The look he directed at her burned with frank scepticism.
‘You working on a farm—that’s not at all what I’d have expected from the elegant Ms Thornton.’
‘I told you, I’m not the same person any more. I’ve changed a lot in the past eighteen months.’
‘So I see.’
His tone was a slow drawl and those brilliant eyes swept over her in a deliberately insolent assessment. She couldn’t miss the way that sapphire gaze lingered around the fullness of her breasts, the curves of her hips in the close-fitting skirt.
As a result of her pregnancy she had filled out noticeably, so that her shape was definitely more womanly when contrasted with her slenderness when they had been together. And Morgan, who had known her body with the intimacy of a lover, couldn’t be unaware of those changes either.
‘So I see,’ he repeated, and there was no mistaking the disturbingly sensual note on the words.
She knew that purring tone of voice. Knew only too well what it implied. She had heard it often enough when they had lived together. Then it had made her heart leap in anticipation, had set her body tingling in uncontrolled response. Just to hear her name spoken in that huskily appreciative way had been like a subtle form of foreplay, telling her instantly what was in his mind, and triggering off the same heated longings in her own.
But hearing it now shocked her rigid. Foolishly, naively perhaps, she had expected that the feelings Morgan had once had for her, every type of feeling, would have died, starved into non-existence by eighteen months of lack of nourishment. But there was no mistaking the heated desire that now flared in the brilliance of his eyes, the instant response that made his pupils so huge and dark.
‘Country life obviously suits you. You’re looking really well.’
‘I’m happy here.’
She had learned how to be happy but it hadn’t come easily to her. At first she had felt as if half of her soul had been cut away and it had only been the need to care for the baby growing in her womb that had kept her going.
‘So why don’t you make that coffee while I unload the car and then you can tell me all about it?’
Ellie’s breath hissed in through her teeth in a sound of exasperation.
‘Morgan, what part of what I said did you not understand? I don’t have time for this…’
But she was speaking to empty air. Morgan had already opened the door and gone out to the car. When she hurried after him it was to find that he’d opened the boot and was pulling a case from it.
‘Why won’t you listen to me? I can’t stay! Nan’s expecting me—she’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘I never thought of Marion as a slave-driver.’
He was coming back to the door again now, a suitcase in either hand so that Ellie had to flatten herself against the wall to let him past.
‘And I’m sure she’ll understand that you and I will need to spend a little time getting reacquainted.’
‘We’re not going to get reacquainted or re anything.’
Her words would have more emphasis if she didn’t have to keep trotting after him, forcing her shorter legs to keep up with the long, swift strides that took him through the cottage and into the ground-floor bedroom in the space of a few seconds.
‘I told you—the only reason I’m here is because you’re a guest and it’s part of my duties to make sure you’re settled in.’
‘And to arrange the other services you’ll provide,’ Morgan returned sharply, dumping the cases on the floor and heading back to the car again.
‘Services?’
It was a squawk of panic, both at the thought of just what he might have in mind and because he had come to an abrupt halt, whirling round to face her so that she had to screech to a stop herself, narrowly avoiding slamming straight into his chest.
‘I was given to understand by Mr Knightley that you provided a cleaning service.’
‘Well, yes…yes, we do. But surely—’
‘And some meals?’
‘Yes—for long-stay guests we can provide an evening meal…’
Too late she saw just where his thoughts were heading.
‘Oh, no! No way! I’m not—’
‘But it’s in the contract.’
Anyone else might only have heard the gentle reminder in his comment but, knowing Morgan as she did, Ellie was hypersensitive to the ominous undertone that threaded darkly through the words.
‘I know it’s in the contract, but surely now you can’t expect us to keep to it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well—isn’t it obvious? I mean, you won’t want me round the house every day.’
‘Won’t I?’ Morgan’s expression gave nothing away. ‘As a matter of fact I think it could work very well. You know my ways—know not to move papers, the crazy hours I work, the food I like. You’d be less likely to disturb me than a stranger.’
‘But Dee—the housekeeper—she usually…’
Her voice failed her as she saw the adamant shake of his dark head.
‘Not Dee,’ he stated in a voice that brooked no further argument. ‘I want you, angel. You and no one else.’
‘I won’t do it.’
For one thing she couldn’t be away from Rosie that long—and she certainly didn’t plan on bringing her little daughter along to the cottage with her. And for another, she already felt emotionally mangled after barely half an hour in Morgan’s presence. There was no way she could cope with the prospect of seeing him for long periods of time, day after day.
‘You’ll have to find someone else.’
‘I don’t want anyone else.’
The blue eyes were like shards of ice, hard and implacable. Past experience told her that arguing with Morgan at times like this was like banging her head hard against a brick wall; that she was only hurting herself by continuing, but she couldn’t give in.
‘What is this? Some sort of power game? A way of getting back at me for leaving you? Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of the prospect of seeing me skivvying for you?’
‘Is the idea of doing a few hours’ simple housework so humiliating?’ Morgan shot back at her.
Not for anyone else. But working for Morgan—working with Morgan was quite a different prospect. Where he was concerned nothing was ‘simple’ at all.
‘I
