by SJ
‘It probably seemed fantastic because you were hungry,’ Fleur said, ‘and so was I.’ She took his tray, then went back into the kitchen to put the kettle on. And almost at once he was by her side, standing behind her, with his hands lightly on her waist, before sliding them gently to rest on her hips—for just a moment… She had difficulty in not shivering in pleasure at his touch. Instinctively, she turned away and indicated the coffee things on the shelf.
‘There you are,’ she said lightly. ‘Your turn.’
With the television flickering in the corner, they drank their coffee on the sofa in what Fleur could only think of as companionable ease, with neither of them feeling the need to make unnecessary conversation. Then Sebastian glanced around him.
‘You have a very…cosy…place here, Fleur,’ he said casually. ‘It has your taste stamped all over it, if I may say so.’
Fleur smiled at that. ‘I’ve been here for three years,’ she said, ‘and the first thing I did was change things as much as I could without actually knocking down walls. My father helped me decorate, but I chose everything myself. It’s lovely to own something for one’s self, isn’t it, and not have to worry about what other people think, or want.’ She paused. ‘I particularly like my bedroom—it’s the largest room and it looks over the park at the back. I just have to see grass and trees—foliage of any kind, really—because it helps me ignore the hustle and bustle and brick walls at the front. I see children playing in the park sometimes, and people walking their dogs. I can make believe that I’m in the country somewhere.’ She stopped abruptly, wondering whether she should have mentioned dogs, but Sebastian nodded in agreement.
‘Yes, it’s amazing what a few acres of grassland can do for people. I did bring Benson back to town with me occasionally, a few years ago, but it didn’t really work out. He was much happier at home.’ He drank from his cup. ‘And that’s where he is now,’ he added.
Neither spoke for a few moments after that, then Sebastian said, ‘When I went into the bathroom to wash my hands, your bedroom door was open…and I agree with you. It is a lovely room, with a big window, which must act as a kind of picture frame for the view outside.’ He turned his head and looked at her steadily, not bothering to add how enticing he’d found the sight of her king-size bed with the luxurious pillows and immaculate covers. In fact, he wouldn’t mind sliding beneath that duvet with her now, he thought… She was wearing a sort of clingy soft grey dress which just hinted at the curvaceous figure beneath, and she’d done her hair in two bunches, which fell casually around her neck and shoulders. He shrugged inwardly. He knew there’d be no invitation from her to spend the night here, he was sure of that.
He put his empty cup down on the small table in front of them and began to get up reluctantly. ‘I suppose I’d better be going,’ he said, and she looked up, treating him to one of those languid eye movements which always made the muscles of his neck twitch.
‘It’s past midnight,’ she said coolly. ‘You…you’re more than welcome to stay, Sebastian.’
That was the last thing he’d expected her to say, and his heart rate went up a notch! ‘Um…well…my car’s parked along the street and it’ll only take half an hour or so to get home,’ he began, and she shrugged, getting up as well.
‘It’s up to you. I feel I owe you bed and board—it’ll be my way of saying thank you for doing the ceiling,’ she said. ‘And I always have bacon and eggs for breakfast on Sundays.’
At that precise moment the telephone rang and Fleur’s expression changed at once to one of immediate concern. Frowning, she looked up at Sebastian, her eyebrows raised, then went over to answer it. And, before she had chance to say anything, Mia’s voice could be heard by both of them.
‘Fleur? Oh, Fleur—I haven’t got you out of bed, have I?’
‘No, Mia—of course not… What is it? What’s the matter?’
‘It’s Mat! We’ve split up—just now. Oh, Fleur, it was horrible! We had the grandmother of all rows and he’s…he’s…’ There was the sound of much sniffing and nose-blowing ‘…he slammed his way out of the flat as if I had something contagious! Honestly, he is being so unreasonable! And I’m sorry to ring you at this hour, but I couldn’t go to bed, go to sleep, without telling someone! Why does this always happen, Fleur? I’m beginning to think that I shall never have a lasting relationship with anyone, ever!’
