The French Count's Mistress

by Susan Stephens

  ‘It couldn’t have worked out better?’ Kate echoed. ‘And how do you make that out?’ she said as she loaded some tumblers on to a tray. ‘They’ll hardly blend in. How am I going to explain them to the Countess?’

  ‘Say they’re house guests,’ Megan suggested promptly. ‘Well, it’s true,’ she added as she turned to greet the three ladies, who were just coming down the stairs. Far from being alarmed by the lack of electricity, they had declared themselves enchanted by the rustic charm of the cottage. ‘Now, wait a minute,’ Megan said, stalling midway across the room. ‘Who’s that I see coming up the path?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Kate’s poise slipped as she followed Megan’s gaze. ‘I don’t believe it.’ As her heart took off at the sight of Guy striding towards the front door, she became vaguely but very thankfully aware that Megan had the good sense to usher their three female visitors out of the back door.

  A distinctive rap sounded on the door, then Guy walked into the kitchen. ‘Kate—’

  ‘Guy!’ she exclaimed rather too energetically. ‘What a surprise!’

  ‘Is it?’ he said curiously. ‘I have got the right day, haven’t I?’ And, when she looked at him blankly, he added a reminder, ‘Your house-warming party?’

  So, he had made it after all… The fact that her heart was roaring in her ears had nothing whatever to do with the fact that her first house guests were currently walking right by the window, Kate realised, as she shifted position so that he was forced to look in the opposite direction. ‘Oh, yes…yes, of course,’ she said, trying not to accept that her throat had dried just at the sight of him in his casual linen suit and crisp white shirt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, clapping her hands together in pretended recovery. ‘Of course I’m expecting you. I’m not quite ready yet, that’s all.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, oblivious to the sexual waves with which he was flooding out her kitchen. ‘Well, I’m glad I got here before everyone else because I’ve got a surprise for you. Bien, aren’t you going to ask me what it is?’

  Kate tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said with a smile that would have melted a heart of stone, but only succeeded in making Kate stand rigid in an attempt to hide her feelings. ‘It’s just the man to connect the electricity for you,’ he said, sounding pleased with himself, patently unaware of the riot he was causing to her senses. ‘I brought him with me so there could be no mistake and no more delays. I left him up at that small electrical station on the hill, where he’s sorting out the supply for you right now.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful…’ Kate said, wondering insanely if he could hear her heart jangling in her chest.

  Almost as if drawn by invisible hands, Guy moved slowly past her to stare out of the window.

  ‘Who are those people?’ he said mildly. ‘I don’t think I recognise them.’

  ‘Which people?’ Kate said, hearing her voice come out in a squeak.

  ‘Are they actors come to entertain at the party?’

  She realised she was wringing her hands in alarm—and Guy could read body language with the best of them, Kate realised, shoving them behind her back fast.

  ‘Or are they perhaps—’ it was like being held by her ankles over hot coals, Kate thought as she waited for him to finish ‘—paying guests, Kate?’ The edge in his voice wasn’t half as effective as the prolonged silence that came after the accusation.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded quietly. ‘Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?’

  There was something approaching menace in his voice and it rattled Kate’s faltering hold on composure. ‘You said you wouldn’t mind my opening an office,’ she reasoned, gulping hard.

  ‘An office, no,’ Guy agreed in the same measured tone.

  ‘So? Is this so different?’

  ‘Is what so different?’

  ‘My guest house.’

  ‘Your what?’ he spat out.

  ‘You heard me,’ Kate insisted, drawing herself up. She would not be intimidated—she would not. His arms shot out like two steel girders, keeping her imprisoned with her back against the counter.

  ‘The covenants on La Petite Maison do not permit it,’ he growled very close to her face.

  The force of his stare would have been enough to make most people fall to their knees and beg for mercy, but Kate had seen that look before. Tossing up her head, she confronted the molten steel gaze unblinking. ‘Well, I didn’t know anything about your wretched covenants when I started to plan all this and now it’s too late to do anything about it.’

