Читать книгу Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command - Annie West - Страница 13

‘WHAT did you do?’ Ella whispered. ‘I mean, that must have been a terrible shock.’

Seb nodded. ‘It was. There were two options. I had either been adopted, or my mother had a relationship with someone else before she married my dad. Either way I knew that I had to ask my dad face to face and ask him to tell me the truth.’

‘Of course! The wedding photographs! She was pregnant with you when she married.’ Ella paused. ‘But you didn’t expect that, did you? What did he tell you?’

Seb sat back in the hard kitchen chair, arms stretched out on the table, but his fingers slid out from hers.

‘I waited until dad was out of hospital and recovering back at home for a few days. He was feeling good and planning a holiday. And trying to pass his health problems off as just some minor problem. Anything to avoid the real issue.’

He made a rough chuckle in the back of his throat. ‘As if I didn’t know what he was up to. So I bypassed the chit-chat, showed him the lab-test results and mentioned the fact that I was old enough to hear the truth, and would rather hear it from him.’

Seb rose and started pacing the floor. When he turned back to Ella his face was dark, controlled anger only too visible.

‘He told me to leave it alone. Water under the bridge. And he did not want to discuss it ever again.’ He snorted and shook his head. ‘I told him that I had no intention of leaving it alone. He told me that I was a stubborn fool and that I should get on with my life.’

Seb was holding onto the back of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white in sharp contrast to the thunderous look on his face. ‘And then we had a fight. I blamed him for taking me away from everything I loved to a country where I didn’t even speak the language. He blamed me for driving Nicole away. And then it got worse.’

He flexed his fingers for a few seconds, trying to restore some of the circulation. ‘I won’t bore you with what happens when two Frenchmen start an argument where neither of them have any intention of backing down, but it was lucky that a couple of his friends turned up to play golf before things got out of hand.’

He shrugged. ‘I admit it. I was angry. He had completely refused to answer any of my questions. So I told him he was a coward. His final words of comfort and consolation were along the lines of: “You can’t bring her back,” and then he slammed the door behind me. That was the last time we spoke.’

‘Oh, Seb. That’s horrible. You haven’t spoken to him since?’

He raised his head and stared at her in disbelief. ‘What would be the point of that? I know my dad. He won’t change his mind. If I want to know who my father is then I’m going to have to find out on my own.’

‘And that’s why you want to follow up what you found today?’ Ella raised her hands. ‘Because he is right, you know. You’ll have to decide what to do with any information you do find. There is a good chance that your father may not want to be part of your life, even if you want to be part of his.’

Seb nodded in agreement. ‘I know it. There is a very real chance that André Morel let my mother down. But I don’t want to make that judgement without knowing the facts. Perhaps she left him to be with my dad? It might help to explain his reaction.’

‘Wait a moment. Did you say that his name was Morel?’ Ella asked in a voice bright with curiosity.

Seb reached deep into his trouser back pocket and tugged out the newspaper clipping he had found that morning and passed it to Ella, who was now standing next to him as he looked out of the window into the garden where the trees were swaying wildly in the wind.

She scanned the few words, then let her shoulders drop. ‘André Morel. Well, that cannot be a coincidence.’

Ella’s hand slid down and her fingers clasped around Seb’s, forcing him to glance down at the sudden sensation of her fingers on his as she spoke.

‘I think that you had better come with me. There’s something that you need to see!’

Ella half dragged Seb the few steps from the kitchen to the living room, then used her free hand to rummage around in a wicker basket of cards of all sorts.

‘Mind telling me what I’m supposed to be looking at?’ Seb asked impatiently as he tried to slip his hand away from hers, but she was not having any of it.

‘This,’ Ella replied, waving a party invitation in the air. ‘I’m working this evening at my favourite hotel in town. Private birthday party for…wait for it: Madame Morel and family,’ and she held the invitation behind her back. But Seb just scowled at her from his great height and lifted the card from her fingers.

‘Is this for real? And what do you mean when you say that you are working at the hotel?’

