The Reluctant Duke (6 page)

The same Lucan St Claire who, minutes ago, had been on the verge of kissing Lexie—the granddaughter of the woman he and his family so despised.

Lexie gave another shiver, having absolutely no doubt as to the depth of Lucan’s anger if he were ever to realise exactly who she was.

‘It should warm up in here shortly,’ Lucan rasped as he strode back into the entrance hall. He scowled darkly as Lexie gave an involuntary start, her deep blue eyes wary as she turned sharply to look at him. ‘As far as I’m aware we don’t have any family ghosts,’ he said dryly, mocking her reaction.

She gave him a scathing glance. ‘Very funny!’

‘I don’t believe I’ve ever been known for my sense of humour, Lexie.’

‘I wonder why! Is there some tea or coffee in the kitchen so that I can at least make us a warm drink?’

Lucan arched mocking brows. ‘Are you sure that making hot drinks for the two of us comes under the job description of a temporary temporary PA?’

‘Probably not,’ Lexie dismissed tersely. ‘But I’m willing to make an exception on this occasion.’

‘That’s very generous of you,’ Lucan drawled, and had to hold back yet another laugh.

‘I thought so, too.’ She nodded abruptly.

Lucan couldn’t help admiring her attitude. Despite the fact that the family had spent several days here at New Years, no one had actually lived in the house for years. Consequently it wasn’t very welcoming, and there were no household servants any more—just the caretaker and his wife, who occasionally came in to check that everything was okay. A lot of women—every single one of the glamorous women Lucan had dated these last ten years or so—would have declared the facilities here unsuitable, even primitive, and immediately demanded to be taken to a hotel. Lexie was obviously made of sterner stuff.

‘I’m sure there will be tea and coffee, but no milk,’ he told her ruefully.

‘Black coffee will be fine,’ Lexie assured him briskly, and turned away to walk across the entrance hall towards the back of the house. Only to come to an abrupt halt as she realised her mistake. ‘Er—I take it the kitchen
is
back here? ‘ She paused uncertainly.

‘The door at the end of the hallway.’ Lucan nodded before falling into step behind her.

Lexie was completely aware of Lucan as he followed her into the kitchen, to lean back against one of the oak kitchen cabinets as she prepared the coffee percolator.

And she was still completely aware of how close he had been to kissing her minutes ago. Of how, for a few brief seconds, she had wanted him to kiss her.

Admit it, Lexie, she derided herself, Lucan is like no other man you’ve ever met. Arrogantly confident, darkly handsome, and most of all, so effortlessly powerful. The man was a
duke,
for goodness’ sake. That alone was a potent aphrodisiac without all those other.

Lexie’s movements stilled self-consciously as she realised she had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed Lucan watching her through narrowed lids as she first filled the percolator with water, before taking ground coffee from the kitchen cabinet and pulling open the appropriate drawer to take out a teaspoon.

Because that was where the coffee and the cutlery had always been kept.

‘This is going to take a couple of minutes to prepare, if you have something else you need to be doing.’ Lexie sincerely hoped the adage ‘offence is the best form of defence’ was correct.

Lucan scowled darkly as he realised he had been enjoying watching the movement of Lexie’s small and gracefully
beautiful hands as she made the coffee, imagining the intensity of pleasure he would feel if those same elegant hands were trailing caressingly over every inch of his naked body.

Hell
.

An apt description of the constant state of arousal he seemed to find himself in when in this particular woman’s company!

Lucan straightened abruptly. ‘I’ll go and bring our things in from the car.’ And he hoped that the icy-cold wind outside would not only dampen his arousal but also clear his head of the erotic images currently going round and round in his mind!

Lexie watched from beneath sooty lashes as Lucan strode out of the kitchen towards the front of the house, waiting until she heard the soft thud of the door closing behind him before she leant weakly back against one of the kitchen cabinets and closed her eyes.

She really wasn’t very good at this. They had only been at Mulberry Hall a matter of minutes, and she had already slipped up twice by knowing where the kitchen was and everything in it.

Perhaps it was as well that she had never actually stayed here in the past; at least the bedrooms and other rooms upstairs would be a complete mystery to her!

Although, just thinking about the bedrooms upstairs was enough to remind her of how she had longed earlier to feel Lucan’s mouth on and against hers.

She shouldn’t be attracted to Lucan—no, not shouldn’t. She
couldn’t
be attracted to him!

