The Unwilling Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘It sounds wonderful,’ he told May warmly.

  ‘Just like your old granny used to make?’ March put in tauntingly.

  ‘March!’ May winced laughingly.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Will answered March dryly. ‘My grandmother is a first-class cook!’ he added challengingly, rewarded with the satisfaction of seeing that superior smile wiped off March’s beautiful face!

  ‘So was ours, and she taught us all to cook,’ May assured him smilingly, lightly touching the sleeve of his coat in apology for March’s outspokenness.

  Strange that it was their grandmother who had taught the three sisters to cook, and not their mother…?

  ‘There you are, March; something we have in common!’ He grinned across at her.

  ‘It’s probably the only thing,’ she muttered in reply.

  Causing Will’s grin to widen appreciatively. This woman really did have an answer for everything!

  ‘Any chance of a home-made apple pie to go with the stew and dumplings?’ he prompted hopefully. ‘My grandmother makes the most mouth-watering pastry too,’ he added dryly.

  ‘Would you like us to get out the best silver and white table linen too?’ March came back impatiently.

  He raised mocking blond brows. ‘Not unless it’s what you normally do, no.’

  ‘Hardly,’ she scorned.

  ‘It was only a suggestion about the pie.’ He shrugged, laughter gleaming in his eyes at March’s obvious disgust with the whole conversation. ‘Obviously if you can’t make mouth-watering pastry—’

  ‘Oh, but she can,’ May put in, laughter lurking in her own eyes now as she listened to the exchange with obvious enjoyment. ‘The art of making good pastry is having cold hands, I’m told,’ she added mischievously.

  ‘“Cold hands warm heart”?’ Will returned teasingly.

  ‘Let’s leave my heart out of it,’ March put in disgustedly.

  Hmm, perhaps they had better, Will agreed with an inward frown. It was one thing to have a little fun at March Calendar’s expense—as she had done earlier with him!—quite another for him to actually become involved with any of the Calendar sisters.

  From all accounts, with Max’s recent—surprising!—engagement to January Calendar, his friend had already fallen into that particular trap; he didn’t think Jude would appreciate having Will do it too!

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I CAN’T believe I’m actually doing this,’ March muttered as she rolled out the pastry for the apple pie.

  May chuckled behind her as she laid the kitchen table for their evening meal.

  ‘Will Davenport had better eat this after I’ve gone to all this trouble!’ March added disgruntledly.

  ‘Why did you send him here if you don’t like him?’ May sounded puzzled. ‘Although, personally, I have to say I found him extremely charming.’

  March continued to make the pie. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Will Davenport—she did, too much if the truth were told—but there was just something about him… Maybe she was imagining it, but she just had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling them.

  Which was pretty stupid, when she actually thought about it; considering they really knew very little about Will Davenport, not even the reason he was in the area on business, there was a lot they didn’t know about him!

  ‘I hope the studio is warmer now,’ May added worriedly, glancing out the kitchen window across to the garage/studio.

  Will had arrived back at the farm over an hour ago, the lights on above the garage to show his occupancy, although they had seen nothing of the man himself.

  Although that was soon going to change, March realized after a brief glance at the clock; in just over half an hour, Will was going to arrive for dinner.

  ‘Did he say anything to you about why he’s in the area?’ March prompted her sister casually as she cleared away her mess.

  ‘Just looking around,’ May answered distractedly, obviously still worried about the heating in the studio.

  ‘At what?’ March turned to her sister frowningly.

  May shrugged. ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask?’ March sighed frustratedly. ‘I would have done.’

  ‘I know you would have done.’ Her sister gave a frustrated shake of her head. ‘You didn’t answer my question about why you don’t like him?’ she reminded shrewdly.

  ‘I don’t have to like the man in order to rent the studio to him,’ March snapped, totally avoiding meeting her sister’s probing gaze.

  ‘Mercenary.’ May laughed softly.

