Part 27 (1/2)
”I've heard so much about you,” said Blythe in French, gazing back at him coyly. ”You've done wonderful things in this garden.”
”Thank you,” he replied, smiling again. ”I commend your French.”
”It's a little rusty.”
”It sounds perfect to me.”
”I'm so pleased. It's been a while since I've had a chance to practice it.” She turned to Miranda. ”You should speak to Jean-Paul in French.”
”I don't speak French,” Miranda replied.
”Oh, of course you don't. Silly me!” She settled her cat's eyes on Jean-Paul again and shrugged. ”Tant pis!”
”I think I'll go and be a crocodile for a while,” he said to Miranda.
”They'll love that,” she replied, spotting the knowing twinkle in his eye as he departed. Blythe watched him walk away, her gaze lingering appreciatively on his slim hips and low-slung faded jeans.
”Christ, Miranda!” she exclaimed once he had gone. ”No wonder you like it down here. He's delicious!”
”I know. Everyone fancies him.” Miranda turned away so Blythe wouldn't see her blush.
”Are you f.u.c.king him?”
Miranda was appalled. ”Of course not! I'm married.”
”So? You said yourself, David's never here.”
”What difference does that make? I love David. Why would I want to be unfaithful? There's more to life than s.e.x.”
”Is there? Life would be very dull without it!” They continued to walk towards the field where Charlie the donkey stood chewing gra.s.s. ”You'd want him if you weren't married,” she added with a smirk.
”That's irrelevant.”
”I'm not married and I want him. How did you find him?”
”He just turned up here one day with Storm. He found her in a field and brought her back.”
”What was he doing in the field?”
”I don't know. Looking for a job!” On reflection it was all very bizarre.
”In a field?”
”He was on his way here. He'd seen my advert in town. Anyway, what does it matter? He's a good gardener and that's what counts.”
”He's obviously not married. Divorced?”
”I don't think so.”
”You don't know? Haven't you asked him? Has he any children?”
”No.”
”What were his references like? Who was he working for before he came here? A grand English family no doubt.”
”I have no idea.”
”You didn't check him out?”
”I didn't need to. I sensed he was right.”
Blythe raised her eyebrows. ”You hired him because he's handsome. He could be a criminal on the run, for all you know.”
”I doubt it.” Miranda grew irritated. ”Look, Blythe, I don't care if he's a criminal on the run or has three wives across different continents. He does a wonderful job here and he's good company. I enjoy being around him. I don't ask him about himself out of respect. I don't want to pry.”
”You mean you don't want to look too interested.”
”I don't fancy him, Blythe!”
”Of course you don't.” She gave a little snort. ”But I do.”
”You're unavailable.”
”I don't know. My lover is about to dump me. Once he showered me with gifts, now he rarely has time for me. You know, I turned up at his office the other day in nothing but a fur coat and suspenders. He couldn't resist me then.”
”You've got a nerve.”
”It was fun. I like taking risks.”
”Do you think he'll leave his wife for you?”
”I don't know.” She surveyed the estate and fantasized living here. It was an appealing thought. ”At the beginning we couldn't get enough of each other. Now, I'm not so sure. I don't think I'm wife material anymore.”
”Have you met the wife?”
”Yes.” Blythe cast a sidelong glance at Miranda, relis.h.i.+ng her secret.
”What's she like?”
Blythe chewed the inside of her cheek as she pondered the best way to answer without giving the game away. She knew she was taking a risk even discussing it with Miranda, but there was something about Miranda's perfect life-and perfect Frenchman-that made her want to burst one or two of her bubbles. ”Nice,” she replied carefully. ”I'm a b.i.t.c.h!” She gave a throaty laugh, then pushed her wrist out of her sleeve. ”Look, this is what he gave me for Christmas.” Miranda looked at the Theo Fennell diamond watch and recalled the strange telephone call in December. Her stomach twisted with anxiety.
”It's from Theo's,” she observed.
”Yes. Isn't it gorgeous? I'm loving the pink strap.”
”Is it engraved?”