Chapter Six #2
‘The castle transformed over the years into a fortified mansion rather than a castle; there is one floor above us.’
‘How many floors are there?’
‘Seven. This floor links with the wing above the library.’
She blinked, finding it impossible to visualise the layout.
‘It looked pretty much like a castle to me. Do the other staff have accommodation here?’ she said, lowering her voice as they walked down a wide, shallow flight of stairs and entered a hallway.
They passed by several doors. A few of the deep windows to her right were open and she could hear the sound of the sea, her nose twitching as she inhaled the salty tang in the warm breeze that was underlaid with the mingled scents of cypress and thyme.
‘There are converted outbuildings, stable blocks,’ he explained, not slowing his stride. ‘But most live in the village, a few commute from town.’
Her weariness outweighed her curiosity so she resisted the temptation to ask for more details, but decided that she would find out about the village as it would mean less interaction with Leo.
Because after that scene in the kitchen, which she had barely escaped with her mind intact, it was clear that even a distant glimpse of him was not going to be good for her equilibrium.
Though she was clinging to the very realistic hope that he wouldn’t be here often.
Wanting to plaster herself against him while simultaneously wanting to push him away was making her head ache.
Just looking at him made the rest of her ache.
His antagonism hurt, but the small snatches of conversation that came close to the easy intimacy they had once shared were even more painful reminders of what she’d lost.
She half tripped, steadied herself and bit her lip, determined not to ask him to slow down even though she was virtually skipping now to keep up with his long stride. A more considerate man might have made allowances for the disparity in their leg lengths, she decided, nursing her resentment.
‘Here we are.’
He had stopped outside a double door, the only door in this section of the hallway that she could see. With any luck, this meant she would be less likely to bump into any guests; she already knew that twenty were staying the night after the dinner.
‘Thanks.’ She stood, waiting for him to move. ‘I just hope I will be able to find my way to the kitchen in the morning.’ She kept the doubt out of her voice to keep things light.
‘You won’t be needed in the kitchen in the morning.’ He watched her stick her little rounded chin out and sighed. The image he carried of a soft helpless creature who needed someone to make her decisions for her was fast vanishing.
Who was he kidding? It had already gone, and he was feeling quite nostalgic for it. Despising her had made it easier to keep any lingering sexual attraction that remained from their youthful fling at bay.
Obviously, Leo no longer mistook the high voltage sparks that flew between them for love.
The wild hunger they both still felt might be nothing more than chemistry, but it was still an obstacle—certainly to a good night’s sleep.
But it went both ways, and he had no qualms about using it against her—using it to his own advantage.
‘I will be needed.’
His jaw clenched and her expression suggested she took pleasure from contradicting him.
‘It’s breakfast! I am sure the rest of the army down there can cope without your guidance.’
‘Do I tell you how to do…whatever it is you do? The morning isn’t just breakfast, it’s deliveries and menus and prep,’ she enumerated, mocking his ignorance.
Though it turned out he wasn’t as clueless as she had imagined when he said, ‘Deliveries aren’t really an issue as almost everything is produced in-house, so to speak.
You can literally walk around the kitchen gardens and select your fresh produce.
Our herds are all organic free range, and even most of the wine is produced here, or it will be.
You asked what I do, and the winery is my pet project at the moment. ’
She looked impressed, which gave him a feeling of smug satisfaction.
‘And your morning will involve meeting my grandfather,’ he added, pausing to watch her eyes widen in predictable shock, probably dismay too.
If she knew his grandfather it would definitely be dismay.
He could have made an excuse when the old man had announced he wanted to meet this new chef and possibly steal her from Leo, on whom good food was wasted, but Leo had decided that the demand fitted well into his plan to make Amy’s life uncomfortable.
So far, he’d not had the success he had anticipated in that regard; he’d been overconfident. Amy had responded to every challenge and the kiss that should have unsettled her hadn’t done so either!
‘But…’
He cut across her wavering protest. ‘A courtesy, just to say hello. He was really impressed with the food tonight.’
‘Does he not live here?’
‘No, he stepped aside from the day-to-day running a few years ago. He currently lives in Florence, so now I’m the one paying your wages.’