  Not at all. But if she was going to manage to keep the farm at all then the studio would have to be let as much as possible to help pay the way. Which meant she couldn’t be too choosy about whom she let it to!

  Until quite recently the three sisters had been unanimous in their determination to keep the farm. But all that had changed in the last few weeks. January had just become engaged to Max, and it was pretty obvious that they weren’t going to wait too long before getting married. And May, whose hobby was acting in the local amateur dramatic society, had recently been spotted by a film director who was interested in casting her in the film he was to make in the summer. Which left only March…

  Maybe it didn’t make much sense, or maybe she was just being her normal stubborn self, but March didn’t want to sell the farm to this elusive Jude Marshall just so that he could include it in the neighbouring estate, which he had recently purchased, to make into an extensive health and country club! From the little she had been able to find out, the farm was to become part of the golf club he intended building on the complex. A golf club, for goodness’ sake—when her family had lived and worked on this farm for generations.

  March turned from putting the pie in the oven, frowning slightly. ‘Talking about money—’

  ‘When aren’t we?’ May put in disgustedly.

  March smiled in sympathy. ‘For once I wasn’t referring to our own lack of it.’ She grimaced. ‘There’s something going on at the agency that just doesn’t make sense to me. Well, it does. But—’ She broke off as a brief knock sounded on the kitchen door, rapidly followed by Will Davenport’s expected appearance. ‘Never mind,’ March told her sister dismissively. ‘I’ll talk to you about it some other time.’

  ‘Am I too early?’ Will hesitated in the doorway at March’s glare.

  ‘Of course not,’ May was the one to answer him welcomingly—cutting off March’s more blunt reply!—quickly pulling Will inside and shutting the door to keep out the cold.

  Something March was grateful for, knowing herself overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of uncharacteristic shyness.

  She hadn’t really thought that Will Davenport would actually want to rent the studio, had been, as he’d said earlier, just paying him back a little for his ungentlemanly behaviour of this morning. But now that he had decided to rent the studio, after all, she realized just how attracted she was to him.

  Which was pretty stupid of her, in the circumstances; Will was only going to be around for a couple of weeks, would then leave to return to heaven knew where. Could even be—that dinner invitation apart!—returning to his wife and children, for all she knew!

  But just looking at him beneath lowered lashes was enough to make her heart skip a beat. He was so tall his head almost brushed the beamed ceiling, that silver-blond hair falling endearingly across his forehead, blue eyes gleaming with good humour, lithely attractive in a thick blue sweater and faded blue denims.

  Who was Will Davenport? More to the point, what was he doing in the area? Until she at least had the answer to those questions, perhaps she had better err on the side of caution—

  Better err on the side of caution! What was wrong with her? Didn’t she have enough on her plate, trying to find ways in which she could keep the farm, without adding the complication of being attracted to Will Davenport?

  ‘Is that an apple pie I smell cooking?’ He sniffed the air appreciatively, blue eyes gleaming
with laughter as he looked across at March challengingly.

  Her mouth twisted derisively. ‘Somehow I doubt it,’ she drawled. ‘There is no smell of cooking from an Aga,’ she added as she took pity on his look of disappointment.

  ‘Your sister does love her little joke, doesn’t she?’ He grimaced at May.

  ‘More like a twisted sense of humour,’ May murmured affectionately, taking his jacket and hanging it behind the door. ‘I hope eating in the kitchen is okay with you,’ she added frowningly.

  ‘It happens to be the warmest room in the house,’ March put in bluntly; they always ate in the kitchen, so why apologize for it?

  ‘This is great,’ Will enthused. ‘Once I’m settled in you must let me return the compliment and give the two of you dinner.’

  That was an interesting concept—considering the studio was really only a bathroom, and one other large room that had to serve as kitchen, dining-room and bedroom. Very cosy!

  ‘At a restaurant,’ Will told March dryly as he was obviously able to read her thoughts.