  ‘You obviously haven’t read through those documents I gave you… Well, have you, Kate?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘And you might have done better to make some enquiries before you started planning your new venture,’ he said curtly. ‘But you know what really annoys me?’ he added, staring straight into her eyes, and as Kate shook her head dumbly, he went on, ‘The fact that you couldn’t be honest with me—that you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me about these plans of yours.’

  ‘Perhaps if you hadn’t kept on about those wretched covenants—’

  ‘This has nothing to do with covenants, Kate, and you know it,’ Guy snapped back at her. ‘This is about trust.’

  He kept her trapped in front of him, forcing her to draw her head back from the heat in his gaze.

  ‘Trust between two people,’ he continued, ‘requires that they are straight with each other. Don’t shake your head at me like that, as if you haven’t the slightest idea what I’m talking about…’

  ‘I don’t,’ Kate ground out miserably, wondering how long it would be before his anger was tainted by contempt.

  ‘Well, I’ll explain,’ Guy promised tersely. ‘You trusted me with your body, but when it comes to your life, you shut me out. What sort of woman does that, Kate?’

  His accusation was stunning in its ferocity and Kate’s head felt as if it was being held inside a steel vice and where there had been fire in her veins now there was only ice. ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘Non, Kate,’ Guy corrected her bitterly. ‘I’m the one who doesn’t understand. Did you really think I was such a monster?’

  ‘So, how do you feel about my plans?’ she challenged.

  ‘Furious now,’ he admitted frankly. ‘I’m not going to let it happen.’

  ‘But it is happening,’ Kate pointed out, wishing she could sound a bit more sure of that.

  With a gust of impatience, Guy wheeled away from her. He took a couple of strides across the room, where he drew to a halt with his back to her and swiped one tense hand across the back of his neck. ‘This isn’t a game, Kate. You aren’t a little girl now. You can’t just arrive in Villeneuve after all these years and turn everything here upside down.’

  The passion in his voice frightened her. ‘And is that what I’m doing?’ Kate demanded softly.

  ‘You know you are,’ Guy murmured without turning around.

  She longed to go to him, to say how sorry she was and ask if they could begin all over again. But the deep-rooted reserve she had always felt, being lower on the social scale than the Count de Villeneuve, held her back. He turned very slowly and stood in silence looking at her, his face a mask that told her nothing.

  ‘There’s no time to discuss this now,’ he said decisively. ‘You have guests waiting outside and more are due to arrive at any moment.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kate agreed, holding her breath to see what he would say next.

  ‘Just remember, Kate. These estates and the people who depend upon them don’t exist for my pleasure. I serve the Villeneuve estate and everyone connected with it. It’s up to me to ensure that the environment in which we all live—’

  ‘Is sterile?’ she cut in.

  He looked hurt by the remark. ‘I cannot allow you to run a guest house here,’ he said flatly.

  ‘And I cannot allow you to tell me what to do,’ Kate retorted, returning to the fray.

  ‘Perhaps if you had read those d
amned documents you would understand—’

  ‘Understand what?’ she said, shaking her head with frustration.

  ‘There’s no time,’ Guy said tensely. ‘The future of the Villeneuve estate may mean nothing to you, Kate. But it’s my life.’

  ‘And a pretty boring one with no characters in it,’ she pointed out stubbornly.

  ‘There are more than enough characters in the village without you importing any more,’ Guy informed her as he flared a glance out of the window. ‘Those covenants stand, and if you can’t, or won’t, live by them—’

  ‘What? Get out?’ Kate suggested angrily. She watched his jaw clench as he bit back the words that were clearly clamouring in his head. Guy wasn’t used to being countermanded. She could see his iron will flexing from every angle in the mirrors over the counter; his eyes were narrowed, his mouth a firm line, jaw tight and the magnificent spread of his shoulders were raised in a tense pose as he braced his hands against the side to watch Megan showing the others round the garden.

