Читать книгу His Defiant Mistress: The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress / The Venetian's Midnight Mistress / The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress - Кэрол Мортимер, CATHERINE GEORGE - Страница 14

BY THE time she was ready the following evening Sarah was running late. Far too much time had been wasted in trying to tame her hair, also dithering about whether to wear the new stretch sequin mini-dress on its own. In the end she lost her nerve, wore it over slim white jeans and locked up the flat. She tossed a long cardigan and a rain jacket in the back of her car, propped Alex’s directions on the dashboard and set off.

The journey was more complicated than it looked on his diagram, but eventually she came to the church he’d marked and turned down a lane with a sign for Glebe Farm. She took the first turning on the right, as instructed, her eyes like saucers when she spotted Alex leaning against a gate in front of a large and very beautiful barn conversion. The sleeves of his blue chambray shirt were rolled up, his faded old jeans fitted him very exactly, and his eyes danced as he waved her through. He shut the gate and sprinted after her as she drove on to park in the forecourt between two mushroom-shaped stones in front of the building.

Alex opened her door and gave her a quick kiss as he helped her out. ‘You’re late, but welcome anyway.’

‘You never thought to mention you lived in a barn conversion?’ she demanded hotly.

‘Of course I did, but I decided to spring it on you as a surprise instead.’

‘Is this the only one on the farm?’

‘The only conversion, anyway. Matt Hargreaves uses the other barns for their original purpose, and sold me this one years ago. His farm is half a mile down the road, so I buy milk and eggs from him, but otherwise I don’t get in his way much.’

Sarah leaned against the car, taking in every detail of his home’s beautifully maintained exterior. Glass panels had replaced the wood in the original barn doors, and a flight of worn stone steps led up alongside the entrance porch to a window set in the former entrance to the old hayloft.

‘It’s just wonderful, Alex,’ she said with a sigh, and smiled at him. ‘Come on, then. Give me the guided tour.’

He opened the porch door into a small entrance hall with a small shower room to one side of it, and mouth-watering dinner smells coming from a kitchen on the other. ‘The rest is through here.’ He ushered her into a vast, open-plan space with a vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. Light poured through the tall glass doors and from the windows at the rear, highlighting the treads of a spiral stair which wound up in shallow, leisurely curves to a galleried landing. To one side of the staircase on the ground floor a handsome stone fireplace had been built into the end wall. In front of it a Persian rug in glowing colours warmed the stone floor between a pair of sofas with end-tables and lamps, and a carved cupboard against the outer wall. In the other half of the room the wall backed a long credenza table, and solid oak chairs were grouped round a long refectory table already laid for dinner, with an open bottle of wine and a board with a rustic looking loaf and a hunk of cheese already in place.

The first, overwhelming impression was of space and light. Sarah gazed up in rapture at the vaulted ceiling. ‘I’m so impressed by the way you’ve done the beams, Alex.’

‘They were too dark as they were, so I had them stripped and treated, then lime-washed to get this bleached effect. The idea was to look almost like a ghost of the original structure. Would you like to see the bedrooms?’ added Alex, watching her face.

Sarah nodded eagerly, and started up the stairs. Along with his enjoyment of her trim back view, Alex felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he followed her. Unless he was much mistaken, Sarah Carver lusted after his house. Just as he’d hoped. The next step was to get her to lust after its owner. No, he thought, frowning. Not lust. That was too raw and basic for the feelings he wanted to arouse in her. Not that thinking of arousal of any kind was a good idea right now, when he was about to show her his bedroom.

Sarah stood at the gallery rail, admiration in her eyes as she gazed down at the floor below. ‘Did you do all this yourself?’

‘I was involved at every stage, certainly,’ he said, leaning beside her. ‘The interior design is mine, the staircase and so on. And the extra windows. Like you, I’m hooked on light and space.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘My room can hardly compare with this.’

‘But you worked on it yourself, so it’s your baby as much as this place is mine. I used to slog away here every weekend I could, and the occasional evening when the job allowed. Some weekends Kate Hargreaves took pity on me, and sent a hot meal over from the farm.’ Alex shrugged. ‘My father left to oversee the manufacturing side from the London office soon after I acquired this place, so I didn’t have too much time to spare for building work.’

‘Did you have a pleasant evening, by the way?’

‘Relatively, yes.’ Alex took her hand. ‘Take a look at the bedrooms, then I’ll feed you.’

