Susan Stephens Selection. Susan Stephens

bathroom’s next,’ he murmured, confirming her supposition that he was already planning his next job.

      Giles had made sure that she had water, even if the electricity supply was proving more of a problem. But the old range was most important of all. It would heat the water and provide cooking facilities until the mains supplies could be connected. As yet there was no sign of this happening, a matter that had been referred back to the Villeneuve estate office to sort out.

      ‘Monsieur le Comte is your friend?’ Giles said as he rolled down the sleeves of his red and white checked shirt and rebuttoned the cuffs.

      ‘That is correct,’ Kate said, wondering where this was leading.

      As Giles settled his omnipresent black beret to a more secure position on the crown of his head he beetled a look at her. ‘Monsieur le Comte will speak to the authorities on your behalf when he returns and then you will have electricity.’

      Kate smiled at his blind faith. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Giles. But I’m quite capable of doing that myself. And I have no idea when Monsieur le Comte is returning.’

      ‘Allow me to put you out of your misery.’

      ‘Guy!’ Kate exclaimed accusingly. ‘You startled me!’ But the sight of him, darkly tanned in a casual linen suit over a simple white T-shirt, striding in through the open doorway was enough to make anyone jump, she reassured herself, swallowing deeply.

      ‘My word, Giles,’ he said, clapping the builder on the back. ‘What a transformation!’ Then, turning to Kate, he executed a mock-bow. ‘Allow me to apologise for the intrusion, mademoiselle. And for causing you to jump, however elegantly, into the air.’ But then he spoiled it all by adding sardonically, ‘I haven’t known you so timid before, Kate—or so feminine,’ he finished, looking her up and down.

      Kate could see he was clearly in the mood for tormenting her. His gaze lingered on her working uniform of bare feet, flower-sprigged cotton skirt from the village store and the same white blouse that had let her down once before.

      ‘I would have changed if I had known you were coming,’ she said acerbically.

      ‘Mais non. I like it,’ he declared with a touch too much relish. ‘I can see La Petite Maison is bringing out the best in you.’

      Did he mean dishevelled and decidedly grubby while she toiled at what he clearly considered were suitable tasks? Kate’s lips tightened as she squared her shoulders. ‘Don’t go there, mister—’

      Now it was Giles’s turn to jump with alarm. Clearly embarrassed at finding himself between his Count and a disrespectful maiden, the elderly builder, having snatched his beret off his head, was attempting to back his way out of the room.

      In a trice, Kate was standing between him and the door. ‘No, Giles, I must insist that you share a glass of lemonade with us. It’s freshly made,’ she added, fluttering around him in decidedly un-Kate-like mode as she tried appealing to the older man’s chivalrous inclinations.

      ‘Well, if you insist,’ he said hesitantly, gazing anxiously at Guy and then back again to Kate.

      ‘Of course she insists. We both do,’ Guy said, putting an arm around Giles’s shoulders as he led him to one of the well-upholstered benches. ‘You’ll share a glass with me, won’t you? And then you can fill me in on all the latest gossip,’ he insisted with a wink to Giles, sparing a look of amused triumph for Kate.

      Kate’s hands were trembling when she reached for the pitcher of juice she had left cooling in the shady depths of the vast porcelain sink. It would be nice to pretend it was righteous indignation at the way Guy always assumed control that gave her the shakes, but she knew his arrival was all it took to set her trembling. Already his presence seemed to pervade every atom of the home she was trying to build for herself. She might be tough and shrewd in business, but in business there wasn’t this degree of emotion to contend with, she realised as she reached for the tumblers.

      ‘Let me help you.’

      She hadn’t even realised Guy was right behind her until she heard his voice. Turning, she saw Giles comfortably ensconced on the bench where Guy had been sitting, whilst Guy had picked up one of her new beech trays.

      ‘I’ll serve,’ he offered, nodding towards the heavy jug she had balanced on the side of the sink. ‘That looks heavy. Let me take it.’

      ‘I can manage.’

      ‘You don’t have to manage when I’m here,’ he pointed out. ‘Come on, Kate,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Don’t make a scene. Why should we make Giles feel uncomfortable? Give me the jug.’

      Loading the tray as he asked, Kate made a detour to the old meat safe she had pressed into service until the electricity was restored before following him back to the table.

      Guy had already poured the lemonade and she watched Giles begin to gulp it down. She knew he would drink quickly. He was clearly eager to be anywhere but where he found himself right now. But as Guy relaxed back against the table to take his first sip, Giles stopped drinking and stared at the glass in astonishment.

      ‘This is delicious, mademoiselle.’

      And then Guy’s eyes flamed with approval too. ‘This is seriously good, Kate,’ he murmured.

      ‘Well, don’t sound too surprised,’ she murmured to Guy, raising her brows in gentle reproof. But all the same she took real pleasure watching the two men enjoying the drink she had prepared. ‘Try a few of these to go with the lemonade,’ she suggested, pushing the bowls and plates she had brought from the old-fashioned cooler across the table. ‘Tell me what you think. And be honest. They’re a trial run for the house-warming party.’

      Both looked equally impressed as they surveyed the rainbow selection of sauces and neatly prepared salad vegetables.

      ‘Absolument delicieux,’ Guy declared after he had tried a few and exchanged several glances of appreciation with Giles.

      ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything more,’ Kate told them. ‘But I had no means of cooking until Giles fixed the solid fuel range…’

      ‘What else needs to be done now, Giles?’ Guy cut in.

      Giles continued to tuck in as he spoke. ‘Nothing major on the building front, Monsieur le Comte. But the electricity is still not connected…’

      ‘Not connected!’ Guy exclaimed. ‘How can that be? I left instructions before I went away that the reconnection of all the main services here was to be a priority. Why didn’t you say something, Kate? How on earth have you been managing?’

      ‘I’ve managed just fine, thank you.’

      ‘But I don’t understand. How could you?’

      ‘With your oil fire and lots of candles,’ she said, reminding him of the offer he had made and that Madame Duplessis had thoughtfully ensured was carried through.

      ‘But before I went away I told my estate office to inform the authorities that La Petite Maison was being lived in once more.’

      Did he mean the same secretary who had tried to prevent her from seeing Guy in the first place? Kate wondered. ‘Don’t worry,’ she insisted. ‘I shall take up the matter myself. I’m sure it’s only a question of time…’

      ‘But you do not have much time, mademoiselle,’ Giles exclaimed, immediately looking contrite when he realised that he had nearly let the cat out of the bag now he was sworn to secrecy over her plans for the guest house.

      Instantly Kate felt guilty for having embroiled him in her plans too—plans that were rapidly getting out of hand. Laying her palm across his gnarled fist, she hurried to reassure him. ‘There’s really no need for either of you to be concerned. It’s something that I can take up myself now that the worst of the damage has been put to rights.’

      ‘But