contemptuous satisfaction in his voice Courage’s resolve not to be drawn into conversation with him deserted her, and her eyes flashed angrily as she asked him coldly, ‘Don’t you think that sort of attitude is rather out of date these days—and out of place? Gideon is, after all, our employer.’
‘Oh, so that’s the way the wind’s blowing, is it?’ Chris countered mockingly. ‘Well, you’re wasting your time entertaining any hopes in that direction. Oh, you might make it as far as his bed,’ he told Courage nastily, ‘but if you were thinking of something more permanent-like a wedding-ring on your finger—you don’t stand a chance. You haven’t got the right background, don’t you see? Now if, for instance, you had a father or an uncle who was a member of the landed gentry or, even better, a member of the aristocracy, you might be in with a chance…’
The venom in his voice shocked Courage a little. Some of it, she knew, was directed against her, but most of it was not for her but for Gideon Reynolds. She could well understand a man like this being a little envious of him—he was, after all, a hugely successful and rich man, and men were notorious for their competitiveness and jealousy in such arenas—but that still didn’t explain why she instinctively felt compelled to defend their absent employer.
She said quietly, ‘I’m sure you’re wrong. After all, if Gideon wanted a title with his wealth I’m sure he could find a way of buying himself one.’
‘Oh, no doubt. A charity peerage. But you see those are ten a penny, and that would not open the kind of doors he wants to have opened, no matter how much it might impress the peasantry. Why do you think he bought this place? Not just because it will make a con venient showplace for his clients. Oh, no, it’s what they all do, you see… First the millions, then the stately pile and the aristocratic wife, then the mongrel brats who’ll have their names put down for all the best schools. Of course, once they are there they’ll soon end up despising their father and—’
‘Since you obviously dislike him so much I’m surprised you go on working for him,’ Courage interrupted him. She was beginning to get angry now, her eyes flashing her feelings.
‘I don’t have any option—you see my father wasn’t rich. Do you know what old Gideon was before he became a millionaire? He was a labourer, paid by the day.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Courage told him fiercely. She could remember her stepfather voicing very much the same views, his voice soft with cruel contempt.
‘My dear Courage, you should be grateful to me for providing you with such a beautiful home,’ he had told her. ‘Unlike your late father. He, I understand, was never very good with money. However, it seems you are not grateful. In fact, you are becoming extremely disruptive, upsetting my daughter and your mother. I’ve been having a word with your mother and we both feel that a year or so at boarding-school will probably help you to be more appreciative.’
Courage had said nothing, simply standing there, white-faced and sick with misery.
‘You’ll
