Read Online Count Toussaint’s Pregnant Mistress by Kate Hewitt - Free Book Online Page A

of her work was alleviated by the sight of the sea and sky, the occasional trips to Helston or Penzance for supplies and the friends she’d made—whether it was Marta, the older woman who had been running Carack’s tiny shop, ‘the Harrods of Cornwall’, for thirty years, the postman, or Grace herself. Small, simple pleasures, ones she’d come to savour.
    It had been an instinctive decision to come to Cornwall, one she hadn’t really needed to think about. She’d gone on holiday here as a child, when her mother had played a music festival in Devon. It had been a glorious week of building sandcastles and eating melting ice-creams, one of the few holidays she’d had with her family as a family. It felt good to be back. She didn’t regret it, or her decision to answer Grace’s tiny ad in the local paper for an assistant. Her parents had been bewildered, the public stunned, and yet Abby was glad. She needed a complete respite, relief from the life she’d known, the person she’d been. The ‘Prodigy’.
    For the first time in her life—besides that one night with Luc—she felt free. Free and, in small, simple ways, happy.
    Yet just the thought of Luc caused a little pang of sorrow to shoot through her like a lingering toothache, a sudden, surprising, jagged pain. She’d stopped being angry a few months ago; anger was too exhausting. She didn’t know why Luc hadleft—had he planned to all along? Had he simply lost interest? Did it even matter?
    As the anger receded, she found she could even, in an objective way, summon a little surprising gratitude. Luc had woken her up; he’d made her see how limited and caged her life had been, even if he hadn’t meant to. Had made her feel.
    Still, it hurt. It made her sad to think of what she thought might have been, now knowing it never could have. Yet she was glad for the wake-up call she’d so obviously needed.
    ‘Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it,’ she said wryly. She’d started talking to herself as she drove the van along the narrow, twisting lanes with hedgerows high on either side. She remembered that night with Luc when she’d spoken aloud to her own reflection. She’d felt lonely then, a bit pathetic, but now she found she liked her little one-way conversations. It reminded her that she’d chosen this. She’d chosen to leave the past behind, to move ahead, to finally live and feel, even if it hurt.
    Surely that was better than the numbness she’d first felt after Luc had left? Surely feeling pain along with the joy was better than feeling nothing at all?
    Corner Cottage was the last of a row of terraced cottages on the high street of Carack, whitewashed, thatched and facing the sea. The air was cool and sharp with brine as Abby parked the van in front of the cottage and went to unload the box of meals.
    She let herself in by the back gate, through a tiny garden, right into the little brick-floored kitchen. She loved Corner Cottage. It was tiny, with just the little kitchen and a parlour that was dominated by a stone fireplace, with a cozy bedroom above, the bed tucked snugly under the eaves. It was one of the area’s most popular rentals for couples, and Abby could see why. The sight of the slate-blue sea winking from thebedroom window made you want to curl up in the huge bed with its thick, fluffy duvet and stay there for ever.
    Part of Abby’s job was to check the cottage was ready for the next tenants, and after unloading the food she went upstairs to make sure the rooms were prepared and clean. Just the sight of that high, wide bed caused a pang of memory to pierce her again, and for a second she let herself imagine being in that bed with Luc. She had no one else to imagine doing such a thing with, as he’d been the sum total of her romantic and sexual experience—limited as it so obviously was. A few men she’d met through the course of her work flirted with her, and one had asked her out for a drink at the local pub.
    Abby