In spite of her friend’s obvious distress, Fleur couldn’t help smiling. Mia was always exuberant—whatever the circumstances—and she knew that this time next week she and Mat would probably have made up. ‘Oh dear,’ she said sympathetically, ‘and I thought you were getting on so well at Christmas…’
‘We were. It was all going brilliantly, but you’re right, Fleur—men always have to be in control. Although I don’t usually agree with your mantra, I do now. It’s what they want all the time; their ideas are the only ones that count…’ She blew her nose loudly again, and by now Fleur had made appropriate signs to Sebastian to give him some idea what was going on. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she whispered, ‘Shall I tell her you’re here?’
He grinned and whispered back, ‘Why not?’
After listening to a few more frenzied outbursts from Mia, Fleur said gently, ‘Look, there’s someone else you might like to talk to, Mia…Sebastian’s here.’
For a moment there was dead silence, then Mia said, ‘Seb’s there? What’s going on? I thought he wasn’t coming back to London until next week.’
‘Perhaps you’d better speak to him and let him explain,’ Fleur said, handing the phone over.
‘Hi, Sis. What’s it this time?’ Sebastian’s reasonable voice seemed to calm Mia down slightly as she put him in the picture, and he smiled faintly at Fleur as he listened.
After several more minutes of pouring her heart out, Mia said, ‘But…why are you over at Fleur’s place? Is something the matter? No one tells me anything!’
‘Look, it’s rather a long story, and I think we’d better meet up,’ he began, and Mia interrupted.
‘Oh, yes, please. Will you come over and have lunch at my place tomorrow? Please say you will. I can’t bear Sundays on my own—and make Fleur come too… I’m desperate to see you—to see you both…’
After arrangements were made for lunch at Mia’s flat tomorrow, Sebastian hung up the phone. Fleur said, ‘Well, never a dull moment with your family.’ She smiled, then stretched her arms above her head, yawning. ‘I must get to bed—and it’s pointless you going home now, Sebastian—if you’re having lunch with Mia tomorrow—because her flat is miles away from your place, whereas it’s quite convenient to get to from here. So—’ she smiled up at him sleepily, turning to go into her room ‘—I’ll give you pillows and a spare duvet in a minute, and then I’ll show you how that sofa turns into a very comfortable extra bed.’
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN she woke up the following morning it took Fleur a moment to remember exactly what had happened last night… Was Sebastian really here and sleeping in her sitting room? Then she sat up quickly. Yes, it was no dream, she assured herself. He had turned up last night, had painted her kitchen ceiling—and spent the night on the sofa bed. Though she had not heard a sound from him after they’d wished each other goodnight.
She threw back the duvet and reached for her dressing gown, going into the bathroom. She’d better wash and get dressed quickly so that he could have a shower, she thought. There were plenty of toiletries he could make use of, but no shaving kit. Then she shrugged. That was his problem, not hers.
When she emerged from her bedroom, she was faintly astonished to see the sofa bed returned to normal and no sign of Sebastian. She stood still, looking around her as if expecting him to materialize… Had she dreamed it, after all? she asked herself stupidly, knowing full well that she had not. But there was not a sign of him anywhere, and no note.
Slowly, she went into the kitchen feeling suddenly dispirited. She couldn’t imagine why he’d disappeared, but t
he emptiness she felt made her feel forlorn. Then she made a face—for heaven’s sake, don’t let the man get to you like this, she scolded herself. He’d obviously had a good reason to leave the flat, but so what? She’d go on to Mia’s by herself, and whether he turned up or not didn’t matter. She glanced up at the ceiling—it did look great, even in the rather poor wintry light coming in the window and, as far as she could see, no spot had been missed. So he needn’t bother to come back to do any patching up.
Just then, she heard her front door open and close and, going out quickly into the hallway, she saw Sebastian standing there, two large paper bags in his hand.
‘Good morning, Fleur,’ he said, looking down at her quizzically. ‘Found your house keys on the hall table to let myself back in, in case you still hadn’t surfaced, and thought if I didn’t do something about breakfast, we’d never get to Mia’s place.’ He went past her into the kitchen, put the things on a shelf and switched on the kettle. ‘I know you said you always cook bacon and eggs on Sundays, but I thought there wouldn’t be enough time today…so I’ve bought hot croissants and fresh rolls instead. That’s a super deli you’ve got next door, by the way.’
