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The Millionaire's Chosen Bride
Susanne James






‘You’re certainly a convincing actress, Mel—acting mixed in with a little cunning,’ Adam said.

Melody went to go past him, but he pulled her to him, pinning her arms to her sides, and then his mouth came down on to hers in an angry movement. She felt his tongue probing her lips and she gasped—in surprise and shock at the suddenness of what he was doing. Then…in a moment of unbelievable surrender…she collapsed into his arms. This evening’s revelations had been too much for her to cope with—now she needed support. She needed Adam!

Almost at once, the ferocity of his kiss changed into breathtaking passion, and she clung to him. For a few timeless moments they stayed locked together, each lost in their own thoughts, each wallowing in their sudden intimacy…until Melody pulled right away, looking up at him, her eyes glowing with desire—and disillusionment! Because hadn’t he just called her deceitful—and cunning? Horrible, hurtful words!


Susanne James has enjoyed creative writing since childhood, completing her first—sadly unpublished—novel by the age of twelve.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!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE BRITISH BILLIONAIRE AFFAIR

JED HUNTER’S RELUCTANT BRIDE




THE MILLIONAIRE’S CHOSEN BRIDE


BY

SUSANNE JAMES




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



THE MILLIONAIRE’S CHOSEN BRIDE


For Toffee,

and my other friends


CHAPTER ONE

‘LADIES and gentlemen—bidding will commence at half past ten exactly. That’s in fifteen minutes from now.’ The auctioneer’s strong, commanding voice cut through the murmuring in the small sitting room and people began to take what seats were available, automatically consulting their own watches and glancing around at the competition.

Melody found a place towards the back, aware that her heart was pounding as she fingered the numbered card in her hand nervously. It stated the number thirty in large black figures and, looking down at it, she still couldn’t really believe that she was here, doing this. To call it one of life’s amazing coincidences seemed too trite a description. But she was here, she was not dreaming, and she was about to take part in the bidding for the rather quaint but very lovely Gatehouse Cottage. And it had certainly not been part of her present holiday plans.

Casting a surreptitious glance around her, she saw that the other interested parties were presumably the kind of eclectic bunch you’d see anywhere, she thought. Ordinary enough people, but today with a single purpose. To buy this property.

Presently there was a hush as the auctioneer took his place at the table, and straight away the atmosphere became charged with expectancy.

‘We’ll start the bidding at the guide price,’ the man said, looking at everyone over his spectacles, ‘and I’m going up in tens. Who’ll start the bidding for me, please?’

There was an immediate response as someone raised a card, and Melody’s breath was almost taken away at the speed with which everything proceeded. Well over the asking price was reached almost at once, before bidding began to slow as bidders shook their heads. Soon it was left to only four hopeful buyers to provide the entertainment. It got slower still as people dropped out one by one, and Melody’s mouth was as dry as dust as she continued to raise her card.

Now that she’d started, she just could not stop. For once she was putting her business acumen and expertise into something for her—and the experience was a heady one!

Soon there were only two bidders remaining—herself, and a man with a deliciously deep voice at the back of the room, who was just out of her sight. She would actually have had to swivel in her seat to see who was keeping pace with her, so she continued to stare straight ahead.

Swallowing hard, Melody determined to keep on, up to the limit she’d set herself—but equally determined seemed her opponent! But suddenly she was the last bidder, and the all-important gavel was struck sharply once, twice…three times. Gatehouse Cottage was hers!

Melody got up from her place and went towards the desk, where the auctioneer beamed at her. ‘Congratulations,’ he said kindly.

‘Thank you,’ she said lightly, by this time feeling in an almost dream-like state. She could barely catch her breath. What had she just done, for heaven’s sake?

There was paperwork and official business to see to, and the vital signature to append, but finally Melody left the building and went out into the strong summer sunlight, feeling as important as a middle-eastern tycoon! But she was still shaking inside… She was not usually of an impetuous nature—snap decisions weren’t her style—yet she had just entered into an agreement that would now make her the owner of two properties—her apartment in London as well as this idyllic cottage in one of the most beautiful rural spots in England.

Presently, going down the path to reach her car, she almost bumped into someone standing there. A man was leaning nonchalantly against the gatepost, and Melody immediately looked up to apologise—almost swallowing her tongue as she met the searching gaze of the most blue-black eyes she’d ever seen! For a second neither of them spoke, but she was the first to find her voice.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she murmured, rather formally, stepping out of his way—but he didn’t attempt to move, just stood looking down at her, a faint smile on his lips.

‘There’snothingto apologise for,’ he said casually, ina darkly rich voice that had the effect of making Melody’s spine tingle unexpectedly. ‘Except, perhaps,’ he added, ‘for pipping me at the post just now.’ He paused. ‘Congratulations, by the way,’ he drawled.

So! This was the other determined bidder who’d helped to force the price of the cottage ever higher! He was tall—very tall—and dressed in dark trousers and a shirt which was open at the neck to reveal a tantalising glimpse of black curling hair. Melody looked away quickly.

‘Oh—well…’ she said, shrugging slightly. ‘There must always be winners and losers, mustn’t there? But I do hope I haven’t ruined your long-term plans too much…’

He raised one dark eyebrow, still staring at her. ‘I’ll live to fight another day,’ he said. He paused. ‘But I think the least you can do is to let me buy you some lunch.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost midday, and I know a really great pub. I’m hungry after all that tension.’

