He interrupted gently. “Have you ever walkedat night?”
“No, we normally have too much to do in the house,I’m sure—”
“Look around, Millie. What canyou see?”
They were alone at the start of the lane. The warm night was still except for the sound of the cart crunching away somewhere far behind them. She scanned the way ahead, beyond the tiny circle of light spilling out of the restaurant. It was very dark. The lane was unlit, apart from a tiny lantern angled downwards to illuminate a milestone with arrows east and west. Beyond that, the island was a featureless black mass.
“You remember that we don’t have street lighting on LaCanette?”
Oh.
Yes, she remembered being told, when she first arrived. Now with summer upon them, the sun didn’t set until very late, and she usually went to bed early and rose early for her 5am. walk. She’d never had to be out on the unlit streets.
George held his hand out to her once more. “Shall we?”
She ignored the hand and set off at a brisk pace ahead of him. He chuckled softly. Arrogant sod! She quickenedher step.
Suddenly she felt his strong, warm handtake hers.
“I see that you don’t like to be helped.” He tucked her hand into his elbow. “But if you take a spill into a ditch, I’ll have to carry you to the clinic. And something tells me you’d like that even less than holding my arm.”
She would. She would definitely hate being carried like a—like a— some kind of… Yes, she would definitely hate being inhis arms.
His arm felt far too solid. Goose bumps rose onher skin.
“What about you?” she asked. “Or don’t the Du Montforts everstumble?”
“Frequently.” He laughed, the sound rich and deep in his throat. “But not here. I grew up on this island. As a child, I played hide and seek on every inch of it, so, I know these lanes like the back ofmy hand.”
They fell into step, walking silently. His hand, over hers, was toasty warm. The cuff of his shirt pulled slightly up, revealing the slim, elegant Habring watch she remembered from their first meeting. It gleamed a faint platinum, held by dark leather around his wrist. There was less than a millimetre between his elbow and the side of her breast.
Wasn’t he a fine one to complain about his father’s closeness with staff when he himself thought nothing of holding her hand in his elbow like lovers on a midnight stroll?
“Penny for them?” His voice broke the silence.
“I was thinking about having two bosses.”
His feet stopped, and he looked down at her. “You don’t have two bosses.”
“Then which of you is my boss? You, Isuppose.”
George resumed walking, his grip on her hand, if anything, tightened. “Millie, you are my father’s assistant and companion. You work for him, not me.”
Her eyes were growing used to the dark, and she could see his proud profile against the pale stone wall behind as they passed the last farmhouse in the village. Fields and orchards surrounded them on both sides. As she walked and considered his answer, a sceptical “hmm” sounded in her throat.
He looked down at her. “What?”
“That’s not really true, is it? You are my employer. You recruited me and—”
“Just a legal technicality. My father is your employer in all but a small aspect. I am just a son who cares about his dad’s safety.”
She could let him off the hook, but something told her this man got his own way more than was good for him. “But you just spent half the evening interrogating me about my work ethic.”
His teeth flashed briefly in the dark. “Sometimes I am a son who carestoo much.”
They walked a few steps in silence. When he spoke, his voice was a little less confident. “I am never at my best when dealing with my father’s issues. I’m sorry if I interrogated you. I wasworried.”
Millie thought about this. “So, you don’t have the authority tofire me?”
