The French Count's Mistress Page 12

  ‘Is that what you wanted, Kate?’ he murmured, lifting his head away without making the slightest attempt to deepen the kiss. ‘Or perhaps this…ceci?’ As his hands moved to feather caresses on either side of her neck she drew in a sharp breath, but now he was trailing his fingertips over every curve and indentation of her naked shoulders. Through it all he watched intently as she tried vainly to curb the betraying movement of her hips. ‘Perhaps not,’ he murmured as his gaze shifted to her erect nipples competing for his attention beneath the clinging blouse.

  Through the miasma of arousal Kate was aware she had him in her sway. The game was far from over yet. Willing ice through her veins, she managed somehow to sit up. Her gaze was an outright challenge. She watched in triumph as Guy failed to keep his gaze level. It strayed to the ruby upthrust of nipples taunting him from beneath the revealing, wet fabric. But, just as she was complimenting herself on reclaiming the advantage, he threw back his head and gave a laugh that rippled through her body like a seismic tremor.

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet Kate?’ he murmured, maintaining a tantalising distance between them.

  ‘What do you mean?’ In spite of Kate’s attempt to launch herself back into the fray, her voice sounded about as steady as a feather on a breath of wind. ‘I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.’

  ‘Then allow me to enlighten you,’ Guy murmured as he wound a damp tendril of Titian hair round his finger like a tether. ‘I think you’d like to see me lose control…bend to your will…serve you like some plundering stallion.’

  ‘No!’ His suggestion was outrageous—and so was its effect on her senses. Before she had a chance to recover he captured her chin in his hand.

  ‘I disagree,’ he said in low, harsh tone. ‘I think that’s exactly what you’d like me to do. Mais—’ He shook his head in mock-regret. ‘It isn’t going to be like that, Kate.’ Then, keeping her trapped in his gaze, he kissed her—just a frustrating brush of his lips accompanied by a sharp warning sound of denial when she tried to urge him on. ‘My way,’ he insisted softly when she sighed her complaint. ‘Or no way.’ But his way was gathering strength all the time, and a soft moan escaped Kate’s throat when a deep throb of pleasure accompanied his tongue’s possession of her mouth. Refusing her the firmer touch of his hands, Guy continued to ravish her mouth with a skill that left her weak, plunging and withdrawing in a provocative game of advance and retreat that effortlessly crowned her own inexpert tactics. ‘Better, Kate?’ he murmured sardonically as he lifted his head. ‘Or still not quite enough for you?’

  ‘I think you know the answer to that,’ she said huskily against the corner of his mouth, moulding herself to him when he kissed her again.

  As if he could not bear to be removed from her lips for a moment, Guy helped her to take off the sodden blouse while they kissed. As soon as she was free his hands moved to claim her breasts. Then, swinging down flat on the ground, he brought her on top of him, still holding her away so that her tortured nipples were only inches from his face. ‘Now feed me,’ he ordered softly, his sweeping sable brows lifting in sardonic challenge. Gently and slowly he brought her down until Kate could feed one engorged tip between his lips. He took the other side himself, rolling the sensitive bud over and over between his tongue and his lips until she thought she’d go mad for him. But he showed her no mercy at all and only brought her legs round to straddle him so that she felt the unmistakable heat and thrust of his erection pulsing against her. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.

  But the moment he moved her skirt, she said, ‘No!’ and flinched back.

  ‘Non?’ Guy queried softly, hearing the panic in her voice.

  ‘No, I can’t… I just can’t.’ Shaking her head, Kate pulled away from him. Going to sit on her own a few feet away she drew her knees up and, wrapping her arms around them, she buried her face in her lap.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Guy said, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘Tell me, Kate. What’s the matter?’

  ‘I just can’t, that’s all,’ she said, burying her face deeper.

  ‘Look at me,’ he insisted gently. ‘Non, Kate,’ he said sharply when she turned away. ‘Look at me, Kate. Don’t turn away. Something’s upset you and you must tell me what it is.’

