‘I would have helped.’
‘I didn’t need any help,’ he said. He didn’t need anyone. ‘I’ve done it all before.’
‘It’s a shame we didn’t make it to the fishing lodge,’ Louise said as they returned to the chauffeur-driven car Sebastian had thoughtfully laid on for them.
The day had just ebbed away. Lunch with Emma and Sebastian had been unexpected. Wonderful, but even an informal, private lunch with the king and his new queen was not exactly an eat-and-run deal. Then the meeting with a leading hotelier had been long on formality, short on substance, and who could know that the Director of Tourism thought he had to ‘sell’ them Meridia? Organise a tour of the city, with stops at all the historic sites. It would have been unpardonably rude to tell him they were already ‘sold’, but it had left them too short of time to get out to the island in daylight.
Now they barely had time to make their check-in at the airport and, although Max had said nothing, it was as clear as day what he was thinking. That the wasted time was entirely down to her.
‘I should have listened to you, Max, instead of trying to cram everything in. We’re going to have to make another trip to look at it.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
She stopped, stared after him. He’d didn’t even want to look? Was rejecting it sight unseen. Had he just been stringing her along, making some crappy pay back point about leaping before they’d looked…?
‘You’ve decided against it?’ she demanded, already regretting jumping in to take the blame.
Realising that she wasn’t keeping pace with him, he turned to face her.
‘No, Louise. On the contrary. I want to see it very much, but I thought it likely that we’d need more time so I’ve arranged for us to stay over until tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ She should have felt happy that he was, after all, enthusiastic about the project, but instead she felt oddly flattened. Excluded. Was that how he’d felt when she’d gone ahead and made arrangements without talking to him first? ‘You didn’t think to mention it?’ she asked as she joined him and they moved on.
‘I did, but at the time you were otherwise occupied.’ It was true-Emma had claimed her attention over lunch, wanting to talk about the coming ball. Ask her advice…‘Is it a problem?’ Max asked, standing back so that she could step into the rear of the car, then joining her. ‘We could always stop somewhere to buy a toothbrush.’
‘Not necessary.’
She glanced at him, then quickly looked away.
They’d been sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close for most of the day, but clearly regretting letting slip his problems with his mother-showing a chink in his armour-he’d kept his distance mentally, put up some kind of invisible wall between them. Maybe it had simply been a business thing, a protection against the simmering undercurrent that was always there, just beneath the surface.
Now they were on their own for the first time since they’d landed, she was doubly conscious of his nearness, not as a business colleague, but as a man.
‘I never travel without one,’ she said, aware that he had looked at her, querying her response. ‘A toothbrush.’ The ‘everything’ she hadn’t got around to listing for him was her emergency pack consisting of spare underwear, a clean T-shirt and a toothbrush; having been held up by delays on more than one occasion, she never travelled without it.
‘Nor do I.’ Then, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve interfered with your plans for the evening. Did you have something special arranged?’
‘On a Monday? After a full day travelling? Are you crazy?’ Then realising what he meant, she added, coolly, provocatively, ‘Just an early night.’ And felt a curious mixture of feelings as his jaw tightened. A giddy heart lift that he cared enough to feel jealousy at the thought of Cal Jameson in her bed. Regret that, despite the changes in their relationship, the fact that he’d felt able to open up a little to her about his own problems-and whoever would have believed Max Valentine had problems?-they were both still caught up in a loop, unable to break the habit of striking first, thinking later. ‘So?’ she prompted. ‘Where are we staying?’
‘At the lodge,’ he replied, equally cool. Equally provocative. ‘We’ll have all night to make ourselves familiar with the interior, consider the possibilities and, if we’re still interested, all day tomorrow to look around the island.’ He paused briefly. ‘I trust the arrangements I’ve made meet with your approval.’
She frowned. Did he really think she’d object? Or was it that he was still so angry with her that he felt he had to score points?
After the incident with the safety pin they’d both been on their best behaviour, managing an entire day without rubbing each other up the wrong way. Now, with no one around to see, they were, apparently, to return to sniping terms.
Well, not her. Not any more. ‘They do, Max,’ she said, very quietly. ‘I should have thought of it myself.’
‘You’ve been fully occupied with your own affairs, no doubt.’
‘It has been quite a week,’ she agreed, even though she was certain he wasn’t referring to the HOTfood relaunch, but holding to her determination not to be roused. ‘Twelve-hour days as standard. But as of five-thirty this morning, I’m all yours.’
‘I think not.’
It was probably fortunate that the car pulled alongside the jetty at that moment, that they were fully occupied transferring themselves to a launch that was waiting to ferry them across to the island. It was hard work being this good when she wasn’t getting any help.
But the journey gave them a fairy-tale view of the city from the lake, the floodlit ancient castle, layer upon layer of lights descending and then reflected back in the ripples. They stood in the bows and watched its retreat before turning to each other.
‘That’s a good start,’ Max said.
‘Magical. I’m glad we had a chance to see it at night.’ Then as the boat slowed she turned to see the approach to the island, the fishing lodge. Equally magical. ‘Come on, let’s see if the arrival lives up to the journey.’
It did. A liveried footman was waiting at the jetty to lead them up a broad flight of stone steps that opened out onto a wide terrace, through a pair of huge, two-storey height doors. Once inside a vast entrance hall, the footman bowed them into the hands of a butler, before disappearing.
‘Good evening, Sir. Madam.’ He took their coats, passing them on to a hovering maid, and already Louise’s mind was working overtime.
They could keep all this, she thought. Sell it as a chance to be treated like royalty…
‘I’ll show you to your room,’ he said, leading the way up a wide wooden staircase that opened up onto a magnificent first-floor gallery with rooms on three sides. The lodge might have been small by castle standards, but not by any other measure.
He opened a door, crossed the room. ‘Your dressing room and bathroom are here, Madam.’ Then, turning to Max, ‘What time do you wish dinner to be served, sir?’
‘Not too late. It’s been a long day,’ Max said. ‘Seven-thirty?’
‘Certainly. A fire has been lit in the drawing room. Please ring and ask for anything you want.’
And with that the man was gone, leaving them both in a vast room dominated by an ornately draped and very high four-poster bed. At its foot, on a low chest, stood their bags.
Side by side.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE was a long moment of silence, then Louise cleared her throat and said, ‘I think there must have been a slight misunderstanding. The butler must have assumed we were husband and wife, rather than…
She stopped. It was hard to break the habit of a lifetime. Max was not family. And sharing a room with him, a bed with him, was her darkest dream…
‘I’ll go and sort it out,’ he said.
‘No.’ The word escaped her before she could corral it, keep it safely locked up.
Maybe.
Maybe she didn’t try as hard as she might have done.
