Wanted: Mail-Order Mistress by Deborah Hale Page B

can’t!” Rosalia shook her head so hard, her dark braids swung in wide arcs. “Dog can eat wolf, not the other way around. You’d better move your wolf or my dog will eat him next.”
    “That doesn’t sound right to me,” Bethan protested.“Perhaps he isn’t really a wolf at all, just a little fox.”
    She glanced up suddenly and spied Simon watching them. He gave a guilty start as their eyes met.
    “Come in,” she called. “Your daughter is teaching me how to play Do Show …”
    “ Dou Shou Qi. Yes, I heard.” As he stepped into the room, Simon felt his presence cast a shadow over their merriment.
    “Would you like to play the winner of our match?” asked Bethan, with a subtle ring of challenge in her tone. “Your daughter’s animals have been making a fine meal out of mine.”
    “Well done, Rosalia.” Simon nodded to the child. “Another time, perhaps. I came to ask if you would care to take another drive with me before dinner. We could go down Beach Road to see the Sultan’s istana. ”
    “That sounds lovely!” Bethan scrambled up from the floor. “Can Rosalia come too? I’m sure she’d enjoy an outing.”
    This was what he’d been afraid of when Bethan offered to care for the child. Did she intend to use Rosalia as a little chaperon to keep him at arm’s length? He must take a firm stand or who knew when he might get another moment alone with her.
    “Then you must take her on one, by all means. I will put Mahmud and the gharry at your disposal. I would rather limit this excursion to the two of us. I spoke to Ah-Ming and she will be happy to give the child her supper and put her to bed. Is that all right with you, Rosalia?”
    “Yes, Papa.” She nodded obediently. “I hope you have a nice drive.”
    “Thank you, my dear.” Simon had known he could count on her not to make a fuss. He would tell Ah-Ming to provide a special treat for her.
    He turned his attention back to Bethan. “That’s settled, then. After you finish your game, we can go.”
    “Very well.” Her nose wrinkled as if she’d caught a whiff of putrid-smelling durian fruit. “Perhaps it is best if we go by ourselves. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
    Simon didn’t like the sound of that. With a curt bow, he withdrew to wait for her in the gharry.
    When half an hour passed and she still had not come, his patience began to wear thin. He was on the verge of abandoning the whole idea when Bethan appeared, looking every bit as vexed with him as he was with her.
    “What took you so long?” he muttered. “I’m not accustomed to being kept waiting.”
    “I’m not one of your workers!” Her lips pursed until they looked like hard little nuggets of coral. “I didn’t want to leave Rosalia until I was certain she was all right.”
    “Is she ill? She looked perfectly well when I saw her.” Concern for the child overcame Simon’s irritation. Tropical fevers could strike as suddenly as tropical storms, and wreak even greater devastation.
    “It’s nothing like that.” Bethan shook her head. “But she misses Ah-Sam and now she thinks you’re angry with her.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” Simon slapped the reins against the horse’s rump more sharply than he’d intended. “I can’t imagine where she got such an idea.”
    “Just because you don’t understand how your daughter feels doesn’t make those feelings any less real toher.” Bethan spoke in a pleading tone with an edge of exasperation. “Rosalia is so quiet, you don’t realise how deeply she feels things.”
    “And you do, I suppose?” It troubled him to think that after less than a fortnight’s acquaintance she might already know things about Rosalia that he’d never suspected.
    “I do.” Bethan crossed her arms in from of her chest. “And so would you if you cared enough to spend any time with her.”
    “That’s not fair!” Simon protested. “I have a great many claims on my time. I’ve always made certain Rosalia was