  Still with her head buried on her knees, she turned her face just enough to mutter, ‘My damaged leg—it’s ugly.’

  Guy stayed very still for a few moments then gently brought her round to face him. ‘Kate, Kate, courageous Kate,’ he murmured tenderly, ‘let me assure you that there is not one part of you I could possibly find ugly.’

  ‘There is,’ she argued, her eyes clouding with certainty.

  ‘Show me,’ he said simply.

  ‘I can’t.’

  Laying her down flat on the ground beside him, Guy peeled back the soaking skirt to expose a scar that snaked down her left leg almost to the knee.

  ‘I had to have a plate put in after the accident,’ Kate explained tonelessly. ‘Now tell me it isn’t ugly.’

  ‘I think you’re beautiful,’ Guy said. ‘And that means every part of you. This doesn’t make any difference to me at all. I still think you’re beautiful.’ And, dipping his head, he planted kisses all the way down the fine silvery line. ‘Come to me,’ he said, drawing her into his arms. ‘Just lie quietly with me here and forget everything that happened—put everything out of your mind except for the fact that you’ve come back to me—back to France where I’ll never let anything hurt you again.’

  Guy had seen the wound on her leg now, Kate thought as tears began to run unseen by him down her cheeks, but he couldn’t see the wound that his trust had just carved in her heart.

  ‘And where have you been?’ Megan demanded fondly when Kate returned to the cottage shortly before dusk. ‘A walk, you said. Not a ruddy marathon. And look at you! Your skirt’s a mess. Are you all right?’

  Glancing down ruefully at her clothes, Kate hardly knew where to begin. ‘I’m fine,’ she said as a catch-all. ‘Stop worrying about me, Megan. I’m a big girl now.’

  ‘Oh, really.’ Megan sighed, clearly unconvinced.

  ‘I met Guy…’

  ‘Now you do surprise me,’ Megan murmured.

  ‘I fell in the stream…’

  ‘And he fished you out.’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Nothing hurt?’

  ‘Only my pride.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, because I’ve got some news for you.’

  From the way Megan was assessing her reaction with sneaky looks in the mirror whilst pretending to be fully occupied checking out the sets of paintbrushes she was arranging on the worktop, Kate thought the news might not be good. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Three of our guests phoned to ask if they could arrive a little early—so I telephoned the others and asked…’

  ‘Oh, Megan, you didn’t…’

  ‘As we are going to be welcoming half the neighbourhood to our opening bash I thought it would be a grand occasion they shouldn’t miss.’

  ‘You did?’ Kate said, throwing Megan a look of fond exasperation.

  ‘I did,’ Megan admitted, shooting Kate a look through her lashes to see if she was forgiven. ‘Well, it’s in at the deep end, pet. And that’s by far the best way, if you ask me. I can’t bear to see you getting so worked up over this business. After all these years you should know better than anyone that there’s not a person alive who could put one over on young Guy. Why don’t you just come clean and tell him you intend to run a guest house…?’

  ‘No, Megan,’ Kate said firmly. ‘I can assure you…’

  ‘Assure me all you like,’ Megan broke in flatly. ‘But he’s as stubborn as you are and he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment, what with restoring the château, recovering the business and worrying about his mother. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner everything’s out in the open, the better.’

  ‘Like you said, he’s got enough on his plate,’ Kate sa
id. ‘And where should I confront him, do you think—in front of our first guests?’

  ‘And half the village,’ Megan reminded Kate gaily, refusing to be discouraged.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said, putting an arm around Megan’s shoulders to give her a hug. ‘I know you’re right. I just can’t seem to find the right moment… And you can stop looking at me like that,’ she said, trying not to smile when Megan’s eyebrows shot up. OK, Kate thought wryly, so she would add crisis management to her list of accomplishments. Mentally rolling up her sleeves, she ran quickly through a checklist. ‘Any news of the electricity?’

  ‘Not a word,’ Megan said.

  ‘Right, leave that to me. Are you ready to roll?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ Megan confirmed.

