Just For A Night

‘So you can see,’ Rebecca’s amazingly young great-uncle finished up, ‘she’s been having a real rough time of it.’

‘It goes like that sometimes, doesn’t it?’ Marina commiserated. ‘It doesn’t rain but it pours.’

Just then the rainclouds parted and a ray of sunshine pierced the passenger window, landing in Marina’s eyes. She blinked, then laughed softly. ‘I hope that sun’s a good omen. I think it might be, you know. I mean…what were the chances of finding a near-perfect match with Rebecca? One in a million?’

She turned her head towards her co-passenger, and caught him staring at her with those intense blue eyes of his. ‘I would say that just about describes you,’ he said in a serious tone.

Marina’s heart flipped over at the compliment. Her laugh felt strained. ‘What a flatterer you are, My Lord. You’ll turn my head if you don’t watch it.’

He said nothing, and she found his silence even more unnerving than his penetrating gaze. What was he thinking? Feeling? Was it merely curiosity about her which made him stare so? Surely the attraction couldn’t be mutual, could it?

She swallowed, and struggled to think of something to say. Anything.

‘Are…are we far from Mayfair?’ she asked, even when she already knew the answer. They were skirting a large park, possibly Hyde Park, and the streets were heavy with traffic even at this early hour. Some time back the rows of suburban houses had given way to impressive old buildings, mostly made of a greyish stone. Not a glass and concrete skyscraper in sight anywhere.

‘Not far,’ he said. ‘I take it you haven’t been to London before?’

‘Actually, I have. A couple of years back. Came on a shoestring and did what touristy things I could afford. Saw the changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, and Madame Tussaud’s and the Tower of London, not to mention all the museums and galleries. The free ones, that is,’ she laughed.

‘Did you go to the theatre?’

‘Heavens, no. Too expensive.’

‘I’ll take you, if you like.’

She shot him a sharp look, but there was nothing in his face which suggested anything but politeness.

‘Oh, I…er…I don’t think I’ll really have the time, do you? Not if I’m to go down to Winterborne Hall as well.’

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘You mean you’ll actually come?’

‘I…well…you said you wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

His laugh did not sound particularly happy for some reason. ‘But I never for one moment thought you’d succumb to that kind of male pressure.’

What a provocative expression, she thought. Succumb to male pressure. It conjured up the image of an attempted seduction and an almost unwilling surrender.

Marina could not help staring into his face again, for some hint of his feelings towards her. But there was nothing to go on. He had a habit of holding his facial features in that stiffly autocratic fashion which bespoke things like ancestral pride and honour and arrogance, but nothing of any personal emotion. If he was attracted to her on any physical level, his body language did not show it.

While some deep feminine instinct rang a warning that perhaps it was not wise to go down to Winterborne Hall, suddenly wild horses would not have kept her away. She wanted to see his ancestral home, wanted to see him in it, wanted to sleep in one of those dozen bedrooms—if only to spend the night fantasising over the Lord and Master of Winterborne Hall.

‘It’s not a matter of succumbing to male pressure,’ she said firmly, ‘but deciding for myself that I would really like to see Rebecca’s home. Still, I can only spare a couple of days. I really need to be getting back to my home as soon as possible.’ Back to the real world, she told herself ruefully. And away from this fantasy one, complete with fantasy man.

‘You must be missing your fiancе,’ he said. ‘What was his name again?’

‘Shane.’

‘What does he do for a living?’

‘He helped my mother run her riding and dressage school. He’s quite marvellous with horses.’

‘I see. But what is he doing now that your mother has passed on?’

‘Just the same. It would be a shame to let all my mother’s work go to rack and ruin. She built up a good business with plenty of clients. And her horses are simply the best.’

‘But that’s not what you do, is it?’

Marina was startled by his intuitive comment. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Your hands, for one thing. It’s also obvious you don’t spend much time in the sun.’

She stared down at her soft, pale hands, which were resting lightly in her lap. She was unnerved by the sharpness of his observations. What else had he noted about her? Could he look into her mind as well, see all those appalling thoughts she’d been having about him?

Her fingers linked together and pressed down hard. ‘You’re quite right,’ she said a little stiffly. ‘I’m a teacher.’

‘A teacher,’ he repeated, and smiled a strange little smile. ‘Yes, I can see you in front of a class. But not boys,’ he added wryly. ‘You would distract boys far too much. You teach at a girls’ school, I gather?’

Marina was rather rattled by his comments. For, while the use of the word ‘distracting’ suggested he found her looks attractive, this fact seemed to slightly annoy him. Was this because she was an engaged woman? Would he perhaps have adopted a different attitude to her if she’d been free to accept…to accept…what?

A romantic tryst while she was down at Winterborne Hall?

Marina found such a thought breathlessly exciting. It was with difficulty that she reminded herself she had developed an overheated imagination since stepping off that plane. For all she knew, the Earl of Winterborne was just making idle and polite conversation to pass the time while in her company. His tendency to an occasional sardonic remark could be caused by boredom. It was a sobering thought.

‘Actually, you’re wrong this time,’ she told him crisply. ‘I do teach boys. Boys and girls. I’m a primary school teacher. I have a class full of nine-and ten-year-olds. Or I did. I’ve taken compassionate leave till next term.’

His smile was accompanied by a drily amused gleam in his eyes. ‘Ahh. But boys of that age are not boys at all, just wild little savages. I was thinking of the slightly older species, which begins to appreciate the difference between boys and girls. And how old are you, exactly, Marina?’

‘Twenty-five.’

He said ‘ahh’ again, as though highly satisfied with her age.

The green saloon turned down a narrow street at that point, angling between cars parked down one side, then turning into an even more narrow and slightly cobbled lane. The brick buildings on either side were three storeys high, with doors which opened straight onto the street. So did the windows. Only the window boxes spilling with brightly coloured flowers gave some relief to the austerity of the architecture.

‘These are mews,’ His Lordship volunteered, on seeing her glance around.

‘Oh, yes, I’ve read about them. They used to be the royal stables, didn’t they?’

‘Not all of them royal, but certainly once belonging to London’s wealthy. They’ve all been converted to apartments nowadays.’

‘They must still be expensive, being so close to the city.’

‘I dare say. This one’s been passed down through the family. I inherited it when my father died. It might normally have gone to the eldest son but I think Father wanted to keep some of the estate out of Laurence’s spendthrift hands. As it was, my brother did his best to bankrupt the estate.

‘But I shouldn’t be telling you any of this,’ he muttered, seemingly irritated with himself for doing so if his expression was anything to go by.

He frowned and leant forward to tap his chauffeur on the shoulder. ‘William, just let us out here at the door.’

The car stopped next to a large brown wooden door with a brass knocker and doorknob. Geraniums and petunias blazed from hanging baskets at eye-level on either side.