Susan Stephens - Susan Stephens Selection

As he made a final mocking bow, Megan made a noise roughly similar to Concorde taking off. ‘That boy doesn’t change,’ she complained as Kate went to shut the door on him.

‘That boy is nearly forty years old, over six foot tall and has amassed a fortune in the region of a billion Euros,’ Kate pointed out quietly as she watched Guy stride off down the path. ‘He’s no fool…’

‘I’ll expect you both at eight,’ he called back, almost as if he knew she would still be there watching him.

‘He’s still a boy to me,’ Megan grumbled, knowing she had been well and truly outmanoeuvred. ‘I just hope he knows how to cook.’

‘I think he keeps a chef at the château now,’ Kate murmured distractedly as her eyes trailed Guy’s back until he had disappeared out of sight.

‘Well, you’re taking it all very calmly, I must say,’ Megan observed when Kate finally let the latch drop.

Leaning back against the door, Kate exhaled with relief.

‘Well, say something,’ Megan pressed. ‘Aren’t you worried at all?’

‘Of course I’m worried. And not just about the covenants.’

‘Explain.’

It wouldn’t make Megan feel any better to know that the covenants were by far the least of Kate’s worries. ‘What can I do, Megan?’ she said finally. ‘We’ll just have to carry on with our plans as if everything was OK.’

‘And Guy?’ Megan pressed.

‘I’ll tell Guy—when the moment’s right.’

‘And when will that be?’ Megan demanded, drumming her fingertips on the table.

‘Before our first guests arrive,’ Kate said, more in an effort to convince herself than in an attempt to placate Megan.

‘Just don’t leave it until the last minute.’

‘I won’t,’ Kate said confidently. ‘Now, would you like a bath? Thanks to Giles mending the range I’ve got plenty of hot water, even if I’m still waiting for the electricity to be switched on.’

‘No electricity!’ Megan exclaimed. ‘Lord save us! What are you thinking, child? You can’t run a guest house without electricity…’

‘I’ve managed perfectly well up until now,’ Kate replied. ‘And if necessary I shall run the cottage for profit in exactly the same way. Because you see, Megan, no one—not even Guy, Count de Villeneuve himself—is going to stop me making La Petite Maison one of the most successful retreats in the world.’

‘Then I wish you luck, Kate,’ Megan said, suddenly serious. ‘Because if I know Guy, you’re going to need it.’

* * *

He sent a car for them. Not just any old car, or the four-wheel-drive Guy used to get about the estate, but a sleek aubergine-coloured limousine complete with uniformed driver.

‘Are you impressed? Because I am!’ Megan enthused, though Kate noticed her eyes were on the driver rather than the car.

Kate hummed her agreement as she gazed out of the window. How she had ever agreed to this she had no idea. And she was wearing The Dress. She gave a wry smile. Once she would probably have turned up in blue jeans with holes in them just to be awkward, but now… Well, it was rather nice to wear a couture dress for once. In fact, now she had the money to do so, she would probably wear a lot more of them. Guy had given her an appetite—

‘All right, pet? No regrets about this dinner engagement?’

‘Not yet,’ Kate admitted wryly.

Guy was waiting for them outside the grand double entrance door to the château. His pale jacket only accentuated the rich bronze tones of his skin and Kate thought his muscular legs seemed longer than ever as he loped down the steps to greet them.

‘Welcome,’ he exclaimed, holding open the door for her before the chauffeur could get to it. ‘Welcome to Château Villeneuve, Kate. It’s good to have you here for a social visit rather than a period of recuperation.’

‘A very short recuperation,’ she reminded him as his warm hand closed around hers.

‘But an enjoyable one, I hope.’

‘Of course. I have always loved the château,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice even while he kept hold of her hand.

‘Well, you will be seeing it at its best tonight. I have arranged for all the lights to be turned on when it is quite dark and that runs into tens of thousands of bulbs. It should be quite a sight,’ he promised. ‘And for you, Ms O’Reilly—’ he turned and, having slipped Kate’s hand through his arm he offered his other to Megan ‘—I have invited another good friend of mine, Professor Gilman from the Tokyo Gallery in Paris, to discuss developments in modern art with you.’

‘Professor Gilman!’

Kate could see that Megan was really impressed. ‘That’s good of you, Guy,’ she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

‘Good? It’s bloody marvellous!’ Megan exclaimed. ‘Have you any idea who Professor Gilman is, Kate?’

‘None. But I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,’ Kate teased her old friend distractedly while her mind was still fixed on corded muscles beneath an impeccably tailored suit. ‘Will your mother be joining us, Guy?’ she said, determined to keep her rational mind in the ascendant.

‘It’s too soon to tell,’ he replied.

A trace of melancholy darkened the brilliance of his eyes as he turned to look at her. ‘I had hoped that when she heard you were here she would come down from her room. But, well, we shall see. I shall not press her.’

‘If I can do anything…anything at all.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ he said, smiling at Megan when she expressed the same sentiments.

Following effortless introductions by Guy, Megan was soon deep in conversation with Professor Gilman, who turned out to be a shrewd-looking middle-aged woman in a designer suit rather than the hoary old man of Kate’s imagination. ‘You did well there,’ she told Guy as they stood watching the two women stroll up the sweeping marble staircase to admire his works of art.

‘I gave the ancestors leave of absence,’ he explained. ‘All the older paintings are being stored in the attic rooms and I’ve replaced them with a rather interesting collection of modern works—some of them by students I think might have a future…’

‘I meant you’ve done well introducing Megan to Professor Gilman,’ Kate said, unlinking her arm when Guy made no move to do so. ‘They seem to have a lot in common.’

‘I like to bring people together,’ he said simply. Then, turning to Kate, he surveyed her slowly and appreciatively, his silver-grey eyes darkening as they lingered on her face. ‘Thank you for wearing that dress.’

‘It’s no hardship,’ she admitted with more bravura than she felt. There was a chance she could melt into a puddle of desire right there in front of him when she saw what he meant to do.

Lightly, almost lazily, he ran the tip of one finger down from just beneath her cleavage to a point where the skirt flirted out around her hips. “‘See where she comes, apparelled like the spring—”’

‘Guy, I—’

‘Bellini?’

‘I thought it was Shakespeare—’

‘Drink, silly.’

‘Oh, yes please.’ Had her wits taken flight? Kate wondered as he reclaimed her arm. Arousal threw rosy shadows across her cheeks, but she knew it was far safer to imagine it was the suggestion of champagne cocktails that put the heat into her face. As a child she had always envied the guests at the château the fragrant peach juice and champagne mix, which she remembered them sipping out of tall crystal flutes.

‘Do you remember?’ Guy guessed, as he drew her across the hall.

‘When you made one specially for me?’

‘I put a drop of champagne on the top—’

‘It tickled my nose. Yes, I remember,’ she said.

‘I might allow you to have a slightly stronger mix tonight.’