Lucan was a St Claire. Not just
a
St Claire, but the head of the St Claire family. The same family who had hurt and rejected her beloved Nanna Sian all those years ago, and
then again eight years ago, by making it obvious they didn’t even want her to attend Grandpa Alex’s funeral.

Lexie felt her spine straighten with fresh resolve. She disliked all of the St Claire family intensely for the way they had treated her beloved grandmother, and that included Lucan. Most especially the cold and arrogant Lucan!

Except there had been nothing cold about Lucan earlier when he looked down at her so intently. When Lexie had gazed up into those intense dark eyes and felt as if she were balancing on the edge of a volcano, knowing that the heat would intensify, burn, engulf her completely, if she allowed herself to fall into those fathomless depths.

Even now her breasts felt tight, sensitised, the nipples hard and aching against the soft material of her bra, and she felt a warmth between her thighs, a burning. What would it be like, she wondered, to have that firm and sculptured mouth closing over the tips of her breasts as Lucan suckled her deep into the moist heat of his mouth?

‘Brr, it’s damned cold out there—Sorry, I thought you were Lucan!’ the man who had just entered through the back door of the kitchen grimaced in apology as he turned and saw Lexie.

It wasn’t too difficult to guess that the tall and sandy-haired man aged in his mid-thirties was John Barton, the caretaker of Mulberry Hall—the man with a faint Scottish accent she had spoken to on the telephone earlier today.

A man Lexie didn’t recognise, and so—thankfully—wouldn’t recognise her, either!

‘An easy mistake when we look so much alike,’ she came back teasingly as she watched him place the box he was carrying on top of one of the kitchen units.

He gave a boyishly endearing grin as he straightened, his eyes a warm and friendly blue as he bundled down into the collar of his thick overcoat. ‘Lucan didn’t mention he was
bringing someone with him.’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘I’m John Barton, the caretaker,’ he introduced himself, and held out his hand in greeting.

Lexie briefly shook that firm and capable hand. ‘Lexie,’ she supplied economically. Deliberately so. The fewer people who knew that it was Lexie
Hamilton
who had accompanied Lucan to Mulberry Hall, the safer she would feel. ‘I’m Mr St Claire’s PA,’ she said lightly. ‘Temporarily,’ she added firmly.

And unnecessarily.

Except Lexie somehow needed to reassure herself of that fact after the thoughts she had just been having about Lucan. After she had imagined his lips and mouth against her naked breasts—

Stop it,
Lexie, she instructed herself firmly.
Stop it right now!

She straightened abruptly. ‘I’m just making some coffee, but Mr St Claire is outside getting our luggage if you want to join him?’ she said dismissively. The curiosity she could see in those friendly blue eyes warned her that John Barton would rather linger in the kitchen for a while and satisfy his curiosity about her than go in search of his employer.

He smiled. ‘My wife has sent over a few supplies to see you through.’ He indicated the box he had placed on the worktop. ‘Milk, bread and butter, cheese—stuff like that. I would have brought it over earlier, but Lucan didn’t tell me what time he would be arriving,’ he added.

‘What a surprise!’ Lexie muttered dryly as she crossed the kitchen to inspect the box of groceries. As well as the supplies John had mentioned there was also a promising-looking covered glass dish, filled with some sort of meat casserole. Her eyes glowed with pleasure as she turned back to John Barton. ‘Please thank your wife—’

‘Cathy,’ he supplied lightly.

Lexie had been occasional friends with a girl in the village called Cathy when she was growing up. Not enough for the two of them to have remained in touch once they went off to different universities at eighteen, but enough for Lexie’s grandmother to write and tell her that Cathy had married the previous year.

But there was no reason to think it was the same Cathy. No doubt John Barton’s wife was as Scottish as he was.

‘Do you both come from around here?’ Lexie prompted conversationally as she studiously began to take the supplies from the box.

‘Obviously I’m originally from Scotland.’ John Barton gave a rueful smile. ‘But Cathy’s a local girl—from the village,’ he added lightly. ‘I expect she’ll pop over to say hello to you both sometime tomorrow—’

‘I don’t think Mr St Claire is planning on staying for very long,’ Lexie cut in sharply. Dear God, it probably
was
the same Cathy!

