The Unwilling Mistress. Carole Mortimer

      ‘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?’