The Millionaire's Convenient Bride. Catherine George

tore her eyes away from the television when he’d gone. ‘This programme’s making me hungry.’

      ‘Then let’s see what’s on the menu for dinner,’ said Hester and went off to the giant refrigerator to find that Sam had ordered every conceivable kind of food necessary to serve a cold supper.

      ‘Can we have more of your chicken?’ said Lowri eagerly.

      ‘We certainly can. I’ll lay the dining room table.’

      ‘Can’t we eat here?’

      Hester shook her head. ‘I’m sure your father would prefer the dining room.’ At least she hoped he would, then, like Sam, she could relax with her own meal in peace.

      ‘I’ll ask him!’ Lowri shot out of the room before Hester could stop her and went running from the kitchen to make for the study.

      Hester thought about following her to apologise, then shrugged. If Connah disapproved he could tell her in private later. She collected some potatoes and had scraped several by the time Lowri came back, tongue between her teeth as she concentrated on the tray she was carrying.

      ‘Daddy said he only uses the dining room for visitors, and would you please put supper in here for the three of us.’

      So that was another question answered. ‘Thank you, Lowri. And before we eat we must have a bath and change our clothes.’ Sometimes one just had to be nanny. ‘But first I’ll finish these potatoes, then wash some salad greens and boil some eggs. I’ll show you how to devil them, if you like.’

      Lowri nodded eagerly. ‘Chloe’s mother let us help her in the kitchen and make scones and things, but Mrs Powell does Grandma’s cooking and she hates mess, so I don’t go in the kitchen much in Bryn Derwen.’

      ‘We’ll do some baking some time, if you like,’ offered Hester. ‘And if you make a mess, you clean it up. Deal?’

      ‘Deal!’ said Lowri, beaming.

      Sam had departed, with grateful thanks for his appetising meal, and Hester was decanting buttered, herb-scattered potatoes into a serving dish when Connah came into the kitchen in jeans and open-necked shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. And looked so much more like the man who’d taken her breath ten years ago that Hester’s pulse went into overdrive as the scent of warm, clean male skin stood every hormone she possessed to attention.

      ‘You look nice, Daddy,’ said Lowri, running to him.

      ‘Thank you, cariad, so do you.’ He gave her a hug, smiling at Hester over the shining dark head of his child. ‘Good evening.’ He cast an eye over the dishes on the table. ‘Tempting display.’

      Get a grip, she ordered herself fiercely. ‘Thank you. Lowri helped prepare it.’ She smiled as the child launched into the list of things she’d done for the meal, including laying the table and devilling the eggs.

      ‘You mash the yolks with butter and pepper sauce, Daddy,’ she informed him. ‘They’re yummy.’

      ‘I’m sure they are. And such a splendid feast deserves some wine,’ Connah told her. ‘Would you fetch three wineglasses from the cupboard over there? You can have lemonade in yours, and Hester and I will drink some New Zealand white.’

      She certainly knew exactly where she stood with Connah Carey Jones, thought Hester as they sat down to the meal. But thank God he had no idea that she’d ever carried a torch for him—and still did, heaven help her.

      ‘Hester said I can do some baking with her some time,’ said Lowri, as she helped herself to potatoes.

      ‘Brave Hester,’ her father said dryly.

      ‘Oh, it’s all right, Daddy,’ Lowri assured him. ‘If I make a mess, Hester said I just clear it up afterwards.’

      Connah smiled across at Hester with respect. ‘An excellent policy.’

      Lowri chattered nineteen to the dozen while they ate, but even so Hester found it hard to relax in the company of her new employer, who might still have the same effect on her hormones, but was nevertheless very different from the man she’d romanticised in her teenage dreams. However courteous and polite he might be, these days there was a remote, untouchable quality about Connah Carey Jones that only warmed when he was interacting with his daughter. As a result, Hester ate sparingly and, though she enjoyed the intense fruit flavour of the wine, refused a second glass when Connah offered it, and could see he approved.

      ‘Tomorrow I’ll make a pudding,’ she said, as she began clearing away their empty plates. ‘But tonight it’s a choice of fruit or cheese.’

      ‘I think Lowri’s full, for once in her life,’ said Connah, ‘and I’ll forgo the cheese in favour of coffee.’

      ‘Certainly. I’ll bring a tray up to you.’

      ‘Better still, I’ll wait while you make the coffee, then take it up myself,’ said Connah firmly.

      Hester thanked him and switched on the coffee-maker, glad that it was a make she was familiar with, since she had an audience for the process.

      ‘When the coffee’s ready, Lowri, we’ll leave Hester in peace for a while,’ said Connah. ‘How about a game of chess?’

      She nodded fervently. ‘Can you play chess, Hester?’

      ‘I can, but sadly I’m out of practice.’ She turned to smile at the child. ‘You can bring me up to speed on a rainy day some time.’

      ‘Incidentally, Hester,’ said Connah, ‘I like Lowri to be in bed by nine normally, but she can have an extension tonight. Put a glass of milk on the tray, then she’ll be ready for bed when you come to fetch her.’

      ‘Hester made me drink milk at teatime. Do I have to drink it again?’ complained Lowri.

      He ruffled her hair. ‘Yes, you do.’

      Hester heaved a sigh of relief when they’d gone, envying Sam his solitary dinner. It was a draining experience to spend time in Connah’s company without betraying by the flicker of an eyelash how much it affected her. She glanced at the clock, found she had almost an hour’s grace, and got to work. When the kitchen was tidy, Hester went up to her room to make repairs to her face, then sat down in the buttoned velvet armchair by the window to do absolutely nothing for a few minutes, well aware that at seventeen she would have been on cloud nine at the mere thought of living in the same house as the man of her dreams. Especially a house like this one. Neither of her previous jobs had provided her with such appealing private quarters.

      Unlike Lowri’s, which had pink flowers trailing down the wallpaper and a hammock suspended over the bed to house the soft toys she’d brought with her, Hester’s room had cinnamon walls and carpet and white curtains and bedcover, all of it brand-new, including a writing desk and a combination television and DVD player. Everything was bound to be new, of course, if the house had only just been redecorated, or restored, or whatever. Doing up a listed house of this age had to be a huge undertaking. At the mere thought of the permits required, Hester yawned widely, wishing she could just crawl into the tempting brass bed. With a sigh, she got up, tucked her white shirt into her narrow black skirt, then went downstairs to knock on the study door.

      Lowri opened it, smiling all over her face. ‘I’m beating Daddy,’ she said with triumph, pulling Hester over to the desk.

      Connah looked up from the chessboard with a wry smile. ‘You’ve snatched me from the jaws of defeat, Hester.’

      ‘You haven’t lost yet,’ Lowri comforted him. ‘We can go on with the game when you get back and maybe you’ll win in the end.’

      She obviously thought this so unlikely that Connah laughed. ‘Off to bed with you, champ. Give me a kiss.’

      Lowri threw her arms round his neck and he pulled her on to his knee to kiss her.

      ‘Goodnight, Daddy.’

      ‘Goodnight,