Melody couldn’t help feeling surprised at his suggestion. This man was obviously a fast worker who didn’t believe in hanging around—the sort of opportunist that made her feel slightly wary. Then she bit her lip. She’d been too excited—or too nervous—to eat any breakfast at her hotel that morning, and now that she’d secured the deal her appetite was coming back to life!

‘All right,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Why not? ‘I’m Mel, by the way.’

‘And I’m Adam.’ He extended a tanned hand in formal greeting, and grinned in a warm, all-embracing way that had the effect of breaking down any remaining reserve Melody might have felt at accepting an invitation from a complete stranger.

Their cars were parked a little way away along the deserted road. Everyone else had obviously departed. Melody wasn’t surprised to see that his was a low-slung, exotic red Porsche. Her own compact Mercedes seemed rather staid by comparison.

‘We might as well go in mine,’ Adam said briefly, as he flicked the automatic key to unlock his door. ‘I can drop you back later.’

‘Oh, no, thanks,’ Melody said at once. ‘I’ll follow you to wherever you’re taking me. I’ll probably want to go on somewhere afterwards, anyway.’

She’d been taught from a very young age not to take anyone at face value, and knew better than to put herself in any kind of vulnerable position. Yet this smooth, suave, unknown male—obviously used to trading on his undoubted good-looks—had coolly invited her out to lunch and she’d agreed straight away! This was not like her, she thought, as she got into her car. But today was a pretty exceptional one, she excused herself. In fact, now that she really thought about it, she knew it was a fantastic day! A day to remember, to savour! Enjoy the moment, she told herself. Reality would become apparent all too soon.

Starting the engine and slipping her car into gear, she followed the Porsche along the blissfully uncluttered roads at a much more respectable pace than she’d imagined they might. He’d seemed the type who’d take pleasure in roaring away in front of her and expect her to keep up with his dizzying assault on the numerous twists and bends they encountered. His whole persona came across as confident, self-assured—a natural leader, accustomed to success and its trappings, Melody thought, and he’d had no problem in getting her to join him for lunch today! But following him on an enjoyable run on this perfect July day had the effect of sending her spirits soaring. If only her mother, Frances, was here now, to share this special morning with her, she thought, her eyes clouding briefly.

In about fifteen minutes they arrived at an insignificant-looking wayside pub, and pulled up simultaneously in the car park at the front. Adam immediately came over and opened her door for her to get out, and Melody was conscious—not for the first time—of how he looked at her, how he was obviously scrutinising her appearance. She hoped he approved of her white designer trousers and navy and white striped shirt—an outfit she felt was simple but elegantly casual. Her long fair hair she’d tied up in a heavy knot on the top of her head—the style she always used in business. And, after all, today had been business—though not the sort that she was usually engaged in. Drawing her hair back formally had the effect of complementing the perfect bone structure of her heart-shaped face, her thoughtful grey-green eyes and full-lipped mouth.

Without making any comment, Adam handed her out of the car, and together they walked along the gravelled path to the entrance of the pub. The place was obviously popular, because already it was comfortably full of people. He ushered Melody to a vacant corner table by the window, and looked down at her as she took her seat.

‘What are you drinking, Mel?’ he asked.

‘Just a sparkling water, please,’ she said, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘No champagne…to celebrate your success today?’

She smiled up at him. ‘I’ll keep that for some other time,’ she said.

She watched him as he went over to stand amongst the jostling crowd at the bar, easily the most noticeable person there. He was taller than anyone else, for a start, she thought, his lithe, athletic body obviously demonstrating a robust and healthy physique. Heavens above, she thought to herself crossly. The day had been enough of an explosive affair as it was…surely she wasn’t being blown away by someone she’d probably never see again? Was she that fickle, that pathetic, after losing Crispin not all that long ago? Blame it on today, she excused herself. Today had a definitely weird feel about it!

Presently he came back with their drinks—her water, and a pint of lager for himself—and put a lunch menu in front of her.

‘I can recommend the crab cakes,’ he said, glancing down at his own copy. ‘With the coast so near, the fish is fresh here daily. Or,’ he added, looking across at her briefly, ‘the barbecued sea bass is also very good.’

By this time Melody’s mouth was watering, and she was prompt with her selection. ‘I love fish cakes,’ she said, ‘and I don’t often have the chance to eat fresh crab. So crab cakes, please, with a green salad.’

‘You’re obviously a woman of quick decisions,’ he said. ‘When I bring people here it usually takes them longer to choose what they want than it does to eat the stuff.’

He got up and went across to order at the bar, glancing back at her as she stared out of the window. This was an unusual woman, he thought. Apart from being very, very, beautiful, she was overtly well dressed, sophisticated, and clearly with a very firm head on her shoulders. The sort of female who knew exactly what she wanted in life and was determined to get it. He’d known many women in his thirty-eight years, but he had the distinct feeling that no one would ever get the better of this one in an argument! She was the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to cross, but something about her—especially when he’d observed her at the auction—had excited his curiosity and made him want to find out about her. Who she was…and more importantly why she was taking possession of Gatehouse Cottage.

He returned to sit opposite her. ‘So,’ he said without preamble, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ Well, of course she wasn’t…he’d have noticed!

Melody sipped at her water. ‘No. I live and work in London,’ she said briefly. ‘I’m here on holiday for a few weeks.’

Adam frowned. ‘But…the auction,’ he said slowly. ‘How did you know about the cottage being for sale?’

‘I was in the village looking around a few days ago and saw the sign. I went into the agent’s office and made some enquiries. And…decided to go for it.’ She looked up at him calmly, and he stared back at her for a second.

