Tycoon's Forbidden Cinderella. Melanie Milburne

caretaker, then. But Audrey figured this would be a good test of the hideously expensive therapy she’d undergone to rid herself of her spider phobia. She pulled back the curtains to let more light in but the storm clouds had gathered to such an extent the world outside had a yellowish, greenish tinge that intensified with each flash of lightning. She turned on the sitting room light and it cast a homey glow over the deep, cushiony sofas and the wing chair positioned in front of the fireplace.

      Audrey was battling with an acute sense of dismay that her mission to track down her mother and Harlan had come to a dead end and a sense of sheer unmitigated joy she had the cottage to herself during a storm. She figured she might as well stay for an hour or two to set the place in order, maybe even stay the night while she thought up a Plan B.

      She reassured herself with the possibility that her mother and Harlan would return at any minute. After all, someone had been here—she’d seen the tyre marks. All she had to do was wait until they got back and sit them down and talk them out of this ridiculous third marriage.

      Audrey glanced at the fireplace. Was it cold enough to light a fire? There was kindling and wood in the basket next to the fireplace, and before she could talk herself out of it she got to work setting a fire in the grate. It would come in handy if the power was to go off, which was not uncommon during a storm.

      As if by her just thinking of a power cut, the light above her head flickered and a flash of lightning rent the sky outside. A sonic boom of thunder sounded, and it made even an avid storm-lover such as she jump. The light flickered again and then went out. It left the room in a low, ghostly sort of light that reminded her of the setting of a fright flick she’d watched recently. A shiver scuttled over her flesh like a legion of little furry feet.

      It’s just a storm. You love storms.

      For once the self-talk wasn’t helping. There was something about this storm that felt different. It was more intense, more ferocious.

      Between the sound of the rain lashing against the windows and the crash of thunder, she heard another sound—car tyres spinning over the pebbled driveway.

       Yes!

      Her hunch had been spot-on. Her mother and Harlan were returning. Audrey jumped up to peep out of the window and her heart gave a carthorse kick against her breastbone.

      No. No. No.

      Not Lucien Fox. Why was he here?

      She hid behind part of the curtain to watch him approach the front door, her breathing as laboured as the pair of antique bellows next to the fireplace. The rain was pelting down on his dark head but he seemed oblivious. Would he see her car parked under the oak tree?

      She heard Lucien’s firm knock on the door. Why hadn’t she thought to lock it when she came into the cottage? The door opened and then closed.

      Should she come out or hide here behind the curtain, hoping he wouldn’t stay long enough to find her? The Will I or won’t I? was like a seesaw inside her head.

      He came into the sitting room and Audrey’s heart kept time with the tread of his feet on the creaky floorboards.

      Step-creak-boom-step-creak-boom-step-creak-boom.

      ‘Harlan?’ Lucien’s deep baritone never failed to make her spine tingle. ‘Sibella?’

      Audrey knew it was too late to step out from her hiding place. She could only hope he would leave before he discovered her. How long was he going to take? Surely he could see no one had been here for months... Yikes. She forgot she had been laying a fire. Her breathing rate accelerated, her pulse pounding as loud as the thunder booming outside. She’d been about to strike the match when the power had gone off and it was now lying along with the box it came from on the floor in front of the fireplace.

      Would he see it?

      Another floorboard creaked and Audrey held her breath. But then her nose began to twitch from the dust clinging to the curtain. There was one thing she did not have and that was a ladylike sneeze. Her sneezes registered on the Richter scale. Her sneezes could trigger an earthquake in Ecuador. Her sneezes had been known to cause savage guard dogs to yelp and small babies to scream. She could feel it building, building, building... She pressed a finger under her nose as hard as she possibly could, her whole body trembling with the effort to keep the sinus explosion from happening.

      A huge lightning flash suddenly zigzagged across the sky and an ear-splitting boom of thunder followed, making Audrey momentarily forget about controlling her sneeze. She clutched the curtain in shock, wondering if she’d been struck by lightning. Would she be found as a little pile of smoking ashes behind this curtain? But clutching the curtain brought the dusty fabric even closer to her nostrils and the urge to sneeze became unbearable.

       ‘Ah... Ah... Choo!’

      It was like a bomb going off, propelling her forwards, still partially wrapped in the curtain, bringing the rail down with a clatter.

      Even from under the dense and mummy-like shroud, Audrey heard Lucien’s short, sharp expletive. Then his hands pulled at the curtain, finally uncovering her dishevelled form. ‘What the hell?’

      ‘Hi...’ She sat up and gave him a fingertip wave.

      He frowned at her. ‘You?’

      ‘Yep, me.’ Audrey scrambled to her feet with haste not grace, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of a dress. But jeans made her thighs look fat, she thought, so a dress it was. She smoothed down the cotton fabric over her thighs and then finger-combed her tousled hair. Was he comparing her with his glamorous girlfriend? No doubt Viviana could stumble out of a musty old curtain and still look perfect. Viviana probably had a tiny ladylike sneeze too. And Viviana probably looked amazing in jeans.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ His tone had that edge of disapproval that always annoyed her.

      ‘Looking for my mum and your dad.’

      Lucien’s ink-black brows developed a mocking arch. ‘Behind the curtain?’

      Audrey gave him a look that would have withered tumbleweed. ‘Funny, ha-ha. So what brings you here?’

      He bundled up the curtain as if he needed something to do with his hands, his expression as brooding as the sky outside. ‘Like you, I’m looking for my father and your mother.’

      ‘Why did you think they’d come here?’

      He put the roughly folded curtain over the back of the wing chair and then picked up the curtain rail, setting it to one side. ‘My father sent me a text, mentioning something about a quiet weekend in the country.’

      ‘Did his text say anything about daffodils?’

      Lucien looked at her as if she’d mentioned fairies instead of flowers. ‘Daffodils?’

      Audrey folded her arms across her middle. ‘Didn’t you notice them outside? This place is Wordsworth’s heaven.’

      The corner of his mouth twitched into an almost-smile. But then his mouth went back to its firm and flat humourless line. ‘I think we’ve been led on a wild-goose chase—or a wild-daffodil chase.’

      This time it was Audrey who was trying not to smile. Who knew he had a sense of humour under that stern schoolmastery thing he had going on? ‘I suppose you got the invitation to their wedding?’

      His expression reminded her of someone not quite over a stomach bug. ‘You too?’

      ‘Me too.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I can’t bear to be a bridesmaid for my mother again. Her taste in bridesmaid dresses is nearly as bad as her taste in men.’

      If he was annoyed by her veiled slight against his father he didn’t show it. ‘We need to stop them from making another stupid mistake before it’s too late.’

      ‘We?’

      His dark blue gaze collided with hers. Was it even possible to have eyes that