“This is the attic,” Marta nodded, pushing a large timber door open. It gave a little harrumphing creak in response to being interrupted, begrudgingly opening for them to enter an enormous room.
“The attic?” Every ghost story her father had ever read her as a child danced to life in her mind. “An attic!” She moved amongst the pieces of furniture covered by huge white sheets, glancing at the paintings that were propped one on top of the other against a wall. She moved to the windows that overlooked the river on this side and then turned to Marta.
“It’s amazing. It’s huge! What a surprise!”
“Wait for it.” Marta grinned, picking her way through the carefully arranged storage space as though she knew exactly where she was going. And, Claudia supposed, she did.
“Ah. Here we are.” Marta paused beside a timber box, lifting it with an expression of strain, so that Claudia hastened across the floor and took one side of it.
“What is it?” She asked, but something deep inside of her already knew.
Marta placed the box down in a clear spot on the floor and unlatched the lid. Claudia held her breath.
Sure enough, the moment it popped open a layer of delicate glass Christmas baubles appeared, detailed with silver paint and gold ribbons. Claudia made a noise of amazement and crouched down, her fingers picking one up reverently.
“Oh, they’re so beautiful.”
“They belonged to Mrs Chastain’s mother.”
“Heirlooms,” Claudia expelled the word on a rushed sigh. “Real heirlooms.”
“Oh, yes,” Marta nodded sagely. “These were hung on every tree until we lost her.” Marta’s eyes held a hint of speculation when they met Claudia’s. “It’ll be good to see them back in place.”
“Do you think… Stavros will mind?”
“Mind?” Marta shook her head. “Why would he mind?”
Good point. And did Claudia really care if he did? Something like mutiny fired in her blood.
“I’m not sure,” she smiled. “Oh, you’ve made my day!”
*
Stavros stared at the contracts for the tenth time in as many minutes and finally gave up. The words were just swimming in front of his eyes. Terms that made no sense despite the fact he’d dictated that they be drafted, his focus was completely distracted. It was late in the afternoon and he’d done his level best to avoid his house guest all day.
Finally, though, hunger and curiosity conspired to draw him out of his office.
He moved downstairs and paused at the bottom landing, a frown on his handsome face. What was that noise?
Christmas carols? He didn’t even know he owned any speakers or iPod docking stations here at Barnwell. How had Claudia managed to source music? Was it Mariah Carey? He recognized the song but couldn’t place the artist.
He moved towards the music on autopilot and froze outside the conservatory. Claudia was singing.
Claudia, his ward, was singing Christmas carols with a voice that was every bit as beautiful as her mother’s had been.
She was singing Christmas carols in his conservatory, standing on top of a step ladder, placing his grandmother’s ornaments on a tree that smelled like a pine dream.
What the hell?
She moved to a different song, “I’ll be home for Christmas,” and reached higher, so that her shirt separated from her jeans revealing an inch of pale, smooth skin. His eyes devoured her, and he stepped back, so that he was more concealed by the door frame, so that he could watch her longer.
She stepped one leg off the ladder for balance and reached around the tree, her tongue poking out, and she almost lost her footing.
“Woah, woops!” She laughed to herself, shaking her head so that her hair bounced around her shoulders like a silk scarf.
His heart was racing, the adrenal response taking a moment to register that she was no longer in danger. That she probably hadn’t ever been. She moved off the ladder, onto the floor, and stepped back a few paces to regard her work.
She startled and for a moment he wondered if she’d heard him, but then she reached into the back pocket and fished out her iPhone, lifting it to her face for a moment before swiping it to answer.
“Hey!” A cheery voice, speculation kept him where he was. He felt a momentary surge of guilt for the eaves dropping he was about to engage in, but then again, she was his ward. Protecting her was in the job description. And part of that was getting to grips with just what was going on in her life.
“I’m sorry, Artie! I meant to call you. I got caught up.” Stavros stiffened. “I didn’t mean for you to be worried.”
And she said there was nothing going on between them?
A laugh, a low-pitched laugh. A sexy laugh. His gut rumbled. “Probably just a few days. Not longer, if I can help it.”
Another pause, and Stavros wondered what the other man was asking her. How would he react if Claudia had been his lover and she’d absconded from their love nest in the middle of the afternoon? Would he have waited until late the next day to call her? Hell, no. He’d have had the police out within an hour of realizing she was missing.
“My … guardian.” She hesitated before she said the word and he would have loved to know how the other man reacted. “Yeah, I know. He’s a pain in the arse.”
Stavros hid a smile. Well, she had every reason to feel that way, he supposed.
She turned around then, absentmindedly pacing the floor as people often did when speaking on the phone. Only her eyes arrested on Stavros’s face and she froze, the colour draining from her flesh, so that she was as white as a sheet.
“I’ll call you later, Artie. Don’t forget to feed Sophie, okay?”
Sophie? Stavros’s expression flickered with a frown.
“Are you listening to my conversations now?”
He shrugged. “Is that a problem?”