‘Do you do that sort of thing often?’ he asked. ‘I mean, people usually like to buy little mementoes to bring back from a holiday, but a cottage seems rather excessive!’

Melody smiled. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘And I’ve never done such a thing in my life before… But…I was attracted to the place… It felt special as soon as I stepped inside. It felt…right, somehow,’ she added guardedly.

Adam seemed lost for words suddenly, but her answer only confirmed his opinion of the woman. She knew what she wanted and was going to get it. Whatever the cost. And, talking of cost, she must have the wherewithal to do it, he thought. Not many people had that amount of money instantly at their fingertips!

‘Do you live locally?’ Melody asked, deciding that it was his turn to answer some questions.

‘No. I work in Malaysia, where I obviously have to live for most of the time,’ Adam said. ‘But I always take a long break here, with friends, at about this time every year. Abroad is fine, but rural England is where I feel normal.’

Melody looked away for a second.

‘I’m really sorry…to have beaten you at the auction this morning,’ she said simply. ‘I hope you’ll be able to find somewhere else before too long. Not that there seemed much else on offer here… I suppose people just never want to leave the place.’

‘You’re not sorry at all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Besides, someone has to win a battle—as you pointed out—and this time it was you. Maybe there’ll be another occasion when I’ll have the advantage.’

‘Oh, I can’t see that happening,’ Melody said at once. ‘I will not be purchasing another property for a very long time—if ever. A flat in London and a cottage in the country are quite enough for one person to worry about!’

Their meals arrived, and Melody couldn’t wait to try the crisp, piping hot crab cakes nestling amongst just the right amount of delicious-looking dressed salad. She picked up her knife and fork and looked across at Adam.

‘This all looks yummy!’ she exclaimed.

He watched her for a few seconds without starting his own meal. Then, ‘What do you intend doing about your living arrangements?’ he asked bluntly.

‘D’you mean when will I be moving in to the cottage?’ Melody asked innocently, between mouthfuls. ‘Oh, that’s anyone’s guess. The previous elderly owner had been there for some years and hadn’t done much to the place—so there’s obviously some work to do. Everything’s still sound enough, but it’ll need decorating throughout, and I shall have great fun choosing the right sort of furniture. It’s going to be so wonderful to relax here whenever I can get away.’ She looked across at him, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, her eyes shining at the prospect.

‘So,’ Adam said slowly, ‘you’ve bought the cottage purely as a holiday home? You never intended it to be a permanent dwelling…or maybe a home for your family to share?’

‘I don’t have any family,’ Melody said, rather curtly. ‘This is going to be just for me.’

‘How often are you likely to be able to get here?’ he persisted.

Melody looked away quickly. What right did this man have to interrogate her? she thought. It was none of his business.

‘As often as I can,’ she said firmly. ‘A lot will depend on how things are at work.’ She paused, before adding, ‘I’m fund manager for one of the big banks,’ thinking that she might as well tell him what she did, how she earned her living, before he asked.

He picked up his fork then, and began to eat slowly. Well, what else had he thought? he asked himself. This was clearly a dynamic businesswoman whose daily bread was not likely to be earned in this or any other backwater. ‘You won’t exactly be number one in the popularity stakes,’ he said casually. ‘The locals don’t take too kindly to absentee property owners… people responsible for killing off villages like these. They want folk to live here and be part of the genuine life of the place—help to keep the school and the post office and the pubs going.’

Melody kept her eyes on her plate, trying not to seethe at the clearly admonishing tone in his remark. Of course she knew exactly what he was talking about. The press regularly ran features about the problem. And she reluctantly had to admit that she hadn’t given herself time to really think this through—hadn’t got to the point of wondering how often she’d be driving from town, or how long her visits might last. But that didn’t stop her thoroughly resenting this stranger giving her a lecture!

‘C’est la vie,’ she said coolly.

In those few seconds the cordiality of the occasion seemed to have vanished, and neither spoke for a while as they ate. Then she looked up. ‘Let’s talk about you and your plans,’ she said, in a way she recognised as her formal business voice. ‘If you had succeeded this morning you would obviously have had every intention of living at the cottage permanently, then? Which would have meant abandoning your job in the Far East?’

He returned her gaze, and the eyes which earlier had appeared a friendly blue-black colour now seemed to have acquired a hardened edge. ‘Good heavens, no,’ he replied casually. ‘I can hardly abandon my job—seeing that I’m a partner in the family firm over there.’ He finished his meal and put down his knife and fork. ‘My father and I transferred the business from England some years ago.’

Well, well, Melody thought cynically. This man, who’d just told her off for helping to ‘kill off’ the village, thought nothing of taking his family firm out of the country, obviously throwing employees out of work! Talk about double standards! She couldn’t let that pass!

‘So you were obviously not “number one in the popularity stakes”?’ she said, echoing his own words to her. ‘With your ex-staff, I mean. What a miserable bombshell that must have been for them.’

Adam frowned. ‘Wedidn’t take the decision lightly,’ he said slowly, throwing her a glance which held a hint of disdain at her comments. ‘We were able to give them all handsome redundancy payments, and my father—who is very well known in the industry—used his influence to find places for many of the men with our competitors.’ He paused. ‘He is a very thoughtful man…it caused him a great deal of worry at the time.’

‘Mmm,’ Melody murmured enigmatically, not wanting to let him off the hook too lightly, yet knowing full well the difficult position companies like his often found themselves in. Her doctorate in Business Studies and Law, together with her masterly understanding of today’s commercial world, made it difficult for her not to sympathise.

‘So,’ she said, as she finished her glass of water, ‘if you had managed to secure Gatehouse Cottage this morning, what would your plans have been for taking possession?’

