A Rich Man's Whim. Lynne Graham

hips swaying provocatively in her tight pencil skirt. ‘That one looks like last year’s Miss World. Are you—?’

      Mikhail was amused and his wide sensual mouth quirked. ‘Never ever in the office.’

      ‘But she’s gorgeous,’ Luka commented.

      Mikhail smiled. ‘Is the reign of Suzie wearing thin?’

      Luka flushed. ‘Of course not. A man can look without being tempted.’

      Mikhail relished the fact that he could still look at any woman and be tempted, a much more healthy state of affairs in his opinion than that of his friend, he reflected grimly, for Luka clearly now felt forced to stifle all his natural male inclinations in the holy cause of fidelity. Was his old friend so certain that he had found everlasting love? Or should Mikhail make use of their hiking trip to check that Luka was still as keen to make the sacrifices necessary to become a husband? Had Luka’s awareness of Lara’s attractions been a hint that he was no longer quite so committed to his future bride? Forsaking all others … in sickness and in health? Not for the first time, Mikhail barely repressed a shudder of revulsion, convinced that it was unnatural and unmanly to want to make such promises to any woman, and as for the what’s-mine-is-yours agenda that went with it—he would sooner set fire to his billions than place himself in a financially vulnerable position.

      Kat tensed in dismay as the sound of the post van crunching across gravel reached her ears. Her sister, Emmie, had come home late and unexpectedly the night before and she didn’t want her wakened by the doorbell. Hastily setting down the quilt she was stitching, she flexed stiff fingers and hurried to the front door. Her stomach hollowed in fear of what the postman might be delivering. It was a fear that never left her now, a fear that dominated her every waking hour. But Kat still answered the door with a ready smile on her generous mouth and a friendly word and as she signed for the recorded delivery letter with the awful tell-tale red lettering on the envelope she was proud that she kept her hand steady.

      Slowly she retreated back inside the solid stone farmhouse, which she had inherited from her father. Birkside’s peaceful setting and beautiful views had struck her as paradise after the rootless, insecure existence she had endured growing up with her mother, Odette. A former top fashion model, Odette had never settled down to live an ordinary life, even after she had children. Kat’s father had married her mother before she found fame and the increasingly sophisticated Odette had found the wealthy men she met on her travels far more to her taste than the quiet accountant she had married at too young an age. More than ten years had passed before Odette chose to marry a second time. That marriage had produced twin daughters, Sapphire and Emerald. Odette’s final big relationship had been with a South American polo player, who had fathered Kat’s youngest sister, Topaz. When Kat was twenty-three years old, her mother had put her three younger daughters into care, pleading that the twins in particular were out of control and at risk. Touched by the girls’ distress, Kat had taken on sole responsibility for raising her half-sisters and had set up home with them in the Lake District.

      Looking back to those first halcyon days when she had had such high hopes for their fresh start in life now left a bitter taste in Kat’s mouth. A deep abiding sense of failure gripped her; she had been so determined to give the girls the secure home and love that she herself had never known as a child. She tore open the letter and read it. Yet another to stuff in the drawer with its equally scary predecessors, she reflected wretchedly. The building society was going to repossess the house while the debt collection agency would send in the bailiffs to recoup what funds they could from the sale of her possessions. She was so deep in debt that she stood to lose absolutely everything right down to the roof over her head. It didn’t matter how many hours a day she worked making hand stitched patchwork quilts, only a miracle would dig her out of the deep financial hole she was in.

      She had borrowed a small fortune to turn the old farmhouse into a bed and breakfast business. Putting in en suite bathrooms and extending the kitchen and dining area had been unavoidable. The steady stream of guests in the early years had raised Kat’s hopes high and she had foolishly taken on more debt, determined to do the very best she could by every one of her sisters. Gradually, however, the flow of guests had died down to a trickle and she had realised too late that the market had changed; many people preferred a cheap hotel or a cosy pub to a B&B. In addition, the house was situated down a long single-track road and too far from civilisation to appeal to many. She had still hoped to get passing trade from day trippers and hill walkers but most of the walkers, she met went home at the end of the day or slept in a tent. The recent recession had made bookings as scarce as hens’ teeth.

      A tall beautiful blonde in a ratty old robe slowly descended the stairs smothering a yawn. ‘That postman makes so much noise,’ Emmie complained tartly. ‘I suppose you’ve been up for ages. You always were an early riser.’

      Kat resisted the urge to point out that for a long time she had had little choice with three siblings to get off to school every morning and overnight guests to feed; she was too grateful that Emmie seemed chattier than she had been the night before when the taxi dropped her off and she declared that she was too exhausted to do anything other than go straight to bed. During the night, Kat had burned with helpless curiosity because six months earlier Emmie had gone to live with their mother, Odette, in London, determined to get to know the woman she had barely seen since she was twelve years old. Kat had chosen not to interfere. Emmie was, after all, twenty-three years of age. Even so, Kat had still worried a lot about her, knowing that her sister would ultimately discover that the most important person in Odette’s life was always Odette and that the older woman had none of the warmth and affection that every child longed to find in a parent.

      ‘Do you want any breakfast?’ Kat asked prosaically.

      ‘I’m not hungry,’ Emmie replied, sinking down at the kitchen table with a heavy sigh. ‘But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.’

      ‘I missed you,’ Kat confided as she switched on the kettle.

      Emmie smiled, long blonde hair tumbling round her lovely face as she sat forward. ‘I missed you but I didn’t miss my dead-end job at the library or the dreary social life round here. I’m sorry I didn’t phone more often though.’

      ‘That’s all right.’ Kat’s emerald green eyes glimmered with fondness, her long russet spiralling curls brushing her cheekbones in stark contrast to her fair skin as she stretched up to a cupboard to extract two beakers. More than ten years older than her sister, Kat was a tall slender woman with beautiful skin, clear eyes and a wide full mouth. ‘I guessed you were busy and hoped you were enjoying yourself.’

      Without warning, Emmie compressed her mouth and pulled a face. ‘Living with Odette was a nightmare,’ she admitted abruptly.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Kat remarked gently as she poured the tea.

      ‘You knew it would be like that, didn’t you?’ Emmie prompted as she accepted the beaker. ‘Why on earth didn’t you warn me?’

      ‘I thought that as she got older Mum might have mellowed and I didn’t want to influence you before you got to know her on your own account,’ Kat explained ruefully. ‘After all, she could have treated you very differently.’

      Emmie snorted and reeled off several incidents that illustrated what she had viewed as her mother’s colossal selfishness and Kat made soothing sounds of understanding.

      ‘Well, I’m home to stay for good this time,’ her half-sister assured her squarely. ‘And I ought to warn you … I’m pregnant—’

      ‘Pregnant?’ Kat gasped, appalled at that unexpected announcement. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

      ‘I’m pregnant,’ Emmie repeated, settling violet-blue eyes on her sister’s shocked face. ‘I’m sorry but there it is and there’s not much I can do about it now—’

      ‘The father?’ Kat pressed tautly.

      Emmie’s face darkened as if Kat had thrown a light switch. ‘That’s over and I don’t want to talk about it.’

      Kat