Free Enemy Lover by Pamela Kent Page B

when it finally did arrive she received something in the nature of a shock. For Angus had got himself fitted out with a uniform, and it was so smart that it became him even better than his well-cut Savile Row clothes. It was grey like the car, and the peaked cap drew attention to his dark blue, gleaming eyes.
    “I trust I’m on time, madam,” he said, as he slid easily out from his seat behind the wheel, and presented himself before her in the vestibule. He clicked his heels smartly together, and attempted some form of salute. “I was up bright and early this morning in order not to keep you waiting. I’m afraid I had rather a late night last night, which didn’t make things too easy.”
    She felt herself flushing brilliantly. The pages-boy and the hall porter were goggling openly, for this wasn’t the first time they had seen Sir Angus Giffard. And Sir Angus Giffard in a uniform was still Sir Angus Giffard, very immaculate as to linen and polished as to boots.
    “Why in the world have you dressed yourself up like that?” she demanded, in rather an angry whisper.
    He looked almost disappointed.
    “But I thought I cut rather a pleasing figure. And I’ve got the bill for the whole outfit for you here . . . I didn’t think you’d be likely to have an account at a shop that caters strictly for the requirements of the male sex, so I settled it and depended upon you to reimburse me. On the whole I think I did some very economical shopping.”
    She declined to so much as glance at the bill, and thrust it instead away in her handbag. He picked up a couple of the lightest of her suitcases, and the hall porter and his underlings saw to the disposal of the rest. The boot of the Bentley was very capacious, and it took everything with ease. Inside in the car with her she had only her small dressing-case and a mysterious armful of hot-house roses that someone had had delivered to her at the hotel that morning.
    She had no real idea who it was who had sent them to her, although she strongly suspected Alaine. She was wildly thrilled because, although still far away in Ireland, he had thought of doing something that would give her pleasure... He could have no idea how much pleasure.
    “Nice,” Angus remarked, as he placed the roses on the seat beside her. She met his dark blue eyes fully, and they were bright and alert, and even seemed to her to be dancing a little. “Pity they’re not red roses, though... We all know what red roses mean!”
    “Will you please let us get away as quickly as possible,” she requested urgently. “I feel utterly ridiculous having you drive me like this, when half the hotel must know who you are,”
    He shrugged. And then he directed a quick, flashing grin up at the front of the hotel.
    “Well, I would hardly say half the hotel . . . But a small minority perhaps. Do you mind if I stop and make a telephone call on the way out of London ? It’s rather important.”
    After he had made his telephone call he returned to the car with a quietly satisfied look on his face. There was a certain languidness about his eyes, almost a melancholy droop to his lips as he got back into his seat and made a slight pretence of closing the glass partition between them.
    “Miss Gaylord,” he murmured. “I always telephone her about this hour of the morning. Helps to get the day really started for me. I don’t think I could face it if I didn’t hear her voice, still drugged with sleep, calling me ‘darling’ in those soft, drawling tones of hers. Don’t you think she has an extraordinarily attractive voice? And that she is, in fact, an extraordinarily attractive young woman? Beautiful . . . Really a sight for sore eyes! ”
    “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Tina remarked, with a stiffness she found it impossible to overcome, although somehow it made her seem raw and pretentious. “And in any case, it’s only skin deep.”
    “True,” he agreed. “But the average man doesn’t bother about