Lindsay Armstrong - A Masterful Man

He swam for at least ten minutes although she just dipped herself and walked back to her towel. But as she dried the moisture from her body and her hair, she couldn't help wondering how she was ever going to face him again. How, for that matter, he would be when he came out… She pulled her shirt and shorts on with unsteady hands.

He was perfectly normal. He made no mention of the fact that it had taken ten minutes of vigorous exercise in cold water to get himself in control-in fact all he said was, 'What's for dinner?'

'R-roast beef. Oh! I'd better get going-'

'Relax. It's over an hour to dinner-time. Isn't that plenty of time to roast a piece of beef?'

'Yes, but I've still got to get there and there's one hill between here and your house that needs to be walked up,' she retorted with more spirit.

He dried himself briefly and dragged on a T-shirt. 'Then I am the answer to all your problems, Mrs Hastings,' he said with humour as his head emerged.

Davina tensed and he narrowed his eyes slightly as he stuck his arms through the sleeves. 'I've got a bike rack on the back of the Land Rover, that's all.'

She bit her lip.

Davina went straight into the kitchen when they got to the house to put the meat on and while she was at it, got the vegetables ready and made her other preparations.

Steve came into the kitchen as she was rinsing her hands. He'd showered and changed into long twill trousers and a blue open-necked shirt. 'All in hand?'

'Yes.'

'Then why don't you have a shower while I make us a drink?'

Davina faced him with uncertainty and wariness clouding her violet eyes. 'I think I'd rather-'

'Davina, I'm thirty-five,' he interrupted pleasantly. 'Which means to say I've had plenty of experience at practising self-control-if that's what you're worried about now.'

She blushed. For the life of her she couldn't help it and at the same time felt a streak of anger because she'd been so hoping he would continue to act as if what had happened on the beach hadn't happened at all. To make matters worse, she could think of nothing to say.

'Go on,' he said mildly, after a moment. 'Unless you're proposing that we avoid each other entirely for a month?'

She went with a toss of her head that brought a faint smile to his lips.

It took her twenty minutes to shower, wash her hair and blow dry it and get dressed into a loose, sleeveless, chalky blue cotton dress that floated around her as she walked. And, all the while, she sought rather desperately for some composure, but it was hard to beat the hollow feeling she had that she couldn't blame her employer for the events on the beach because it was one of those things that had happened quite spontaneously-and mutually.

'How did you get on with Maeve?'

Davina contemplated her drink then looked through the windows to where rays from the setting sun were playing on her favourite mountains and a faint smile curved her lips. 'You might have warned me.'

'You might have run away.'

She laughed. 'No, not really. Once we got to know each other we worked well together. Uh-how do your grandmother and stepmother get on with her?'

'They both keep urging me to get rid of her. They both get totally frustrated by her, not that Maeve notices at all, but the result is general chaos.'

'I can imagine,' Davina murmured and raised an eyebrow at him. 'So, you've stuck with her through thick and thin?'

'Her mother used to work for my mother and her husband, now deceased, worked on one of our boats. I would feel guilty for the rest of my life if I abandoned Maeve.'

'She certainly is a great fan of yours,' Davina commented.

'That probably surprised you,' he replied, with a glinting little smile.

Davina didn't answer but sipped her drink then put it down. 'Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Where would you like to eat it? Here?' She gestured to the dining setting across the room. 'Or-'

'Here,' he said. 'Why waste the view? I'll set the table-you weren't planning to abandon me to dining alone, were you?'

He only set one end of the big glass-topped table but he did it quite artistically and he opened a bottle of red wine.

'That's not necessary-for me, I mean,' she said when she saw it as she put a silver dish down, loaded with roast beef with faintly pink juices running from it, roast potatoes, pumpkin and sweet potatoes. She also had on the tray she'd brought from the kitchen cauliflower au gratin, gravy and some wonderfully risen Yorkshire puddings.

'Hell,' he said, ignoring her comment entirely as he gazed with genuine admiration at the puddings, 'and you whipped this all up in a matter of minutes!'

'I've had plenty of practice,' she said with a grimace. 'Would you like to carve or shall I?'

'I will. Do sit down, Mrs Hastings-what's that old saying about the way to a man's heart?' He picked up the carving knife and fork, looking gravely attentive.

Davina sat and said quite calmly, 'But we've spoken of that before and both agreed it's not on, haven't we, Mr Warwick?'

He put the fork into the meat and sliced one slice of beautiful, just rare roast beef before he said, 'We may have, Davina, but other things have spoken for themselves.'

She took up her as yet empty wine glass and examined the pattern on the crystal. 'I think-I'm sure-we should put that down to a momentary aberration.' And her violet eyes were level and cool as she looked at him across the table.

'Well, you're certainly a lot more composed about it now,' he commented, and returned to carving the beef.

She gritted her teeth but forbore to reply. Instead, she rose to serve the vegetables and she was still silent as he poured two glasses of wine, without consulting her. Which left her thinking he really was impossible. But as she was to discover more and more, just when you thought Steve Warwick was impossible, he had a habit of turning the tables. He did so then…

'Tell me about your photography.'

She hesitated then with a slight shrug began to do so. And he listened attentively while she explained how she'd always been fascinated by light and shade, by juxtaposing unlikely subjects and capturing them on film.

'So it's been a lifelong ambition?' he said after a bit. 'How come you got sidetracked into catering?'

'That was my mother. She insisted I have some "solid" qualifications, as she put it, behind me. She's the kind of person who thinks that being artistic in any way is all very well but not much to fall back on when the chips are down-she was right, as it happened, although what she'd had in mind for me was starting my own business that catered for very exclusive parties for the rich and famous.'

'But I should imagine you have a flair for it anyway.' He put his knife and fork together and pushed his plate away. 'That was absolutely delicious.'

'I do enjoy cooking,' Davina agreed as she did the same and picked up her glass. But as he offered to top it up she said, 'No, no more, thank you. I was going to make a pudding but ran out of time. I've prepared a cheese-board and fruit instead.'

'That'll be fine but don't rush. How come the chips came to be down?' He looked at her quite seriously across the table.

Davina looked away and finished the last of her wine. 'I'd rather not go into that.'

'Sometimes it helps,' he commented.

'With a perfect stranger? I doubt it.'

'We're not exactly perfect strangers. On the other hand, strangers can have a less-biased view of things.'

'Why do you really want to know?' she said, at last. 'Anyway, it's nothing earth-shattering and I'm quite happy the way I am, believe it or not.' She smiled faintly.

He lay back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. 'Marriage to someone who thought you were a frigid bitch, which, incidentally, we've now proved you're not, must have been a bit devastating.'