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‘ILIKEYOURstutter too.’ The words emerged almost sounding as if he had spoken against his will.
Rose’s mind froze at the unexpected compliment and the air of compulsion with which he delivered it.
Was there a punchline?
Was he joking?
His expression didn’t suggest anything so harmless and light-hearted, but neither was there anything remotely seductive in his clenched mouth and taut, almost angry stare.
Kick-starting her brain, she followed him into the interior, finding herself standing in what seemed to be an inner hallway filled with scent from the massive terracotta bowl of rosemary in flower, the pale pastel purple of the flowers pale against the deep green of the leaves.
There were several doors leading off it, but she struggled to keep up with his low-voiced explanation or the decoration, maybe both. She simply couldn’t focus so she gave up trying as he spoke about the massive arched, bleached supportive beam overhead being reclaimed from an ancient tree on the estate that had come down in a storm.
All she could think was...helikesmy stutter.
It took her a few moments to connect the buzz of silence with the fact he was no longer speaking, which meant that she ought to be. ‘It is very beautiful.’
It was. The floor underfoot was some sort of limed wood, the beams of the high ceiling exposed the dark rafters that provided a dramatic foil for rough whitewashed stone, the few items of furniture were all rustic and the original artwork on the walls provided dramatic splashes of colour.
‘But do you get the general layout?’ He sounded impatient. ‘It’s quite simple if you just keep in mind that—’
‘Yes,’ she lied without hesitation. No way would she admit she hadn’t heard a word he had said.
‘So, Camille will see you to your rooms, show you the nursery facilities and, when you are ready, sit with Declan while you have dinner.’
For the first time she noticed the slim dark haired girl who was standing just behind her. ‘Thank you, Camille,’ she said, smiling at the girl. ‘But it will be easier if I have dinner in my room. I don’t like to leave Declan.’
‘Camille, as I have explained, is perfectly capable of looking after a baby. We are lucky to have her to help out during the university vacation.’
The dark-haired young woman looked pleased at the compliment, and, being a female with a brain and not an overactive imagination,shedidn’t overreact and think his comment had any deep hidden message.
‘I like babies when I can hand them back.’
Her English was faultless.
‘As I said, Camille has six younger siblings so plenty of experience and she will be available to help out most days. Oh, and do not say bad things about the housekeeper in front of her—she is Sybil’s niece.’ He added a postscript in Greek, which made the brunette laugh.
‘Oh, well, yes, that would be...fine, then, I think...?’ Given the option of protesting further would make her look slightly unhinged, she put as good a face on the situation as possible. There was always the chance that she would be dining alone...
‘Can I take him?’ the young girl asked, flashing Rose a questioning look as she walked towards Zac.
Rose felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t as if she’d beendreadingstepping in close to take Declan off his guardian, but to be relieved of that moment was not something she was going to refuse.
She watched the transfer from a safe distance, if a safe distance existed when it came to Zac and his overwhelming masculinity.
She watched as his arrogant profile softened, the lines radiating from the corners of his eyes deepening as he smiled down at the baby, and Rose felt as if a hand had reached inside her chest and squeezed hard.
Common sense told her this was about hormones, and primitive urges. She wasn’t going to pretend these things were not happening, but she didn’t have to over-analyse them. It didn’t matter how or why this was happening now, it was, and she just had to deal with it.
There was no point being defeatist. She couldn’t allow this...hormone thing to ruin what could be a fantastic experience. It was pathetic, so passive.
If she was to enjoy the opportunity to appreciate her Greece stay, she needed a coping strategy. She’d tried to pretend it wasn’t happening and that hadn’t worked. So a new strategy, and for starters she wasn’t going to over-analyse it.
Because maybe you wouldn’t like the answers?
She knew a nettle would bring her out in a rash, so she didn’t touch it. It made sense not to touch Zac. Could it be that simple?
She sighed. If only... A nettle didn’t have a voice that stroked the nerve endings in her skin like a caress, it didn’t have a mouth... Actually the entire analogy was rubbish, whichever way you looked at it.