Blonde-haired, green-eyed Cathy, whom Lexie had no doubt made the amiable John Barton as wonderful a wife as he made
her
a loving husband!

‘I believe I said we would probably be here for a couple of days at least, Lexie.’

She turned sharply to face Lucan as he filled the doorway into the main house, heavy lids lowered over those dark eyes as he returned her gaze challengingly. Lexie swallowed hard before speaking. ‘Mr Barton has very kindly brought over some milk and other supplies.’

‘Just the basics,’ the other man explained as he crossed the kitchen. ‘Sorry this business had to bring you back so soon, Lucan.’

‘No problem, John,’ Lucan lied as he shook the other man’s hand warmly. ‘I was thinking of taking Lexie to the
Rose and Crown for dinner this evening, so I’m hoping they still serve meals?’

‘Mr Barton’s wife has very kindly provided us with a casserole for this evening,’ Lexie put in quickly.

The Rose and Crown pub in the village was another place she had no intention of going while she was here; Bill and Mary Collins, the landlord and his wife, were both well aware of exactly who she was, and of her connection to Sian Thomas.

One thing Lexie was now absolutely sure of: she had to go down to the village and visit her grandmother in person, before there was even a possibility of Nanna Sian hearing from anyone else that her granddaughter was currently staying at Mulberry Hall with Lucan St Claire!

‘I
WOULDN’T
have thought preparing dinner came under the heading of your duties as a PA, either?’ Lucan prompted softly an hour or so later, when he returned to the kitchen after seeing John out and then returning upstairs briefly to change out of his suit. A kitchen which was now filled with the wonderful aroma of the thick and meaty casserole visibly warming through the glass door of the oven.

Blue eyes snapped with irritation as Lexie looked up from where she sat, drinking coffee at the weathered oak table. ‘Technically Cathy Barton prepared it. I just put it in the oven to warm.’

‘Even so…’

‘Oh, stop being so pedantic, Lucan! ‘ She stood up impatiently to pour coffee into a second mug.

‘Pedantic…?’ Lucan repeated softly.

‘Yes, pedantic!’ Lexie thrust the coffee mug into his hand. ‘Milk and sugar are on the table.’ She sat down in her chair to continue staring down into her own coffee mug.

Lucan looked down at that bent dark head as he sipped the black and unsweetened coffee he preferred; his absence obviously hadn’t done anything to improve her mood as she didn’t look at him or speak. The latter was an unusual occurrence in itself!

Lucan pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down
to stretch his long legs out under the table. ‘What would you be doing now if you were back in London…?’

Lexie eyed him from beneath her lashes, very aware that Lucan had changed out of his formal suit, shirt and tie since she’d last seen him, and now looked more comfortable—and more darkly, devastatingly attractive—in a thick black sweater and fitted black denims. ‘Deciding whether to order Chinese or Indian take-out, probably.’

‘You can take the girl out of the city but not the city out of the girl, hmm?’ he mused softly.

She bristled. ‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’

Lucan noted that several wispy strands of that glorious long black hair had come loose from the confining plait, adding a vulnerability to Lexie’s heart-shaped face and the long length of her creamy throat. Except, as Lucan knew only too well, Lexie Hamilton had the vulnerability of a spitting cat!

He shrugged. ‘I was just attempting to make conversation.’

She frowned. ‘Did you decide on what to do about the damage upstairs?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve arranged for a builder to come out and take a look in the morning.’

‘And then we can leave?’ She looked hopeful.

Lucan grimaced. ‘I won’t know until the builder has assessed the damage.’ He frowned as she still looked disgruntled. ‘I realise the facilities aren’t too good here. Would you be more comfortable if I organised a couple of rooms for us tonight at the village pub?’

‘No!
I mean—that won’t be necessary,’ Lexie spoke more calmly when she saw the way Lucan’s eyes narrowed at her unnecessary vehemence. ‘The house is quite warm now, and we have Cathy Barton’s casserole for dinner.’

‘Yes…’ Lucan acknowledged slowly.

Suspiciously?

Lexie couldn’t say she would blame Lucan if he
did
feel a little suspicious when she was reacting so jumpily to almost everything he said. Although it was a little difficult for her not to be that way, when she constantly felt as if her identity as Sian Thomas’s granddaughter was going to be exposed at any moment. Especially now that there was a possibility of Lucan’s caretaker being married to Cathy Wilson—someone who knew exactly who Lexie was.