Love Came Just In Time Part 14

Fulbert folded his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw. Hugh scrunched up his face in what Ambrose readily recognized as his determined expression.

"I'm beginning to think neither of you wants to see this come about."

There was more clenching and scrunching. Ambrose knew it was time for drastic measures. He'd never see anything finished if he had to spend all his time reprimanding the troops.

"Very well," he said, with his sternest look, "I've come to a decision. Since Fulbert has had his turn

urging young Megan along the proper path, 'tis only fair Hugh should have his turn with Gideon. I daresay he'll know what needs to be done first."

Hugh eyed the laptop with barely restrained glee. Fulbert huffed in outrage.

"He'll damage the boy's livelihood! The saints only know what'll happen to his person!"

Ambrose clapped Hugh on the shoulder. "He'll only do what he must. Perhaps you'll have a bit more

care with Megan the next time."

Fulbert harrumphed and vanished. Ambrose smiled pleasantly at his cousin.

"I'm off for a stroll, Hugh. I'll expect a report on your progress before nightfall."

"Aye," Hugh said, advancing on Gideon.

Ambrose walked through walls and such until he came to the overgrown garden. He clucked his tongue

at the sight. He'd have to have another chat with Mrs. Pruitt about her care of the inn. If she'd only stop screaming long enough for him to give her his list of instructions.

Truly, women could be so confounded irrational at times.

Chapter Two.

The Honourable Gideon de Piaget, president and CEO of Artane Enterprises, suppressed the urge to take his cellular phone and smash it through the wall.

"Put the fool on the phone, Humphreys," Gideon growled.

"I fear, my lord Gideon, that your brother is engrossed in a medieval text at the moment."

"I don't doubt it!" Gideon shouted. "Interrupt him!"

Humphreys tsk-tsked. "Really, my lord. Such displays of temper do not become you."

"I'll have you sacked!" Gideon roared.

"I believe Lord Stephen retains that privilege. Have a pleasant holiday, my lord," Humphreys said.

Gideon listened to the line go dead. d.a.m.n Stephen! As if this b.l.o.o.d.y holiday was actually going to relax him! He had mergers to contemplate, acquisitions to make, huge sums of money to move about. The entire company would go under in two weeks with Stephen at the helm. If he held true to form, he'd stay buried in some blighted old ma.n.u.script while billions of pounds floated merrily off down the Thames!

Gideon closed up his laptop and jerked the plug from the wall. He'd check in and then get down to some serious work in spite of his entire staff. And once this enforced holiday was over, he'd return and sack every one of them. Starting with his personal secretary.

Gideon ground his teeth at the thought of her. Alice had taken Stephen's suggestion that she go on holiday without so much as a by-your-leave from him personally. And this only after pa.s.sing on to the rest of the employees Stephen's instructions for the entire company to refuse Gideon's calls. Gideon scowled. They could refuse to talk to him, but they couldn't control what he did four hours away from London. He would hook up his modem and pretend he was at the office. Stephen would never be the wiser.

Go on holiday or I'll sack you.

Gideon grunted as he gathered up his gear. His brother had walked into his office two days ago and said those words, as if Gideon would actually take them seriously! Stephen had been inspired, he'd said, to send Gideon off to his own favorite retreat. It would do him a world of good, or so Stephen had claimed. Gideon had thrown his brother out of his office bodily.

Of course the board meeting the next day had been a little unsettling, what with Stephen having led a unanimous vote for Gideon's holiday on pain of termination. Protests had gotten him a signed motion requiring him to leave that day and hole up in some deserted inn on the Scottish border for a fortnight. Alice had been smirking as she'd taken notes. The old harridan had probably instigated the entire affair.

Gideon strode purposefully toward the reception desk. The woman behind the desk stood, looking quite frankly unsettled. Perhaps she wasn't used to her guests a.s.saulting outlets in her entryway. Or, more likely, she was used to Stephen who retreated here once a year to do nothing more than ensconce himself in the blasted library and bury his nose in yet another book. Gideon looked at the proprietress.

"Mrs. Pruitt, I presume?" he said, dropping his suitcase with a thud. "I'm Gideon de Piaget."

"Aye, Lord Blythwood," she said, in shaky voice. "Your b-brother said you'd be arriving today."

