To Tame the Playboy: The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall / A Night with the Society Playboy / Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion

SUSANNE JAMES has enjoyed creative writing since childhood, completing her first—sadly unpublished—novel by the age of twelve. She has three grown-up children who were, and are, her pride and joy, and who all live happily in Oxfordshire with their families. She was always happy to put the needs of her family before her ambition to write seriously, although along the way some published articles for magazines and newspapers helped to keep the dream alive!

Susanne’s big regret is that her beloved husband is no longer here to share the pleasure of her recent success. She now shares her life with Toffee, her young Cavalier King Charles spaniel, who decides when it’s time to get up (early) and when a walk in the park is overdue!

For Kathie,

a true friend.

THIS just had to be paradise, Fleur thought, as she trod her way carefully through the extensive grounds of Pengarroth Hall, her feet crunching through the undergrowth. A pale December sun filtering through the naked branches of the tall trees towering all around had not yet managed to thaw the dainty traces of frost glistening everywhere—but, if this was beautiful, what must spring and summer be like, with everything alive and in full leaf? the girl thought.

Finding the first gated entrance she’d come to locked, she had decided to walk, and had been going for some time before realizing that there had to be a more obvious route to the house than this. The path she’d started along had seemed established enough at first but had gradually petered out, but it was such a beautifully restful area in which to stroll, she’d decided to keep going just to enjoy being out of the car after her long drive from London and breathe in this fresh country air. She’d retrace her steps in a minute, she thought, and drive further on down the hill. Mia, the friend who’d invited her to spend Christmas here in the family home she shared with her brother, had been characteristically vague with her instructions.

“Just drive through the first big gate you come to,” she’d said airily. “You can’t miss it.”

A little later, and with a painful stab of anxiety, Fleur recognized the familiar prickling at the back of her neck which usually heralded one of her bouts of exhaustion, and she kicked herself for being an idiot. She knew that if she wanted to stay well, she had to take care of herself, and she knew she had been overdoing it in the run-up to Christmas. They’d been working late at the laboratory for the last two weeks, and today’s long drive to Cornwall hadn’t helped. It would have been better to have waited until tomorrow, Christmas Eve, before leaving London, but Mia had persuaded her to come a day early.

“None of the other guests will have arrived, and my darling brother won’t be there either, not until Christmas morning, so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” she’d enthused. “It’ll be like old times in the dorm!” The two girls had been at the same boarding school and had remained firm friends ever since, though this was the first time Fleur had visited Pengarroth Hall.

Spotting a flat tree trunk just in front of her, Fleur sat down on it gingerly—she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay there long because it was clearly very cold and damp, but it would do for her to rest there for just a few moments. She glanced at her watch—it was four o’clock already and starting to get dark—before closing her eyes briefly.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere and causing her to jump, a strong voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘Good afternoon. Can I help you?’

The enquiry was brusque, with no hint of Christmas cheer about it, and Fleur looked up quickly, scrambling to her feet. She was confronted by a tall man wearing a mud-smeared wax jacket and heavy boots—and a rather forbidding expression on what was clearly a very handsome face. A shotgun hung over his shoulder. His eyes were darkly penetrating as they stared down at her, and she couldn’t help feeling a tremor of apprehension—mixed with something else she was not going to acknowledge!—as she returned his gaze. Then she straightened her back, and she smiled—obviously this was the gamekeeper, or some other person employed at Pengarroth Hall.

‘I don’t need any help at all, thanks,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve been enjoying a stroll in these wonderful woods, that’s all.’

He didn’t answer for a moment, unable to drag his gaze from the most delectable female features he’d seen in a long time. Then, ‘Well, you are on private property. This area is not open for walkers. The public right of way is much further back up the hill,’ he said bluntly. ‘The notice is clearly marked.’

Fleur bristled at this show of pomposity. There was no need to be quite so horrible about it, even if she had been trespassing which, as an invited guest, was not the case. She attempted a thin smile, irritated with him now and not wanting to reveal that she was going to be staying at the house, or that she was a long-time friend of one of the owners.