‘Oh, I didn’t have any,’ he replied. ‘I wasn’t bidding for myself. I was there on behalf of friends of mine who have a very special reason for wanting to own it. Friends who’ve lived in the village all their lives and who have no intention of ever moving away,’ he added significantly.

Why was she being made to feel so guilty? Melody asked herself. This morning’s business transaction was legal and above board, with the best man winning! It was her good luck—and her considerable financial resources—that had made her the one to buy the cottage, yet the impression she was getting was that she had no right to own the place, and that everyone would hate her for it! This was not the way it was meant to turn out, and being with Adam Whoever-He-Was was making her feel uneasy.

She made a move to go, picking up her bag from the side of the chair.

‘Thank you very much for my lunch,’ she said, glancing across at him. ‘I enjoyed the crab cakes enormously, and I shall come back for some more before I go home.’

He stood up then, tilting his chiselled lips in a half-smile. ‘Glad you liked them,’ he said. ‘Um…wouldn’t you like coffee before you go?’

‘No, thanks. Not for me,’ Melody said. ‘I must get back to my hotel—I’m moving out from the Red House today—do you know it? It’s very comfortable.’

‘Of course I know the Red House. Everyone knows the Red House,’ he said off-handedly. ‘It’s got a formidable reputation in the area. So why are you moving out?’

‘I thought I’d come closer to the village. To my new property,’ Melody said neatly, throwing him a glance. ‘I rang a B&B that I’d noticed—there are quite a few of them to choose from! Luckily they had a vacancy, so I’ll be staying there for a week or two.’

Adam settled the bill at the bar, and they went out into the warm afternoon sunshine. He stood by the side of her car as she opened the door to get in.

‘Can you find your way back to the Red House from here?’ he asked. ‘Or would you like me to lead the way?’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that—thanks anyway,’ Melody said quickly. ‘I don’t have any problems with route-finding, and I was making mental notes of the direction we were going in as we drove here.’ She smiled up at him through the open window. ‘And I’m used to reading road signs.’

He shrugged briefly—as if to say, Well, I was only offering—then watched her reverse expertly in the confined space of the car park and drive away with a brief wave of her hand as she went.

Adam got into his own car and waited for a moment before switching on the engine. He felt instinctively that this was a rather unusual woman who didn’t fit in to his personal categories for the female race. He was certainly attracted to her and, although her petite stature gave her an air of vulnerability, she gave every impression of being someone who was well able to look after herself. Not to mention the fact that she was clearly a very experienced driver who had no difficulty in finding her way around! Now, why should that disturb him in a woman? he asked himself. Most females were rubbish at map-reading, or at even knowing their norths from their souths! But not, apparently, this one!

He stared pensively out of the window for a second. Whether she was brilliant behind the wheel or not wasn’t particularly relevant anyway…all he knew was that she was certainly a very intriguing woman—at any rate, she’d intrigued him more than anyone had done for a very long time!

He swept out of the car park, smiling briefly to himself, painfully aware that his present, overpowering sensation was one of wanting to cover those dainty, seductive lips with his own! He snorted derisively. Fat chance of that ever happening! he thought.

As she made her way back to her hotel, Melody felt such a strange mix of emotions she could have screamed. She should have been thrilled and excited at her purchase that morning, and of course she was, yet she realised Adam did have a point about the time she’d be spending at the cottage—actually living there, and buying her bread from the little bakery, fetching her newspaper from the shop. She knew only too well that people like her were a serious irritation who did little to help the local economy.

After she’d driven for a mile or two she pulled in to the side of the road and took the local map which the hotel had given her from her handbag. Although she’d told Adam that she’d have no difficulty finding her way back to the Red House, the fact was she didn’t have a clue where she was. But she hadn’t wanted to extend her association with the man by accepting his offer that he should shepherd her back. Although he was, without doubt, the dishiest male she’d met in her whole life, she felt that this was not the time to prolong an unlooked-for acquaintance. At this staggeringly unexpected point in her life it would be better to be alone, to think clearly for herself.

The route they’d taken from the village to the pub was unknown to her. All these country roads looked exactly the same as one another, and her hotel was an isolated building that didn’t seem to belong anywhere special. Melody sighed as she traced the minute, incomprehensible wiggles on the map with her finger. If the worst came to the worst she could always go right back to the village and set off again from there, she thought. But surely there must be a more direct route from where she now was to the Red House?

Feeling that she’d better go back to the pub, she turned the car around and began to drive cautiously along the empty road. Suddenly, rounding a corner, she spotted a woman cyclist ahead of her. Good, she thought. A local who would obviously know where the hotel was.

Pulling up slowly alongside, she opened the passenger window and called out.

‘Hello—sorry to bother you, but I’m trying to find my way back to the Red House Hotel. Can you direct me? I’m hopelessly lost!’

The woman—dark-haired and attractive, probably in her mid-thirties, Melody assessed—had an open, friendly expression, and immediately got off her bike—an ancient vehicle with a basket on the front in which were several boxes of eggs. She looked in at Melody.

‘I’m afraid you’re a bit off-course,’ she said, frowning slightly and shielding her eyes from the sun for a second. ‘Look, your best bet is to go to the crossroads a mile up the road in front of us, take the left turn, then go on until you come to the smallholding on the right. You can’t miss it. There are always two white horses in the field in front. Turn down that road, go on for another mile or so, then the road sort of doubles back on itself before you must take the next right turn. The Red House is there, more or less in front of you. Or should be if I’ve got it right!’ the woman said, laughing.

