His Lordships Daughter (25 page)

He thumbed through them checking the numbers. “The hydraulic section is missing.” He didn’t really need them
, but if things didn’t get any better between them, it would bring her back.

Emma moved towards the door. Her patient was rapidly moving out of his depression. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Steak! Medium rare.”

“I’ll bring you some fish.” She shouted, leaving the room.

“My god, fish again.” He grumbled.

“It is not a good idea Steven to give a patient like you, lots of red meat.” Her eyes sparkled. “Even I know that.”

For a few seconds they
looked at one another.
not quite sure whether she should be more friendly towards him and Steven not quite sure of anything. “Don’t you dare touch my body.” He warned, for want of something better to say!

Phyllipa’s eyebrows shot up. “Not ever again?” she asked coyly.

“You know what I mean
. I haven’t quite got over your last visit yet.”

She laughed. “Huh, and there’s you demanding red meat!”

“How is my company?” he asked, switching the subject.

“As you know, I have moved in as MD.” Carefully she watched his face.

He nodded “yes I do know. June told me, and quite frankly I’m pleased you are standing in for me. It has taken a large weight off my mind. Thank you.”

“Everything is running smoothly with all machines working flat out. There are no problems whatsoever!”

“Good! Because I don’t know how long I’m going to be laid up here.”

“How is the leg?”

“Still hurts
.”

“As the good doctor has already told you. It is just a question of rest.” She smiled thinly. “Well now you have the time, use it to get yourself fit.”

Steven’s eye narrowed “Do I get the impression that you have forgiven me?”

“What on earth gave you that idea?”

He shrugged. “I just thought you appeared to be a little more friendly, that’s all.”

“I’m working on it Steven. You have presented me with a huge problem because I don’t like falling out with people. It is such a waste of one’s time.”

Groaning, his eyes turned defiant. “In that case I don’t wish to talk about it.”

“Running for cover eh?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he just looked at her face. She was winding him up again, just like it was when they worked together.

“Surely there must be a reason why you refuse to discuss something so important.” Easing himself up on his pillows, he glared at her. “Phyllipa! I make no claim to understand you and I hope I never will, because you fascinate me just as you are. But, sometimes, in the heat of the moment
things are said which defy logic. Dustbin remarks of fury, and let’s face it, what you did to my company and the way you did it screamed, betrayal!”

She nodded. “I know, and I am the first to admit that on paper it all looked terribly suspicious. But y
ou should have trusted me
! a
fter all that is what love is all about isn’t it?”

“But you don’t love me!”

Phyllipa frowned.
I know I don’t, but I’m talking of your so called love for me. Or have you already forgotten it?”

Sinking lower in his bed, he pulled the sheets over his face. “I’m beginning to rue the day when I bared my feelings to you.”

“Do you mean that it wasn’t true?”

His head shot up from cover. “And I’m not even going to answer that question.” The look on his face turned to an aggressive one. “You have my apology for what happened, and that’s it, because, as I said before, that is all I have! Take it or leave it.”

Phyllipa smiled
. “As I have already told you, apologies are normally paper thin along with the word “Sorry” – but, I can feel a rational explanation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come up with a good account of why you called me what you did and I just may call our first row, quits!” she put
her face close to his. “n
ow
you.” She lowered her face to his “Now, I can’t get fairer than that, can
I
?”

“I’ve just given you an explanation Phyllipa. My words came out of rage. Now if you are not adult enough to accept that, say so, and we’ll start again.”

She nodded, not wanting to prolong the bitterness between them much further. Life was too short to carry grudges, besides she had always understood why he did what he did, so perhaps it was time to close the book on the incident. “Let me think about it!” pushing her hand underneath his bed, she pulled out a bottle of champagne followed by two glasses. Steven was looking at her with fascination. “I didn’t see you bring that in!”
he narrowed his eyes. “Did you bu
y
it?”

She chuckled. “No! its
from my father’s cellar. Pol Roger 82!” with a deft twist of her wrist she popped the cork. Handing him a glass she filled it. “A toast!” she cried,
lifting her own in the air. “Two
broken legs, everywhere. May they all be on the mend!”

Sipping her drink, she suddenly put her glass down and took a diary from her handbag. “I have been talking to your doctor.” She told him, taking the top off her fountain pen. “And he tells me that as long as you get nursing attention, there is no need for you to be in here. So I think it would be a good idea if you moved to Rosewood!”

He looked at her suspiciously. “What is wrong with my home?”

S
he
frowned. “I’ve had to explain this, first to my father, then to June and now to you. Why does everyone think I have some sort of ulterior motive for my obvious altruism?”

“I don’t know. Have you?”

“You haven’t anyone there to look after you.” She snapped.

“I can get some nursing staff!”

Phyllipa shrugged her shoulders. “Alright! If that is what you want, do it.” Closing her diary, she threw it back in her handbag along with her pen. “I apologise for bringing the subject up.”

Steven a worried look upon his face, threw up his hands in protest. “Now, just a minute I didn’t say I wouldn’t come to your place, I was just asking why?”

She
smiled again. “Because steamed fish very rarely hits our menu.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go.”

“Somewhere important?”

She nodded. “I think so, I have an appointment with an old friend!” taking her diary out again
, she looked at an entry. “I’ll make arrangements to have you transferred the day after tomorrow.” Bending down, her eyes twinkled as she kissed his cheek. “I do have some other business to discuss, but it will keep until we can talk in comfort of my home.”

