Carole Mortimer - The Unwilling Mistress

His look around the studio at lunchtime had only been cursory, enough to tell him that it would be more than comfortable enough for the couple of weeks he intended staying in the area. A more leisurely mooch around on his return this evening had shown him the huge windows along one wall to allow in the maximum amount of light, pulling down the ladder to go up into the attic, that brief glance enough for him to have seen a paint-daubed easel and the stack of paintings against one wall.

He hadn’t actually intruded any further than that brief look—and from the look of consternation now on May’s face, the openly accusing one on March’s, he was glad that he hadn’t!

‘I was,’ March snapped coldly, her beautiful eyes now the grey-green of a wintry storm-tossed sea.

‘Was?’ Will echoed softly—dangerously? March certainly didn’t look as if she cared to discuss the subject any further!

‘She still is,’ May briskly broke the awkwardness of the moment.

‘No-I-am-not,’ March bit out forcefully.

Ouch. He really had put his foot in it this time, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with. Well educated, known and respected in his own field, he was accustomed to talking comfortably and confidently on any subject that came along. But not, apparently, when it came to the Calendar sisters!

He took a sip of his wine, giving March the time she needed to get past whatever the problem was, at the same time aware of the effort it took her to release the sudden tension she had been under. But why? So she painted in her spare time—what was the big deal?

‘More wine, Will?’ May offered, holding up the bottle invitingly.

‘Thanks,’ he accepted gratefully.

‘The apple pie, March,’ May prompted quietly.

Will waited until the younger Calendar sister had turned to the Aga before looking up at May with raised brows. She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, enough to confirm that the subject of those paintings in the attic was not one he should pursue.

Not that he had intended doing so, anyway; March was prickly enough already, without adding to the problem.

Although his own curiosity about those paintings had certainly been piqued. What was wrong with them? Were they so amateurish that March simply didn’t choose to discuss them?

Would he be violating his role as a temporary lodger if he were to go back up into the attic and take a look at them?

Probably, he acknowledged with an inner grimace. But he knew he wanted to take a look at them, anyway.

‘You rented the studio, Mr Davenport,’ March snapped as she seemed to read some of his thoughts now. ‘At no time were you told that rental included the right to snoop around in the attic above.’

‘March!’ May muttered in obvious embarrassment at her sister’s rudeness.

‘It’s all right, May,’ Will assured her smoothly before turning back to March. ‘I wasn’t aware of that, March, but now that I am…’ He shrugged, reluctant to actually state that he wouldn’t intrude on the attic again, his curiosity well and truly roused now.

‘Let’s eat, hmm.’ May seemed more than a little flustered by this sudden awkwardness.

As well she might be. Will had thought March Calendar completely uncomplicated, her emotions totally readable—even that brief moment of complete awareness of him she had felt when he’d arrived earlier!—but now he saw there was much more to her than that. Intriguing…

Was this the way it had been for Max? Had he also arrived here and taken the Calendar sisters at face value: beautiful, friendly, uncomplicated—only to find that they were all so much more than that? January Calendar certainly must be to have captivated Max, to Will’s knowledge a confirmed bachelor, into falling in love with her.

Although the fact that Max was now engaged to marry the younger Calendar sister seemed to imply he was more than happy with the arrangement!

Will’s smile faded somewhat as he realized he still had to find a way of breaking that little piece of news to Jude…

Although his good humour was somewhat restored by the aroma, and then the taste, of the promised stew and dumplings.

‘Just like Granny makes?’ March teased after his first mouth-watering taste, obviously not a woman who continued to bear a grudge, this morning’s debacle over the parking space excepted.

‘Better,’ he assured warmly. ‘Although don’t ever tell her I said that, will you?’ He grimaced.

She gave him a derisive glance. ‘Somehow, I very much doubt the opportunity will ever arise!’

No, of course it wouldn’t. Will had no idea what had even prompted him to say that.

March laughed at his confused expression, her earlier tension well and truly forgotten as she looked at him mockingly. ‘Don’t look so worried, Will; personally, I’ve always thought that old adage “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” was a load of rubbish! If a man’s only interested in what you can cook him for his dinner then forget it!’

He couldn’t help chuckling at her disgusted expression. ‘Maybe he’ll be able to cook for you instead?’

‘Now that sounds promising!’ March said dryly.

‘Do you cook, Will?’ May put in mischievously.

Not quite the innocent peacemaker he had assumed after all, Will acknowledged with a rueful smile in May’s direction.

‘Tell me,’ he murmured consideringly, ‘are all the men in the area blind, deaf, and stupid? I can’t believe you weren’t all married years ago,’ he explained at May’s questioning look, a glance at the left hand of both women having shown them to both be unadorned by rings, and January Calendar had only recently—very recently!—become engaged to Max.

March grimaced at the comment. ‘Maybe we’re the ones who aren’t interested,’ she challenged.

And maybe three Calendar sisters were two too many? Although Max didn’t seem to have had too much trouble getting past that particular problem!

‘Good point,’ Will dismissed, realizing the conversation was becoming altogether too personal.

He had wondered earlier whether accepting this dinner invitation was a good idea, knowing it would be better for all of them if he maintained a certain distance from the Calendar sisters. But March’s obvious reluctance for him to accept the invitation had been enough to prompt him into doing exactly that!

What else might he feel goaded into doing before his time came to leave…?

‘So if January is the singer in the family—’ that little fact had been confirmed for him at the hotel earlier, and he’d even been able to view one of the publicity photographs of January used by the hotel; January Calendar was as beautiful as her two sisters ‘—and March works in the estate agent’s, that must mean that you’re the full-time farmer?’ he prompted May curiously.

Farming seemed a very strange choice of career for any of these beautiful women, but Will knew for a fact, from the Calendar sisters themselves, but also from Jude, that they absolutely refused to sell the farm. At least, March did…

‘Not exactly,’ May laughed dismissively. ‘You see—’

‘May is an actress,’ March put in with a proud smile in her sister’s direction. ‘She’s been offered a part in a film—’

‘Not yet, I haven’t.’ May looked embarrassed. ‘Besides, March, I told you I haven’t made my mind up yet about even going for the screen test.’ She frowned at her sister reprovingly.

Will had a feeling that was something May had probably done a lot of over the years where the outspoken March was concerned!

‘An actress?’ he prompted interestedly. January was a singer, March was probably—no matter what she might claim to the contrary!—a good artist, and now it seemed that May acted; he couldn’t help wondering how three young women obviously brought up on a farm could be so artistically gifted in such different ways.