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

He regretted the words as soon as they were out, but Fliss had already turned away so he couldn’t see her face. ‘I always care about my patients,’ she said smoothly, opening the door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

The house seemed absurdly empty after she’d gone. Despite the fact that his whole purpose in coming here had been to get away from people, suddenly he missed the almost comforting awareness of her working in another part of the house.

He moved jerkily across to the windows and was in time to see her striding away down the path that led to the church. He guessed there must be a short cut through the churchyard, though, in all honesty, he didn’t even know where she lived. Just that she lived with her widowed father and her daughter. That was it.

Diane would know where she lived, he acknowledged, but he had no intention of asking her. He could already imagine her reaction when he admitted that he’d employed Fliss Taylor as his housekeeper. And if she ever found out Fliss had given him a massage…She would not be pleased, but what the hell? Did he really care?

He knew he should. It wasn’t Diane’s fault that he’d been sent to Abuqara. It wasn’t Diane’s fault that he’d come back only half a man. She saw what she wanted to see. Any essential differences she either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand.

The phone rang then, startling him out of his reverie. His spirits slumped. Had his thoughts about Diane somehow communicated themselves to her? It was several days since she’d left for London and no doubt she’d expected him to ring her over the weekend.

Fortunately, there was an extension in the library so he didn’t have to go far to answer the call. His reluctance as he lifted the receiver spoke volumes, but he endeavoured to inject a positive note into his voice as he said, ‘Yeah, this is Quinn.’

‘Matthew!’ His mother’s voice was so much more welcome than Diane’s that Matt sagged against the bookshelves.

‘Ma.’

‘Are you all right?’ There was concern in her voice. ‘I expected you to ring me after you’d settled in.’

‘I intended to.’

‘Oh?’ Louise Quinn’s voice rose a little now. ‘When, exactly?’

‘Soon.’ Matt sighed. ‘I’ve been busy, Ma. Apart from the few things I brought from London, I didn’t have any furniture.’

‘Oh, Matthew!’ There was reproof in her voice now. ‘You can’t possibly live like that.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve remedied the situation.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not incapable, you know.’

‘But after all you’ve been through—’

‘That’s in the past now.’

‘Is it?’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘According to Diane, it’s still very much in the present.’

Diane. Matt controlled the urge to say that Diane had no right to be unloading her problems onto his mother. Instead, he said evenly, ‘Diane’s peeved because I moved out of town.’

‘And with good reason.’ His mother clucked her tongue now. ‘Oh, Matthew, are you sure you’re going to be all right? I liked to think I was just across town if you needed me.’

‘I’m fine, honestly.’ Matt shifted as his back twinged again, wondering how honest he was being. ‘And I’m not a million miles away. You can always come and see me. Now I have a spare bed.’

‘But how are you going to look after a barn of a place like that? Diane says it has six bedrooms, for heaven’s sake.’

Diane, again. Matt stifled his irritation and said neutrally, ‘I’ve got a housekeeper. She’s helping me get the place in order.’

‘A housekeeper.’ Louise sounded relieved now. ‘Oh, well, that’s something, I suppose. Is she going to cook for you, too?’

‘I…’ Matt hadn’t considered the fact that he was now obliged to provide all his own meals. ‘Possibly,’ he said, wondering how Fliss would react to that suggestion. After this morning’s fiasco, he’d be lucky if she didn’t decide to find herself another job.

‘Well, I hope so,’ said his mother firmly. ‘You’re not fit to do everything for yourself.’

‘Ma—’

‘No, I mean it, Matthew. You may think you’ve put your past experiences behind you, but I know differently. It’s all very well pretending that a person can endure years of incarceration—’

‘It was one year, Ma.’

‘It was nearer two.’ She huffed. ‘Anyway, that’s not the point. No one—and I mean no one—suffers the kind of physical abuse you had to contend with and emerges unscathed.’

‘I don’t need this, Ma.’

‘I think you do.’ She was determined. ‘You were starved, Matthew. Starved and beaten. God knows what other kind of mental torture they put you through—’

‘For pity’s sake.’ Matt could feel every nerve in his body chilling with the memory. ‘Do you think this is helping? Is there any useful purpose in forcing me to remember? I’m trying to forget.’

‘I know, I know.’ At last his mother seemed to realise how insensitive her words must sound. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m a stupid old woman and you have every right to be angry with me. But I’m so worried about you, Matthew. We both are.’

‘Both?’ Matthew frowned.

‘Diane and I,’ said his mother impatiently. ‘She was such a comfort to me while you were away. A daughter couldn’t have been sweeter.’

‘Yeah, well…’ Matthew definitely didn’t want to talk about his relationship with Diane. ‘You can relax. I’m OK. Right?’

‘Right.’ But she still sounded uncertain. Then, injecting a note of optimism into her voice, she added, ‘Anyway, at least I’ll be able to tell Diane that you’ve got yourself a housekeeper. I know she’ll be relieved.’

Will she? Matt wanted to ask her not to mention it to Diane, but he didn’t have the strength to explain why. ‘I’ll ring you later in the week,’ he said, hoping to escape any more reproaches on Diane’s behalf. ‘OK?’

‘You will take care, won’t you, Matthew?’

‘I promise,’ he said, and with another brief word of farewell, he ended the call.

But, as he pushed himself away from the bookshelves and looked wearily around the library, he wondered if he was just kidding himself by thinking he could escape himself…

Chapter Seven

FOR the rest of the week, Fliss did her best to avoid her employer. She had plenty to do, and Matt himself seemed more than willing to keep out from under her feet. He didn’t mention what had happened and nor did she. She hadn’t forgotten the scars she’d seen on his back, but if he suspected she might tell her father he was very much mistaken.

On Wednesday morning, she arrived to find Albert Freeman, a local painter and decorator, already at work with his measuring tape and clipboard. He was only too happy to tell her that he’d been approached by ‘Mr Quinn’ to give him an estimate for how long it would take him to redecorate the hall, stairs and landing. Fliss knew a momentary—and totally unjustified—feeling of alienation at being cut out of the process. Matt had said nothing about his plans to her, and she consoled herself with the thought that he’d very likely find the pompous Mr Freeman rather hard to take.

However, she said nothing, getting on with her work as usual, and on Thursday morning it was Matt who came looking for her. She was cleaning out one of the store cupboards in the kitchen when his lean dark frame appeared in the doorway, and she was instantly conscious of him in every fibre of her being.

Fliss was standing on the top of the steps that had been rusting in the garden shed since old Colonel Phillips’s time, and she was unhappily aware of her bare legs below the cuffs of her khaki shorts.

It was ironic really, because for most of the week she’d sweated in her jeans and T-shirt. But today it was so hot, she’d decided to go with a sleeveless vest and shorts. It wasn’t as if Matt noticed what she was wearing, she’d assured herself. Most of the time, he barely seemed to notice she was there.

Except for that first morning…

But she didn’t want to think of that now, not when Matt was standing staring up at her with those dark, inscrutable eyes. He was wearing loose-fitting cotton trousers and an open-necked chambray shirt folded back over muscular forearms. Both the trousers and the shirt were black and accentuated the sombre cast of his expression.