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Passion & Pleasure: Savage Awakening / For Pleasure...Or Marriage? / Taken for His Pleasure

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2019
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He thought about asking what she used to do for Colonel Phillips, but that would sound as if he was being flippant and he couldn’t have that. Instead, he prevaricated. ‘Whatever needs doing,’ he said. ‘I won’t expect you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.’ He paused. ‘I guess what I need is help, that’s all. Just a few days a week if that suits you.’

Fliss shrugged. ‘I can do that,’ she said. Then she half turned, looking at him over one creamy shoulder. ‘With one proviso.’

‘Which is?’

‘I won’t work for you when Diane comes to live here,’ she said. ‘This is only a temporary arrangement—’

‘Diane won’t be coming to live here,’ he broke in impulsively, and he saw the look of disbelief that crossed her face.

‘But she’s your fiancée!’

‘She’s my—what?’ Matt stared at her. ‘She told you that?’

‘Yes.’ She looked uncertain. ‘She is, isn’t she?’

Matt allowed a sound of frustration to escape him, realising he couldn’t deny they had had a relationship. ‘We—she and I—we have been involved, yeah,’ he admitted unwillingly.

A faint smile touched her lips. ‘I thought so,’ she said, and he had to stifle the urge to explain that the situation—his situation—had changed.

‘That still doesn’t alter the fact that she’s not going to be living here,’ he said instead, more forcefully than was necessary. ‘Diane’s a city person. She works in London. It wouldn’t be feasible for her to move down here.’

Fliss held up her hand as if to stop him. ‘Not immediately, I understand that—’

‘Not at all,’ he said flatly, and knew he was being far too obdurate. He took a deep breath. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think that’s your business—’

‘I mean, about the job,’ he said grimly, not altogether sure she wasn’t mocking him, and she shrugged.

‘When would you want me to start?’

Matt’s initial reaction was to say, How does tomorrow suit you? But tomorrow was Saturday and he doubted she’d want to start then.

‘Would Monday be OK?’ he asked. ‘Your friend, Gilchrist, is delivering the furniture I ordered on Monday morning. I’d be glad of your help.’

‘All right.’ She pushed her hands into the pockets of her dungarees. ‘I’ll come over about nine, does that suit you?’

‘That’s great,’ he said, and as she moved out into the hall he followed her. ‘See you Monday, then.’

‘Monday,’ she agreed, opening the door before he could get past her and do it for her. ‘G’bye.’

Matt waited until she’d turned her car and driven away before he closed the door and sagged back against it. He felt exhausted and he didn’t honestly know why. It wasn’t as if she’d said or done anything to deplete his energies and yet he felt drained. And strangely let down, which was something new for him.

Straightening, he made his way back to the kitchen and surveyed the room with frustrated eyes. What was wrong with him now, for God’s sake? He’d just completed a satisfactory shopping trip and found himself a part-time housekeeper into the bargain. What more did he want?

A hell of a lot more, he conceded grimly, but it wasn’t going to happen. Nevertheless, for a short time there he’d found himself having thoughts he hadn’t had since he’d got back from North Africa. He didn’t kid himself it meant anything. Despite what his doctors had said, he knew he was never going to be the man he was. But Fliss Taylor was different. She intrigued him. And, like anyone else, he responded to that.

He knew he’d never met a female who was as unaware of herself as she was. There was no artifice about her, no desire to draw attention to herself, no overt sexuality. Yet she was all woman, with a soft innocence that any man would have found challenging.

Any man but him, that was, he reminded himself, the reason for his sense of dissatisfaction no longer so obscure. He picked up one of the mugs they had used and flung it across the room, uncaring when it shattered against the Aga. He had to keep reminding himself he was only half a man, he taunted himself savagely. And if that was true, what the hell was he doing hiring a housekeeper who aroused any kind of feelings inside him?

Chapter Five

‘I’VE got another job.’