‘It is absolutely for real. And you may recall that my parents are professional musicians. Well, until I had Dan I earned my living as a performer. So tonight I am going to be playing and possibly singing for my supper and Madame Morel. And—’ she shrugged her shoulders ‘—Sandrine told me that the Morel family are originally from Montpellier but have retired to their holiday home around here. I know that they might be a completely different family and it could lead to nothing, but isn’t it worth taking the time to ask a few questions?’

‘Maybe,’ Seb replied hesitantly. ‘And this is all going a little too fast for me to keep up. You are a professional musician working as a housekeeper, in the middle of nowhere. Is that right?’

‘My choice. And no, I had not made the connection between the name Morel and your family until you mentioned it.’

Ella waited, watching his face, begging him to agree to follow this up. But patience was never her strong point, so she leapt in while he was still thinking about it.

‘Come to the party tonight as my guest. I’ll introduce you and tell the family that you are trying to trace an old friend. See what happens! There could be someone there who can put you in touch with this André Morel or may even have known your mother in person. You don’t have anything to lose except a few hours in the city.’

Seb slid his hand from hers, and sank down onto the sofa. Ella perched next to him and brought her bare feet up onto the sofa cushions. Waiting.

Seb slowly raised his head to look up at the portrait of his mother before turning back to Ella.

‘I can’t be satisfied with the fact that my parents loved me.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s just great. What an idiot, eh?’

Ella tapped her bottom lip a few times, then slapped her hand on the coffee table. Startled, Seb jumped forward. ‘What?’

‘Seb Castellano. I have a proposition for you.’

The surprised look on his face was replaced in an instant with a cunning smile.

‘Oh? But we have only just met. I thought you English were so reserved!’

Ella smirked. ‘Yes, very funny. You should be so lucky. This is serious. So please try and pay attention. Nicole Lambert has been a very good friend to me. I know how hurt she would be if I tell her that her stepson Sebastien, who she talks about constantly, had never intended to stay for her birthday celebrations in the first place—’

Seb sat forward but Ella gestured him back down with the flat of her hand. ‘Please sit, I’m not finished yet.

‘Okay. It goes like this. You stay here until next weekend and help Nicole celebrate turning sixty—which she totally hates the idea of, by the way—and in return…’ She paused and breathed in through her nose. ‘In return I will do everything I can to find out about this André Morel. I know everyone in this village and the hotel is the local meeting spot for the retired population who would love to have a detective job like this to work on. I can soon get the network going on tracking him down. What do you say?’

Seb reached out, grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles before Ella could grab her hand back, if she wanted to. She didn’t want to, and the natural wide grin on Seb’s face said it all.

‘I would say thank you for the offer, but I can’t stay. I have to head back to Sydney on Monday, then Tokyo at the end of the week… what? Why are you shaking your head? Those tactics are not going to work on me.’

‘You know, I never took you for a quitter, Sebastien Castellano.’

Seb bristled. ‘Quite right. I’m not.’

‘Then why are you making excuses? You know, Nicole came back from Australia with a suitcase of photos of her amazing stepson. She was all alone in the world but she made sure she had your photos with her. How do you think she is going to feel when you leave the country before she gets back from holiday after…when was the last time you saw her, exactly? Two years? Three?’

Seb’s scowl deepened. ‘Three. We met at a charity concert in Sydney.’

Ella hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees and smiled at Seb with such a sweet and innocent expression it was impossible for him to be angry with her. ‘You know, I was explaining to Daniel on the way to school this morning how marvellous laptops and wireless Internet connections were. Some people work from home all the time. Without the need to travel at all.’

She shrugged and pretended to be examining her cerise toenail polish. ‘Of course, after what you have just told me, I would understand if you feel compelled to travel to the other side of the world to talk to men in suits about computers instead of finding out who your real father is.’

Seb moved forward so that their heads were only inches apart. If he expected Ella to shuffle away as he moved into her personal space, he was thwarted because she did not budge.

‘Monday. I’ll stay until Monday.’

‘Tuesday,’ Ella retorted immediately. ‘My final offer. But as an added incentive, we can start this very afternoon at Dan’s school fete. All the parents will be there and there is bound to be someone who knows about the Morel family. Then you can go to the party. Just to make sure that we don’t miss any possible leads.’