Melody repeated the instructions slowly, hoping she’d find the place before nightfall. The woman’s last remark didn’t sound particularly convincing! Especially with the added, ‘Good Luck!’ that she heard as she drove away.

Anyway, she thought, her present confusion would do nothing to spoil the excitement of the day. Soon, soon—when the necessary formalities had been completed—she would be given the keys to her cottage and would be able to revel in really looking around. She would go upstairs and open the door to the little bedroom at the back. The room in which she’d been born.


CHAPTER TWO

MUCH later in the afternoon, Melody drove up the winding drive that led to the B&B called Poplars, a large Victorian building, and followed the sign to the visitors’ car park.

She got out of the car and went towards the large front entrance door. As she entered, a stocky, bearded man came through to greet her, two chocolate Labrador dogs padding behind him. He grinned cheerfully.

‘Ah—Mrs Forester? You booked by phone?’

Melody smiled back. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

He held out a work-roughened hand. ‘I’m Callum Brown. I own this place with my wife Fee—or rather, it owns us! I saw you come up the drive, and as you’re our last guest due to check in today, I gathered it must be you. Now—shall we fetch your things?’

Together they went across to the car park, the dogs trotting obediently behind Callum. Melody bent to pat them. ‘I love dogs,’ she said. ‘What are they called?’

‘Tam and Millie,’ Callum said, glancing down at them fondly.

They went back inside, and Melody stood for a few moments at the desk in the hall to sign in.

‘Your room is number three, on the second floor,’ Callum said. ‘I’m afraid we don’t run to a lift, so I’ll take your cases for you.’

‘No need for that, Callum. I’ll do the honours. It’ll be a pleasure.’

Melody swung around in amazement. She’d recognised the voice straight away, and now found herself staring once more at the man who’d paid for her lunch.

‘What…what are you doing here? I mean…’ she began rather stupidly.

‘Staying with friends—as I told you I was,’ he replied easily. ‘But I didn’t realise that Poplars was where you’d transferred to. Anyway,’ he added, ‘let me make myself useful.’ He took her room key from Callum and picked up her cases.

‘D’you two know each other, then?’ Callum asked curiously.

‘Yes, we do. We met at the auction this morning,’ Adam said. He paused, then, ‘Let me introduce you properly. Mel is the new owner of Gatehouse Cottage, Callum.’

‘Well…congratulations,’ Callum said slowly. ‘You’ve bought a very desirable property.’

Just then the cyclist whom Melody had spoken to earlier breezed into the hall.

‘Oh, hello again!’ the woman said to Melody, and Melody’s heart sank. She hoped that nothing would be said about their afternoon encounter—but no such luck. ‘You must be Mrs Forester,’ the woman went on. ‘The guest who managed to book our last room? I’m so glad that you obviously found your way back to the Red House! It was lucky that I was just on my way home after collecting the eggs from the farm.’ She turned to the men. ‘Mrs Forester got herself hopelessly lost this afternoon, trying to get back to her hotel, and she took a surprising risk asking me for directions! I’m saying that before either of you two do,’ she added.

She smiled at Melody, whose face had slowly turned crimson as the woman was speaking. Why did it have to be this particular person she’d asked, a friend of Adam’s? What an opportunity for him to gloat, she thought.

‘Yes…I did find it, thanks,’ she murmured, looking away quickly.

Without saying anything further, Adam led the way along the hall and up two narrow flights of stairs. He glanced back at her over his shoulder. ‘I didn’t realise you were married,’ he said bluntly.

‘I’m not,’ she retorted.

After that there was silence, then he said casually, ‘You’ll like it here. Callum and Fee are wonderful people. This place is almost always full—though they always keep a room for me at this time of year.’

‘You must be a very special friend,’ Melody said flatly.

‘Oh, we’ve all known each other for yonks,’ he replied, stopping outside her room and inserting the key.

Melody knew at once that she was going to be happy here. As she’d expected, it was furnished in a cosy way, with a large double bed, comfortable furniture and a very small en suite shower room in the corner—obviously a desirable extra which had been recently added on.

‘A lot of work’s been going on here,’ she observed, dropping her handbag onto the bed.

Adam had put down her cases and was standing at the window, looking out. ‘They’ve made a huge difference to the place,’ he said. ‘Callum does all the renovations himself, and Fee keeps the domestic side going.’

‘But she must have help, surely?’ Melody said.

‘Oh, a girl comes in each morning to help with the breakfasts, and another one arrives later to help with the laundry and cleaning.’ He paused. ‘And Callum’s very hands-on…they’re a fantastic team. And still very much in love even after ten years of marriage,’ he added, a trifle obliquely.

Melody looked at him quickly, wondering whether he was or ever had been married. There’d been a distinctly cynical ring to his remark, she thought. ‘How long have they owned the place, then?’ she asked.

‘Thirteen years,’ Adam said. He turned to look out of the window again. ‘They were born in the village, and never want to leave the area.’

The significance of his words wasn’t lost on Melody. She was being got at again, she thought irritably. She raised her chin defiantly. It simply was not possible for everyone in the world to live and work in the place of their birth, to stay in one place and do the right thing—much as she acknowledged that the thought of really belonging here, living here all the time, provoked a definite feeling of envy! Her job at the bank was fluid, high-powered and fast moving. At twenty-eight, she was one of the youngest members of staff to hold the position she did, and she was proud of her progress—if only for her mother’s sake.

