Kate Hardy - To Tame the Playboy

She jumped out of bed quickly, deciding that today she’d have a long, leisurely bath rather than a shower.

For a full half hour she luxuriated thoughtfully in the expensive bubbles. She’d had quite long enough to make up her mind that she was definitely going home the day after tomorrow. She did not want the feelings she had about her host to trouble her common sense for a moment longer…She needed to get back to work! But first, if Beryl really was well enough to receive visitors, she’d go up to their cottage for afternoon tea tomorrow, as they’d arranged. Pat had reminded her about it when they’d come back earlier. But after that, it would be Goodbye Pengarroth Hall!

Fleur smiled to herself as she brushed out her freshly-shampooed hair in long sweeping strokes, feeling bright and light-hearted. Apart from last night’s ridiculous episode, she’d slept brilliantly the whole time she’d been here, and eaten even more so, thanks to the hospitality of Pat and her host. Her host! How could she ever think of Sebastian as that, now? He would have to rank as one of her friends, surely—a friend she would keep in casual contact with, and perhaps meet up with once a year—or once every two years! She knew the saying that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, but she also knew that absence from anyone, or anything, would eventually dull the appetite to the point where it was no longer important, no longer needed. And that was exactly what must happen here. She liked Sebastian, a lot—she may even have fallen in love with him, just a little, she acknowledged ruefully—but she was also too wary of his type to endanger her future. Her future was already mapped out. And it did not include the Sebastian Conways of this world.

As this was to be her penultimate evening here, she decided to make an effort in the dress department, choosing the only skirt she’d brought with her—a three-quarter length swirly number in midnight-blue. It went perfectly with her fine, loose pearly top, especially when she pulled her hair back into a French pleat. She looked at herself in the mirror, hoping that she hadn’t overdone it, because she knew it was a glamorous ensemble. Then she shrugged. So what? Anyway, it was too much trouble to take it all off and jump into yet another pair of trousers—either her own or Mia’s. Have the courage to stick to your first decisions, she told herself. Stop dithering.

Faintly in the distance she’d heard voices and as she came down the wide staircase she saw Sebastian standing in the hall talking to another man. Fleur hesitated for a second, wondering whether to turn and go back to her room, or to go on down and be introduced to the newcomer. She didn’t have long to make up her mind, because both men looked up and watched her descend gracefully. It was the expression on Sebastian’s face that made her catch her breath, and he came forward at once.

‘Ah, Fleur…meet an old friend of mine, Rudolph Malone…We’ve been fairly close neighbours for yonks, haven’t we, Rudy? And this…this is Fleur—one of Mia’s cohorts, Rudy.’

The man came towards Fleur with his rather pale, podgy hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Well, well…you never fail to surprise me, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Where did you find this one, may I ask? You must let me know your source of supply!’

He was rather a short individual, Fleur noted, with indeterminate brown hair and a face which was dominated by rather thick lips. She supposed that he wasn’t that bad-looking but, comparing him to the god-like Sebastian, he didn’t have much of a chance. She let him hold her hand for longer than was necessary, before pulling away and smiling up uncertainly.

‘I told you, I didn’t find Fleur—she’s a friend of Mia’s. And staying for a short holiday before she heads back to London and a very exacting position in the field of medical research,’ Sebastian replied.

‘Well, well,’ Rudy said again. ‘How convenient that you happen to be here as well, old chap. You said that Mia had already returned?’

‘I did. She has,’ Sebastian replied, almost rudely, Fleur thought. She saw that his expression had darkened considerably in the last few moments—perhaps this man wasn’t liked here, she thought. So what was he doing here?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Sebastian said, ‘Rudy works in London too, Fleur, and he’s also having a break at home.’ He paused, as if regretting the next thing he was going to say. ‘And, since we haven’t seen each other for a couple of years—well, not to chat to anyway—he’s going to stay and have supper with us this evening.’

‘Aren’t I the lucky one,’ Rudy murmured. ‘I shall insist on being allowed to sit very close to your charming visitor, Sebastian. You won’t deny me, will you?’

The man hadn’t taken his eyes off Fleur from the moment he’d seen her, and suddenly she felt uneasy…She’d met his slimy sort before—the sort she avoided at all costs.

Pat called from the kitchen, ‘Supper’s ready—I’ve laid up in the dining room.’ Fleur knew that Pat would have been pleased to do that because she jumped at every opportunity to do things properly, and together the three of them strolled along the passageway and took their places at the table. Fleur couldn’t help admiring everything—the shining cutlery and glassware, the single decorative candle and a sweet arrangement of holly leaves and berries and Christmas roses in a small bowl in the centre. Yes, Pat would love that watering can, Fleur thought.

The meal was delicious, marred only for Fleur by Rudy’s proximity to her. He seemed gifted at being able to make their knees, their thighs, touch occasionally, and she tried not to shudder each time he did it. He hadn’t waited to be asked where he should sit, but had plonked himself down on the chair next to her, half-turning so that he could look into her eyes.

‘I know the sort of food that gets served up in this place,’ he said, ‘but the only feast I’ll need is to look at my charming neighbour. That will be food enough!’

‘Shut up, Rudy,’ Sebastian said. ‘Turn it off, for Pete’s sake.’ He looked over at Fleur. ‘Rudy inhabits the theatrical world,’ he said. ‘As if you needed telling.’

Fleur wished fervently that she’d decided to dress more casually. All the daft compliments which were being thrown at her were making her feel awkward, and she hated being admired by the absurd man sitting next to her. Once or twice she caught Sebastian’s eye, but the usual rather intimate look she’d become used to him sending her didn’t seem to be there. He looked as uncomfortable as she was feeling, a coldness in his expression making her feel unsure of herself.

Sebastian admitted to feeling absolutely furious that he’d been more or less obliged to invite Rudolph Malone to supper. Why hadn’t he just offered the man a drink and sent him on his way? Why should this lovely day have to be spoilt by an intruder—an intruder who was making one pass after another at Fleur? If he hadn’t been so quick with his offer of hospitality, it needn’t have happened. He speared a morsel of meat savagely with his fork. Good grief—was he jealous? Jealous that he was having to share Fleur with another man, even for one evening? What the hell was going on?

THE following morning, Fleur woke up later than usual. At midnight, she’d eventually excused herself but had not been able to get to sleep. Rudolph Malone’s rather annoying voice—not to mention his persistent and unwelcome flattery—had stayed in her mind like a record that had become stuck in the groove. She couldn’t imagine how on earth he could possibly be a friend of Sebastian’s, but as they were long-time neighbours she supposed it was a social obligation to offer hospitality now and then.