They looked at one another for a few seconds the air between them crackling with electric tension.

But before Seb could open his mouth to reply, there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and Ella leapt to her feet and sped down the corridor.

She slid to a halt at the door, hand on chest, so that Seb had to slide past and take in the damage.

Seb’s laptop computer was lying face down on the hard tiles, surrounded by pieces of broken fruit tart, which Wolfie and Milou were gobbling up in delight.

‘Oh, no,’ Ella gasped in horror. ‘I am so sorry. I should have closed the outside door. Bad Wolfie! Bad Milou! Is it broken? Please say that it is still working!’

Seb blew out a long breath and picked up the laptop and they both stared in silence at the smashed Wi-Fi attachment.

Ella cringed inside, and prepared herself for the onslaught! This was Seb’s work! His precious laptop! She had totally blown it by being so careless. He had to leave now, whether she liked it or not. There was no way she would be able to convince him to stay and see Nicole now this had happened.

To her astonishment, he simply checked that the monitor and keyboard were still working in complete silence before turning back to her with a nod.

‘It’s okay. We build computers with cases designed to be pretty indestructible. Even against dogs and hard floors. I should be able to wire it into your telephone line through a modem. But my dongle is shattered.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

‘Slave driver! Have you seen my thumb? I may never type again. A few balloons you said. Nothing about 200 helium crocodiles.’

Seb waved his right hand in Ella’s direction, but she was still luxuriating in the soft leather passenger seat with her eyes closed.

‘Just part of the service,’ she replied with a grin. ‘Come to the Languedoc for wonderful new experiences. Thanks again for helping Dan with his pirate costume by the way. The eye patch idea was inspired. He looked terrific!’

She tipped her sunglasses higher and shuffled higher in her seat so that the light breeze lifted her hair down around her shoulders as Seb drove the open topped sports car along the quiet coast road.

‘No problem,’ Seb replied, smiling to himself, despite his frown. ‘I had forgotten how much fun you can have at a school fete. I was actually in danger of enjoying myself a couple of times.’

‘I noticed. You only answered your cell phone three times during the costume parade and you even put it away while you scoffed my quiche and salad. I take that as a compliment!’

‘Oh more than that! I actually turned it off while you were playing piano at the old folks’ home.’

‘Wow!’ Ella hissed. ‘The school choir is not that good this year, but I did notice you charming the old ladies. You rogue.’

‘Two of my school teachers actually remembered me! But not an Andre Morel. He was obviously not a local boy.’

‘Oh, sorry. Even if that does explain the bright orange lipstick on both of your collars.’

‘Oh, what?’ Seb replied as he screwed his face up so that he could inspect his dress shirt, and then shrugged. ‘It was worth it for the fringe benefits.’

‘Oh? Do go on. Are you calling the bingo numbers tomorrow?’

He snorted a chuckle. ‘I have the pleasure of escorting a pretty lady home while the young master of the house and his pirate crew are terrorizing the local cinema on a school outing. Even if the lady is taking me on a wild goose chase.

He started out at the countryside. ‘Are you sure this is the right road?’

‘And you a local boy!’ Ella pointed to a signpost on the deserted dusty road. ‘Turn right here and all will be revealed.’

Seb frowned but gently swung the car down the single track road for a few minutes before the road ran out in a sand swept empty car park. The air was suddenly tangy with salt and the smell of the sea and as he swung out from the car his mind seemed to turn back the years with every caress of the wind on his cheeks.

They were deep in the Camargue. The huge flat plain of marshland and fresh and salt water ponds created by the river Rhone as it wound its way slowly to the sea over the centuries was laid out in front of him with only the sea in the distance.

Ella was already out of the car before he realised and automatically reached for his hand as though it was the most natural thing to do in the world, before dragging him through the rickety wooden gate and onto the loose sandy dyke which held back the water.

‘Not a wild goose chase. A wild flamingo chase!’

