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

‘No. I cleared everything out. Past the sell-by date.’ She held her arms open in a gesture of helpless regret. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go to the pharmacie in the village.’

He still looked unconvinced. ‘I’ll take you.’

‘No. Don’t be silly, I—’ But he wouldn’t let go of her wrist, and they were already halfway across the yard before she realised what was happening. Lifting her up, he swung her on to his horse’s back, and moments later, he was seated behind her with his free arm banded around her waist.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy,’ he promised, nudging the horse into a gentle walk.

The fact that she hadn’t ridden since childhood was nothing to fear in comparison to the touch of Guy’s warm arm about her. And it was no good trying to keep a safe distance from him when he only yanked her back again.

‘Relax,’ he murmured so close to her ear that she shivered involuntarily. ‘You’re making him nervous.’

The horse’s sensibilities were the last thing on Kate’s mind, but the relaxed clip-clop was certainly going some way to soothing her shattered nerves. Soon she was swaying easily in time to the rhythm of the stallion’s hooves and the earlier rigidity gave way to what she managed to convince herself was a far more natural posture—resting close up to Guy.

‘Where are we going?’ As she turned to ask the question her cheek encountered the rugged planes of his beard-roughened face. It felt good. Scratchy, but good. And the heat that collected instantly in her cheeks moved quickly on to more erogenous zones so that she savoured the effect of Guy’s muscle-corded forearm against her sensitive nipples and even relished the movement of the horse as he held her firmly in place on the saddle.

‘Does it hurt?’

His murmured question trespassed on these sensual indulgences so that she felt vulnerable and guilty, as if she was a child again and he had caught her out doing something naughty. ‘It’s not too bad now,’ she said huskily. ‘Why?’

‘I heard you sigh. I just wondered—’

He let the sentence hang as he waited for her explanation. ‘Where are we going, Guy?’ she said, forcing some focus back into her voice.

‘Château…pharmacie,’ he said casually. ‘Your choice.’

‘Pharmacie,’ Kate said quickly.

‘As you wish,’ he agreed evenly, turning the horse on to a right-hand fork in the road.

‘At least there Monsieur Dupont, the pharmacien can take a look at it,’ Kate pointed out, trying to excuse her reluctance to place herself on Guy’s territory—under his control. She shook her head in an effort to banish all wayward thoughts concerning Guy once and for all.

He made a sound of agreement low down in his chest and tightened his arm a fraction. ‘Are you ready to go faster?’

Any faster than this and she would not be held responsible for the consequences, Kate thought.

Taking her silence for assent, Guy shortened the reins and took the wilful stallion in a firmer grip between his thighs. With barely an aid, as far as Kate could detect, he brought the horse from a brisk walk to a steady canter, holding her all the while, easily, but firmly, so that she never felt in danger once—from falling off, at least.

The Count de Villeneuve’s status in the village was never clearer than when he put in a personal appearance, Kate realised as people turned to wave and call out greetings. But rather than the type of sycophantic attention she might have expected a member of the aristocracy to attract, he was accorded the most genuine warmth and respect. On top of this she soon realised that he possessed an encyclopaedic knowledge of village life. There didn’t appear to be one family with which he was not acquainted, one difficulty of which he was not aware, or one successful enterprise in which he did not have at least a passing interest.

‘How do you know so much about so many people?’ Kate asked after one particularly dynamic encounter that had involved arranging a match between a neighbouring village and the Villeneuve pétanque team.

His faintly bemused eyes clashed with hers. ‘I make it my business to know,’ he explained. ‘This isn’t a hobby for me, Kate. This village…these people are my life.’

How she envied them.

Like most of the shops in the village, the same family had run the pharmacie for generations. Monsieur Dupont, le pharmacien, a short wiry man with a mischievous smile hidden behind his pebble glasses, was all bristling moustache and plastered down hair. When he saw his latest customers he made a little jump in order to attract their attention over the phalanx of waiting customers who took up several rows in front of the mahogany framed glass-topped counter where he was holding court. Silence fell like a blanket as everyone turned to stare.

‘Monsieur le Comte,’ the pharmacist exclaimed. ‘Quel honneur! What can I do for you?’

