Susan Stephens Selection. Susan Stephens

Kate!’ he insisted, gripping her chin and forcing her round to face him. ‘They’re getting the fire under control. The cottage will be saved. Look!’ he said again. And when she tried in a last desperate flurry of blows to fight him off, he bound her so tight in his arms she couldn’t move at all. ‘You can’t turn away,’ he said, ‘and you will listen to me. I will personally oversee all the repairs. I’ll have the damn cottage rebuilt brick by brick if necessary. I’ll even build it myself—’

      ‘No…no, you don’t understand,’ she broke in, repeatedly shaking her head. ‘It won’t be the same.’

      ‘What do you mean, it won’t be the same?’

      ‘Aunt Alice’s things—’ Kate broke off then, sobbing against him, melting into him, accepting, needing his arms around her and the comfort of his soft, body-warmed sweater against her face.

      ‘Things?’ Guy queried softly, nestling his face against the top of her head while he smoothed her hair with long calming strokes.

      ‘You know what I mean,’ Kate insisted.

      ‘I’m not sure I do,’ he said, holding her back so that he could look into her face. ‘But if you’re trying to tell me that all these tears are being wasted on a few ornaments and decorations—’ He shook his head as he stared down at her. Then, very gently, he rested the palm of his right hand against the left side of her chest. ‘Aunt Alice is in here, Kate, not in the cottage,’ he said softly.

      For a few moments she stared back at him. His conviction gave her strength, broke through the madness of the last hour. Very slowly she relaxed in his arms. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered, fighting to come to terms with it. ‘But it’s not fair,’ she added brokenly, half to herself. ‘I can’t keep hold of the past, however hard I try.’

      The soft knit of his cashmere sweater felt warm against her face as she nestled against it and Guy’s voice was like a caress as he drew her into him. ‘The future will be even better,’ he said roughly. ‘You’ll see.’ But then they were distracted by a small group of men, their faces smoke-blackened as they emerged from the cottage.

      ‘Everything is under control, Monsieur le Comte,’ said one. ‘But we will have a better idea if the structure is safe in the morning, when we can make a thorough examination in good light.’

      ‘Merci…merci beaucoup,’ Guy exclaimed softly, still with his arm around Kate, supporting her. ‘You have all responded magnificently. I can’t thank you enough.’

      Kate knew words were inadequate for what they had done. ‘You saved the cottage and my life. I will always be in your debt,’ she managed huskily.

      ‘It is nothing, mademoiselle,’ the leader informed her. It is our job, after all.’

      ‘It was the middle of the night,’ Kate pointed out hoarsely. ‘Yet you came…all of you.’ She turned to include the many villagers who had turned out to help their local firemen.

      ‘Monsieur le Comte alerted us,’ one man explained. ‘We all rely on each other here in Villeneuve. It’s a good system, don’t you think, mademoiselle?’

      ‘I certainly do,’ she said, flashing a look at Guy, who showed no sign of wanting to accept any of the credit for saving her life. ‘And now that the fire is out, can I just go back inside and—?’

      ‘Certainly not, mademoiselle,’ the chief fireman insisted. ‘We cannot be sure yet that the cottage is safe. You really must wait until tomorrow.’

      ‘But if I only take a quick look around outside, surely that will be OK?’ As Guy groaned with impatience she saw how the thick black smudges only managed to enhance his incredible bone structure. Only Guy, she thought ruefully, could look like some warrior prince with what looked like camouflage paint striped across his face.

      ‘You’re not going back,’ he said bluntly.

      Kate bristled. She wasn’t used to following orders. ‘But if the fire engine turned so that its lights—’

      ‘I know you’ve had a frightening experience and I know you’re upset,’ Guy told her, ‘but you’re not thinking straight. These men left their beds to come here.’

      A rush of heat spread across her cheeks as Kate realised he was right. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at once. ‘It can wait.’ It couldn’t, but she knew it would have to.

      With their job completed, the villagers and the firemen began to peel away, singly and in groups, until just Kate and Guy were left together on the grassy bank in front of the cottage. The only light came from the slivers of moonshine that managed to penetrate the thick canopy of trees.

      ‘I’m taking you home with me,’ he said, starting to lead her away.

      ‘Oh, no, I—’ She tried to pull back and then stopped. What was she going to do? She had nothing with her and was only wearing the top of her pyjamas under a filthy, wet robe. She could hardly bed down in the forest dressed like that.

      ‘Until we know the cottage is safe you cannot even start to repair…redecorate, let alone move back in. It may be quite some time before it is fit for habitation,’ Guy said as he gave her an encouraging nudge towards the path.

      Kate grimaced. The shock had put everything out of her head. But this was hardly the time to tell Guy that the cottage had to be ready in under three weeks’ time because that was when her first guests arrived.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, urging her to keep in step with him. ‘You’re shivering. And it’s not that cold. If you’re in shock the sooner I can put you to bed the better.’

      ‘At the château?’

      ‘Of course at the château, where else?’ he said speeding up.

      ‘I’m being a terrible nuisance,’ Kate said, forced to jog to keep up with him.

      ‘No more than I remember,’ he murmured dryly as he steered her through the trees and back on to the path that led to his home.

      Being treated like a dainty porcelain doll that might break if it was handled too roughly was something new for Kate. But that was exactly how Madame Duplessis, Guy’s formidable housekeeper, insisted she had to be looked after. It was she who had opened the magnificent double doors for them just before dawn that morning, already dressed in her customary uniform of crisply tailored shirt-waister dress, a garment Kate remembered she possessed in any number of sober colours. Clucking with alarm when she had seen the state Kate was in, Madame Duplessis had whisked her away from Guy, insisting she took a warm bath before installing her in one of the sumptuous guest bedrooms. Here Kate had been force-fed with a cup of hot milk, having first been clothed in a floor-length fleecy robe in a soft shade of coral and a long-sleeved cotton nightdress buttoned up to the neck.

      If she hadn’t been suffering such emotional turmoil she might actually have enjoyed the pampering. Instead, she found herself sitting up in a bed made for Daddy Bear, plucking at the sheets and fretting. At least she had extracted a promise from Guy that, whatever happened, he would take her back to the cottage later that morning… The thought of that alone was enough to send her pulse-rate soaring. But first they had to give Madame Duplessis the slip. As far as that redoubtable lady was concerned, Kate would need to convalesce at Château Villeneuve for the next few months after the terrible shock she had sustained.

      Just being close to Guy was therapeutic enough, but there were other consolations too, Kate mused as she gazed out through one of the tall sash windows by her bed. From her eyrie high in one of the pink-roofed fairytale towers, she had the most magnificent view over the formal gardens at the front of the château, laid out centuries earlier, in homage to Versailles.

      The sound of fountains playing in the background was just audible above the steady hum of gardening implements. The team of gardeners had been hard at work since dawn, ensuring that everything was maintained in the pristine condition demanded by the intricate design. But it hadn’t