And just as Seb was about to reply there was a low rustling and rhythmical beat of black and crimson wings above his head as five long necked flamingos flew across the tall grasses and landed perfectly in the shallow water with a quick back brake of soft pale pink wings. They honked and hooted as they flew, louder than geese, but so beautiful it took his breath away just to watch them.

Wild flamingos! Flamants roses!

Seb stood in silence with the warm sunshine on his face and watched the tall reeds sway in the sea breeze. Snowy white egrets and grey herons picked around the edge of the brackish pond, but it was the clusters of stunning flamingos feeding in the rich water on their red stick legs that captivated his attention. There were hundreds of flamingos just meters from the shore.

There was no sign of human life. No cars or houses. No laughing groups of primary school children having fun.

Simply sea, sky, birdsong and the rustle of tall grasses against the back of his hand.

And Ella. Captured in a moment in time with the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin.

Seb sucked in a breath to steady his heartbeat then exhaled slowly.

And it felt as though all of the tension that he had been holding in his clenched shoulders these past few months building up to the negotiations suddenly released all at once like smoke spiralling into the air.

His shoulders dropped away from his ears. The creases in his forehead relaxed away and the dull ache at the back of his head which had been bothering him since the long flight from Sydney simply drifted away on the warm tangy wind.

He would have been content to stand there for hours, but Ella released Seb’s hand so that she could shuffle onto the warm sand and wrap her arms around her knees. Once in place she rested her chin on her hands and gazed in delight at the flocks of wading and flying birds on the pond.

Seb smiled down at Ella as she shirked off her pretty daisy sandals and squeezed her toes into the sand with a soft sigh of delight.

Then he glared at his dusty black business shoes and the tight black high socks which were digging into his calves below black business trousers. And felt totally ridiculous!

Without hesitating, Seb collapsed down on the sand, loosened his laces and shocked his bare feet by exposing them to the sunshine for the first time in months. He vaguely recalled the beach barbecue party he had set up for his design team in Sydney at New Year, but not the reason he had been called away at the last minute.

He wiggled his toes a few times to make up for lost time. It felt wonderful.

And then it hit him out of nowhere. Like a meteorite falling onto his head.

He had turned into a time poor cliché of a bloke who had all this money in the bank but no time to enjoy it!

How totally crazy was that!

It was so ridiculous that the laughter that burst through without warning came from a place deep inside his body, low in his abdomen. It was the kind of laughter that made his jaw ache for a few seconds before he was able to sniff and wipe his eyes.

Only then did he dare to turn his head towards Ella.

She smiled at him closed mouthed for a few seconds before shuffling over in silence then faced forwards so that they could both stare out at the flamingos, side by side and only inches apart. Their world encased in a cave of grasses and low shrubs.

Seb felt the sun and warm wind on his face and toes, and a strange sense of contentment and something close to joy filled his heart and his mind. Mingled with regret.

There had been a time when he loved to experience every new sensation with such pleasure and delight. When had he lost that ability?

And it had taken an English girl to help him to reconnect to this world free from high tech communications—and to make this moment something truly special.

‘Sometimes I like to cycle down here out of season. Just to find some peace. I hope you don’t mind?’ Ella whispered.

He reached out for Ella’s hand, raised it to his lips and grinned at her. Strange how he kept a tight hold of her hand and they sat huddled together in comfortable silence, just smiling. And she did not seem to mind at all.

‘You could have warned me that I would have a reception committee,’ Seb whispered to Ella as she hooked her arm around his and wound their way through the assembled guests towards the piano at the back of the room.

‘What? And spoil the fun of seeing you charm the ladies?’ She chuckled. ‘You’re quite the celebrity guest!’

Then she squeezed his arm a little tighter and joked, ‘Sandrine has already ordered a fattened calf!’

Seb almost choked on his fizzy water. ‘I’m hardly the prodigal son,’ he spluttered.

‘Um. I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Ella replied, dabbing with a napkin at the droplets of water he had sprayed onto the sleeve of his beautiful suit jacket. ‘It was very kind of you to offer to take a look at Sandrine’s Internet connection for her. I know she relies on those online bookings. It’s not often they have a tame computer tech guru at hand.’