Fliss made the announcement as her father came into the kitchen to have his breakfast on Saturday morning. She’d intended to tell him the previous afternoon, but Amy had been home and it would have been difficult to have a private word with him then. Well, that was her excuse, anyway.

Now, however, Amy had had her breakfast and had gone out into the garden with Harvey. The child and the golden retriever were racing round the lawn at present, chasing a ball that Amy was trying to play with and generally tearing the place up. Fliss decided she would have to have a word with Amy later. She was getting too old to act so irresponsibly.

Her father took a seat at the table as Fliss set a pot of coffee and a rack of toast in front of him, and then said stiffly, ‘With Matthew Quinn, I assume?’

Fliss pressed her lips together, surprised by his attitude. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Only in the sense that you apparently forgot to mention that he was the Matthew Quinn I was talking about,’ he remarked coldly, and her heart dropped. Her father had gone out for a drink the evening before and Fliss had been in bed when he’d got home.

‘I suppose you heard the news at the pub,’ she said, turning back to the sink to hide the hot colour that had stained her cheeks.

‘From at least half a dozen different sources actually,’ he replied, and she knew he was hurt that she hadn’t confided in him. ‘D’you want to tell me how long you’ve known you were going to work for him?’

‘Just since yesterday,’ she protested, turning to rest her jeanclad hip against the drainer. ‘But I couldn’t tell you who he was, Dad. He’s come down here to try and escape the media.’

‘He told you that, did he?’

‘Not in so many words, no. But he said he needed some space. More space than he had in London, anyway.’

‘Space!’ Her father was scornful. ‘Why do you young people think you need so much space? How much space did my father have when he was fighting in the trenches? The man’s spent less than two years as a prisoner of war, if you want to call it that. Some of my father’s men spent twice as long as that in German prison camps and there was no red carpet laid out for them when they got home.’

‘I know that.’ Fliss was defensive. ‘In any case, I don’t know what you’re getting at me for. All I did was respect the man’s privacy.’

George Taylor’s nostrils flared. Then, as if acknowledging that she had a point, he heaved a sigh. ‘I just wish you’d trusted me, that’s all,’ he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot. ‘I can keep a confidence as well as anyone else.’

Fliss’s brows arched. ‘This confidence?’ she asked sceptically, relieved to see he was looking a little less severe. ‘Come on, Dad, you wouldn’t have been able to resist it. Knowing Matthew Quinn was living in the Old Coaching House. What a scoop that would have been!’

Her father’s lips pursed. ‘If he’d asked me to keep his identity a secret, I’d have done so.’

‘Oh, and how was he going to ask you that?’ Fliss stared at him. ‘You’d have had to have gone to see him. Can you imagine how I’d have felt if you had?’

‘Well, it’s a moot point now,’ declared her father curtly. ‘Harry Gilchrist couldn’t wait to spread the news. I suppose that’s when you saw him, too. When you went shopping in Westerbury. Was that why you forgot the netting?’

Fliss could have denied it, but there didn’t seem much point. ‘I suppose so,’ she said, turning back to the sink. ‘Anyway, I’m starting on Monday. Just mornings, I expect. Like I used to do for Colonel Phillips.’

‘Huh.’ Her father didn’t sound too happy. ‘I don’t know why you insist on demeaning yourself like this. Doing other people’s housework. It’s not what I hoped for you, Felicity.’

‘Oh, Dad!’ Fliss didn’t want to get into that again. ‘Until Amy’s older and I can go into Westerbury to work, there aren’t a lot of jobs around.’

‘What about working for Lady Darcy? She needs a social secretary, and I know she’d look very kindly on your application. She was only saying the other day—’

‘I’m happy as I am,’ said Fliss quickly, suppressing a grimace. The idea of being a companion—dogsbody—to the wife of the local member of parliament didn’t appeal at all. At least what she did gave her a small measure of autonomy. Or it had when she’d worked for Colonel Phillips.
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