“Um, yes,” she snapped sarcastically, thrusting the phone back in her pocket. “Obviously.” And her eyes shifted away from his, almost as though she was afraid of him.
His frown deepened.
“I hope you don’t mind. About the tree.”
Stavros moved deeper into the conservatory and the smell carried with it memories. Memories of his childhood, spent here, unwrapping presents, curled up at his grandmother’s feet, a cup of English tea in his young hands.
“I presume you didn’t act alone,” he said.
Her lips twisted. “I won’t blame my accomplices.”
“Even when they’re guilty by association?” The air between them crackled with something like electricity and she kept her focus squarely on the tree rather than the man at her side. “No way a woman your size dragged this thing in here on your own.”
She fought an urge to ask what was wrong with her size. She was tiny; she knew it. Besides, it was moving dangerously close to the ground they’d stumbled over the night before.
She was done flirting with him.
She was done doing anything other than saying, ‘yes, sir,’ ‘no, sir,’ and whatever the hell else she needed to do to end this little exercise. Thinking she could get through this by pretending to be every bit as spoiled as he thought her to be wasn’t going to work.
“Who’s Sophie?”
The question neatly brought her back to the fact he’d been eavesdropping. “My cat.”
“You have a cat?”
“Temporarily.”
“You have a temporary cat?”
She looked at him. It was a mistake. Something hummed between them, scorching the flesh at the back of her neck.
“I found her a few weeks back. I’ve put posters up but…” she shrugged. “I don’t know who she belongs to.”
“A stray?” He said with disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve taken in a stray cat?”
“She’s not a stray,” Claudia defended, as though he’d called the cat a mangy mongrel. “She’s a beautiful Persian, and obviously well cared for.”
“If that were true, she’d be microch
ipped or collared.”
“It probably came off,” Claudia dismissed, sniffing. “She might have been in a fight or something.”
When he didn’t say anything, she chanced one more look in his direction. And felt herself simmering in response to his mocking look.
“Well?” She demanded. “What was I meant to do? Leave her on the footpath?”
“Yes.” He moved towards the tree, reaching for a bauble on autopilot. “Cats carry any number of diseases. How do you know she’s not festering with something?”
“Because I took her to a vet,” Claudia responded indignantly. “She’s healthy.”
His quizzical look was impossible to interpret.
Claudia moved closer to him, looking at the bauble he was fingering. “They’re beautiful.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I’ve only ever seen ornaments like this once before, and there were only three or four of them.”
“They’ve very rare,” he said with a nod, not elaborating further. He turned back to the tree, studying the placement. “Does this mean you’ve accepted that you’re staying here over Christmas?”
“It means I think the house deserves at least one tree.”
He suppressed his frustration. “You have only done one side.”
“Yes, well, I’m not very tall and so I have to keep climbing up and down the ladder to get the ornaments out of the box.”
“You want help?” The offer came out of nowhere and surprised them both, only having spoken it, Stavros found he was more than willing to lend a hand. It was only an afternoon’s work, after all. Besides, he might be able to talk some sense into her as he went.
“Oh, um, no.” She shook her head and her rejection spurred him on. He found himself insisting.
“They are my family heirlooms, Claudia. I do not want them damaged because you think I’m too much of a, how did you put it? Pain in the arse? To let me help.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing colour bloom in her cheeks.
It was strange, how easily she blushed, given the reputation she’d managed to garner.
“Fine,” she snapped, moving to the stepladder and bending down to move it across, in front of a different section of the tree. As she did so, her jeans dipped down lower on her back and he had the briefest glimpse of the red lace of her thong. His body hardened instantly, the response automatic.
Claudia straightened and climbed the ladder, apparently unaware of the way he’d been able to glimpse the top of her arse. Thankfully.
“Red,” she said, extending the palm of her hand.
“Red what?” He responded, hiding the smile that flickered on his lips.
“Huh?”
“It is customary to say either please or thank you when someone is doing you a favour. Red, what?”
She glared at him, the colour spreading from her cheeks to her hairline. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Red what?” He said, his arms crossed, refusing to budge until she used her manners.
Claudia glared at him. “Please.”
He reached into the box and lifted out a red rain-drop, handing it to her. Her fingers avoided his like the plague and the gesture was all the more intriguing. Where had her bravado gone from the night before? He had threatened her, it was true, with following through with her flirtation.
And yet he’d still expected her to behave true to form – which for Claudia La Roche was like a party girl from way back. What was with the demure act? Was she trying to fool him into letting her leave sooner?
Not bloody likely.
The only thing it achieved was making him want to stir her, looking for more of a reaction.
She placed the ornament with great care, then turned to him. “White.”
He arched a brow. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one stirring?
“White what?” He said, his eyes holding a warning even as he felt a smile tickle his lips.
“White please, sir.”
Holy hell. She was definitely stirring him back. Stavros’s erection strained against the fabric of his pants, he was instantly hard and he pictured her calling him sir in myriad other, more satisfying positions.