Looking around the cosmetic walls of his sick room, she wrinkled her nose in protest. “The vibes here are not conductive to what I have to discuss with you, right?”

Steven nodded. “You’re the boss!”

“Absolutely!” she
murmured
, leaving the room.

Wriggling her shoulders deeper into his pillows, Steven suddenly realised he felt a little more comfortable. Gazing through the window across the countryside, his grey eyes followed a flight of starlings scrambling through drifting cloud. Watching them until they were out
of
sight, he sighed contentedly, then slowly closing his
eyes, drifted into a half sleep
.

Soaking
in a steaming hot bath, Phyllipa’s hands pushed soapy bubbles into the air. Breathing a sigh of contentment, which scattered them even further, she browsed over the events of the past few days. Everything seemed to be going well.
S
ometime
tomorrow Steven would be
ensconced
*
in the west wing and she liked the thought of that, not only because he would get the crucial rest which his broken leg demanded, but it would be nice having him around. Arrangements for the Christmas party were already under way, plus new ideas regarding the running of SG Packaging, although the latter would be subject to all the involved parties agreeing, but in Phyllipa’s mind, she could see no problem in that. And, of course, in the next half hour, Miller was due. She was overjoyed to have found him again, it was always nice meeting new faces but it was something quite different to run into old friends with carnal track records already proven.

Stepping from the water, she stood in front of the long
cheval mirror,
*
looking at herself. Then, nodding as if agreeing with everything she saw, took a large fluffy towel and wrapping it around her nakedness walked through to her bedroom and into the arms of her expectant guest
. He looked her up and down, and
gave her a welcoming kiss. “Ms
Phyllipa!” Miller said. “At your service!”

With nerves already tingling with a creeping excitement, she stood and looked at him. “You’re early.”

“Well you know what farmers are! Are you complaining?” Phyllipa smiled. “Of course not.” Pulling the towel from her shoulders they both watched it fall silently on the floor.

Miller’s eyes erupted with lecherous greed as he feverishly ripped the clothes from h
is muscled body, whilst she
nodded approvingly at the promising enormity of his throbbing shaft, trembling with anticipation at the solidity of the engorging base. “
I have an hour and a half at your disposal.” He growled, looking at his watch. Phyllipa thrust her already swelling breasts out in her usual challenge to the world at large. “When we met, so delightfully in your van, you talked of practice, satisfaction and exploitation! So, let me see how good you really are and the words were not just

  Cheval (meaning) a long mirror mounted on swivels in a frame

*
  Ensconced (meaning) to settle or comfortably

a
chapter taken from your standard screwing manual.”

Fingering her mouth in a seductive gesture, she walked through to her private den. “My guess is that you won’t last thirty minutes.”

“I missed by a mile didn’t
I
?” Phyllipa nodded. “By my watch….” She tapped the dial of the Tag Heur on her wrist. “You lasted exactly twenty seven minutes!” he grinned, muffling a yawn with the palm of his hand. “I was tired! It was a four o’clock start this morning for me.” He apologised. “We’re lambing!”

“Ea
rly for that isn’t it?” she
asked, handing him a scotch and soda from her private
bar. He took it gratefully. “Yes
! Tell that to the rams!”

“So, take it you are going to use that as an excuse?”

He drank his whisky. “Do I need one?”

S
he
smiled, joining him with her usual soda water creamed with ice. “It was you who was bragging about satisfying me.”
“Only with
practice,
Thats
what you said!”

“So?” he shrugged his shoulders. “I was practising!”

S
he
laughed. “Now I can accept that excuse. That so
unds like the truth.” glancing
at her new Yorker.
.....
“How about one for the road?”

Wearily, Miller shook his head. “Not if it was paved with gold! I’ll see you at your Christmas party.”

“Huh! You will be in competition then.” She told him, facetiously. “And it will be the real thing, not one of us will be practising.”

He grinned again. “On that night hopefully, I won’t be so tired.”

Phyllipa sipped her drink. “Hopefully you won’t, but, please don’t make any more promises you can’t keep!” sh
e kissed his face. “ don’t forget
, dress will be formal.”

The old banqueting room at Rosewood was jumping with people enjoying themselves. Tenant farmers and families, staff and their entourages. Close friends, near friends, and even the postman and his wife who for years, winter and summer, had trundled up the long drive to the house delivering mail. This was everyone’s Christmas party, their once-a-year day, and they meant to enjoy it!

Glittering gift laden Christmas trees, lots of food, bags of booze, all the colour and tinsel trappings that go to make up that time of the year were there, including a nine piece orchestra whose music was flowing into every corner of the get-together. It was the 14
th
Lord Hemingham’s way of saying thank you to all the people of the estate who had made the passing year a success.

Henry Inchcape-Gore, his daughter Phyllipa, Lord Braseby and Lady Braseby
, their son Clive and his fiancée, June, were sitting at the top of the table drinking champagne. Phyllipa’s father always attended the opening of the soiree to give a welcoming speech to everyone and present gifts. To an outsider it might have sounded and looked
a bit feudal, but it wasn’t. T
his
was simply a very congenial at-home bash, arranged and paid for by his lordship, and everyone loved it. It was their big chance to get pleasantly drunk on the boss!