Free The Seduction Trap by Sara Wood Page B

smile and to stick to her objective. There must be a link between his ambitions to renovate the village and her mother. It seemed that the cottages were part of that equation. ‘I’m really sad about the state of the buildings in the village. I’m glad you’re making repairs,’ she murmured, and a genuine warmth crept into her voice though she’d begun with just an intention to flatter him. ‘Turaine is such a lovely place,’ she said earnestly. ‘Um ... are you restoring the whole of the village?’
    ‘As much as I can, in time,’ he acknowledged modestly. Her eyes rounded. Was he serious? ‘Wow. You’ll be popular!’ she encouraged, letting her lashes flutter in admiration. With a very eloquent and Gallic shrug of his shoulders, he said, ‘Overwhelmingly so. To be honest, I’ve found my reception a little embarrassing. Although I’m only
    righting a wrong done by my father, I’m greeted like a long-lost son. People tend to shake my hand and press gifts on me which they can’t afford.’ He gave her a slightly abashed grin which lit his eyes, and she could tell how pleased he felt about his welcome.
    ‘Like what?’ she prompted sweetly, hoping to flatter him with her interest.
    ‘Well, I’ve filled my freezer with chickens and my fridge seems to be full of freshly laid eggs which I can’t eat fast enough before I’m given another dozen or two. And what,’ he asked innocently, ‘can I do with a crate of asparagus?’ He could share it with Giselle, she thought, meeting his laughing eyes. ‘Set up a market stall?’ she suggested instead, humour tugging at her mouth as she pictured the elegant and sophisticated Guy de Turaine touting for customers. ‘Or perhaps offer it to the local orphanage?’ he mused, quite remarkably poker-faced and apparently filled with goodness and light.
    Tessa looked scathing. But she felt wonderful. Sharp, alive, amused, loving the repartee and the ease with which they communicated. And she shouldn’t. This guy might look like a
    cherub, speak like one most of the time and utter words about orphanages and doing good works, but her mother had been quite adamant about his underlying malevolence. ‘The orphanage?’ she scorned. ‘Over the top, Guy! You’ve just lost your credibility. Go and pull the wool over someone else’s eyes.’
    ‘I might do better to pull it over my own,’ he said ruefully. ‘I can’t go far in Turaine without someone rushing up for a long chat. I thought of a disguise.’ He dug a spoon in the marmalade jar and lifted it close to his forehead. ‘What do you think of an orange wig and marmalade eyebrows?’ Tessa couldn’t stop a treacherous giggle. ‘Sticky,’ she replied, thinking it would be a travesty to spoil that gorgeous, shiny black hair. It looked soft and silky. She folded her arms, because the urge to reach out and stroke it was making her fingers restless.
    ‘You’re right.’ Guy slowly lowered the spoon to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on her, he let the tip of his tongue tentatively lick the marmalade, lapping it up in tiny, savouring morsels. ‘Delicious,’ he pronounced softly.
    Something unnervingly like a sexual reaction curled inside her, and she quickly shifted the conversation back to the point. Either he was trying to divert her, or he was inherently flippant. ‘It’s natural that everyone’s delighted with your intentions, after your father’s neglect,’ she said primly. She struggled with her conscience. She shouldn’t admire him. It seemed disloyal to her mother. Yet, if he was telling the truth, he’d be saving the village from ruin. She looked for a drawback and found one. ‘I suppose you’ll put their rents up?’
    ‘Not at all,’ he said firmly. ‘In fact I’ve suspended all payment of rent till I feel I can honourably reintroduce it again. The villagers have been let down by my family. I hold myself personally responsible.’
    ‘You sound far too good to be true,’ she suggested