His Rags-to-Riches Bride: Innocent on Her Wedding Night / Housekeeper at His Beck and Call / The Australian's Housekeeper Bride

He slanted a grin at her as he slotted the car into a parking space with expert efficiency. ‘That’s not an objection I usually get when I take a girl to dinner.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said, flushing. ‘I’m sorry.’ Candida’s words stung her afresh. ‘It’s just that I’m not really dressed for somewhere quite as grand.’

He walked round and opened the passenger door. ‘I shall be the envy of every man in the place,’ he told her softly, and her flush deepened.

Comfort closed round her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The room he took her to was like someone’s lovely drawing room, with charming chintz-covered sofas, and chairs grouped round small tables, but within a moment a waiter had arrived beside them. ‘For monsieur a vodka martini? Certainement. And, for mademoiselle may I recommend a Kir Royale?’

The drinks were there within seconds, accompanied by a dish of tiny, exquisite canapés, bursting in her mouth with all kinds of delicious and subtle flavours.

‘I shan’t be able to eat a thing later,’ she sighed.

He laughed. ‘I think you will.’

And he was right. Because, however nervous and excited she might feel, the watercress mousse she was served, followed by lobster mayonnaise, was just too wonderful for her to leave even a scrap—especially when accompanied by the crisp white wine Daniel had chosen, and which the sommelier had brought to them with an air of quiet satisfaction.

She found she could even manage the sweet pastry tart filled with tiny strawberries that ended her meal, while Daniel followed his vichysoisse and river trout with a tiny pot of something dark, rich and alcoholically chocolate, of which she sampled a taste.

‘This is a magical place,’ Laine said, looking around her with shining eyes. They had been given a secluded table in the corner of the Manor’s famous conservatory, where the massive vine above their heads was already loaded with bunches of small grapes. Because of the evening’s warmth the doors stood open to the garden, and subdued lights had begun to edge the scented borders outside as the daylight faded.

She added, more stiltedly, ‘I—I’ll remember it always.’ She tried to smile. ‘I don’t think Spain is going to be anything like this.’

‘I don’t suppose so either,’ he said. ‘So why go?’

She stared down at the linen tablecloth. ‘You speak as if I have a choice.’

‘Actually, you do,’ he said quietly. ‘You could stay here in England—with me.’

The world seemed to stop suddenly. She found she was fighting for breath. For the ability to say, in a voice she barely recognised, ‘You’re offering me a job?’

‘Not exactly.’ He smiled at her across the steady flame of the little lamp in the centre of the table. ‘I’m asking you to be my wife.’

There was a silence, then she said, in a tone that wobbled slightly, ‘If that’s a joke, it’s not a very kind one.’

He reached out and took her hand, stroking her slender fingers. ‘Do I make a habit of being unkind?’

Mutely, she shook her head, trying to banish from her mind the memory of that seemingly endless procession of blondes.

‘Well, then.’ There was another long silence, then he said on a note of faint amusement, ‘My sweet, this hesitation on your part is doing my self-esteem no good at all. You see, I thought you liked me.’

‘I do.’ I love you—love you. I always have and I always will.

‘But not enough to marry me—is that it?’

She still couldn’t look at him. ‘I suppose—I’ve never thought of you as—the marrying kind.’

He said slowly, ‘I could say I’ve been waiting for you to grow up, but I doubt you’d believe me—not when you’ve watched me sow a whole series of wild oats.’ And, as he saw her bite her lip, he added more urgently, ‘Is that the problem, darling—my past? Couldn’t we agree to bury it, and simply concentrate on the future instead?’

He paused. ‘Unless you’re determined to marry another virgin? And I really hope that’s not true, for all kinds of reasons.’

She felt her face warm involuntarily, and said on a little gasp, ‘Oh, no, I—I’m not.’ I just don’t know what to say to someone who’s made all my wildest, sweetest dreams come true at once.

‘That,’ he said, ‘is a definite relief.’ He studied her for a moment, then said gently, ‘I’ve startled you, haven’t I, sweetheart? I didn’t intend that. I thought your female intuition would have warned you why I’d whisked you away with me this evening.’

She tried to smile. ‘Perhaps I’m not very female.’

