Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King

Kate knew words were inadequate for what they had done. ‘You saved the cottage and my life. I will always be in your debt,’ she managed huskily.

‘It is nothing, mademoiselle,’ the leader informed her. It is our job, after all.’

‘It was the middle of the night,’ Kate pointed out hoarsely. ‘Yet you came…all of you.’ She turned to include the many villagers who had turned out to help their local firemen.

‘Monsieur le Comte alerted us,’ one man explained. ‘We all rely on each other here in Villeneuve. It’s a good system, don’t you think, mademoiselle?’

‘I certainly do,’ she said, flashing a look at Guy, who showed no sign of wanting to accept any of the credit for saving her life. ‘And now that the fire is out, can I just go back inside and—?’

‘Certainly not, mademoiselle,’ the chief fireman insisted. ‘We cannot be sure yet that the cottage is safe. You really must wait until tomorrow.’

‘But if I only take a quick look around outside, surely that will be OK?’ As Guy groaned with impatience she saw how the thick black smudges only managed to enhance his incredible bone structure. Only Guy, she thought ruefully, could look like some warrior prince with what looked like camouflage paint striped across his face.

‘You’re not going back,’ he said bluntly.

Kate bristled. She wasn’t used to following orders. ‘But if the fire engine turned so that its lights—’

‘I know you’ve had a frightening experience and I know you’re upset,’ Guy told her, ‘but you’re not thinking straight. These men left their beds to come here.’

A rush of heat spread across her cheeks as Kate realised he was right. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at once. ‘It can wait.’ It couldn’t, but she knew it would have to.

With their job completed, the villagers and the firemen began to peel away, singly and in groups, until just Kate and Guy were left together on the grassy bank in front of the cottage. The only light came from the slivers of moonshine that managed to penetrate the thick canopy of trees.

‘I’m taking you home with me,’ he said, starting to lead her away.

‘Oh, no, I—’ She tried to pull back and then stopped. What was she going to do? She had nothing with her and was only wearing the top of her pyjamas under a filthy, wet robe. She could hardly bed down in the forest dressed like that.

‘Until we know the cottage is safe you cannot even start to repair…redecorate, let alone move back in. It may be quite some time before it is fit for habitation,’ Guy said as he gave her an encouraging nudge towards the path.

Kate grimaced. The shock had put everything out of her head. But this was hardly the time to tell Guy that the cottage had to be ready in under three weeks’ time because that was when her first guests arrived.

‘Come on,’ he said, urging her to keep in step with him. ‘You’re shivering. And it’s not that cold. If you’re in shock the sooner I can put you to bed the better.’

‘At the château?’

‘Of course at the château, where else?’ he said speeding up.

‘I’m being a terrible nuisance,’ Kate said, forced to jog to keep up with him.

‘No more than I remember,’ he murmured dryly as he steered her through the trees and back on to the path that led to his home.

Being treated like a dainty porcelain doll that might break if it was handled too roughly was something new for Kate. But that was exactly how Madame Duplessis, Guy’s formidable housekeeper, insisted she had to be looked after. It was she who had opened the magnificent double doors for them just before dawn that morning, already dressed in her customary uniform of crisply tailored shirt-waister dress, a garment Kate remembered she possessed in any number of sober colours. Clucking with alarm when she had seen the state Kate was in, Madame Duplessis had whisked her away from Guy, insisting she took a warm bath before installing her in one of the sumptuous guest bedrooms. Here Kate had been force-fed with a cup of hot milk, having first been clothed in a floor-length fleecy robe in a soft shade of coral and a long-sleeved cotton nightdress buttoned up to the neck.

If she hadn’t been suffering such emotional turmoil she might actually have enjoyed the pampering. Instead, she found herself sitting up in a bed made for Daddy Bear, plucking at the sheets and fretting. At least she had extracted a promise from Guy that, whatever happened, he would take her back to the cottage later that morning… The thought of that alone was enough to send her pulse-rate soaring. But first they had to give Madame Duplessis the slip. As far as that redoubtable lady was concerned, Kate would need to convalesce at Château Villeneuve for the next few months after the terrible shock she had sustained.

Just being close to Guy was therapeutic enough, but there were other consolations too, Kate mused as she gazed out through one of the tall sash windows by her bed. From her eyrie high in one of the pink-roofed fairytale towers, she had the most magnificent view over the formal gardens at the front of the château, laid out centuries earlier, in homage to Versailles.