  That was the problem with having a mirror-face—she was completely unable to hide her feelings. But with any luck Will hadn’t been looking at her earlier when she’d inwardly acknowledged just how attractive he was. Although she wouldn’t count on it!

  ‘Have a glass of wine,’ she bit out abruptly, at the same time placing the glass down on the table ready for him to sit down. Maybe if he sat down the kitchen would no longer feel so cramped.

  ‘Thanks.’ He moved with fluid grace as he lowered his long length onto one of the kitchen chairs. ‘So which one of you is the artist?’ he prompted interestedly.

  March’s hand trembled so much she almost dropped her own glass of wine, looking across at him with widely dilated eyes, the sudden silence in the kitchen seeming oppressive.

  Uh oh, looked as if he had put his foot in it again, Will realized with an inward grimace.

  Unfortunately, there were so many things he couldn’t discuss with the two Calendar sisters that he had decided to opt for what he’d thought was a neutral subject—only to realize by the tense silence that followed his casual enquiry that he had unwittingly walked into what looked like a minefield.

  ‘Or perhaps I’m mistaken in thinking it was ever an artist’s studio,’ he continued evenly, knowing he wasn’t mistaken at all.

  His look around the studio at lunchtime had only been cursory, enough to tell him that it would be more than comfortable enough for the couple of weeks he intended staying in the area. A more leisurely mooch around on his return this evening had shown him the huge windows along one wall to allow in the maximum amount of light, pulling down the ladder to go up into the attic, that brief glance enough for him to have seen a paint-daubed easel and the stack of paintings against one wall.

  He hadn’t actually intruded any further than that brief look—and from the look of consternation now on May’s face, the openly accusing one on March’s, he was glad that he hadn’t!

  ‘I was,’ March snapped coldly, her beautiful eyes now the grey-green of a wintry storm-tossed sea.

  ‘Was?’ Will echoed softly—dangerously? March certainly didn’t look as if she cared to discuss the subject any further!

  ‘She still is,’ May briskly broke the awkwardness of the moment.

  ‘No-I-am-not,’ March bit out forcefully.

  Ouch. He really had put his foot in it this time, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with. Well educated, known and respected in his own field, he was accustomed to talking comfortably and confidently on any subject that came along. But not, apparently, when it came to the Calendar sisters!

  He took a sip of his wine, giving March the time she needed to get past whatever the problem was, at the same time aware of the effort it took her to release the sudden tension she had been under. But why? So she painted in her spare time—what was the big deal?

  ‘More wine, Will?’ May offered, holding up the bottle invitingly.

  ‘Thanks,’ he accepted gratefully.

  ‘The apple pie, March,’ May prompted quietly.

  Will waited until the younger Calendar sister had turned to the Aga before looking up at May with raised brows. She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, enough to confirm that the subject of those paintings in the attic was not one he should pursue.

  Not that he had intended doing so, anyway; March was prickly enough already, without adding to the problem.

  Although his own curiosity about those paintings had certainly been piqued. What was wrong with them? Were they so amateurish that March simply didn’t choose to discuss them?

  Would he be violating his role as a temporary lodger if he were to go back up into the attic and take a look at them?

  Probably, he acknowledged with an inner grimace. But he knew he wanted to take a look at them, anyway.

  ‘You rented the studio, Mr Davenport,’ March snapped as she seemed to read some of his thoughts now. ‘At no time were you told that rental included the right to snoop around in the attic above.’

  ‘March!’ May muttered in obvious embarrassment at her sister’s rudeness.

  ‘It’s all right, May,’ Will assured her smoothly before turning back to March. ‘I wasn’t aware of that, March, but now that I am…’ He shrugged, reluctant to actually state that he wouldn’t intrude on the attic again, his curiosity well and truly roused now.

  ‘Let’s eat, hmm.’ May seemed more than a little flustered by this sudden awkwardness.