Before Seb could reply, Ella glanced over his shoulder and nodded. ‘Speaking of shouting, I’m getting the nod from Sandrine. The buffet is about to be served, which is my cue to start work. I hope you like piano music!’

Ella slipped onto the piano stool and moved her hands swiftly up and down the keyboard, creating a stream of gentle lyrical sounds that seemed to Seb’s untutored ear to be based around the melody of a familiar song but transformed under Ella’s fingers into a tapestry of elegant and emotional music.

She might have told him that she had trained as a professional, but to his untrained ear she was superb!

‘Are you improvising? ‘ he asked in amazement.

She laughed out loud, but her focus remained on the keys. ‘That’s the whole point. Sandrine could have played a compact disc through the music system. My job is to create the background music which is special to this event.’

Ella raised her head for a second and nodded towards the elegantly dressed lady who had greeted Sebastien so warmly after he had apologised for being a gatecrasher.

‘The Morel family specifically asked for a combination of smooth jazz and some classical ballads from her favourite musical shows.’

Her hands slowed a little, the right hand picking out a theme he recognised from a very old Hollywood movie. Except that Ella was somehow playing the lyrics in the form of a musical expression so soft, smooth and warm that he was stunned by how every scrap of emotion was teased out in a few notes on a keyboard.

‘You’ve done this before.’ He smiled, and moved to the other side of the piano so that he could look at her face, suddenly delighted that he had agreed to come to this small hotel on a wild and windy evening.

Her nose wrinkled into a smile. ‘Since I was about twelve. I love it, love it, and love it. Did I mention that I love it? I would play even if they did not pay me—but please do not mention that to anyone.’

Seb nodded sagely. ‘Your secret is safe with me. But I do have one question. Why a cocktail pianist?’

‘People watching, of course! Oh, you would be surprised what you see from behind a piano!’

She looked up over the lid of the piano towards the guests who were chatting away in clusters around the buffet table.

‘After a while you merge into the background and that’s when people reveal who they truly are.’ She smiled up at him, then focused on a complex fast run up and down the keyboard using the lightest of touches. ‘Any minute now, Madame Morel is going to make her way over and invite you to join her party at their table. Now, play nice! Who knows, by the end of the evening you may have discovered a whole new set of relatives!’

Sure enough, only seconds later Ella nodded and continued playing as their hostess whisked Seb away. From her position, she could only sympathise as within minutes he was being introduced to the assorted aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews that made up the Morel family. And from what she could hear in random snatches, several of the men were either called André or had other Morel relatives by that name in Montpellier.

Poor Seb. This situation had to be bewildering for him.

As her hands moved through sequences of key strokes her muscles had learnt years ago, Ella glanced up from time to time.

Her eyes were drawn inexorably to the tall handsome man in the couture suit who had dominated the room from the moment he followed her inside.

Sandrine had taken one look at Seb and switched from being a professional hotelier of advanced years into a giggling schoolgirl who blushed at his every compliment.

Internet access! Sandrine! What a pathetic excuse. The shame! She was going to tease her friend mercilessly about that feeble excuse to keep Seb to herself for a few minutes.

It had given her just enough time to introduce herself to Madame Morel and her family and explain why there was an uninvited guest in the room. Who just happened to be the CEO of Castellano Tech.

Delighted did not come close!

Sebastien Castellano was at their little party and looking for one of the Morel family?

How exciting.

Make that two fatted calves, Sandrine.

As for Seb?

Sebastien Castellano had entered the room with all of the persona and confidence of someone used to achieving whatever they set out to do.

Plus he had two distinct advantages.

Firstly he had switched on his full-on charismatic charm offensive for anyone within speaking range. And then of course he was dressed for success. His dark suit was cut to perfectly emphasise broad shoulders and slim waist and hips—the same broad chest that she had pressed against so pathetically in the cherry orchard that morning.

Her fingers missed a key change and she quickly masked her error by turning the mistake into a jazzy flourish and carried on. That dazzling smile and those heart-stopping dark good looks had worked their power on more than Sandrine and their hostess!

The simple touch of his arm on hers had been enough to set her heart racing and head spinning. Despite her sweaty palms and dry mouth, she had managed to conceal her physical reaction to him…until now.

