His Untamed Innocent. Sara Craven

off any potential awkwardness. Maybe even to find it amusing.

      Only he couldn’t be more wrong, she thought, swallowing down the bubble of hysteria threatening to rise in her throat. Yet she was reluctant to let him suspect her total innocence in case it amused him, although being laughed at might be the least of her worries.

      ‘But in the past, it’s always been my choice.’ She made herself speak steadily. ‘That—might not be the case this time.’

      ‘So, what’s the matter, darling?’ he asked, the blue eyes narrowing as he reached for his coffee. ‘Scared I may not be able to spend two nights in your company without being overcome by lust?’

      He shook his head. ‘You really don’t have to worry. I never make a serious move on a woman unless I receive a very definite invitation first. And I can’t imagine anything of that kind coming my way from you. Right?’

      Her face was burning. ‘Absolutely right.’

      ‘Said with true feeling,’ he murmured. ‘However, if it’s any reassurance, in the past when I stayed at Queens Barton with a lady, admittedly in pre-Diana days, we were always given adjoining rooms. Mrs Martin, the housekeeper, is the old-fashioned kind.’

      He paused. ‘Naturally, I never bothered at the time to check if the communicating door locked, but I’m sure there’ll be a chair you can wedge under the handle if you’re worried I might sleepwalk.

      ‘In fact,’ he added, musing. ‘I might even take the same precaution myself, in case your dreams send you wandering in the small hours.’

      ‘They don’t,’ Marin said curtly. ‘And I won’t.’ She picked up her own coffee. Drank. Braced herself. ‘But there’s also the question of “window dressing,” as you call it,’ she added, her blush deepening. ‘I—I’d want that kept to a minimum.’

      ‘Agreed,’ he said promptly. ‘Even a peck on the cheek, arranged in advance and signed for in triplicate.’

      She sent him a bitter look. ‘It really is just a game to you, isn’t it?’

      ‘No,’ he said with sudden harshness. ‘It bloody well isn’t. I am deadly serious about keeping Graham and Torchbearer on side, even if it means negotiating my way through a fairly tricky forty-eight hours, and the rest.’

      His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘And the great advantage of having you beside me, instead of some more accommodating companion, Miss Wade, is that, as I told you before, you’re a total unknown.

      ‘You said just now that you hadn’t fooled Diana. Yet why else did she come flying over to accuse you of gate-crashing? Because you were a complete stranger, and it threw her. So she tried to find out who you were and what you were. And she’s still no wiser, so you need to be prepared to answer some questions at your next encounter.’

      ‘And what,’ she said, ‘am I supposed to tell her?’

      He shrugged. ‘As much or as little as you wish—apart from the fact that you’re only with me because you’re being paid.’ He added thoughtfully, ‘Tonight’s air of shy mystery went down pretty well with most people.’

      ‘Perhaps because it was perfectly genuine,’ Marin said huskily. ‘I am shy, and the real mystery was, what the hell was I doing getting mixed up with someone like you?’ She shook her head. ‘I think that things would have been a great deal easier if you’d just—married her as she wanted.’

      ‘Not easier in any way that appeals to me,’ he said drily. ‘Besides, Miss Wade, I’m not the marrying kind. Has Lynne never mentioned that?’

      She said too quickly, ‘She doesn’t talk about you.’

      ‘What a paragon.’ His tone was ironic. ‘I must raise her salary.’ He finished the rest of his brandy. ‘So, what about it, sweetheart? What’s your final answer? I’m offering honest pay for a couple of days of dishonest work, and you can’t pretend you don’t need the money.’

      It galled her to acknowledge inwardly that he was right. ‘I’m going to have you fired, you treacherous little slut,’ had been Adela Mason’s parting threat; if she succeeded, Marin would be in real trouble. The Ingram Organisation was built on trust; it had to be, when its staff spent so much time travelling with clients or staying in their homes. If Wendy Ingram believed she’d betrayed that trust so deeply and fundamentally, then Marin would be out in the cold with heaven only knew what kind of a reference.

      And the search for another job could be long and arduous.

      So could she really afford to turn down this offer, however loaded? And knew what her answer must be.

      She gave a small, defeated sigh. ‘Yes,’ she muttered unwillingly. ‘We have a deal.’

      ‘Good.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in touch during the week about the final arrangements. But before I go…’ Reaching for his jacket, he took a cheque book and pen from an inside pocket. He wrote swiftly, signed his name and handed the cheque to her.

      ‘For services already rendered,’ he said.

      She looked down at it. She said numbly, ‘Five hundred pounds?’

      ‘Isn’t that enough?’

      ‘More than enough.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘All I did was stand there.’

      ‘But you did it very decoratively,’ he said. ‘No one in the room would have dreamed it was just a business transaction.’ He smiled at her. ‘At times, I found it hard to remember that myself.’

      So, Marin thought with sudden breathlessness, had she. Just once, and only for a moment when standing in the curve of his arm, she’d found herself fighting the temptation to lean back and rest her head against the strength of his shoulder. A brief battle he was totally unaware of and which, thankfully, she’d won.

      And something she could not allow to happen again.

      He shrugged on his coat and walked to the door. ‘Until next weekend,’ he said. His faint smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘Goodnight, Miss Wade.’ And went.

      Leaving her staring after him, his cheque still clutched in her hand.

      ‘So,’ Lynne said, smiling, ‘You’ve heard all about my weekend. How did yours go? I’m sorry I had to leave you in the lurch, honey, but if you had to be miserable at least it was in comfort.’

      She gave Marin a long look. ‘But you don’t seem to have found your surroundings particularly restful,’ she added candidly. ‘On the contrary, you look as if you’ve barely slept. Are you still brooding over the sudden demise of the dream job?’

      Marin bit her lip. ‘And its possible repercussions,’ she admitted.

      ‘Come and tell me all about it while I get supper.’ Lynne got to her feet. ‘Mike’s mother, the lovely Denise, sent me back with one of her home-made chicken and mushroom pies.’

      ‘Don’t you want to keep it to share with Mike?’ Marin asked as she trailed after her into the kitchen.

      ‘Certainly not,’ said Lynne. ‘He didn’t offer me any of the leftover joint of beef she gave him.’ She handed Marin a pack of French beans, a colander and a knife. ‘Sort these out while I peel some potatoes.’

      They worked for a few minutes in silence, then Lynne said gently, ‘I’m listening, my lamb, so start talking.’

      Marin bent her head. ‘At first everything was fine. The weather was glorious and the house was beautiful, right on the edge of the village, with its own swimming pool. She—Ms Mason—told me to call her Adela, and even though she set quite a pace with the work I could cope easily. I was in seventh heaven.’

      ‘But then?’ Lynne prompted gently when she paused.

      ‘Then her husband arrived, blond, smooth and younger than her. He’d been