To offset the dark wood of his plain, masculine bedroom furniture, the bedcovers in all the rooms were white. The master bedroom was large, as Sarah had expected, but the two guest rooms were anything but small, and all three had their own bathrooms, fitted to a standard her practised eye could now price very accurately.

‘My father thinks I went overboard with the white look,’ said Alex. ‘Too stark and monastic for his taste. His place in London leans to opulence and colour.’

‘I think yours is exactly right,’ said Sarah, and smiled at him. ‘Will you object if I take a leaf out of your book and do something similar at Westhope?’

‘I’ll consider myself flattered.’ He went out on to the landing, beckoning her to follow. ‘Come on, let’s eat. I’ll just throw some pasta in a pot and dinner will be ready.’

Sarah smiled as she followed him down the elegant curving stair. In the past the only meal a man had ever made for her had been pasta with sauce from a jar. Apparently the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group was no more inventive in his smart kitchen than the boyfriends who had worried her father so much at one time.

Alex pulled out a chair at the dining table. ‘Sit down, madam, and I shall bring in the food in exactly five minutes.’

‘What are we having?’

‘Nothing fancy.’ Alex lit two candles in heavy glass holders and went off to the kitchen. When he came back with two steaming bowls, Sarah received hers with a mental apology to the chef.

‘Gnocchi di patate pomodoro e rucola,’ he announced grandly. ‘Potato dumplings with tomato sauce and rocket.’ He poured the wine and sat down, smiling at her as he raised his glass. ‘Your health, Sarah.’

‘Yours too,’ she said, toasting him. She eyed her meal with respect. ‘This looks—and smells—wonderful.’ She drank some wine, grated cheese over the gnocchi, and then put the first fluffy, melting forkful in her mouth. ‘Mmm,’ she said indistinctly, as the flavour of the sauce hit her tastebuds. ‘It tastes wonderful, too.’

‘Good. I enjoy seeing a woman eat.’

‘It’s one of my favourite pastimes!’

Alex eyed her curiously. ‘What are the others?’

She looked up from her plate. ‘Other what?’

‘Pastimes.’

Sarah thought about it. ‘I enjoy my work so much I suppose you could list that as a pastime. I don’t seem to have time for anything else other than reading—at least not in summer. This winter I’m going to make an effort to go to concerts and plays, and visit exhibitions and so on. Last winter I was too busy fitting up my flat to go out much, except for a couple of weekends I spent in London with former flatmates.’

‘You’ve been back only twice?’

‘The first weekend was fine, because I hadn’t been gone long. But the second weekend was a mistake because by that time I was totally out of the loop.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Once you’re gone, you’re gone.’

‘These weren’t close friends, obviously?’

‘No, but I’ll always be grateful to them, because they were kind to me after Dad died. I shared their flat after the family home was sold.’ She looked at him expectantly as she went on eating. ‘What kind of things do you do in your spare time?’

Alex smiled ruefully. ‘I used to play village cricket, but these days I can’t count on being free for net practice sessions, or even for a match itself, so I’ve given it up and run a bit instead. I cycle as well, but sometimes life’s so hectic that lately I’ve been glad just to potter in my bit of garden on a Sunday, or watch cricket instead of actually playing.’

‘You must have more of a social life than that!’

‘Corporate entertaining mostly.’ His mouth turned down. ‘I get invited to private dinner parties quite a bit, too, but I accept only if I’m sure there’s no catch.’

Sarah looked at him for a moment. ‘A helping hand for the host’s career?’

He shook his head. ‘Unwilling partner for the hostess’s single best friend.’

‘Tricky! That kind of dinner party doesn’t feature in my life,’ said Sarah thankfully. She eyed the rustic loaf. ‘I’d love a chunk of that to wipe out my bowl.’

Alex laughed, and jumped up to cut it for her. ‘We’ll both have some.’

Sarah mopped up every last drop of sauce with her bread, then sat back, licking her lips. ‘It’s a sin to waste any of that sauce.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘How clever of you to make gnocchi. I’ve heard it’s a pretty ticklish process. You must give me your recipe.’

Alex got up to refill her glass, but Sarah shook her head.

‘No more; I’ve got to drive home.’

‘Confession time.’ His eyes gleamed in the candlelight that burned brighter now it was darkening rapidly outside. ‘I made the sauce from scratch, I swear, but Steve gave me the gnocchi. I called in on my way home this morning and asked if he had any fresh pasta to spare, but he said his gnocchi would impress you more than the usual spaghetti.’