He reached into the box and retrieved a white bauble, but when he handed it to her this time, he caught her wrist and held it, then placed the bauble in her upturned palm. He reached for her fingers and closed it over the top of the bauble, his eyes on hers the whole time.
He saw the way her breath was rushed and her cheeks were pink. And his erection grew.
“Next?” It was a gruff request. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t wait for her next use of the word ‘sir’.
“Next what?” She responded, her eyes huge in her face as she turned to face him, blinking her lashes and smiling like an innocent ingénue.
He frowned, not understanding.
“What would you like next, Claudia?” She prompted, the dangerous game of cat and mouse one she was playing expertly.
He tilted a brow. “What would you like from me, Claudia?” He asked, changing the wording slightly yet significantly, so that he saw her tongue dart out and moisten her lower lip.
“I’d like…” she tipped her head to one side, raking her eyes up and down the length of his body, “red, please.”
“Sir?” He reminded her.
She nodded. “Sir.”
Heaven help him, he was about three seconds from yanking her off the step ladder and going all Tarzan on her and that was most definitely inappropriate. She might be into casual sex but he no longer was. And nothing about sleeping with his ward was casual!
He owed her and Christopher so much more than that.
With great effort, he turned away and lifted a red ornament out of the box, passing it to her without touching her this time. Her smile showed that she thought she’d won. And perhaps she had.
“Gold,” she murmured, without turning to face him. “I think another gold.”
“Gold, what?”
She looked over her shoulder, casting him an exasperated look. “Pass me a gold, Stavros. We both know you’re not going to take me over your knee and spank me for not using my manners.”
They both stared at one another, completely stunned by the imagery that had stabbed into the room.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he muttered, turning back to the box and lifting out a gold ornament.
Claudia either didn’t hear, or pretended not to hear. He reached for a gold ornament and passed it up. Her fingers curled around it and she studied it for a moment.
“This is really special.” She swallowed, and he found himself staring up at her, watching the play of emotions across her face. “I’ve got a trillion ornaments,” she said, placing the decoration with care before flicking her gaze down to him. “Turquoise.”
He moved back to the box, lifting a pale blue decoration out and holding it up. She pressed it amongst the branches and smiled, her fingertip tracing the fine sparkle that ran across its base.
“You were saying?” He prompted.
“I have a trillion ornaments,” she nodded, stepping down off the step ladder so she could study the tree. “But nothing old like this. I don’t know if my dad had any handed down to him. My mother didn’t.” She smiled up at Stavros, but it was a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve got red ones, silver ones, gold ones, green ones. I choose a theme every year and decorate the house in that colour.” She turned back to the tree. “But I’ve never had any like this.”
Something in her words stirred sympathy inside of him. He pressed down on it. She might have been acting like a sweet little elf, but she was nothing of the sort. He expelled a soft sigh.
“How did your … friend take the news that you’re here?”
She frowned, not immediately knowing who he meant. “Artie?” She furrowed her brow. “He was fine. Just surprised. As I said, I have a busy few weeks coming up so I really do need to be back in London…”
“London will cope with your absence,” he drawled.
&nb
sp; She swallowed. Suddenly, his misunderstanding hurt. What he thought of her was something she didn’t like, and she longed to clear it up.
“Stavros,” she moved past him, reaching into the box and lifting out a dark green ornament that had cherry red swirls over its base. It reminded her, for some reason, of figure skaters. She moved to the tree and crouched down, pressing it to a lower branch. She turned back to Stavros and had the distinct impression he’d been looking at her bottom. It coloured her cheeks but she pushed on regardless. “My life is much calmer than you think.”
He made a laugh. “Do you read the newspaper articles, Claudia?”
“No,” she responded honestly. “I know they like to gossip about me and my friends. That’s part of the scene. But it doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, well, it sure as hell bothers me,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“Because it would have bothered dad?” She said, reaching for another ornament, lifting out a black and silver one this time.
“Yeah.” It was a gruff admission.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
He waited for her to continue. “My dad didn’t particularly care what I was doing with my life, Stavros. If he was still here, I think he’d be writing and lecturing and forgetting I existed half the time.”
Stavros stood stock still, his eyes trained on Claudia as though looking away would kill them both. “You are wrong. He loved you.”
“Sure, I’m his daughter,” she said, shrugging her slender shoulders and pulling another bauble out. She climbed back up the ladder and pinned it to a spot that was otherwise empty. “He had to love me. But he didn’t care about me. He didn’t particularly want me in his life.” She smiled reassuringly at Stavros. “It’s fine. I accepted it a long time ago. Long before he got sick and died.”
A muscle jerked in Stavros’s cheek. “How can you possibly talk about him this way?”
“It’s the truth,” she said. “You told me last night that I’m like my mother.” Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know if I am or not. I don’t really remember that much about her. But I remember how lonely she was. I remember how much we both missed him. I remember dad was gone a lot of the time. And then she would go. I remember missing them both.” Claudia cleared her throat. “So don’t talk to me about what dad would expect of me, as though he has any say in what I do with my life.”
Her Guardian's Christmas Seduction Page 5