"No doubt," Gideon said curtly. "And it was against my will, as it happens."

Mrs. Pruitt held out the key. Her expression was such that Gideon couldn't help but feel a faint fondness for her. She looked as if she were sentencing him to certain death.

"I couldn't agree more," he said, taking the key from her trembling fingers. "My room?"

"Up the stairs," she said, her very essence seeming to become more frantic. "First door on the right."

Gideon frowned. "You do have a phone in the room, don't you?" he asked. "And an outlet?"

"Aye, my lord."

What else did he need? Gideon attributed her actions to far too much inclement weather and not enough hustle and bustle. After all, what sort of mental stimulation could a sleepy old inn in the midst of nowhere provide a person? It was no wonder Stephen loved the place. He could read in peace.

Gideon started up the stairs, eager to finally get settled in and down to work.

He frowned as he fought to reach the upper floor. His bags weren't that heavy. He looked quickly behind him, but no one was there. He could have sworn someone was tugging on his laptop. Taking a firmer grip on his things, he leaned forward and applied himself to just getting up the steps.

And then, quite suddenly, he lost his grip. He made a frantic grab for the computer, deciding in a split second that his suitcase would better survive the trip back down to the entryway. The phone had flown upward and Gideon quickly positioned himself to catch it when it came back down.

And then he watched in complete astonishment as it flew past his outstretched hand, back down the stairs and smashed into the front door. Mrs. Pruitt screeched and fled. Gideon looked at the pieces of his phone scattered in the entry.

It just hadn't been his day.

He sighed deeply as he descended and retrieved his suitcase. He turned his back on the wreckage and climbed the steps. What good was his cell phone anyway? It wasn't as if anyone would talk to him.

He entered his room, tossed his suitcase on the bed and looked about for a desk. Espying a choice antique vanity, he removed all the paraphernalia and set up his machine. Miracle of all miracles, there was a phone nearby. He unplugged it and secured the modem cable. Finding an outlet wasn't as convenient, but he'd purchased an extra long cord for just such a situation.

He shrugged out of his mac, stripped off his stifling sweater and sat down to work in his s.h.i.+rtsleeves. He turned the computer on, then called in to his company server. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the wood of the vanity. Remote access was irritatingly slow, but he'd make do.

He typed in his pa.s.sword and held his breath.

And then he smiled for the first time in seventy-two hours. Stephen obviously hadn't been thinking clearly, else he would have locked Gideon out of the system. Gideon opened up his favorite spreadsheet program and pulled up a list of the week's transactions, already feeling his pulse quicken. This was what he was meant to do. Just looking at the columns and knowing he was responsible for their contents sent a rush of adrenaline through him. The sheer power of controlling these kinds of- The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Gideon swore in frustration. d.a.m.ned old inn. He heaved himself up from the chair, strode across the room, and threw open the door. To his surprise, there was a light coming from the end of the corridor. Perhaps only his room was acting up. He gathered up his gear and tromped down the hallway toward the light.

He opened the door and entered without knocking. A woman gasped and Gideon pulled up short. He recognized her as the one who had dripped all over his computer downstairs. He frowned at her.

"I need your outlet."

"What?"

"Your outlet," he said impatiently. "The power's out in my room."

"I'm trying to get dressed here," she said curtly.

Gideon wrestled his attention away from his outlet search long enough to verify that she was indeed standing there in only a towel.

The sight was enough to make him pause a little longer. He started at her toes, skimmed over nicely turned ankles and continued up. Then he stopped. She had freckles on her knees. For some odd reason, it made him want to smile. It was like seeing suns.h.i.+ne after endless days of rain. She obviously didn't use much sunblock, or she wouldn't have had so many sun spots. And what a shame that would have been.

Sunblock. He frowned. What was the status of that cosmetic company acquisition? He'd been on the verge of closing the deal when he'd been interrupted by that disconcerting board mutiny. "I said, I'm trying to get dressed here." "I won't watch," he said, scanning the room. "I don't care if you won't watch!"

He flashed her a brief smile. "Then we're settled. You don't care and I won't watch. Lovely."

She took a menacing step toward him. Gideon fell back, instinctively clutching his computer to his chest.

The woman pointed toward the door.