She was very well aware how vital it was—especially for a woman—to study and work hard, to dedicate yourself to what you were good at. Success brought not only prosperity, but security and peace of mind. You’d never need to rely on anyone else, ever. No, whatever this man thought of her motives, she thought, there was no way she could ever live here permanently. The only option was for this to be her bolthole as often as she could get away. Gatehouse Cottage was hers, the ideal solution for her particular way of life, and if Adam disapproved—tough! Anyway, wasn’t it time for him to make himself scarce and give her some peace to shower and change? she thought.

As if on cue, he went towards the door. ‘The couple of pubs in the village do pretty good food,’ he said casually. ‘Especially the Rose & Crown.’ He paused. ‘If you’d like me to come with you—as this is your first evening here—I’d be very happy to oblige.’

‘Oh—that’s okay, thanks,’ Melody said quickly. How embarrassing!Just because they’d met already, there was no need for him to feel responsible for her, she thought. ‘After that lovely lunch I shan’t need to eat until later on. In any case,’ she added, ‘I might go for a walk first, to get an appetite.’

Tilting his head in acknowledgement of her remark, he left the room, and Melody closed the door behind him thankfully. The man’s presence unnerved her, she thought—but why? Was it just because she had bought the cottage? Or because he’d made it clear what he thought of holiday ownership? Or was it because he had managed to awaken feelings in her that she was absolutely determined would never affect her life ever again? Her work was her soul mate now, and always would be. Work absorbed the mind totally, and carried no risk of hurting her, of wounding her heart. It was a totally abstract thing that demanded only cold dedication. Work didn’t have feelings.

Shaking off all these somewhat intense thoughts, she unpacked her cases, grateful for the huge wardrobe complete with wooden hangers, and then had a long, hot shower, shampooing her hair vigorously. She hoped that by the time she was ready to go back downstairs no one would be about and she could slip out unobserved. She needed to be by herself and take stock of her situation. Perhaps she’d go down to Gatehouse Cottage later and have a really good look at the garden. It had obviously been neglected lately, she realised, but she’d seen the potential at a glance. The gooseberry bushes were heavy with fruit, and the ripening apples and pears on the trees indicated a busy harvesting time later on. Melody hugged herself in renewed excitement.

It was a warm, sultry evening, and she decided to wear a cream, low-necked blouse and a long multi-coloured ethnic cotton skirt. She dried and brushed out her hair, tying it back in a long ponytail, and slipped her feet into open-toed silver sandals.

She went cautiously downstairs. It was quiet and deserted, with a delicious smell of cooking reaching her nostrils— making her realise that, after all, she was hungry enough to find the pub which Adam had talked about sooner rather than later.

She was just letting herself out of the building when a door in the hallway opened and Fee appeared, her cheeks flushed.

‘Oh, there you are, Mrs Forester… We were wondering whether you’d like to have supper with us this evening.’ she said ‘You’d be more than welcome.’

Melody was taken aback at the suggestion, but managed to say quickly, ‘Oh—please call me Mel…all my friends do. And I appreciate the offer, but really I’d hate to intrude. I’m sure you’re looking forward to the end of the day and some time to yourself.’

‘You wouldn’t be intruding,’ Fee said. ‘Adam’s been telling us a little bit about you, and we realise you’re a complete stranger here.’ She paused. ‘Actually, it’d be good to have another woman on the scene to chat to for once, instead of having to listen to Callum and Adam going on and on about boring men things.’ She smiled. ‘To have a nice gossip! And, since you’ll be taking possession of the cottage, we could fill you in on how everything ticks in the village. I’ve roasted a wonderful piece of lamb,’ she added. ‘Because if I dish up one more salad meal I’ll have a mutiny on my hands! What’s the matter with men and salad?’ she said.

She nodded her head in the direction from which male voices could be heard, and Melody found herself unable to resist the genuine invitation she’d been offered.

‘Well—if you’re absolutely sure,’ she began hesitantly.

‘Wonderful!’ Fee said. ‘Come on through. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Just time for an appetiser!’

Although she’d really have preferred to do her own thing tonight—mainly because she didn’t particularly want to spend more time in Adam’s company—Melody knew it would have been churlish to refuse Fee’s suggestion. Besides, the smell of roasting meat was extremely tantalising!

She followed the other woman along a narrow passageway that led to the kitchen, where Adam was already sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out in front of him, while Callum was busy uncorking a bottle of wine. Both men looked up as they came in, and Adam got slowly to his feet.

‘Ah, good,’ Callum said easily. ‘I want your opinion on this wine, Mrs Forester. I bottled it two years ago, and we haven’t tried it yet.’

‘Look—please call me Mel,’ Melody begged. ‘Do you make your own wine, as well as everything else you do?’ she added, impressed. She bent to smooth the glossy heads of the dogs, who were fast asleep sprawled in front of the Aga.

Callum grinned. ‘Oh, my wife beats me about the head if she finds me shirking,’ he said. ‘And we can’t let all the plums and damsons go to waste.’ He eased the cork out gently. ‘Besides, what we don’t keep for ourselves we sell off at the village fête. It disappears even quicker than Fee’s fruitcakes!’ He threw her a quizzical glance. ‘I don’t expect you’re used to the sort of daft things we get up to,’ he said. ‘Like pig roasts and skittle championships, and tugs of war at the annual Harvest Fair. Not your usual scene, from what Adam has been telling us. Still, I’m sure you’ll get used to it, in your own time.’

Melody looked away. What exactly had Adam been saying about her? she wondered. That she was never likely to fit in here, never be ‘one of them’? She began to feel uneasy.