Working with Seb for the next few days until Nicole returned from holiday was going to be far more challenging than she had imagined.

From that very first moment when she caught sight of him sitting on the grass she had felt that certain, telltale, spine-tingling prickle of attraction that refused to go away.

Of course she had tried to rationalise it. She had seen his photos and imagined what Seb would be like in person. Meeting him, arguing with him, learning more about his reasons for coming home…that had simply helped her to understand the man himself.

Her fingers hammered out the dramatic phrasing from a powerful ballad.

Who was she kidding?

She was smitten.

Which was just about the silliest idea she had heard in a long time.

Looking at Seb now as he effortlessly worked the room, the hopelessness of that attraction shook her by the shoulders like a good friend and demanded that she snap out of it.

He was a tourist who would be gone in a few days. Just passing through like a whirlwind destined to churn up everything in his path. Here was a man who only yesterday had no intention of keeping his promise to Nicole. Selfish perhaps? But also vulnerable when it came to his own family.

It was a powerful combination.

She was far too old to have a summer fling. Wasn’t she?

Ella had been right. The gentle ebb and flow of the piano music blended seamlessly into the bright background chatter and laughter from around the room as Madame Morel introduced Sebastien to her extended family and friends.

Yes, there were several André Morels in the family, but André Sebastien Morel from about thirty years earlier? Cue puzzled faces and questions about places and dates he had few answers to. He had quickly accumulated a list of names and telephone numbers to follow up.

Friendly promises to ask around and get back to him mingled with the excellent food and drink to create a genuinely warm and welcoming sense of community and family.

His greatest challenge was refusing the delicious wine that a local winemaker had supplied for the evening. His apologies ended in a mass exodus of the men, and a few of the ladies, to the car park to admire his sports car. Only the howling cold wind prevented several test drives and they agreed to continue their heated debate on the relative merits of French and Italian motor manufacturers back in the warm comfort of the bar.

Where Seb had his first real opportunity to observe Ella as she worked.

The woman was a revelation! Just when he thought he was starting to understand her, she came up with something even more remarkable!

The elf who had challenged him all morning had been replaced by an elegantly dressed beautiful woman with immaculate grooming.

Her dress was a shimmering blue silk cocktail gown with a matching gossamer wrap that drifted around her shoulders like candyfloss. The shade of the silk was a little darker than her eyes, but fitted perfectly onto her sweet rounded curves. It was an inspired choice. Elegant but not stuffy.

The bed hair was twisted up into a French chignon, leaving the smooth line of her neck clear for a small row of pearls.

Combined with natural looking make-up, which seemed to make her pale blue eyes sparkle even more than normal, the overall effect was stunning.

He had met and escorted many beautiful women and professional fashion models over the past few years whose artifice in making themselves attractive for the cameras evaporated a few hours later. Ella was a natural beauty, as easy in her own skin whether she was cycling along a country lane or baking in a country kitchen, or, now, elegant and sophisticated.

Ella Martinez the single mother, hard-working housekeeper and young widow was gone. Replaced by Ella Jayne Bailey. Solo pianist.

She simply took his breath away.

He was totally attracted to Ella Martinez and everything about her, and this new side of her personality and talent only added to his confused feelings.

Which meant that he was in deep trouble.

Seb gulped down the recognition of what he was thinking and feeling and quickly looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed him growing hot and heavy.

He did not do holiday romances, or short-term affairs.

But it did make him wonder about her choices.

What was Ella Bailey doing here in the middle of the Languedoc when she had so much talent?

Did she love her late husband so much that she wanted to hide away from the world with her son in the countryside? Perhaps she had wanted somewhere safe and secure where she could grieve in peace?

But perhaps it was more than that?

He leant against the wall as the other guests shuffled to the dessert trolley.

For now he was happy to watch the most beautiful woman in the room as her small hands moved effortlessly over the keys, her attention focused completely on the sound she was creating. Now and then her shoulders swayed from side to side with her head as she moved with the melody.

No sheet music. No written notes.