‘Now, that I don’t believe.’ Quite casually, he turned her hand over and began to trace a gentle circle in its soft palm with the ball of his thumb. It was the lightest of touches, but Laine felt it piercing her, transfixing her with a shaft of desire so swift, so intense and so totally unexpected that she almost cried aloud in amazement. And in overwhelming need.

She was suddenly melting, liquid with a hunger she’d never even guessed could exist. Aware, too, that her nipples were swelling, hardening against their flimsy constraints, and that her every sense was on fire with the consciousness of him, and his proximity to her. Knew, at the same time that she wanted to be even closer. To be joined to him. To be part of him for ever, totally and irrevocably. To be a woman—his woman.

His voice reached her in a quiet murmur of sound. ‘Marry me, Laine.’

Her mouth was dry, the breath catching in her throat, but somehow she managed to whisper back, ‘Yes.’

And saw him bend his head in brief acknowledgment.

He released her hand, his mouth twisting in faint ruefulness. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we’d better go and break the news to your mother.’

She wanted to cry childishly, But I don’t want to go yet. You’re staying here—you said so—and I want to be alone with you.

But of course she said nothing of the kind, just smiled and nodded, and tried to conceal the feeling of inner dread that was uncurling deep inside her, praying that it wouldn’t be justified.

She was wrong.

‘You want to marry Elaine?’ Angela stared at Daniel with narrowed eyes. ‘This child? But that’s quite absurd. I couldn’t possibly agree to any such thing.’

Laine stood beside him, her hand in his, wanting to sink through the floor with humiliation. She was aware of Candida sitting bolt upright, her face like a mask carved from stone, and Jeff Tanfield standing gaping by the drinks table, a glass in one hand, a whisky decanter in the other, as his already pink complexion deepened to crimson.

Daniel said quietly, ‘I’m not asking your consent, Mrs Sinclair. I don’t have to. I’m merely informing you of our intentions as a matter of courtesy. We plan to be married within the next few weeks.’

‘But that’s quite impossible.’ Angela gestured wildly. ‘I have this house to sell—a move to Spain to arrange. I couldn’t possibly organise a full-dress wedding as well.’

‘You won’t be asked to,’ Daniel said curtly. ‘I’ll talk to the Vicar myself about a mid-week date, and the guest-list—on my side anyway—will be minimal. We’ll hold a small reception here afterwards, and I’ll book the caterer and supply the champagne. The only contribution you need make is to help Laine choose something to wear and send the bill to me.’

‘You must have lost your mind,’ Angela said shortly. ‘For one thing the Daniel Flynns of this world simply do not get married at the drop of a hat to some little nobody in an out-of-the-way place like this.’

He gave her a level look. ‘Well, naturally I can’t speak for the rest of us, but this Daniel Flynn generally pleases himself. And my current intention is to make Laine my wife as quickly and as simply as possible.’ He turned to the girl at his side, lifting the hand he was clasping to his lips. ‘Which seems to be what she wants too.’

‘Yes.’ She found a voice from somewhere. ‘I do.’

‘And what about her mother in all this?’ Jeff Tanfield put down the decanter and moved forward with sudden belligerence. ‘Angela was relying on Elaine’s active support in this new venture of ours in Spain. We both were—as she well knows. As part of the team she’d gain valuable and exciting work experience—and also the chance to see something of the world.’

Daniel looked at him, his lip curling. ‘She’d provide you with a valuable skivvy, certainly. However, I think Laine will find living and travelling with me rather more amusing than the view from some Spanish laundry room. And I guarantee that the pay and conditions will be better too.’

Angela’s laugh was metallic. ‘Quite a Cinderella story—isn’t it? Except I can’t really visualise you as Prince Charming, my dear Daniel. I hope, for her sake, that my daughter knows what she’s taking on.’

‘If not, I’m sure you’ll tell her.’ His gaze flicked her contemptuously, then he turned and looked down at Laine, his expression softening. ‘The cab’s waiting, darling, and the driver has another job later. I have to go.’ He saw the desperation in her eyes and smiled reassuringly. ‘But I’ll be over first thing in the morning to take you shopping for a ring.’

Take me with you, she begged silently. Don’t leave me here with them. Take me away now—please.