The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall. Susanne James

he said, and Fleur’s eyes narrowed slightly. The man was laughing at her, she thought, irritated.

      ‘Well observed,’ she said coolly. ‘But I avoided a swim.’

      ‘You’re not hurt…?’ he asked, and now the dark eyes were serious, the hint of amusement no longer there.

      ‘Absolutely not. I’m fine. If a little sticky,’ she replied, flapping her hands together and making it worse.

      ‘Well, then, let’s get you cleaned up,’ he said purposefully, in a way which left no room for argument. ‘They’ll sort you out at the Black Horse.’

      ‘Oh, but I’d better go home…I mean, back to Pengarroth Hall…’ Fleur began. ‘I thought…’

      ‘And I thought we might as well have some lunch at the pub first,’ he interrupted. ‘They do good food—I know you enjoyed New Year’s Eve, didn’t you?’ He glanced down at her again, and suddenly his heart missed a beat—or two! Although her somewhat crestfallen face was liberally smeared with mud, it did nothing to detract from her overt desirability—a characteristic he’d tried to dismiss since the very first moment he’d seen her….. and Sebastian Conway almost stopped in his tracks. What was that word which had slipped, almost unnoticed, into his stream of consciousness? Desire? That had disappeared, along with Davina’s departure, a long time ago. Had this small, unassuming, mud-smeared woman, dressed in unglamorous winter wear, woken up his libido? He swallowed, a surge of pleasure—or was it relief that he wasn’t dead after all?—coursing through him, and he looked away from her. Because if she gazed at him once more, with those beautiful, expressive sad eyes, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions!

      He walked slightly away from her as they reached the lane, and he cleared his throat. ‘I do think that a glass of wine and a spot of lunch will do you good, Fleur. The slightest fall can be a shock to the system. And, anyway, I’m hungry,’ he added.

      Fleur didn’t bother to reply. He’d decided that they were going to eat at the pub, and that was what would happen, even though she would have much preferred to go back to Pengarroth Hall. But still, on reflection, it would get lunch out of the way, she thought. Pat was not coming back until it was time to prepare the evening meal, so she might just as well fall in with his wishes and eat here, now.

      As soon as they set foot inside the pub, Joy, the landlady, took one look at Fleur and sized up the situation at once. ‘Oh, my good lor’,’ she said in her lilting Cornish way. ‘Just look at you!’

      Fleur smiled apologetically. ‘I was taking a walk—or rather a slide—by the river,’ she began.

      Sebastian cut in. ‘Fleur would appreciate the use of your toilet facilities to get cleaned up, Joy,’ he said, ‘and then I think we’d like some lunch, please, plus a good bottle of red.’

      There were, as yet, only a few customers drinking at the bar, and the woman beckoned to Fleur to follow her. ‘I’ll get you a decent towel, dear,’ she said. ‘There are only paper ones in there.’ She smiled at Sebastian, handing him a menu. ‘And you can be looking at this, Sebastian.’

      Alone, Fleur sighed briefly. Why did she have to fall down and make such a fool of herself? She took off the jacket, examining it closely. All that mud would hopefully brush off when it was dry, she thought, putting it over the back of a chair for a moment, and noting that her jeans were relatively unscathed. She stared at her reflection in the rather dingy mirror and groaned. She had nothing with her to restore some of her confidence—no blusher, no lipstick, not even a comb to run through her hair, which she’d left loose that morning.