Yet the music soared into a tapestry of emotional, uplifting and inspirational sound.

This was her passion. Her delight.

He had always been fascinated by the work of skilled craftsmen, whether they were the expert cabinet makers who designed and made the dining-room furniture in his Sydney apartment, or the software engineers who saw their virtual designs take shape on mobile technology used around the world.

This was why every part of him knew that he was looking at a true artist.

Ella was superb. The music was perfect. She was perfect.

Except that she was playing the piano in a dim corner of the room, being ignored by the party guests as they chatted and sampled the delicious food. Guests like himself, for example.

He had been to so many parties and events over the years where there had been a cocktail pianist playing in the background, and, thinking about it now, he was shocked to recall that he had not once gone over to speak to the musician or even made a note of their name.

Ella was happy to stay in the background playing the piano while he worked the crowd for information about André Morel. In much the same way, Ella seemed happy to stay hidden away from the world in a remote farmhouse while he travelled the world!

His high-profile lifestyle would horrify Ella. What girl would want to have every aspect of her personal life and past history trawled through by journalists looking for a juicy headline?

And she was a single mother with a son.

Putting all of those aspects together, there was only one conclusion he could make.

He and Ella lived in completely different worlds with very different priorities and the sooner he realised that, the better. For both of their sakes.

Right now he had to focus. He needed to know a lot more about the Morel family before the evening was over.

Over an hour later, Seb was noting down the telephone number of an older lady whose cousin was called André Sebastien when he noticed that the music had stopped.

He calmly promised to call the next day, expressed his thanks, and then turned back to the piano.

Ella was standing now, her cell phone pressed firmly against one ear, her right hand squeezed against her mouth, and from the look on her face whatever she was hearing was not good news.

Seb instantly made his excuses and crossed the room to take her arm.

‘What is it? Is everything all right? ‘

Ella shuddered and shrugged into her jacket. ‘That was Yvette. She was reading to Dan when the lights went out. It has happened once before in a mistral and we lost power for a couple of days.’ She clutched at Seb’s arm. ‘Can you take me home, please? I wouldn’t normally leave a party before the guests but this is an emergency.’

‘Sure. But I don’t understand… Is it Dan? Is he frightened of the dark?’

Ella grabbed her bag, then pressed her hand onto her chest and took a breath. ‘Not frightened of the dark. Terrified. I’m hoping that he will grow out of it, and I’ve tried everything but right now…he’s going to be panicking. I need to get there and fast.’

‘Of course. Let’s go.’ Seb grabbed her hand and led her through the hotel guests who were crowding in to chat about the music. Ella would have been lost in the crush but with Seb in the lead they were in the porch before Sandrine could reply to their quick ‘farewells.’

Seb flung open the front door to the hotel and it was snatched immediately out of his hands by the gale-force winds that howled as loudly as the howls of protest from the hotel guests who were being buffeted by the freezing cold draught. By turning his shoulder to the wind, and protecting Ella as best he could with his body, Seb managed to shuffle their way across the car park and open the passenger door of his car for Ella, bracing it against his back long enough for her to throw herself into the seat before the wind slammed it closed.

By the time Seb collapsed into the driver’s seat and pulled his door closed, he was freezing cold, exhausted and shaking with physical effort.

‘I had forgotten what the mistral wind feels like!’ Seb murmured to Ella, who had taken a firm grip with one hand on the grab handle on the car frame and was holding her seat belt extra tight with the other.

He slowly unclamped her hand from around her seat belt.

‘Relax. You are surrounded by six air bags, Ella, and the same safety technology used in racing cars. You are quite safe.’

‘Then why do you need six air bags?’ she squeaked as the powerful engine roared into life.

‘Not all drivers are as experienced as I am,’ Seb replied with a hint of a smile on his lips, trying to reassure her, while thinking of some task to keep her mind busy. ‘But I do need some help. Would you mind checking for fallen branches on the road? There is not much clearance between the road and our seats.’

Ella could only look ahead in terror as Seb carefully edged the car down the main road, the powerful headlights lighting up the thrashing trees and bushes either side of the road.

It was going to be a bumpy night.