His Lordships Daughter (16 page)

For a further few delicious moments she lay there, hardly daring to move a muscle in her satiated body. Although delighted at being introduced to fresh fields of carnal gratification,
she
was not surprised. The preferential doors had always been open, but, she was pleasantly taken aback by the gentleness of the action and by her
companion’s
dedication to her happiness. Tiredly opening her eyes, she lazily pulled herself up in the bed, swallowed half a glass of wine, then turned and gazed at her friend who was leaning on her pillows, looking at her.

“I would be happy if this cou
ld remain our secret.”, A
n apprehensive look on her homely face. “I mean – I wouldn’t like to think you would discuss it with any of your friends?”

Phyllipa chuckled “My body tells me this night did happen, but my loyalty screams that it did not.” She kissed June’s mouth, then wriggled herself sensuously

Deeper
into the bed. “But, before I go to sleep, I think in order to put your fears at rest, that even if you allowed me to broadcast this happening, not one of my friends would ever believe me!”

Phyllipa hummed
to herself as she waited for Robin, the groom, to finish saddling the chestnut. It was Sunday morning and a shortened daylight was already streaking the sky with sparse colouring. It was the day that her boss was coming to dinner and she felt quite happy about things in general. Steven’s money problems had been ironed out. He had accepted the offer which Phyllipa’s financial people had put to him and everything had settled down again and the factory was swimming with work. He hadn’t breathed a word of his dilemma to his favourite Trouble-Shooter, although he must have known that his behaviour had aroused a few suspicions. After
all, he was not
aware that Phyllipa and his secretary had arranged the whole thing
. And, hopefully, mused Phyllipa, placing her foot in the stirrup held by the groom, he never would!

She was leaving the yard when his BMW eased itself through the gate. Lowering the driver window, he poked his head and smiled at her. “Good morning!”

“I thought we would see you later in the day!” she bawled “Did you fall out of bed?”

He pulled the car up outside the stables and the alert groom disappeared into Sultan’s box. “Daybreak and I are friends.” He explained, stepping from the vehicle. “You don’t hold a patent on the dawn! As I’ve told you before, I do have tasks before I leave my place.”

Phyllipa reined her horse in. “So do
I
!” she retorted, facetiously “I put my own shoes on this morning!” he laughed, thinking she was joking and hoping she was, but he never really knew.

Sultan was suddenly standing before them, skitterish as ever, nervously banging his feet on the hard ground. Steven massaged his nose, blew down his ears and whispered something to him. The horse snickered, and except for an occasional muscle twitch, stood still.

Phyllipa shook her head, admiringly “What did you say to him?”

“Horse talk!” Steven replied, pulling himself up int
o the saddle. “Are you ready, Ms
Gore?”

Phyllipa nodded and the animals trotted through the dew soaked grass and onto the dirty road.
A buck rabbit,
its
mouth working overtime on some leafy breakfast, shot
its
head in air and magically disappeared whilst two crows noisily skirmished over a rustic night fatality.

Savouring the fresh coldness of the morning air, Phyllipa breathed in deeply. “This is my favourite time of the day, isn’t it a treat?”

“Yes! These morning outings are keeping me fit.” He agreed, looking at her. “And the bonus, of course, is you. I have you all to myself, no screaming telephone, no machines breaking down. No sign this and sign that. No nothing, just you.” He nodded excitedly. “
That’s
my treat!” a hopeful look entered his eyes. “Could I ask if you have thought of my marriage offer again?”

S
he smiled “Yes!”
with a twinkle in her eye.

Steven checked his horse. “Yes what?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, you may ask.” She replied.

“O.K so I am asking?”

Phyllipa frowned. “Even if I am going to refuse you, I think I deserve a little more than “O.K so I’m asking sort of thing.”

His face coloured up slightly. “I apologise I got carried away.” He pulled Sultan to a halt. “You know as well as I, that I would get on my knees to ask for your hand if I thought you would say yes!”

“We did find something we couldn’t agree on.” Phyllipa
murmured
. “Remember?”

“The New Yorker!” Steven said dejectedly. “That damned contraption has been bugging me since I first saw it.” He looked at her with troubled eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know much about that sort of business. But, I would have thought that if two people loved each other that would be sufficient without to having to resort to artificial aids.”

“I agree.” Phyllipa said. “But up to now, I haven’t met anyone who could love me that much!”

“I could!”

A peal of thunder banged overhead, frightening the horses and saving Phyllipa to answer his challenge as cold rain curtained across the countryside. “Damn! She swore, eyeing the tumbling clouds as she kicked her horse into a gallop. “This wasn’t forecast!”

The two horses needed little urging as they raced upsides back to the comfort of their warm stables, but the rain was coming harder and by the time the riders had kicked their way through the wooden doors, they were soaking wet. Dismounting, they stripped the horses
, rubbing them down until their coats shone. The groom had gone for his breakfast and the stables were quiet. Steven, removing his riding jacket and shirt was towelling the rain from his body when Phyllipa crept up behind him, took the towel from his hand and rubbed the rough material over his perfectly structured chest.

Her eyes flecked with sexual greed, burned into his as her fingers snatched at his crotch, zipping him wide open.

A horse was coughing when she opened her eyes, sat up, pulled some bits of straw from out of her hair and looked around at Steven, fully dressed, coming through the door of the loose box. On seeing she was awake, he bent down and kissed her, he then took the horse blanket from her naked body. “You better get dressed!” he suggested, looking at his wristwatch. Phyllipa giggled to herself as she watched him leave. Her memory went back to Miller, her father’s Estate Manager, using almost the same words to her years ago. Quickly dressing herself, she joined her b
oss. “What happened?” with
a clever smile on her face.