‘See to everyone else first,’ Guy insisted. ‘I think the emergency has passed.’ He looked at Kate for confirmation.

‘I’m fine, honestly,’ she insisted in a self-conscious whisper. ‘I could probably pick up some antiseptic and a bandage at the supermarché.

‘Supermarché!’ Monsieur Dupont exclaimed, throwing up his hands in horror. ‘The very idea! Clear the way, everyone!’ he insisted, conducting his crowd of customers with the finesse of a maestro. ‘Let the young lady come forward.’

‘No, really, there’s no need for this,’ Kate protested as Guy led her to the front of the counter.

‘Humour him,’ Guy whispered, unaware that his warm breath was all it took to raise the fine hairs on the back of her neck. ‘He’s only trying to help.’

Conscious that now she was the centre of attention, Kate put a brave face on it and walked up to the counter.

‘Now then, let me see, mademoiselle,’ Monsieur Dupont said as he paid her the ultimate compliment of leaving his post to come around the counter into the main body of the shop.

Before she could stop him, Guy had taken hold of her arm and was holding out her hand for the dapper older man to examine. The rest of the customers formed an arc around them as they waited in breathless anticipation for Monsieur Dupont’s diagnosis.

‘Nasty,’ he began as he peered myopically at Kate’s hand. ‘Slight abrasion.’ He turned her hand carefully in front of him, pulling his spectacles down on to the very end of his nose to take a closer look. ‘Bruising…painful no doubt…but fortunately no deep wound,’ he proclaimed to sighs all round. ‘Not a horse-riding accident, I hope, mademoiselle?’ he teased, winking at Guy and then glancing at the stallion tethered to the rail outside his shop. Every head in the place turned to follow his gaze and one by one some of the older women broke into delighted laughter embroidered by a round of eloquent nudges.

‘Not a horse-riding accident,’ Kate confirmed, feeling her face flush as she realised what people must be thinking.

‘Hold her steady while I bathe the wound, if you please, Monsieur le Comte,’ the pharmacist instructed Guy. ‘This may sting a little, mademoiselle,’ he confided in Kate. ‘And I wouldn’t like her to pull away,’ he added in a dramatic stage whisper.

‘Don’t worry, monsieur,’ Guy assured the jaunty pharmacist. ‘I won’t let her get away.’

Kate’s heart started beating to its own crazy rhythm. And it was a rhythm that had nothing to do with stinging wounds or the unselfconscious scrutiny of anyone in the shop.

Monsieur Dupont was determined to draw out the drama to its fullest extent and was brandishing a length of bandage that could have easily bound her up like an Egyptian mummy from top to toe. ‘Now you may release her,’ he informed Guy. ‘The unpleasant part is over—’

This time he was wrong, Kate thought as Guy let her go. As far as she was concerned, the pleasant part was over. She was conscious of Guy watching her, leaning back casually against the wall with his arms loosely folded and one tightly clad leg crossed nonchalantly over the other.

‘There!’ Monsieur Dupont declared with a flourish. ‘A neat job, if I say so myself.’

‘A very neat job,’ Guy confirmed as he eased himself away from the wall. ‘What do I owe you, Monsieur Dupont?’

‘Owe me!’

Kate felt sure that all the women in the shop tensed and leaned forward a little to catch him, so great was Monsieur Dupont’s affront.

‘I want nothing from you, monsieur, except your assurances that you will escort this young lady home. She’s had quite a shock today.’

Understatement of the year! Kate thought wryly as Guy accepted the gesture with his customary charm.

‘I’m sure there must be something I can do in return for you,’ he insisted.

‘Monsieur le Comte,’ Monsieur Dupont exclaimed bashfully with a very low bow indeed, ‘I assure you, there is no need whatever—’

‘I have a better idea,’ Kate broke in impulsively. ‘In about three weeks’ time I intend to have a housewarming—’ Well, that was one way of describing the opening of her guest house and the safest option whilst Guy was around. ‘I’d like to invite you…all—’ She caught sight of Guy’s face and stopped.

‘I hope that includes me,’ he said.