The sound of fountains playing in the background was just audible above the steady hum of gardening implements. The team of gardeners had been hard at work since dawn, ensuring that everything was maintained in the pristine condition demanded by the intricate design. But it hadn’t always been like this, Kate remembered. When she was small, the gardens had been overgrown and disorganised like every other part of the estate. Guy’s father might have been known as the most charming aristocrat in France, but he had also been the most impractical. She could see that Guy had inherited not only the best of his father’s qualities, but some other genes that had driven him to restore his ramshackle birthplace as soon as he was able to. He had already explained how he was using ancient plans and drawings whenever possible in order to ensure authenticity and that it was a project that would take him many years to complete.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and her heart shot into overdrive as she watched it swing open. But it was only a young maid in a sky-blue and white gingham dress who had come to collect the breakfast tray. As the girl prepared to shut the door behind her with the tray balanced on one hip, she paused.

‘Monsieur le Comte sends his compliments, mademoiselle. He hopes you slept well and will see you in the gazebo at noon, if that is convenient to you.’

Kate felt her face flush pink at the prospect. ‘It is convenient,’ she confirmed, willing her voice to remain steady. ‘And thank you for the breakfast,’ she called as the girl backed out.

‘Ce n’est rien, mademoiselle.’

‘Oh, there is one thing more,’ Kate said, remembering that she had arrived in a filthy bathrobe and the top of her pyjamas. ‘I don’t suppose there are any clothes I could borrow? Just until I return home.’

The maid’s smile grew wider. ‘But mademoiselle, Monsieur le Comte has arranged everything for you. You will find all you need in the dressing room adjoining your bathroom.’

‘Of course,’ Kate said hesitantly.

‘I hope you like the clothes, mademoiselle. A courier arrived with an exquisite selection from the latest collections only minutes ago,’ the maid revealed shyly. ‘Monsieur le Comte surprised us—’ She stopped abruptly, perhaps thinking she had overstepped the mark.

‘Go on,’ Kate prompted with a smile. ‘You can’t stop now.’

‘Well, we thought them very pretty, mademoiselle…and you know men and shopping.’ She lifted her shoulders in an elegant little shrug.

‘Yes,’ Kate agreed, raising her eyebrows in amusement. ‘I know just what you mean.’

The fact that everyone was gossiping about her hardly mattered, Kate thought. She would be gone soon enough, and Guy would no doubt have some far more sophisticated companion in her place. But for now she was going to revel in her time at the château. Of course she had been to ‘the big house’ before, as Aunt Alice had quaintly referred to the colossal and utterly magnificent edifice that was Château Villeneuve. But Kate had never expected to sleep beneath its roof…or one of its many roofs, she mused, smiling as she tried to count exactly how many upside-down rose-tinted ice cream cones there were…

For her part, she had always thought of the château as Sleeping Beauty’s palace, and as a little girl had fantasised about her leading role in the drama of life there. What a shame there were no fairy tales for grown ups, she mused with a wry smile. But, even if there had been, everyone knew there was no possibility of fairy tales ever coming true. If that was the case the fire would never have happened, she would be wearing Aunt Alice’s locket around her neck and Guy would know her true intentions for La Petite Maison…

Was there a way round the problem? It had been bad enough getting his permission to live in the cottage. If he imagined for one moment that she intended turning it into a guest house… After everything he had done for her she hated herself for deceiving him. And the longer that deception was allowed to continue, the harder it would be to tell him the truth.

Shaking herself out of the doldrums, Kate slipped out of bed. Lifting the telephone, she waited a few moments for Madame Duplessis to answer. ‘Do you think it would be possible for me to make a short visit with the Comtesse de Villeneuve today? I see, Madame Duplessis. No matter,’ she said after a short pause. ‘I will wait for another time, when it is more convenient. Please tell the Countess that Kate Foster was asking about her and sends her love—’

Guy was waiting for her just inside the gazebo with his back turned. Kate was light-footed but he seemed to sense her presence and turned abruptly as she reached the top step.

‘Kate!’

The force of his smile competed with the rush of pleasure she felt just seeing him again.

‘I take it you slept well, if only for a few hours?’

‘You have the most comfortable beds in the entire world. How could I not?’

‘I hope you will not be a stranger here at Château Villeneuve now that you have returned to France,’ he said formally and with the suggestion of a bow.

‘Thank you,’ Kate returned with matching decorum. ‘And thank you for the beautiful clothes. There was really no need—’

‘Forgive me if I disagree,’ Guy insisted, walking towards her. ‘I find this season’s Chanel so much more appealing than last year’s grubby robe.’

His eyes were dark and luminous as he stared into her face and Kate felt as if her racing heart had taken a flying leap into her throat.

‘In this instance—’ she said wryly ‘—I think I can safely say you’re right.’