“We got caught in the rain.” He explained. “And you used the opportunity to rape me!”

“Is that all.” She chuckled. “Did you struggle?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Perhaps you thought of your Company, and laid back and enjoyed it?” she joked, hooking her arm beneath his as they walked up to the house. The westbound rain had travelled on and weak sunshine was pushing shadows around the countryside. “Or perhaps it wasn’t worth bringing to mind, eh?”

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. “Is that what you think?”

Phyllipa struggled “We are talking about you Steven. Not me! It’s you who can’t remember if you struggled or not.”

“
No! I didn’t struggle. Will that do you?”

She nodded. “Admirably!”

Arm in arm they passed through to the breakfast room where her father was into his fourth cup of coffee. He looked up at them. “Did you miss the storm?”

Phyllipa bent over him and kissed his cheek. “We both got slightly damp.” She answered, giving Steven a meaningful look as he helped himself to food. Joining him she settled for her usual scrambled eggs on toast, then sat with her father at the table.

“This morning I asked your daughter if s
he would marry me.” D
irecting his admission to the head of the household.

There was a silence as Lord Hemingham stopped chewing to look at his guest. “In another time you would have come to me first requesting permission to pursue my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Phyllipa nodded “We know that father, but, we are not in another time are we?”

“You don’t appear to be Phyllipa!” he answered quickly “But I would still like to cling to some of the old traditions.”

Steven looked up, startled “Have I dropped some sort of protocol clanger?”

Phyllipa dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Not really. My father and I aren’t eyeball to eyeball where some of the graces are concerned.”

Steven buttered some toast. “Well! Perhaps I can be in accord with you both.” He offered, looking at her
parent. “Do I have permission, m
y Lord!”

Lord Hemingham smiled. “I wish you well.” He said, attacking his breakfast again.

“What he didn’t tell you father.” Phyllipa pointed out. “Was that he has already asked me four times.”

“Five!” Steven argued.

“Who’s counting?” Phyllipa said dismissively.

“You obviously are!” Retorted Steven

Henry Inchcape-Gore chuckled to himself at the repartee. On the face of it they just may make a wonderful team. He had been right about Steven being in love with his daughter, but he could well understand her being cautious. Still very young, if she was running to true family form she would be giving Steven a trial run. No man likes to be coasted out and measured against improved standards, but the Inchcape-Gores were specialists in selecting the ones which fitted
.

Phyllipa chuckled to herself looking at her boss “Are you trying to start something, Sir?”

Steven shoo
k his head. “Not on a Sunday Ms
Gore, this is my island of peace. I reserve all the week days for in-fighting.”

“How is the packaging business?” asked his host.

“We are very busy.” Steven refilled his coffee cup

“I take it you do all the designing within your company?”

“Mostly.”

Phyllipa’s eyebrows shot up. Her father was showing interest in the company told her he was entering the matchmaking ritual.

“Is designing all you ever wished to do?”

Steven shook his head regretfully. “No, it isn’t. I always wanted to breed horses and I still do!”

Phyllipa looked at him. “You never told me that.”

“You never asked me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But
its
academic now isn’t it?”

“What stopped you?” her father asked.

“The expense mostly, and the fact that I always seemed to be redesigning machinery around the family farm, as a child I always seemed to be rearranging things.”

Phyllipa’s eyes creased with hidden laughter. “With all that experience, you might have been tempted to enter the demolition business!”

Steven stopped eating, aware she was winding h
im up again. “I create things Ms
Gore. Most of the food which you eat was at one time wrapped by my machinery.”

“Very impressive!” her father observed, a satisfied look on his face. “Are you staying for the day?”

“That would be nice!” his daughter agreed, smiling at Steven. “But you’ll need different clothes!”

“My dinner suit is in the car.”

“Good!” Lord Hemingham rose from the table. “I hope to see you both in the billiard room.”

“Oh no!” a crestfallen look appeared on Steven’s face as he and Phyllipa watched her father leave the room. “I don’t play billiards.”

“It’s snooker which he plays.” Phyllipa pointed out.

“I don’t play that either!”

“Good! Because I’m going for a shower, and I thought of a game that you and I would be more suited to.”

Steven’s eyes lit up. “I thought we had just played that in the stable.”

Phyllipa nodded “We did, but are you game for a rematch?”

“Well, like you, the thought of hot water pouring over me does have a certain attraction
.”

Phyllipa kissed his cheek and taking his arm pulled him from the room through to the privacy of her own part of the house. “That’s my boy!” she said, happily, overjoyed with the thought of the delight to come.

Monday morning was cold and foggy. A hoar frost gripped the countryside like a white glove and the sun could only be seen in travel brochures. Phyllipa shivered as she climbed into her car and switched the engine on. Fighting the cold air, it growled, then settled down into a low hum. For a few moments, she sat and thought about yesterday. It had been nice, she and Steven had enjoyed it and so had her father and that pleased her. The two men appeared to have something in common, although Phyllipa wasn’t quite sure what it was. They had played snooker together, but she wasn’t quite sure who had won. They had played some music together, they had wined and dined together and she and Steven had showered together, which had turned out to be quite an event. Chuckling to herself she thought of his remark about her New Yorker, “It looks as if I am in competition with a chunk of metal!” and by his actions in the shower, he was obviously trying to move into pole position. She like that about him, it showed inner strength. But then her
psyche
had always told her that Steven Grant was a front runner!