Fleur felt a rush of pleasure seep through her that he hadn’t gone off somewhere without saying anything. She hadn’t really thought he would be that rude, but he was something of an unknown quantity and she didn’t know him well enough to be sure. She gazed up at him. There was dark stubble on his unshaven features, which might have given him a slightly menacing appearance—until she remembered his reaction at losing Benson. Whatever else he might be, he was not menacing. She smiled quickly.
‘I’m sorry I woke up so late—and thanks for getting the breakfast,’ she said. ‘Besides, Mia’s lunches are always very generous so we’d better get there with an appetite.’
‘Just what I thought,’ he replied, pouring the water onto the coffee grounds in the percolator and reaching for two mugs. He glanced upwards briefly. ‘Ceiling’s OK,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I missed any bits.’
‘The ceiling’s perfect,’ Fleur said. She paused. ‘I didn’t want to ask Dad to help me this time… I wanted to do it by myself. But I’m really glad you turned up.’ She stopped herself from saying any more… This wasn’t good, she thought. They were getting too close and she knew that neither of them would appreciate it.
While Sebastian went into the bathroom to shower and freshen up, Fleur busied herself with putting out plates and butter, and they were soon seated once again in the sitting room, munching away at the deliciously fresh food he had bought.
‘Did you manage to sleep all right?’ she asked, leaning forward to refill their mugs. ‘Everyone who’s spent a night on that sofa bed declares it to be very comfortable.’
He looked across at her as she spoke. She was wearing well-fitting white trousers and a black figure-hugging jumper, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She had hardly any make-up on, her skin exhibiting that healthy glow he’d come to admire so much, and had put on a pair of white gold hoop earrings which dangled prettily and caught the light as she moved.
He cleared his throat. ‘You don’t need to apologize for the sofa bed,’ he said easily. ‘I slept like a log, and it has my full recommendation.’ He was going to add that he hoped he’d be invited to use it again, but that wasn’t what he meant. To hell with the sofa bed—he’d like to try the king-size in her bedroom, he thought. Preferably with her in it. His expression darkened briefly. Mia had warned him that Fleur was not one for emotional relationships—and Fleur had confirmed it herself. And neither was she the sort to indulge in passionate short-lived flings, either. Any plan he might have had in that direction seemed hopeless.
He stared thoughtfully into his coffee mug. He had thought he’d found the one for him when he’d met Davina—and he’d been proved horribly wrong. Yet his feelings for Fleur were on another planet entirely, and he wanted to kick himself. It was just that she was someone he wanted to be with—all the time. Not only because she was so enticingly beautiful but because she was so…so… ordinary. No, not ordinary. She was unspoilt, uncomplicated, unsophisticated, undemanding. The sort of woman he’d dreamed of finding, who might one day agree to share his life at Pengarroth Hall. But he knew that was an impossible thought. She was not the marrying kind, and certainly didn’t want children. He shrugged inwardly. He knew plenty of women whom he could easily persuade to be his wife—but he didn’t want any of them. He wanted just one—the one who obviously didn’t want him.
The Sunday morning traffic was blissfully light and it only took half an hour to reach Mia’s flat. Sebastian was able to park the car right outside, and Fleur was surprised at that—until Sebastian explained.
‘Mia always arranges to park her car somewhere else,’ he said, ‘when she knows I’m coming—which is thoughtful of her. Otherwise we might have had a fair walk.’
Fleur had been to the imposing building several times before, but it never failed to impress her. The marble-pillared entrance announced the grandeur of what would once have been the residence of a wealthy family, but which had been turned into four spacious flats. She knew that the whole place was owned by the Conway estate, with Mia living in one of the flats and the others rented out—mostly to friends or acquaintances.
Sebastian gave a quick ring on the bell before opening the door with his own key, then ushered Fleur in front of him as they made their way along the wide, richly carpeted hallway. The discreet chandeliers above their heads threw a welcoming light as they went up the stairs and, before they could reach Mia’s door, she appeared, leaning over the gleaming mahogany banister to greet them.