Sarah laughed. ‘He was right. It was delicious.’

‘Stay where you are,’ he added as he collected plates. ‘Dinner’s not over yet.’

Sarah looked round with envy when he’d disappeared into the kitchen, liking the idea of a next time. She felt so at home here. Probably because on a grander scale the vaulted ceiling and open space gave the same sense of breathing room as her flat.

Alex came in to switch on lamps. ‘It’s raining hard out there.’

Sarah could hear it drumming on the roof as he went to fetch the next course. It gave her the feeling of security experienced in childhood when she’d been tucked up in bed listening to rain spattering against the windows. She smiled at Alex as he came back. ‘I love that sound.’

‘So do I.’ He put a tray on the table, with coffee and a luscious looking dessert. ‘I cadged this from Steve, too. Chocolate and almond tart. You’ll like it.’

Sarah did like it. So much that she gave in to temptation and accepted another slice. ‘But just a sliver, or I won’t get into these jeans again.’

‘Which would be a pity,’ he said blandly, ‘when they’re such a perfect fit.’

She grinned. ‘I suppose you noticed when you were following me up the stairs?’

‘A man can’t help noticing such things,’ said Alex, unrepentant. ‘Will you pour?’

They lingered over coffee until the pot was dry, while Sarah listened avidly to Alex’s account of his work on the house. But at last he apologised for getting carried away and stacked their cups on the tray. ‘Now, you take a sofa over there while I clear away.’

‘I’ll help,’ she said firmly, and started gathering up dessert plates.

While they tidied up, in his compact, well-designed kitchen, Alex demanded a detailed account of her movements since he’d last seen her, and Sarah told him about the meal at Westhope Farm, and Mavis Grover’s powerful parsnip wine. But they were sitting on one of the sofas together before she mentioned Dan Mason’s visit.

‘He came round to your place?’ Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what was that about?’

‘He wanted me to have dinner with him again, at some place near Ross.’

‘And what did you say?’ he asked silkily.

‘I said no. And not just because you warned me against him, so don’t look so smug.’ Sarah shivered. ‘I didn’t want to go out with him, to Ross or anywhere else.’

‘Good,’ said Alex with satisfaction, and put an arm round her.

‘Dan was so objectionable when I said no—Harry was all for seeing him off,’ she added, chuckling. ‘He’d been cleaning my windows. You should have seen Dan’s face when Harry appeared.’

‘Good for Harry!’

‘Anyway, Dan went off in a huff, but his parting shot was a warning about you.’

Alex stiffened. ‘Oh?’

‘He said I should watch my step, because I’m in the same line of business as you, and while I’m just small fry you’ve got the might of the Merrick Group behind you.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he said flatly. ‘The man’s an idiot.’

‘He also told me,’ Sarah informed him, ‘that droves of women are attracted to your Merrick money, but you refuse to get hooked.’

Alex’s mouth curled in distaste. ‘I think droves may be exaggerating slightly. Besides, I did get hooked. Once.’

‘Do you still have feelings for the lady? Sorry,’ she added hastily. ‘You don’t have to answer that.’

‘My pride took a beating at the time. But it recovered, and so did I. Completely.’ He smiled crookedly ‘Unlike those mythical droves of women, mere money doesn’t work for you, Sarah, does it? Least of all when it comes attached to the name of Merrick.’ He leaned nearer. ‘But you wouldn’t be here tonight if you didn’t like me for myself a little.’

‘True. I do like you. And not just a little. I like you a lot.’ On impulse she kissed his cheek.

Alex promptly seized her in his arms and kissed her mouth, and when she made no protest went on kissing her with a savouring pleasure she shared to the full. ‘I can stop if you like,’ he whispered, after an interval.

Sarah shook her head. ‘Not just yet. Kiss me some more.’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ He ran the tip of his tongue round her parted lips, then slid it between them in a caress which she responded to with such fervour he lifted her onto his lap as he kissed her. He felt a surge of triumph as her breath quickened in time with his. He smoothed a hand over the glittering fabric covering her breasts, and felt himself harden as her breath caught. He raised his head, his eyes questioning. ‘You don’t like that?’

She nodded wordlessly, her breathing ragged as his mouth returned to hers, coaxing and tasting with a new hunger as his caressing fingers slid beneath the tunic to trace the shape of breasts which were suddenly so taut and sensitive she felt fire streak south to parts of her unused to such ravishing sensation. Then suddenly she was back in her place on the sofa, and Alex was on his feet, raking a hand through his hair.