Susan Stephens Selection. Susan Stephens

had given up her job, her whole way of life, to come and teach at La Petite Maison. Kate’s mouth firmed as she considered the implications. One thing was sure—she had gone too far to back out now.

      ‘Did you come for anything special, Guy?’ She forced a little steel into her voice so that the subtext suggested she had lots of things to be getting on with, as must he…

      ‘Should I have made an appointment?’ he demanded, throwing her a darkly amused glance from beneath an extraordinary fringe of pitch-black lashes.

      ‘An appointment would have made everything possible,’ Kate said innocently, just to show she hadn’t forgotten their initial confrontation at the château.

      ‘Everything?’ Guy mused softly, as he sampled the stubble on his chin with a strong tanned hand. ‘Now you do have my full attention.’

      ‘Now, now,’ Megan warned, coming to stand between them. ‘That’s enough fooling around for one day, your High and Mightyness, or it’s back to the dungeons for you.’

      ‘If you say so, Megan O’Reilly,’ Guy agreed, holding up his hands in mock-submission. ‘Who am I to countermand the order of a direct descendant of the illustrious Brian Boru that ancient High King of Ireland?’

      Well done, Megan! Kate thought, noticing how her friend had concealed the evidence of her impending tutorials with a simple sweep of her dirndl skirt. But she should have known that it was far too little too late to fool Guy.

      ‘That’s rather a lot of paintbrushes you’ve dropped there, Megan. Even for you—’

      Kate could only look on helplessly as he hunkered down. Pushing Megan’s skirt aside, he gathered up an armful of brushes and then looked up, baiting Kate with a triumphant stare.

      ‘Hey!’ Megan exclaimed, performing an impromptu tap dance on the spot. ‘Less of this rifling beneath an old woman’s skirts…and watch how you handle those brushes, young Guy. I’ll not have their tips mashed by you.’

      Getting up, Guy handed them to her. ‘I believe you dropped these, Ms O’Reilly.’

      ‘And I’ll have less of your blarney,’ Megan exclaimed, clearly flustered. ‘Kate and me’s got things to talk about—’

      ‘So you’re not going to offer me a piece of that delicious-looking gâteau—’

      ‘Cake,’ Megan corrected, moving the plate away from him and planting herself firmly in front of it.

      ‘Of course you can have some,’ Kate said, relenting. If they sent him packing he’d only be back—and he might have come about something important—like saying he would overlook the covenants. Before she knew it he had dropped into a chair, groaning with contentment as he bit into the softly yielding lemon sponge.

      ‘Delicious,’ he murmured, closing his eyes to savour it. ‘I must have more.’

      ‘No, you mustn’t,’ Megan said decisively, swooping on the door and holding it open for him. ‘I’ll not have you shirking your duties now you’re shouldering the responsibility of this estate.’

      Guy took Megan’s mock-scolding a lot better than she took his teasing, Kate noticed. But as he reached the door he paused. Sweeping up Megan’s hand in his own, he brought it to his lips and murmured, ‘I’ll only do as you say if you agree to have dinner with me at the château this evening, Ms O’Reilly, and be sure to bring along your delightful hostess, Mademoiselle Foster. Then,’ he added, throwing a penetrating glance at Kate, ‘we can discuss the possibility of art lessons—privately, or in a group, it makes no difference to me. Though we would have to find you some accommodation where you could teach,’ he pointed out while his eyes affected a beguiling innocence. ‘The covenants on this cottage are quite specific, you know, Megan. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to encourage Kate to fall foul of them. Well, am I right, Ms O’Reilly?’

      As he made a final mocking bow, Megan made a noise roughly similar to Concorde taking off. ‘That boy doesn’t change,’ she complained as Kate went to shut the door on him.

      ‘That boy is nearly forty years old, over six foot tall and has amassed a fortune in the region of a billion Euros,’ Kate pointed out quietly as she watched Guy stride off down the path. ‘He’s no fool…’

      ‘I’ll expect you both at eight,’ he called back, almost as if he knew she would still be there watching him.

      ‘He’s still a boy to me,’ Megan grumbled, knowing she had been well and truly outmanoeuvred. ‘I just hope he knows how to cook.’

      ‘I think he keeps a chef at the château now,’ Kate murmured distractedly as her eyes trailed Guy’s back until he had disappeared out of sight.

      ‘Well, you’re taking it all very calmly, I must say,’ Megan observed when Kate finally let the latch drop.

      Leaning back against the door, Kate exhaled with relief.

      ‘Well, say something,’ Megan pressed. ‘Aren’t you worried at all?’

      ‘Of course I’m worried. And not just about the covenants.’

      ‘Explain.’

      It wouldn’t make Megan feel any better to know that the covenants were by far the least of Kate’s worries. ‘What can I do, Megan?’ she said finally. ‘We’ll just have to carry on with our plans as if everything was OK.’

      ‘And Guy?’ Megan pressed.

      ‘I’ll tell Guy—when the moment’s right.’

      ‘And when will that be?’ Megan demanded, drumming her fingertips on the table.

      ‘Before our first guests arrive,’ Kate said, more in an effort to convince herself than in an attempt to placate Megan.

      ‘Just don’t leave it until the last minute.’

      ‘I won’t,’ Kate said confidently. ‘Now, would you like a bath? Thanks to Giles mending the range I’ve got plenty of hot water, even if I’m still waiting for the electricity to be switched on.’

      ‘No electricity!’ Megan exclaimed. ‘Lord save us! What are you thinking, child? You can’t run a guest house without electricity…’

      ‘I’ve managed perfectly well up until now,’ Kate replied. ‘And if necessary I shall run the cottage for profit in exactly the same way. Because you see, Megan, no one—not even Guy, Count de Villeneuve himself—is going to stop me making La Petite Maison one of the most successful retreats in the world.’

      ‘Then I wish you luck, Kate,’ Megan said, suddenly serious. ‘Because if I know Guy, you’re going to need it.’

      * * *

      He sent a car for them. Not just any old car, or the four-wheel-drive Guy used to get about the estate, but a sleek aubergine-coloured limousine complete with uniformed driver.

      ‘Are you impressed? Because I am!’ Megan enthused, though Kate noticed her eyes were on the driver rather than the car.

      Kate hummed her agreement as she gazed out of the window. How she had ever agreed to this she had no idea. And she was wearing The Dress. She gave a wry smile. Once she would probably have turned up in blue jeans with holes in them just to be awkward, but now… Well, it was rather nice to wear a couture dress for once. In fact, now she had the money to do so, she would probably wear a lot more of them. Guy had given her an appetite—

      ‘All right, pet? No regrets about this dinner engagement?’

      ‘Not yet,’ Kate admitted wryly.

      Guy was waiting for them outside the grand double entrance door to the château. His pale jacket only accentuated the rich bronze tones of his skin and Kate thought his muscular legs seemed longer than ever as he loped down the steps to greet them.

      ‘Welcome,’ he exclaimed, holding open the door for