Adam pulled out a chair for her to sit, glancing down at her, admiring her casual, summery appearance, and the feminine hairstyle which seemed to add something to the package, he thought. Or maybe it took something away—whatever it was, it held more allure for him than the rather sharp-edged look he’d observed that morning.

Callum took a sip of his wine. ‘Mmm,’ he said, rolling his tongue around his mouth in extravagant appreciation. ‘I think you’re all going to approve of this. How shall we describe it? Fruity, nutty, saucy, suggestive…?’

‘Shut up, Callum,’ Fee said. ‘Give us all a glass, for goodness’ sake. Why do we have to go through this ridiculous rigmarole every time you open a fresh bottle? Just let’s drink it, then can you come and carve the meat, please?’

Melody took a few tentative sips of the wine and realised that it was the most delicious she’d tasted in a long time. ‘This is fantastic, Callum! It beats champagne by a mile,’ she added, taking another generous mouthful.

‘Oh, I’m afraid we don’t have much experience of drinking champagne,’ Callum said easily. ‘Though I think we had sparkling wine at our wedding, didn’t we, Fee?’

Melody bit her lip, feeling her colour rise. She hadn’t meant to give the impression that she was a connoisseur—though it was certainly true that she was offered plenty of expensive wines in her career. What sort of impression was she giving these people? Especially after her extravagant purchase that morning, she thought desperately.

The episode passed as Callum got to work with the carving knife, while Fee put bowls of vegetables and a large plate of crisp brown roast potatoes in front of them. Adam sat down next to Melody, and conversation paused significantly while they all helped themselves to the mouthwatering food. And although Melody felt uneasy, and somewhat out of place sitting here with these complete strangers, she couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of being made welcome. And it wasn’t long before the wine kicked in, making her feel warm, tingly and relaxed.

It was nearly ten o’clock before she decided to call it a day, and she realised how good it had felt to be with people who were not involved with work. Even though the staff often called in at a wine bar on the way home, or had the occasional meal together, it was always a case of talking shop. This had been different.

After thanking her hosts profusely, she stood for a moment outside, breathing in the soft evening air, and as it was still not quite dark she decided to go for a short stroll. This was the sort of thing you could do in a quiet retreat like this, she thought, as she walked noiselessly down the drive—there was no sense of danger lurking around every corner, no dark-hooded yobs hanging about, and the only sounds were the occasional baaing of a sheep or the hoot of a night owl.

She wandered along the few hundred yards towards Gatehouse Cottage. Not that she would be actually given the keys until the day after tomorrow, when all the financial arrangements had been completed—but it would be good to just stand in her very own front garden and plan the future. And not only that, she realised. The future was one consideration, but she also wanted to visit the past—a past which she had not seen fit to talk about to the others. It was not important to anyone but her, after all.

It took only three or four minutes to get to the cottage, and she paused before silently opening the small wooden gate and going up the path.

She peeped in through one of the windows—which was in need of a good scrub, she noticed—and stared in at the sitting room. She couldn’t see much in this light, but, cupping her hands around her eyes, she could just make out its shape, and the open grate in the corner. She’d have a log fire there one day, she promised herself. On a grey morning that room would spring to flaming life.

Suddenly something wet touched her ankle, followed by a snuffling sound, and Melody jumped, letting out a faint cry of alarm. She sprang back and turned quickly to see one of the Labradors gazing back at her solemnly. Then Adam’s voice sounded through the darkness.

‘I knew I’d find you here,’ he said quietly. He paused. ‘I volunteered to give the dogs their nightly stroll,’ he went on. ‘Tam didn’t frighten you, did he?’

‘No, of course not!’ Melody lied. She swallowed nervously. ‘My instinctive thought was that it might have been a fox…or a badger…’

‘Well, would that have worried you?’ he asked casually.

‘No…it was just…I didn’t expect to have company—of any sort,’ she said.

Melody’s instinctive sense of irritation at being followed had been replaced almost at once by one of mild relief at not being down here alone, and she bent quickly to pat the animals. Although she’d convinced herself that this quiet rural paradise was her dream, in fact she felt slightly wary at just how solitary it was. The silence was deafening, and with no street lights at this point the darkness was very dark indeed. She’d already made a mental note to have a security light put over the front door.

After a moment, she said casually, ‘I didn’t think I’d be able to get to sleep very easily—especially after that rhubarb crumble and clotted cream,’ she added, as she came to stand next to him. ‘So I thought a walk seemed sensible.’

‘Well, you haven’t had much of one,’ he said. ‘From Poplars to here, I mean.’ He paused. ‘I could take you for a slightly longer one, if you like…’ He glanced down at her feet. ‘Will you be able to walk in those sandals?’

‘Of course I can. As long as we aren’t going to cross a river.’

‘No rivers,’ he replied shortly. ‘Just half a meadow and a couple of small copses. It’s a favourite track behind Poplars and back again. The dogs will lead the way.’

They fell into step, and Melody was struck again at how this was such a long way from her flat in a busy street where the sound of traffic never stopped. She looked up at Adam. ‘I really can’t believe my luck,’ she said simply. ‘Although if you’d bid one more time I’d have stopped.’

He waited before answering. ‘Do you mean that? Was I that close?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Melody said at once. ‘It was touch and go—but you stopped at just the right moment!’ There was a short silence, then, ‘Anyway,’ she went on happily, ‘you said you didn’t want the cottage for yourself, didn’t you? After you’d told me that I didn’t feel so bad about it! But I hope the friend who was interested will find something else soon.’

‘Oh, it’s too late now,’ Adam said briefly.

