Free His Convenient Marriage by Sara Craven Page B

'And now we know.' His smile was suddenly mocking. 'Besides, our be¬trothal needed a little local colour, if only to prevent the worldly wise Lady Markham becoming suspicious.'
     
    'What are you talking about?' There were tears not far away, constricting her throat, burning her eyes.
    'Most newly engaged couples can't keep their hands off each other.' Miles' shrug was almost casual. 'Your trans¬parent innocence was doing my street cred no good at all.' He gave her a measuring glance. 'At least you look now as if you know you're a woman.'
    'And is that supposed to be your excuse—your rationale for—for assaulting me.' Her legs were weak, shaking under her. Her mouth was throbbing, and she was trembling wildly inside, ashamed of her own response. Of the destruc¬tion of her defences. And wanting to hit back.
    His brows lifted over blue eyes turned suddenly cold. 'Is that how you see it? Just remember, my sweet hypocrite, that I was the one who called a halt. And if we didn't have a guest, and a cleaner roaming the house,' he added softly, 'I would not have stopped, and you wouldn't have wanted me to.'
    He allowed her to digest that, then sent her a smile, swift and impersonal. 'Now, I'll leave you to get on with lunch.'
    Alone, Chessie slumped against the kitchen table, her hands pressed to her hot cheeks. The temptation to sweep the entire preparations for the meal into the bin, then pack her bags and walk out was almost overwhelming. But she couldn't do that because she'd signed a contract, which required a minimum of a month's notice. And there seemed little doubt that Miles would enforce it, if necessary.
    So, she had four weeks to endure before she could le¬gitimately make her escape.
    She groaned softly. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been settled. Not ecstatically happy, perhaps, but resigned—even contented. Now her life was in chaos, and heading for melt¬down.
    And the worst of it was that Miles' final jibe had been no more than the truth, she thought unhappily. For the first time in her life, she had wanted everything that a man had to give—and more. And she would have offered her entire self in return.
    If he had allowed it, she realised, wincing.
     
    Well, she would never let him get so near her again. For her remaining time in his house, she would revert to being the calm, efficient employee. She would fill the freezer, run the house, and finish transcribing the new book. And she would ensure a smooth transition for her replacement.
    She retrieved the egg whisk from the floor and washed it, wiping the small pool of beaten egg from the tiles. There was a smear on her dress, too, and she didn't have time to change, but what the hell? Her appearance was immaterial after all, she thought with a faint shrug. Although she would have to comb her dishevelled hair, and disguise the more obvious signs of Miles' kisses.
    She made a salad from mixed leaves, heated a French stick in the oven, then poured the steaming soup into pot¬tery bowls and carried them through to the dining room.
    'This is actually quite good,' Linnet approved as she tasted it. 'I'd no idea you could cook, Chessie.'
    'I had to learn,' Chessie returned. 'And fast.'
    'Of course you did,' Linnet said in a tone of such gentle understanding that Chessie longed to slap her senseless. 'And to have to do all this cleaning as well, when you'd always had a housekeeper of your own in the past.' She totted. 'You must be absolutely worn out.'
    Chessie raised her eyebrows innocently, 'Oh, didn't you notice Mrs. Chubb on your way in? She's the real treasure round here.'
    'Well, I wouldn't describe her in those terms,' Linnet said with a touch of tartness. 'And I'd have got rid of her surly brute of a husband too, only Robert wouldn't allow it for some reason.'
    'Probably because Mr. Chubb is one of the top gardeners in the county, and his family has worked for the Markhams for generations,' Chessie commented pensively. 'You're re¬ally lucky to have him. More