Sandra Marton - Mistresses - Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds

On a sideboard there were a few silver-framed photographs of people Caitlin didn’t recognise. They made her realise how little she knew about her former employer. He hadn’t been a man given to revealing intimate insights of his life, indeed she had only known about his land in France because from time to time he had been visited by his ex next-door neighbour, a tall dark Frenchman called Ray Pascal.

As she ran a curious eye over the photographs she suddenly picked out the familiar face of Ray amongst all the strangers. She lifted the photo and blew the dust from it.

It was obviously his wedding photograph. There was a beautiful woman by his side in a long white dress; she had dark hair and laughing eyes. Caitlin guessed it had been taken about fifteen years ago because Ray looked as if he was in his early twenties. He had been good-looking back then, she thought as she studied the photograph intently, but he had matured into a formidably handsome man—if a somewhat disagreeable one. Her eyes flicked again to the woman he had married; apparently she had died in a car crash and Ray had never got over losing her.

She had only met Ray a few times but on each occasion there had been an underlying tension between them that had unnerved her completely. She wasn’t used to men looking at her with such disapproval. In fairness she supposed they had got off to a bad start. The first day she had opened the door to him she had been wearing a pair of minuscule shorts and a T-shirt and he had looked at her with a raised eyebrow when she had casually told him she was Murdo’s nurse.

‘Aren’t you a little scantily clad for work?’ he had inquired dryly.

Now, at that point she probably should have explained that in fact it was her day off and she wouldn’t have been there except for an urgent phone call from Murdo telling her that he needed her. Worried about him, she had rushed straight over only to find Murdo looking better than he had in ages, sitting in the lounge, telling her that there was someone coming whom he wanted her to meet.

Consequently she hadn’t been in a very good mood when she had opened that door to Ray and the note of censure in his tone had been the last straw. ‘What I wear for work is between my employer and me…’ she had retorted coolly, and then with a toss of her long dark hair she had marched past him out of the door. ‘He’s in the lounge.’ She had thrown the words casually back over her shoulder. ‘And tell him never to ring me like that again.’

Murdo had been infuriating sometimes, she reflected wryly as she put the photo down. For some reason during the brief period of Ray’s visit last summer he had got it into his head that she and Ray would make a good couple. It had been a crazy notion, not only because they didn’t even like each other, but because Caitlin was with David—had in fact been living with David for three years.

After a couple of weeks of heavy innuendos Murdo had finally come out and asked her directly if she was attracted to Ray. She remembered she had blushed wildly when she had told him that she most definitely was not. Even now she didn’t know why that question had made her so hot and bothered. Murdo had found her reaction amusing. He hadn’t been a man given much to laughter, at least not in the two years Caitlin had known him, but he had laughed that day, a rich, warm chuckle that had even made her grin.

‘I’m in love with David,’ she reminded him when he continued to laugh.

‘If you say so.’ Murdo grinned.

‘Yes I do say so, we’re engaged to be married.’ She waved her diamond ring in front of his eyes.

‘You’ve been wearing that since you first worked for me,’ Murdo said dismissively. ‘And you’ve only just set a wedding date.’

She frowned. ‘I know Ray is very good-looking, Murdo, but then so does he. He is arrogant and not my type at all.’ Murdo’s deep blue eyes twinkled in amusementand she thought maybe it was because she was protesting too much; then she realised that they were not alone. Ray was standing behind her in the doorway of the bedroom. If ever Caitlin wished the ground would open up and swallow her it was that day.

She attempted to apologise to him later, good manners forbidding her to just leave it. So she caught him when his visit with Murdo was over and he was heading for the front door.

‘I’m really sorry about…before…you know…’ She had tried not to be intimidated by the steady way his dark eyes held hers. ‘Murdo was winding me up and…well…I shouldn’t have risen to the bait.’

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ he said and in contrast to her he sounded completely self-assured. His lips twisted in a half smile that was slightly mocking. ‘The fact is, you’re not my type either.’

Then he turned, leaving her wishing she hadn’t bothered to apologise.

‘Why didn’t you warn me he was behind me?’ she asked Murdo crossly a little later.

He grinned, not at all repentant. ‘I don’t have many pleasures left in this life but one of them is very definitely watching the sparks that fly between you and Ray.’ Then the smile faded and suddenly he grew tired of the game and became cantankerous. ‘I haven’t taken my medicine yet…You know how I hate being even five minutes late with it…’

Murdo hadn’t been the easiest of patients she reflected now, but she was going to miss him. There had been something almost endearing about him even at his most crotchety.

‘Your house is a bit of a mess, Murdo.’ She spoke aloud as she looked around, her voice sounding strange in the enclosed space. ‘But I appreciate the thought nevertheless.’

‘You know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.’

The voice from behind her was so unexpected that she jumped violently and spun around, her torch unsteadily wavering over the white sheets, her heart thundering against her breast.

A man stood silhouetted against the open door and for a crazy second she thought it was Murdo returning from the grave to answer her. But the outline in the doorway was that of a more powerfully built man, he was taller, the shoulders broader.

‘I wondered when you’d turn up.’ His French accent was dryly amused, not at all ghostly, and suddenly very familiar.

‘Ray! You scared the life out of me!’ She shone her torch onto him and he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. The yellow beam glinted over the raindrops in his short dark hair and she noticed he wore a heavy oilskin jacket over jeans. It was a far cry from the way he had dressed when she’d seen him in England—back then he’d always worn smart suits. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she asked, lowering the beam of light from his face.

‘I was on my way up to the house and saw your car.’

‘Up to the house?’ She was truly mystified.

‘My house.’ His voice was acerbic now. ‘I live about six kilometres further on up this road.’

‘Oh! I didn’t know…Well, I knew you lived in France, of course…’ She felt flustered and confused. ‘But Murdo told me you had an apartment in Paris now, so I assumed you had moved from around here.’

‘I do have an apartment in Paris—I use it for work—but my home is here in the south.’

There was an edge to those words that she didn’t understand. Why did she always feel out of kilter when she was talking to him? Caitlin wondered. Why did he unnerve her so much? Was he telling her that she was on his territory and she wasn’t welcome?

The rain seemed to be increasing outside and a bright flash of lightning lit the room, followed a few moments later by the distant rumble of thunder. And suddenly it didn’t really matter that Ray’s manner was unwelcoming; at least he was another human being, and in the unknown surroundings a familiar face was reassuring. ‘Well, I’m glad I’ll have a neighbour I know,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ll be able to pop over if I run out of sugar. That’s an unexpected bonus.’