  ‘And I can easily bring forward my order for fresh vegetables from the château,’ Kate murmured thoughtfully, ‘so that’s not a problem.’ And Guy had said he was going away for a few days, so what on earth was she worrying about?

  By the time he got back everything would be working like clockwork. ‘I’m glad you said our guests could come earlier, Megan. Suddenly I can’t wait to get this new business of ours up and running.’

  Just a few days later the first guests’ arrival at La Petite Maison took Kate completely by surprise. Megan was in the back garden, setting up some easels under a canopy where she planned to allow the children from the village to test their artistic skills at the party, while Kate was busy in the kitchen preparing food with her long hair piled up and secured by a piece of vivid emerald-green chiffon. She had covered her simple working clothes with one of her capacious white aprons whose patch pockets contained all sorts of essential items, from a ball of string to a corkscrew. The windows and the doors had been left open so that she and Megan could exchange news on their individual progress at the shout, and fragrant cooking aromas had been escaping for hours so that the cottage was enveloped in a cocoon of mouthwateringly good smells.

  Kate was so wrapped up in piping a decoration on top of one of her cakes that she missed the first timid knock, but a second, louder tap called her attention to the door. Putting down the piping bag, she called out, ‘Come straight in,’ then hurried to the door, wiping her hands on the front of her apron as she went. ‘Madame la Comtesse!’ she exclaimed, amazed to see Guy’s mother on the threshold, accompanied by Madame Duplessis.

  ‘Ah, I knew it would be inconvenient,’ the Dowager Countess exclaimed, taking a step backward as she put a lace-gloved hand to her mouth.

  ‘Not at all,’ Kate insisted, standing back encouragingly.

  ‘Well—if you’re sure,’ the elderly lady said hesitantly, peering curiously past Kate into the room. ‘Only there is so much talk…I couldn’t resist coming to see what all the fuss is about. Not that I listen to gossip,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just that everyone is so excited about the party…’ She trailed off with a wistful, ‘And I shan’t be there…’

  ‘But why shouldn’t you come?’ Kate said, flashing a look at Madame Duplessis, whom she hoped would back her up. Before Madame Duplessis had a chance to speak, Megan bustled back inside.

  ‘Why not indeed?’ Megan declared.

  ‘Megan? What are you doing here?’ the Countess said, reaching out as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

  ‘I’m here to inject a little chaos into Kate’s well-ordered home,’ Megan informed her as she took hold of the Countess’s hands in her warm grip and raised them to her lips. ‘You look pale,’ she said with her customary frankness.

  ‘Ah, well.’ The Countess sighed dismissively. ‘They’re saying I should come to this party. What do you think about it, Megan?’

  ‘What harm could it do?’ Megan said frankly.

  The Countess looked from one to the other as if seeking reassurance from them all. ‘Oh, no,’ she protested, fluttering her hands. ‘I’m far too old for that sort of thing.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Kate insisted as she removed her apron. ‘And, as a matter of fact, I could do with some help.’ Ignoring Madame Duplessis’s shocked look, Kate continued to give voice to her plan as she escorted the Countess across the room to the most comfortable chair. ‘You see, madame, there will be many more people than I had imagined at first…’

  ‘The place will be overrun,’ Megan cut in enthusiastically. ‘We’re desperate for help…’

  ‘I could help,’ Madame Duplessis offered, looking quickly at the Countess for confirmation.

  ‘We both could,’ the Countess of Villeneuve declared firmly as she settled herself down on to the plump cushions. ‘There was a time when I held parties twice a year for everyone in the village… You remember, Megan? I know you came once or twice with dear Alice…’ She stopped and had to recover her composure. ‘But Kate,’ she said at last, injecting some vigour into the sadness, ‘you must tell us what to do.’

  ‘That was a good move of yours,’ Megan declared later over supper when they were alone. ‘You accomplished more than all the doctors could with that one suggestion to the Countess.’

