the wrong gate—the upper one—by mistake.’
‘Oh, you mad woman!’ Mia said. ‘But I’m a bit scatty with directions so that was probably my fault. Why—what did he say?’
‘More or less told me to clear off and to be more observant in future and follow appropriate signs.’
Mia giggled. ‘He can be a bossy boots and rather short-tempered,’ she said, ‘but he’s worth his weight in gold. Seb relies on him totally when he’s not here. And of course when visitors come to shoot game in the autumn, Frank runs everything.’
Later, when she was alone, Fleur unpacked and, taking the hint from her friend, changed into jeans and a green jumper that did marvelous things for her eyes and brushed her hair back into a ponytail. Then she wiped off all her make-up before moisturizing her skin. It felt so good not to have to bother about looking immaculate and put aside her heels for the evening. She suddenly felt upbeat, looking forward to a cosy evening with one of her best friends. Then, slipping her bare feet into her Uggs, she left the room and went downstairs, almost colliding with Pat at the bottom.
‘Oh, there you are,’ the woman said. ‘Mia’s just dashed down the road to deliver some Christmas presents. Go into the sitting room—the one there on the left. I’ll bring you some tea in a few minutes.’
Fleur wandered along the hallway to the room which had been indicated, going straight over to the huge fireplace, where some logs were burning brightly in the grate. This holiday had all the elements of a real Dickensian Christmas, she thought, feeling thrilled all over again that she was a guest here. The large room was comfortably—though not opulently—furnished, with sofas and armchairs, none of which were new. The carpet, though worn, felt soft under her feet and she kicked off her Uggs as she sat down on the armchair nearest to the fire. Leaning her head back contentedly, she closed her eyes. She could get used to this, she thought dreamily, this serenity, this feeling of well-being. Perhaps—perhaps she could allow herself to be persuaded to take Mia up on the offer to stay on for a while longer…just so long as she was certain she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Perhaps for an extra week, she thought, wiggling her bare toes in front of the flames, a delightful drowsiness beginning to seep over her.
After a few moments, something made her open her eyes and with a start she found herself staring up into the familiar face she’d seen before today. The groundsman stood there, wearing well-cut jeans and dark polo shirt, one hand thrust casually into his pocket. He was obviously very much at home here, Fleur thought instinctively. She smiled faintly.
‘Oh…hello,’ she said non-committally, nestling back down into the chair. ‘We meet again.’ She hoped he would feel a slight pang of conscience when he remembered his curt behaviour earlier, especially when it was obvious that she was a guest.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in her appearance, noting the willowy figure and unblemished skin devoid of artifice, but, before he could say a word, Mia breezed into the room—stopping short as she saw him standing there.
‘Seb! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I do live here from time to time, remember,’ he said, going towards her and giving her a bear hug. ‘Hi, Mia.’
‘Yes—but you said you wouldn’t be home until Christmas morning,’ Mia protested. ‘What made you change your mind?’
‘It was changed for me—but I can’t be bothered to explain,’ he replied. ‘Why—does it matter?’
‘No, of course not. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. And Pat didn’t tell me, either.’
‘Because she didn’t know until half an hour ago. I didn’t see her at lunch time when I arrived, and then I took myself off straight away to look around the estate while it was still light. It’s Frank’s day off today.’ He paused. ‘Still, I’m here now. Hope my presence hasn’t ruined your plans too much.’
‘Idiot,’ Mia said fondly. ‘Course not.’ She went over to Fleur, whose colour had risen perceptibly, and who suddenly wanted to kick herself. This was not Frank the groundsman, this was Sebastian Conway! What a stupid assumption to have made!
‘Have you two introduced yourselves?’ Mia asked. ‘Fleur—this is my gorgeous brother, and this, Sebastian, is one of my very best friends, Fleur Richardson.’
Fleur stood up then, slowly, wishing she could just disappear, but Sebastian came across and held out a strong hand, gripping hers firmly. He looked down at her, his thoughtful black eyes glinting in the firelight.
‘We have met before, haven’t we,’ he murmured. Then, ‘You really should have said who you were.’
Mia looked bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.
Fleur looked at her helplessly. ‘This was the man I thought was…Frank…’ she began, and Mia burst out laughing.
‘Oh, Seb! Fleur told me you were horrible to her, accusing her of trespassing! How could you?’
‘If I’d known she was one of your guests, I would have said nothing, but escorted her back to her car and directed her to the house,’ he said. ‘It’s just that Frank is very protective of all the new saplings—for which I’m grateful to him—and I was out checking up on them when we…er…Fleur and I…came across each other.’
‘Well, allow me to apologize for my earlier misdemeanour.’ Fleur smiled, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt at that precise moment.
‘And I offer mine for running you off,’ he said equably.
Just then, Pat came in with a tray of tea. She smiled as she set the things down on a low table. ‘It’s great to have folk about the place for a change,’ she exclaimed, standing back and looking from one to another happily. ‘Supper will be ready in forty-five minutes,’ she added as she left.
As the three of them sat drinking their tea and chatting, Fleur was painfully aware of Sebastian’s long legs stretched out in front of him, of his powerful frame and strong features. This was a man to be reckoned with, she thought. A man used to getting his own way. A man who liked to be in control. Who would always expect to be in control.
And Sebastian, as he listened to his sister’s high-spirited account of what she’d been up to since they’d last been together, was making judgements of his own. For once, this particular friend of Mia’s—and he’d met a few—didn’t fall into the normal category he’d come to expect. She wasn’t lowering her eyes at him, or exhibiting the kind of come-on tactics that were all too familiar. She was undeniably very attractive—and, from her self-deprecating description of the research work she was engaged in, unusually clever. But she displayed an oddly distant attitude which he found disconcerting. She was not aloof exactly, but there was a wistful coolness about her that he confessed to finding distinctly intriguing. He stood up quickly and went across to the cabinet to pour some drinks.
CHAPTER TWO
‘THAT really was the best Christmas I’ve ever, ever had,’ Fleur said as she and Mia helped Pat to clear up in the kitchen. Pat, with assistance from Beryl, her mother, had produced the most amazing food all over the holiday, and now, with everyone else having just departed, it was time to wind down from the festivities.
‘I don’t think I’ll want another thing to eat—not until tomorrow,