  ‘No, not that,’ he murmured to himself. ‘That would be far too easy for you.’

  What did he really see? Kate wondered as she followed his gaze. Could Guy see La Petite Maison already working its magic on those six people outside, as she could? Did he hear their laughter, see the animation in their faces, the glow of anticipation in their eyes? How would he feel when he knew his own mother…?

  He pulled away from the counter at last and stared down at her.

  ‘I can’t stop this now,’ Kate said tensely. ‘I know you’re angry with me, but—’

  ‘I’m more disappointed than angry,’ he said honestly, ‘that you didn’t see fit to share your plans with me.’

  His anger wouldn’t have hurt so much, Kate realised. But what she had told him was true—she couldn’t turn back now. There were too many hopes invested in La Petite Maison. She only had to think of what Megan had given up. ‘If you force me to, I’ll fight you every inch of the way.’

  ‘Of that I have no doubt,’ he murmured.

  For a few moments nothing seemed to exist beyond the drama being played out between them. Kate felt exhausted by it before she started.

  ‘You’d better get ready,’ Guy said, reading her mood. ‘Everyone will be here soon.’

  ‘So you won’t…?’ Her voice tailed away as she looked up at him.

  ‘I won’t spoil your party,’ he confirmed. A shadow briefly crossed his face, as if he was fighting an internal battle—almost as if part of him wanted her to succeed. ‘I can see how much effort you’ve put into this,’ he said as his glance took in the beautifully presented dishes of food covering every available surface. ‘We’ll talk about La Petite Maison some other time—soon,’ he added, as if to prove to her that the problem wouldn’t just go away.

  ‘Thank you,’ Kate said simply. ‘Will you stay?’

  ‘Stay?’

  ‘Yes, for the party. Why not?’

  ‘If I do,’ Guy reasoned aloud, ‘it will appear to everyone that I am endorsing your decision to open a guest house on the estate.’

  ‘And if you don’t,’ Kate argued, ‘the villagers will wonder why you do not wish to share this happy occasion with them.’

  ‘Oh, Kate…you’ve no idea, have you?’ He pressed his firm lips together as he looked at her and she saw the familiar mix of indulgence and frustration in his keen grey eyes. ‘I’d be no use to you here, anyway,’ he said, as if trying to convince himself.

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ he said dryly. ‘Force of habit.’

  A small answering smile touched her lips as she saw the suspicion of a smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Allez,’ he said softly, in a voice that made her ready to walk over hot coals for him if he asked. ‘Go and get ready for your guests.’

  ‘You’ll still be here when I get back?’

  His jaw worked and he said nothing, only his sweeping brows rose minutely, as if he was pleased she had asked the question.

  As she walked away from him, Kate felt the intensity of his stare following her every move—scorching a trail between her shoulder blades. She had no idea whether he would still be there when she had freshened up, but there was no doubt in her mind at all that this business between them was going to run and run.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THERE was no time to dwell on Guy’s disapproval. The moment Kate returned downstairs she was thrown into the thick of things. While she had been getting ready the whole village seemed to have descended on the cottage. She felt a stab of disappointment when she saw the kitchen was deserted, with no sign of Guy. But hearing a steady rumble of conversation outside, punctuated by laughter and shouts of recognition, she knew she had to get over it. She had shed her working outfit in favour of a simple linen dress in a soft shade of lavender and, having brushed out her long hair in frantic haste, she’d chosen the fastest option, leaving it loose to billow around her shoulders in a bright golden haze.

  The strong afternoon sunlight was already mellowing into a rich apricot glow as she hurried to remove some warm apple brioche out of the warming oven. After dusting the sweet bread with icing sugar, she slipped it on to a large oval dish and placed it on to a tray, ready to go outside. Hovering for a moment by the window, Kate couldn’t help smiling to see Monsieur Dupont, missing only his badge of office—his crisp white jacket—holding court with the new arrivals clustered around him… Then she spotted Giles’s wife, Elise, chatting with Megan, and Madame Duplessis actually flushing with pleasure as she held the attention of the brawny young village blacksmith. And someone had thought to bring an accordion, and was playing so well that a few people had already started dancing on the stone-flagged patio.