"Get out," she commanded. Gideon followed her long, slender arm back over to her seemingly annoyed self. "Hey," she snapped. He blinked and looked up at her. She seemed to have an abundance of rather reddish hair, which at the moment was piled on top of her head. And then he looked at her face and he wanted to smile all over

again. It was the suns.h.i.+ne effect, but this was even more potent than her knees. It wasn't that he'd never seen a more beautiful woman. Indeed, he had. But he'd never seen a woman whose beauty made him think of sundrenched meadows and armfuls of wildflowers. He was certain he'd never loitered in a meadow, but looking at this woman made him want to.

He dropped his eyes and studied her figure. She certainly knew how to wear a towel to its best advantage. A model, perhaps? No, too friendly-looking. An executive? He took a quick look around her room but saw no executive trappings. Oddly enough, he suspected she actually might be on holiday to have a holiday. But why, when she looked so well-rested as it was?

"Do I have to call the cops?" she demanded.

Ah, an American. He nodded to himself over that. Maybe that was why she looked so relaxed. Perhaps she was from one of those big middle states where they farmed a great deal and avoided the city rush.

The thought of Americans brought to mind a clothing company acquisition his executive VP had been working on. Adam MacClure had a knack for the American market. Gideon made himself a mental note to double-check how the numbers were running on that as soon as he was back online.

He strode purposefully to the desk, plugged himself in and began the logging-in process all over again. He heard a door slam behind him. Maybe his befreckled American neighbor had decided to dress in the bathroom.

Gideon sighed in relief once he'd accessed the server. Now maybe he could get some work done. He pulled up the file on Totally Rad Clothing and flexed his fingers. He'd missed his modem during the past few hours.

The computer beeped, then the screen went blank.

"d.a.m.n!" he exclaimed.

And then he realized the bedroom light was still on.

All right, perhaps just the outlets were on the blink. No wonder Mrs. Pruitt had wished him well. Had Stephen known? Was that why he'd been banished here? Gideon cursed his brother thoroughly as he retrieved his computer case from his room and hastened back to what appeared to be the only lighted bedroom in the entire place. He would just have to use up his spare batteries.

The woman with red hair was coming out of the bathroom. She was dressed this time, but Gideon wondered where she'd gotten her clothes. Her gown looked like something from a costume shop. Early medieval. Pity she hadn't tried it on before she rented it. The hem hit her well above her ankles, and she was positively swimming in the rest of it. Perhaps it had been fas.h.i.+oned for a much shorter, much plumper customer.

"Not exactly a perfect fit," he noted.

She looked down at herself, then back at him. "I lost my luggage," she said defensively.

"Nothing in your size?"

"Mrs. Pruitt brought it to me," she retorted. "What else was I supposed to do-run around naked?"

"Hmmm," he said, tempted to give that more thought.

Then he caught sight of the desk and remembered what his primary task was. He sat back down and slipped a newly charged battery into the computer. Then he crossed his fingers and plugged his battery charger, with its spare battery, into the outlet. He blinked in surprise as the charging light began to flicker. Now the outlet was functioning? The inn was a disaster. He was surprised the place hadn't burned to the ground long ago.

Gideon turned the computer back on and it sprang to life. He sat back and heaved a huge sigh of relief. He would run on battery power for awhile, just to be safe. It wasn't his preferred way- "Would you mind telling me how long you're going to be using my outlet?"

Gideon turned. "I beg your pardon?"

"My bedroom," she said, with a wave of her arm. "My bathroom. My outlet. The s.p.a.ce I've paid for for the next two weeks. How long are you going to be camping out in here? Dare I hope it won't be for long?"

Gideon frowned at her, then turned back to his laptop. "I don't know how long I'll be. I've important things to-"

The charger made an unwholesome sound. Gideon looked at it in alarm as smoke began to curl up from its sides. He blew on it, but smoke only began to pour forth more rapidly.

He dove under the desk for the outlet and unplugged the charger, but not before he'd heard an ominous pop, followed by a crackling sound. He whipped back up, smacking his head loudly against the front edge of the desk. He lurched to his feet, clutching the top of his head.

He stared down in horror at his laptop.

It was on fire.

Gideon stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe his eyes. His last link with civilization was going up in smoke right in front of him.

"Here."