made him look a little wary. She considered it a good sign. If he apologised now, she’d give him some slack.
‘I did the right thing, bringing you to Havensmere,’ he said firmly.
Okay, she wasn’t giving him that much slack. ‘If that’s your idea of an apology it’s leaving a little to be desired.’
‘I’m not apologising for doing what needed to be done.’
Her stomach muscles clenched even tighter. He wasn’tgoing to give an inch. The stab of regret made her feel foolish. The man wasn’t intriguing. He was a control freak. Clearly they would never get along.
‘So I guess that’s my cue to leave, then,’ she said. But as she stepped past him his hand shot out to stop her.
‘Wait.’ He held on to her arm. ‘You needed your sleep last night—and I didn’t want to argue the point when you looked so fragile.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Shh, let me finish.’ He sighed, letting go of her arm and burying his hands in his back pockets again. ‘Despite my concerns about you, I can see I should have asked you first—before I arranged your leave with Parker.’
She obviously wasn’t going to get him to be contrite. The rigid line of his jaw made it clear even this much of a concession was costing him. ‘Will you promise not to do it again?’ she asked.
‘Do what, exactly?’
‘Make decisions for me without my consent.’
The moment stretched between them before he gave a reluctant nod. ‘Okay.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But I want you to stay the week. Will you?’
She smiled, the questioning look in his eyes making her feel as if she’d just felled Goliath. ‘Of course I will. All you had to do was ask me properly.’
He smiled back—and her knees weakened even more, for a very different reason. He touched his thumb to her cheek. ‘Good.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re eating on the pool terrace. It’s at the back of the house. Ask one of the staff how to get there when you’re ready.’
She watched him walk away in silence.
He glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. ‘Don’t be long. I’m starving,’ he said, then shot her that too-tempting smile again and left.
She frowned at the door as it closed behind him.
Now, why did she get the feeling she hadn’t felled Goliath at all, only bruised him a little?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
L OUISA patted the waistline of her linen trousers as she walked down the wide, sweeping staircase to the entrance hall. Was it her imagination or had the waistband got tighter?
Her boot heels gave a sharp crack on the floor of the hall and echoed in the church-like silence. Louisa dropped her head back to look up at the high vaulted ceiling. It finished in a glass dome two storeys above, which flooded the area with natural light. Gold-framed portraits hung on handprinted silk wallpaper, and carefully positioned Chippendale furniture was polished to an eye-watering gleam. A series of corridors tapered off in different directions, both on the ground level and the one above. Obviously Luke hadn’t been kidding when he’d said Havensmere had sixty rooms. He might even have underestimated.
Despite the sparkle of sunlight on the parquet floor, the house was cool. Luke Devereaux’s home made her think of Maxim de Winter’s Manderlay. Magnificent, but intimidating. Well, at least she had her make-up on at last. The dab of eyeshadow and the dash of lipgloss made her feel bolder and better prepared for what was to come.
She had her armour on now—and she intended to use it.
‘Ms DiMarco, it’s good to see you up and about.’
Louisa turned at the sound of the soft West Country accent.
A round, ruddy-faced woman walked towards her, wearing a smocked dress, her practical brogues scuffing on the polished floor. ‘I’m Mrs Roberts, the head of Mr Devereaux’s household staff,’ she said, drawing level. She brushed her hand on the apron tied around her waist and offered it to Louisa.
The older
‘I did the right thing, bringing you to Havensmere,’ he said firmly.
Okay, she wasn’t giving him that much slack. ‘If that’s your idea of an apology it’s leaving a little to be desired.’
‘I’m not apologising for doing what needed to be done.’
Her stomach muscles clenched even tighter. He wasn’tgoing to give an inch. The stab of regret made her feel foolish. The man wasn’t intriguing. He was a control freak. Clearly they would never get along.
‘So I guess that’s my cue to leave, then,’ she said. But as she stepped past him his hand shot out to stop her.
‘Wait.’ He held on to her arm. ‘You needed your sleep last night—and I didn’t want to argue the point when you looked so fragile.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Shh, let me finish.’ He sighed, letting go of her arm and burying his hands in his back pockets again. ‘Despite my concerns about you, I can see I should have asked you first—before I arranged your leave with Parker.’
She obviously wasn’t going to get him to be contrite. The rigid line of his jaw made it clear even this much of a concession was costing him. ‘Will you promise not to do it again?’ she asked.
‘Do what, exactly?’
‘Make decisions for me without my consent.’
The moment stretched between them before he gave a reluctant nod. ‘Okay.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But I want you to stay the week. Will you?’
She smiled, the questioning look in his eyes making her feel as if she’d just felled Goliath. ‘Of course I will. All you had to do was ask me properly.’
He smiled back—and her knees weakened even more, for a very different reason. He touched his thumb to her cheek. ‘Good.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re eating on the pool terrace. It’s at the back of the house. Ask one of the staff how to get there when you’re ready.’
She watched him walk away in silence.
He glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. ‘Don’t be long. I’m starving,’ he said, then shot her that too-tempting smile again and left.
She frowned at the door as it closed behind him.
Now, why did she get the feeling she hadn’t felled Goliath at all, only bruised him a little?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
L OUISA patted the waistline of her linen trousers as she walked down the wide, sweeping staircase to the entrance hall. Was it her imagination or had the waistband got tighter?
Her boot heels gave a sharp crack on the floor of the hall and echoed in the church-like silence. Louisa dropped her head back to look up at the high vaulted ceiling. It finished in a glass dome two storeys above, which flooded the area with natural light. Gold-framed portraits hung on handprinted silk wallpaper, and carefully positioned Chippendale furniture was polished to an eye-watering gleam. A series of corridors tapered off in different directions, both on the ground level and the one above. Obviously Luke hadn’t been kidding when he’d said Havensmere had sixty rooms. He might even have underestimated.
Despite the sparkle of sunlight on the parquet floor, the house was cool. Luke Devereaux’s home made her think of Maxim de Winter’s Manderlay. Magnificent, but intimidating. Well, at least she had her make-up on at last. The dab of eyeshadow and the dash of lipgloss made her feel bolder and better prepared for what was to come.
She had her armour on now—and she intended to use it.
‘Ms DiMarco, it’s good to see you up and about.’
Louisa turned at the sound of the soft West Country accent.
A round, ruddy-faced woman walked towards her, wearing a smocked dress, her practical brogues scuffing on the polished floor. ‘I’m Mrs Roberts, the head of Mr Devereaux’s household staff,’ she said, drawing level. She brushed her hand on the apron tied around her waist and offered it to Louisa.
The older
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