Read Online Mistress: Hired for the Billionaire's Pleasure by India Grey - Free Book Online Page B

moved her hand, turning away to spare her from reading the truth on his face; the selfish, hateful truth that he wished she’d never come into his life and smashed up the fragments he’d been painstakingly piecing together again. But then his attention was suddenly drawn away from her to a movement beyond, in the clear periphery of his vision. He walked towards the window, where the piano stood bathed in blue light.
    Behind him Rachel stood, washed in fire-gold and spilling out warmth and softness. In front of him was a featureless wasteland of white.
    He felt his lips twitch into a smile of irony as the symbolism hit him.
    ‘It’s snowing.’
    ‘Oh…’ She came to stand beside him, staring out in wonder at the enchanted garden. Snow already lay like icing on the clipped box spheres, making them look like fat cupcakes, and it had turned the bare branches of the trees into elaborate confections of spun sugar which sparkled in the moonlight. It was like a scene from The Nutcracker ballet. ‘It’s lovely…you’re so lucky to live in such a gorgeous place…’
    He smiled, and it was as cold and beautiful as the silvered winter garden in front of them. Goosebumps rose on her arms and a shiver rippled through her.
    ‘Let’s just say it’s rather wasted on me.’
    He stooped to pick up her nightdress from where it had been thrown, down by the piano, and untangled it, holding it out ready to slip over her head. Obedient as a child, she raised her arms, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
    ‘What time is it?’
    ‘After three.’
    She stifled a yawn as it suddenly occurred to her that he had still been dressed when he’d found her. ‘But you were still up…’
    ‘Working. And checking over the arrangements for tomorrow.’
    ‘What’s happening tomorrow?
    He took her hand, pulling her gently towards the door. ‘The annual Easton Ball, to mark the end of the shooting season. It’s an old tradition.’
    ‘Oh, how lovely…’ Rachel’s drowsy mind was instantly filled with pictures of ladies in beautiful swirling dresses, men in black tie…Orlando in black tie…
    Orlando gave a dry laugh. ‘Lovely? No. I can assure you it’ll be like the seventh circle of hell. The estate still makes a large part of its revenue from pheasant shooting, mainly by organising shooting parties for groups from big corporations and finance houses in London, and they all come down here solely to prove how macho they are. Tomorrow night the house’ll be full of drunken City boys determined to down as much champagne as possible and impress everyone with their lord-of-the-manor credentials.’
    ‘And you have to organise this thing?’
    They were out in the darkened hallway now. The snow had changed everything, making the shadows blue and giving the air a muffled sense of suspended time. Rachel faltered, flinching as her feet touched the ice-cold marble tiles, and in an instant Orlando had scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her towards the stairs. Her eyes were on a level with his. They were narrow, slanting, impenetrable.
    ‘Not really. I employ caterers and a party planner, and my extremely capable housekeeper does the rest.’
    Above her, Winterton ancestors scowled down through the ages and through the darkness as they passed
    ‘It must be horrible to have your house overrun with strangers.’
    ‘It’s the first time I’ll have done it on my own.’ For two years Arabella had taken over the job, with obsessive attention to detail, and she had organised lavish themed occasions that had looked marvelous on the pages of Hello! but had intimidated the Easton locals deeply. ‘Last year it was cancelled because it was right after Felix’s death.’
    Safe in his arms, Rachel let her head fall against his shoulder. She could feel the steady, soothing beat of his heart against her ribs and looked up, seeing the strong lines of his jaw, the sinuous column of his throat. Emotion she was too tired to analyse solidified in