‘How much?’
A raw laugh was wrenched from his throat. ‘You didn’t read that page?’
‘I didn’t see much point. This is blackmail, not a job, so I didn’t think I could really negotiate my salary.’
His head reared back, an expression of hauteur spreading across his lean face.
‘You’re offended?’ she cried incredulously. ‘Sorry, but it’s the truth! If you must know, I hadn’t thought about it; you’re paying the salary of my replacement at the food truck, so I assumed…’
‘What, that you could just sit back, whip up an omelette and wait for this to be over? You will earn your pay.’
Outraged at the suggestion that she wouldn’t, her golden-brown eyes sparked. ‘I am not work-shy.’
‘I had noticed that.’
His dry response mollified her slightly. ‘So when is this audience with your grandfather?’ As much as she disliked the idea, she couldn’t see any way around it.
His expressive lips quirked at her choice of words. ‘We should be able to do the tour first.’
‘We?’ she said warily.
‘I will give you the tour, then introduce you to my grandfather.’
‘I could wander around on my own—’
‘And get lost.’
‘I happen to have an excellent sense of direction,’ she lied. ‘But fine, I’ll do the tour. Go for it, show me all the things I missed out on, rub my nose in it…’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
She raised one well-defined brow. ‘Oh, come off it, Leo. I may be dim enough to let Dad dupe me, but I’m not that dim.
This is obviously part of your payback; you want to show me the life that could have been mine, had I stayed with you.
The thing is, even if I had gone with you, we likely wouldn’t be together now.
Have you seen the statistics on young marriage? ’
‘I don’t recall ever proposing.’
Swallowing the urge to weep because he’d probably like it if she did, she shrugged. ‘True, we weren’t that foolish, but you know what I mean.’
As he finally stepped aside, Amy virtually threw herself into the room but, before she could close the door on him, he brushed past her and went inside. She took a deep breath and turned slowly to face him.
‘I don’t need a guided tour of my room—’ She stopped mid-sentence, her stunned gaze moving around the room, even though her initial thought was that it was a mistake.
This was not a bedroom, but a sitting room. A further internal door was open and she could make out an elegant antique pale wooden half tester bed hung with pretty drapes.
This room had a feminine vibe too, the furniture a blend of antique and high-end modern.
The pale linen upholstery on the comfortable-looking sofas was brightened by an eclectic selection of cushions.
Similarly, the rugs on the polished wooden floor provided vivid splashes of colour, as did the antique rugs, probably too precious to walk on, glowing against the stone walls.
She tracked the gorgeous scent that filled the room to the antique bowl set in the carved open fireplace that held lavender and roses.
She hadn’t been expecting…this.
‘This is beautiful,’ she said, wandering across the polished boards of the floor to the open doorway of the bedroom, her expression one of genuine pleasure.
‘Right, so you were thinking more a dusty attic and slave labour; that explains your decision to spend half the night outside the door picking a fight with me.’
‘I was not picking a fight. I was winning a fight.’ She paused. Actually, they had been talking; she had not expected that being here would involve so much talking. ‘And, besides, you were…’
‘I was?’ he prompted.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She had no intention of explaining that because entering the room involved physical contact with him, it had not been an option. They were not touching and the heat rising from the pit of her belly was already shamefully distracting.
He was watching her with an uncomfortably alert expression in his midnight inky stare. When he spoke it was slowly, a discernible edginess in his deep velvet voice.
‘We could always just do it instead of skating around it; just cut to the chase and get it over with.’ He took a step towards her and Amy, engulfed by a wave of sheer panic, mirrored the action, two steps to his one, which took her into the bedroom.
‘Get what over with?’ Her attempt at bewilderment drew an impatient shake of his head and an eye roll.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Amy. Neither of us are starry-eyed kids any more, calling sex love.’
She stood there, her insides molten, her mind floating somewhere outside her body.
He watched as she bit down on her full upper lip, the soft cushiony pinkness taunting him. Her hurried shallow breaths and dilated pupils sending messages that were louder than words.
He could almost hear his control snapping. He moved and at the last second from somewhere he dug out the strength to control the desire that was pounding at him.