British Bachelors: Tempting & New: Seduction Never Lies / Holiday with a Stranger / Anything but Vanilla...

‘You think it won’t happen? That the press won’t be interested in notorious rock star suddenly turning village squire?’

‘I like the sound of that,’ he said. ‘Maybe I should grow a moustache that I can twirl.’

‘And perhaps you could give up the whole idea,’ she said passionately. ‘Put the place back on the market, so it can be sold to someone who’ll contribute something valuable to the community, instead of causing it untold harm to satisfy some sudden whim about being a landowner, then walking away when he gets bored.’

She paused, ‘Which I suppose was what happened with Descent.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not exactly.’ He picked up his glass. Touched it to hers. ‘But here’s to sudden whims.’ Adding ironically, ‘Especially when they come at the end of a long and fairly detailed property search. Because I’m staying, sweetheart, so you and the rest of the neighbourhood will just have to make the best of it.’

He watched her fingers tighten round the stem of her own glass. ‘And if you’re planning to throw that over me, I’d better warn you that I shall reciprocate, causing exactly the kind of furore you seem anxious to avoid.

‘It’s up to you, of course, but why not try some and see that it’s too good to waste on meaningless gestures.’

She relinquished the glass, and reached for her bag. ‘On the whole, I’d prefer to go home.’

‘Then I shall follow you,’ he said silkily. ‘Begging, possibly on my knees, for very public forgiveness of some very private sin. How about, “Come back to me, darling, if only for the sake of the baby.” That should get tongues wagging.’

Tavy stared at him, assimilating the faint smile that did not reach his eyes, and unwillingly subsided, deciding she could not take the risk.

‘Very wise,’ he said. ‘Now, shall we begin the evening again? Thank you so much for giving me your company, Miss Denison. You look very lovely, and I must be the envy of every man in the room.’

The tawny gaze held hers, making it somehow impossible to look away. She said shakily, ‘Do you really think that’s what I want to hear from you?’

‘No,’ he said, with sudden curtness. ‘So let’s discuss the menus they’re bringing over to us instead. And please don’t tell me you couldn’t eat a thing, because I noticed you only picked at your lunch. And the chef has an award. You told me so yourself.’

‘Tell me something,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Why are you doing this?’

His smile was genuine this time, and, in some incredible way, even disarming.

‘A sudden whim,’ he said. ‘That I found quite irresistible. It happens sometimes.’

He added more briskly, ‘And now that I’ve satisfied your curiosity, let’s see what we can do for your appetite. Why don’t we begin with scallops?’

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_9aa74cbb-d835-52ff-b531-fbc2179e41b5)

THE SCALLOPS WERE superb, grilled and served with a little pool of lobster sauce. The lamb cutlets that followed were pink and delicious, accompanied by rosti and some wonderfully garlicky green beans. The dessert was a magically rich chocolate mousse.

As Jago remarked, simple enough food but exquisitely done.

‘Rather like your macaroni cheese,’ he added, and grinned at her.

Making it incredibly difficult not to smile back. But not impossible, she found, taking another sip of the wine poured almost reverently into her glass by the sommelier. That is, if you were sufficiently determined not to be charmed, enticed and won over. Because that seemed to be his plan.

However, she couldn’t deny that the ambience of the place was getting to her. The immaculate linen and crystal on the tables. The gleaming chandeliers. The hushed voices and occasional soft laughter from the other diners. And, of course, the expert and deferential waiters, who were treating her like a princess even though she must have been wearing the cheapest dress in the room.

While her companion was certainly the only man present not observing the dress code.

‘I bet you’re the only person in the country allowed in here without a tie,’ Tavy said, putting down her spoon and suppressing a sigh of repletion. ‘Don’t you ever worry that people will refuse to serve you? Or is your presence considered such an accolade that they overlook minor details like house rules?’

‘The answer to both questions is no,’ he said, and frowned. ‘And I think I had a tie once. I’ll have to see if I can find it. As it matters so much to you.’

‘Nothing of the kind,’ Tavy said quickly. ‘It was just a remark.’

‘On the contrary,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I see it as a great leap forward. Now it’s my turn.’ He paused. ‘I read some of your father’s book this afternoon. The Manor seems to have had a pretty chequered history, hacked about by succeeding generations.’

‘I believe so.’

‘But it’s in safe hands now.’ As her lips tightened, he added quietly, ‘I wish you’d believe that, Octavia.’

‘It’s really none of my concern,’ she said stiffly. ‘And I had no right to speak as I did earlier. I—I’m sorry.’ And you have no right to call me Octavia...

‘But you still wish you hadn’t been cornered into coming here tonight.’

‘Well—naturally.’

‘Because you’d hoped you’d never set eyes on me again.’

She flushed. ‘That too.’

‘And you’d like very much for us both to forget our first encounter ever happened.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘Very understandable. And for me, anyway, quite impossible. The vision of you rising like Venus from the waves will always be a treasured memory.’ He paused. ‘And I like your hair loose.’

She was burning all over now. It wasn’t just what he’d said, but the way he’d looked at her across the table, as if her dress—her underwear—had ceased to exist under his gaze. As if her hair tumbling around her shoulders was her only covering. And as if he knew that her nipples in some damnable way were hardening into aching peaks inside the lacy confines of her bra.

But if her skin was fire, her voice was ice. ‘Fortunately, your preferences are immaterial to me.’

‘At present anyway.’ He signalled to a waiter. ‘Would you like to have coffee here or in the drawing room?’

She bit her lip. ‘Here, perhaps. Wherever we go, there’ll be people staring at you. Watching every move you make.’

‘Waiting for me to start breaking the place up, I suppose. They’ll be sadly disappointed. Besides, I’m not the only one attracting attention. There’s a trio on the other side of the room who can’t take their eyes off you.’

She glanced round and stiffened, her lips parting in a gasp of sheer incredulity.

Patrick, she thought. And his mother. With Fiona Culham, of all people. But it isn’t—it can’t be possible. He couldn’t possibly afford these prices—I’ve heard him say so. And Mrs Wilding simply wouldn’t pay them. So what on earth is going on? And why is Fiona with them?

As her astonished gaze met theirs, they all turned away, and began to talk. And no prizes for guessing the main topic of conversation, Tavy thought grimly.

‘Friends of yours?’

‘My employer,’ she said briefly. ‘Her son. A neighbour’s daughter.’

‘They seem in no hurry to come over,’ he commented. ‘They’ve been here for over half an hour.’

‘I see.’ Her voice sounded hollow. ‘It looks as if I could well find myself out of a job on Monday.’