‘Oh, good—you’ve timed it just right,’ she enthused. ‘I’m so glad to see you both.’
Despite her distress of the night before, Mia seemed to have recovered enough to be her usual bubbly self and Fleur thought—not for the first time—what a joy people like her were. Whatever happened, she always seemed to bounce back cheerfully.
‘Now, first things first,’ Mia said, as she poured some wine into three glasses and handed them around. ‘What on earth were you doing at Fleur’s place so late on a Saturday night, may I ask?’ she demanded. ‘It was only after I rang off that I realized I didn’t have the faintest idea what that was all about.’
Sebastian looked sober for a moment before he spoke. ‘I don’t really know what I was doing there myself,’ he admitted. ‘But I wanted to tell Fleur something…something which I knew would upset her, and I didn’t want to use the phone.’
Mia was mystified. ‘Well,’ she said impatiently, ‘what was it?’
‘Benson died a couple of days ago, Mia,’ he began, ‘and…’
‘Oh, no!’ Mia was aghast at the news ‘What happened… how…did he go?’
‘Very peacefully,’ Sebastian said slowly, ‘with his head in my lap. He was just tired, that’s all. There was no pain.’
There were a few moments’ silence while Mia absorbed the news.
‘Of course, I wanted you to know too,’ Sebastian went on quickly, ‘but because Fleur had been at the house for some time, Benson had got used to her being there—she did make a lot of fuss of him and he liked that. They’d become firm friends, I think, and it seemed right that I should tell her face to face.’ He paused. ‘They had quite a relationship going in the end.’
For once, Mia seemed deflated—but it wasn’t long before she recovered. ‘Well…we all knew Benson’s days were numbered,’ she said, ‘and his walks were beginning to get shorter and shorter, weren’t they?’ She glanced at Sebastian. ‘You’ll have to get a replacement, Seb. I don’t think Frank—or Pat—will survive without a dog in the place.’
‘There’s time for that,’ he replied shortly.
Fleur decided to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Whatever you’re cooking, Mia, it smells fantastic,’ she said. ‘I’m very glad I didn’t cook bacon and eggs for us this morning.’
Mia was quick to pick up on that remark. ‘Oh, you stayed the n
ight, then Seb—well, well.’ Her mischievous eyes twinkled as she looked from one to the other.
‘I was offered the opportunity to sleep on Fleur’s extremely comfortable sofa bed, to save me driving home, then having to come back again to pick her up before we came on to your place,’ Sebastian explained smoothly.
‘Hmm,’ Mia said enigmatically, and Fleur looked across at her friend.
‘I was only being polite, Mia,’ she said. ‘It seemed the right thing to do, especially as Sebastian had just painted my kitchen ceiling for me.’
‘Painted your what?’ Mia turned to Sebastian. ‘I can find one or two things for you to do here if you’re ever at a loose end,’ she teased, ‘though I don’t think that any of my ceilings would have quite the appeal for you that Fleur’s obviously had.’
Sebastian stood up to offer the wine around. ‘Why don’t we talk about you and your love life, Mia?’ he said easily. ‘Come on, out with it.’
‘Oh, that can wait until we’ve eaten,’ Mia said airily. ‘I’ve cooked a piece of beef—which I would be glad if you would now come and carve please, Seb—and the roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings are done to a turn.’
With her mouth already watering, Fleur took her place at the table and soon they were tucking into a meal which could almost have compared with Pat’s.
‘This is wonderful, Mia,’ Fleur said, helping herself to more of the buttery carrots which Sebastian was offering around.
‘Oh, I’ve learned everything from Pat,’ Mia said. ‘She’s always happy to pass on her knowledge to anyone who’ll listen.’
It was not until they were finishing the last of the apple tart and custard that Sebastian brought the conversation round to Mia again as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Now then, what went on last night between you and your latest?’ he said, and Fleur glanced at him quickly. His question sounded like that which a lawyer might ask of a client, she thought—brisk and to the point. Although the relationship between Sebastian and his sister was clearly a very loving one, she did wonder whether Mia was slightly in awe of him—especially because he was that much older than her.