she asked. ‘You promised me a guided tour of the house.’
And he’d make very sure that the orangery wasn’t part of that. Because then he’d remember how it had been last night and he’d want to kiss her again. It would be very stupid to put himself back in the path of temptation. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and everyone’s going for a walk between breakfast and lunch.’
‘I have a really unsuitable outfit for that,’ she said. ‘Totally impractical spike-heeled mules that I can totter about in.’
‘They sound perfect.’ He paused. ‘I guess we ought to, um, get up and face everyone downstairs for breakfast. I’ll, um, go next door and have a shower.’ Even though part of him would much prefer staying here and having a shower with her.
‘Uh-huh.’
Was she relieved or disappointed that he was going? He hadn’t a clue. And he wasn’t going to ask. ‘I’ll knock for you when I’m ready, shall I?’
This time she definitely looked relieved. He winced inwardly. Did she really think that he’d leave her to find her own way through the house, and then face his family on her own? Or maybe that was the way her ex had treated her. Again, he couldn’t really ask. Not without maybe ripping open some scars, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
‘See you in a bit, then,’ she said. And then she closed her eyes.
Was she feeling shy? Or was she trying to spare his blushes?
He climbed out of bed, pulled on his boxer shorts, grabbed the rest of his clothes—and then made the mistake of glancing back at the bed. She looked so cute, lying there. Warm and sweet. He almost dropped his clothes back on the floor and climbed back in beside her again. Especially as he remembered last night so clearly. Touching her. Tasting her. The look of sheer pleasure in her eyes just before she’d fallen apart. The soft little cry she’d made when she’d climaxed in his arms.
No, no and absolutely no.
Common sense won—just—and he managed to get back to his own room without bumping into anyone in the corridor.
Showering helped to restore a little more of his common sense, once he’d turned the temperature of the water right down. Once he’d dressed, he stripped the bed, threw everything into his case, and knocked on Bella’s door.
‘Come in,’ she called.
She was just closing the lid of her suitcase, and she was wearing a strappy top and the shortest pair of denim cut-offs he’d ever seen. Her legs went on for ever. And his tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth.
It grew even worse when she gave a little wiggle. Her bottom had the most perfect curve, and it made him want to touch her again.
‘Is this ditzy enough?’ she asked with a grin, seemingly oblivious to the desire coursing through him.
‘Uh—yeah.’ And now he sounded like a total troglodyte. He didn’t want her to guess the effect she had on him, particularly as he knew she wasn’t doing it deliberately. Bella wasn’t a game-player. ‘I need some coffee,’ he gabbled wildly. ‘You know I’m not a morning person.’
‘Coffee sounds good. Would you mind, um, showing me where I can make some?’
‘There’s probably already a pot on the go downstairs.’
Though now they had to face his family at the breakfast table. Please don’t let any of them start asking questions about where he and Bella had disappeared to last night, he begged silently.
When he ushered Bella into the kitchen, his brothers and their partners were all sitting there, along with Sophia in her high chair; his mother was bustling around and his father was deep in the Sunday newspapers. He narrowed his eyes at them all in warning that they were absolutely not to say a single word, and to his relief they actually went along with him, saying nothing more awkward to her than a cheerful, ‘Good morning.’
Without another word, he pulled out a chair at the table for Bella, then sat down next to her.
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ Libby asked, coming over to them.
‘Coffee, please,’ Bella said. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, sweetie, it’s fine. Bacon sandwich? I’m just about to do another batch.’
‘Yes, please.’ Bella smiled. ‘Bacon and sandwich have to be the two most perfect words for a Sunday morning.’
‘And coffee,’ Nigel added with a smile. ‘Don’t forget coffee. Especially where Hugh’s concerned.’
‘I reckon it’ll be another twenty minutes before we get a civil word out of our Hugh,’ Julian teased.
‘And the rest! He only ever grunts before midday,’ Alastair added. ‘Even with coffee.’
‘Now, now, children,’ Libby said, mock-warning.
Bella was really enjoying the byplay between Hugh and his brothers. She missed chatting in the kitchen with her mum and her sister on Sunday morning, when her dad would be deep in the Sunday papers in the living room and they would talk about anything and everything—from films to books to seriously girly stuff that would make her dad squirm.
Then her smile faded. If any of her family knew what had happened last night... Well. Nobody would be surprised. If there was a way to mess things up, Bella would be the one to find it. But she and Hugh had agreed that they’d act as if last night hadn’t happened.
She just hoped that he meant it.
The kitchen was amazing, a huge room with cream cupboards and tiled floors, with an Aga and an island workstation as well as the breakfast area with the massive table looking out onto the garden. There were comfortable-looking dog beds next to the Aga, but Bella had already worked out that the Labrador, the Westie and the spaniel were all sitting under the table, waiting patiently for treats to be sneaked down to them. ‘Your kitchen’s really lovely, Libby,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ Libby replied, putting a plate of bacon sandwiches onto the table. ‘Has Hugh shown you the rest of the house yet?’
Only the orangery. And Bella had to fight to prevent the blush that threatened to betray her. ‘Not yet,’ she said.
‘I promised I’d do that before we go out for our walk,’ Hugh drawled.
‘Make sure you do,’ Libby said.
Bella noticed that little Sophia was fussing in her high chair; both Poppy and Julian looked exhausted, and she guessed that Sophia had slept badly during the night, meaning that so had her parents. ‘Can I give her a cuddle?’ Bella asked.
Poppy looked torn between wariness and gratitude.
‘One of my friends does music classes for babies and toddlers,’ Bella said. ‘So I know a few things that might help distract her—then you might be able to have your breakfast in peace.’
‘You