  Kate brushed off the praise with a small gesture as she heaped Megan’s plate with a second slice of still warm cherry clafoutis. ‘Cream?’ Adding a little pouring cream, she passed the sugar-dusted, crisp and creamy batter pudding across the table to Megan. Then, easing back in her chair, she smothered a yawn. ‘I was just so thrilled to see the sparkle back in her eyes again. I only hope she knows what she’s taking on. Do you think we’re ready, Megan?’

  Glancing round the kitchen, Megan smiled. ‘I know we are.’

  Every available surface was stacked high with Kate’s delectable cakes and pastries, and plenty more had been taken back to the château to be stored overnight in the massive refrigerators.

  ‘No wonder you’re tired,’ Megan said sympathetically. ‘You’ve made enough to feed half of France, never mind half the village.’

  ‘I just didn’t want them to be disappointed.’

  Megan made a scoffing noise. ‘No chance of that.’

  ‘And I wanted to make a good impression on our first guests,’ Kate added, making a final mental check on the bedrooms. ‘Fresh flowers—’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Fresh flowers for the bedrooms and around the cottage,’ Kate said, looking worried suddenly. ‘I completely forgot—and I’d like some for the table outside.’ She planned to present much of the food on one long table in the garden. The Countess had offered several trestle tables that could be placed together to fit her needs, but the flowers—

  ‘Marie Therese said…’ Megan began.

  ‘Marie Therese?’ Kate said, her mouth curving in a wry smile. ‘My, we are on good terms.’

  ‘The Countess expressly asked me to call her by her first name, just like your aunt used to do,’ Megan revealed, her plump cheeks flushing pink as she revealed this development.

  ‘Well, go on then,’ Kate encouraged. ‘What did Marie Therese say to you?’ she enquired, her happy emerald eyes glowing like jewels.

  ‘She said we could have the pick of her nurseries and the garden,’ Megan said with a contented flourish as she forked up the last scrap of her dessert.

  ‘But that’s wonderful!’ Kate said, mentally erasing another worry. ‘So,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Our first houseguests arrive just before noon…and everyone else will be here shortly after that.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Megan said, watching Kate’s face, knowing they had set themselves an almost impossibly tight schedule.

  But in spite of all the problems, not least of which was the possibility that Guy could turn up unannounced, Kate felt a rush of incredible excitement rather than apprehension. ‘Then I think we’d better get to bed,’ she said with a last glance around. ‘It’s going to be a hectic day tomorrow.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Megan muttered as she started blowing out candles. ‘And I only hope you’re right about our guests finding the lack of electricity a novelty.’

  ‘As long as they have plen
ty of hot water they’ll be fine,’ Kate said confidently, ‘and the old range is firing on all cylinders since Giles came to service it.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Megan repeated as she handed Kate a candle to light her way upstairs. ‘And I hope they’re careful. The last thing we need is another fire.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, Megan,’ Kate said wryly. ‘I told you Guy promised to sort out the electrical supply if I hadn’t managed to influence the local authorities by the time he returned home from his business trip.’

  ‘He told you this during that fishing trip of his, I suppose. The same fishing trip where you disappeared off on that walk and returned home looking like a love-struck mermaid? Yes, I remember,’ Megan said dryly. ‘And will you be telling him why you need the electricity so badly?’

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ Kate said distractedly, knowing that Megan had just guaranteed her a sleepless night.

  Three anxious-looking elderly spinsters from the dramatically desolate Pennine region in the North of England, one ashen-faced retired rocker from Bermondsey and an exotically dressed middle-aged man with more facial hair than Father Christmas constituted something less, and yet, at the same time, rather more than the high-flying executives Kate had envisaged for her first guests after advertising La Petite Maison in the business section of one of the broadsheets. Fortunately, Megan took it all in her stride.

  ‘It couldn’t have worked out better,’ she declared, leaning over Kate’s shoulder to peer out of the window at them. ‘They’re an interesting group of people and they won’t be so edgy. And, my word, those men certainly add some colour!’ She squinted professionally along her paintbrush as they both stared at the gold brocade caftan of one and the fit-where-they-touch, shiny vinyl pants of the other.