  As well she might be. Will had thought March Calendar completely uncomplicated, her emotions totally readable—even that brief moment of complete awareness of him she had felt when he’d arrived earlier!—but now he saw there was much more to her than that. Intriguing…

  Was this the way it had been for Max? Had he also arrived here and taken the Calendar sisters at face value: beautiful, friendly, uncomplicated—only to find that they were all so much more than that? January Calendar certainly must be to have captivated Max, to Will’s knowledge a confirmed bachelor, into falling in love with her.

  Although the fact that Max was now engaged to marry the younger Calendar sister seemed to imply he was more than happy with the arrangement!

  Will’s smile faded somewhat as he realized he still had to find a way of breaking that little piece of news to Jude…

  Although his good humour was somewhat restored by the aroma, and then the taste, of the promised stew and dumplings.

  ‘Just like Granny makes?’ March teased after his first mouth-watering taste, obviously not a woman who continued to bear a grudge, this morning’s debacle over the parking space excepted.

  ‘Better,’ he assured warmly. ‘Although don’t ever tell her I said that, will you?’ He grimaced.

  She gave him a derisive glance. ‘Somehow, I very much doubt the opportunity will ever arise!’

  No, of course it wouldn’t. Will had no idea what had even prompted him to say that.

  March laughed at his confused expression, her earlier tension well and truly forgotten as she looked at him mockingly. ‘Don’t look so worried, Will; personally, I’ve always thought that old adage “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” was a load of rubbish! If a man’s only interested in what you can cook him for his dinner then forget it!’

  He couldn’t help chuckling at her disgusted expression. ‘Maybe he’ll be able to cook for you instead?’

  ‘Now that sounds promising!’ March said dryly.

  ‘Do you cook, Will?’ May put in mischievously.

  Not quite the innocent peacemaker he had assumed after all, Will acknowledged with a rueful smile in May’s direction.

  ‘Tell me,’ he murmured consideringly, ‘are all the men in the area blind, deaf, and stupid? I can’t believe you weren’t all married years ago,’ he explained at May’s questioning look, a glance at the left hand of both women having shown them to both be unadorned by rings, and January Calendar had only recently—very recently!—become eng
aged to Max.

  March grimaced at the comment. ‘Maybe we’re the ones who aren’t interested,’ she challenged.

  And maybe three Calendar sisters were two too many? Although Max didn’t seem to have had too much trouble getting past that particular problem!

  ‘Good point,’ Will dismissed, realizing the conversation was becoming altogether too personal.

  He had wondered earlier whether accepting this dinner invitation was a good idea, knowing it would be better for all of them if he maintained a certain distance from the Calendar sisters. But March’s obvious reluctance for him to accept the invitation had been enough to prompt him into doing exactly that!

  What else might he feel goaded into doing before his time came to leave…?

  ‘So if January is the singer in the family—’ that little fact had been confirmed for him at the hotel earlier, and he’d even been able to view one of the publicity photographs of January used by the hotel; January Calendar was as beautiful as her two sisters ‘—and March works in the estate agent’s, that must mean that you’re the full-time farmer?’ he prompted May curiously.

  Farming seemed a very strange choice of career for any of these beautiful women, but Will knew for a fact, from the Calendar sisters themselves, but also from Jude, that they absolutely refused to sell the farm. At least, March did…

  ‘Not exactly,’ May laughed dismissively. ‘You see—’

  ‘May is an actress,’ March put in with a proud smile in her sister’s direction. ‘She’s been offered a part in a film—’

  ‘Not yet, I haven’t.’ May looked embarrassed. ‘Besides, March, I told you I haven’t made my mind up yet about even going for the screen test.’ She frowned at her sister reprovingly.

  Will had a feeling that was something May had probably done a lot of over the years where the outspoken March was concerned!

  ‘An actress?’ he prompted interestedly. January was a singer, March was probably—no matter what she might claim to the contrary!—a good artist, and now it seemed that May acted; he couldn’t help wondering how three young women obviously brought up on a farm could be so artistically gifted in such different ways.