  The party was a success, she realised happily. And best of all, she decided as her gaze rested upon a tiny, but elegant figure, Guy’s mother was moving around the garden, offering titbits to the villagers and basking in their obvious delight at seeing her again—the men whipping off their hats and the women’s eyes full of pleasure to see this evidence of her recovery. Food was a great icebreaker, Kate mused, as she lifted out a large plastic container of her own cardamom ice-cream from one of the cooler bags Madame Duplessis had thought to bring over from the château. Putting the ice cream and a scoop next to the brioche, she opened the door, picked up the tray and hurried outside.

  ‘Félicitations!’

  ‘Guy! I thought you’d gone.’ Kate tensed as she gazed up, then relaxed into bemused speculation as she weighed up his outfit. His strong tanned arms shaded with dark hair and ornamented by nothing more than a slim gold watch on a black leather strap were now adorned with a tea towel! ‘What on earth are you doing with that?’ she said, noticing a second one he’d tied around his waist to cover his linen trousers. After all that had happened, his narrow-eyed look of wry indulgence was all the more surprising.

  ‘Someone had to take charge of the barbecue,’ he said dryly. ‘You surely didn’t think I’d leave it to Megan…?’

  ‘Why not? She’s perfectly capable.’ Kate’s heart jumped when she saw a humorous twist tug at his lips.

  ‘When she’s not distracted, I’d agree with you,’ Guy agreed evenly. ‘But right now…’

  He shrugged and as Kate followed his gaze she saw Guy’s chauffeur busily plying Megan with morsels of cake from his plate.

  ‘I’ve heard of angel cake, but never Cupid’s,’ Guy murmured as he removed the tray from her hands.

  When the villagers saw their Count bearing down on them with yet more delectable food a space was quickly cleared on the table for him and a queue formed for the pudding. Elise hurried over to take care of the serving, and then Guy found that his place at the barbecue had also been supplanted, this time by Monsieur Dupont. Just behind the barbecue an old feed trough had been packed with ice and filled with bottles of wine. Tossing his temporary apron aside, Guy filled up two glasses and returned to Kate’s side.

  ‘Buves ceci,’ h
e said, pressing the glass into her hand. ‘You look like you could use it.’

  As compliments went, she’d heard better, but at least he was true to his word. Not only was he behaving as if no dispute existed between them, but he’d stayed on to help and had entered into the spirit of the party… So calm down, Kate told herself. ‘Thank you, it’s delicious,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes safely fixed on the pale golden liquid.

  ‘What can you smell?’ Guy demanded, jolting her attention back to his face when she had been so resolved not to succumb.

  ‘It’s your wine?’

  ‘Naturellement,’ he said expansively. ‘Now, concentrate and tell me what aromas you can detect.’

  ‘Concentrate?’ Was he joking?

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Guy said, putting his own glass down. Coming to stand behind her, he put his hand over hers and held the glass up so that it was well out in front of her. ‘Belle robe!’ he exclaimed softly.

  ‘You like my dress?’ Kate queried uncertainly, intensely conscious of the pulse that seemed to be throbbing through her hand, a pulse she was sure he must feel too.

  ‘In this context,’ he murmured, ‘I am remarking on the beautiful colour of the wine.’

  ‘I see,’ Kate said, attempting studious attention when she was sure the quality of her voice was enough to give her away.

  ‘Now we swirl and sniff.’

  ‘We do?’

  After a quick rotation of the glass, Guy reached under her long hair with his other hand to find the sensitive area at the back of her neck, his thumb controlling, his fingers splaying to nurse her scalp. ‘Breathe in through your nose,’ he commanded softly, encouraging her forward, ‘and then tell me what you have discovered.’

  Nothing she could safely tell him about, Kate thought ruefully as she obeyed him.