He glanced down at her, and by now Melody had grown accustomed to the light, so she could make out his features and rather dark expression. ‘Too late? What do you mean?’

He waited before going on. ‘I was bidding for Callum and Fee,’ he said. ‘They really wanted to have the cottage—it’s been their ambition for years. Poplars and the Gatehouse were originally linked—as you’ll have noted from the agent’s blurb—and it was their aim to own both so that one day, when they retire, the cottage would be their family home. The hard-earned profit they’ve made on the guesthouse allowed them to go for it.’

Melody swallowed. Now she felt worse than ever! She’d unwittingly thwarted the plans of that lovely local couple…and not a word had been said about it during the meal. Well, what was there to say? she thought. What could they have said? They’d lost the chance, and business was a chancy thing—everyone knew that.

‘But…but…they wouldn’t have lived in the cottage, would they? Not while they were running Poplars?’ Melody said, trying to quell her feelings of disquiet.

‘No. Not yet. But in the meantime they intended renting it on a long-term lease to any local couple who needed a place to live. We’re so desperately short of affordable housing for the younger generation and they’re all moving away. In another ten or fifteen years the village will just be full of older people and tourists. And part-time owners like yourself.’

For once, Melody felt lost for words. She could see the point he was making—in no uncertain terms! But she could see her own, too. It had seemed so right that the place was for sale at the very time she was in the area on holiday. Was fate trying to tell her something, giving her the chance to find out what she’d always wanted to know? A chance to unwrap something of herself that had lain hidden for so long?

Neither spoke for the next few moments as they trod easily over the soft, dry grass of the meadow. Then Melody said, ‘I’m amazed that I was invited to share that fantastic meal…to be their guest. They must hate me—or at least bitterly resent me,’ she added.

‘Oh, Callum and Fee aren’t like that,’ Adam said at once. ‘They don’t bear grudges.’ He shrugged. ‘They knew all along that it was more than probable that someone else would beat them. They’ve accepted it gracefully.’

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, nor mention the fact that it had been his suggestion that she should be included in their supper arrangements. For one thing, he’d thought it would be useful to have some idea what this woman’s plans were for when she came to the village, and for another—and a more pressing one—he wanted to know what she was really like. He readily admitted that she fascinated him, and not only because of her outward appearance. There was something about her, some inner thing that intrigued him. And if he wanted to get to know her, there was no time like the present!

‘Callum and Fee…they don’t have children?’ she asked—and the question made Melody think briefly of her own life plan. She and Crispin had met at work, and both had been equally ambitious. She’d had vague notions of motherhood, maybe in ten years’ time, but their careers had always taken first place. A family had definitely been a back burner issue.

‘No,’ Adam replied shortly, in answer to her question. ‘They don’t.’

They walked on slowly, neither wanting the evening to end, because it was one of those rare warm summer nights with hardly any breeze, and a pale moon to give them just enough light to see their way.

‘This is so heavenly,’ Melody murmured. ‘Like a dream.’

‘What happened to your marriage?’ Adam said suddenly, without the slightest embarrassment at asking the question.

‘My husband—Crispin—was killed in a climbing accident last year in the Himalayas,’ Melody said quietly.

Adam looked at her sharply. ‘Oh—I’m sorry—really. I shouldn’t have asked,’ he said.

‘We’d been married for just a few months.’

‘That was bad. I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

She looked so small and defenceless as he glanced down at her that for a mad moment he wanted to pull her towards him and hold her tightly. But he resisted the temptation.

‘And you?’ she enquired. ‘You’re not married?’

‘No, thanks,’ he said cheerfully.

Well, Melody thought, that was a fairly unequivocal reply! Anyway, something about this man told her he wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d be the sort who enjoyed women’s company for the obvious reason, but would never be happy to settle down, commit to one person. She frowned to herself, not knowing what had given her that impression. But something about his attitude made her think that he was of a restless nature.

Suddenly she said, ‘I did get lost this afternoon—trying to find my way to the Red House—as Fee informed everyone.’

He smiled faintly in the darkness. ‘We all get lost sometimes,’ he said.

‘You knew I’d have difficulty, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Especially as you roared off in the wrong direction,’ he replied. ‘But I knew you’d succeed eventually. And everyone speaks English here!’

Their walk came to an end, and they let themselves in quietly.

‘For your future reference,’ Adam said softly, ‘they lock up at midnight.’

‘I’ll remember,’ Melody said. She turned to go towards the stairs. ‘Thanks for the stroll, Adam. I’m sure I’ll be repeating that many times.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured. Then, ‘D’you think you can find your way to your room?’ he enquired innocently.

Melody smiled ruefully. ‘I deserved that,’ she said. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Mel.’

Melody undressed quickly, washing and cleaning her teeth rapidly, before pulling back the duvet and collapsing into the feather-soft bed. It was heaven to lie down, and she was exhausted. What a day! Her head was so packed with thoughts and emotions that it felt as if thousands of insects were racing around, trying to find space. Almost at once her eyelids began to droop, and in her semi-doze Adam’s handsome features, with the stern, uncompromising mouth, loomed large. She didn’t know what to make of him, she thought. He didn’t like her much; she was certain of that. Although he was perfectly polite—even charming at certain moments—there was a coolness between them which she’d felt from the first moment.

Of course he was cross that she’d upset his friends’ plans…but what about her plans? This village was where she’d started life, and Poplars had been her mother Frances’s sole means of employment until she’d had Melody at the age of forty, when she’d promptly moved with her newborn child to the east end of London to live with a cousin. Melody had been twenty-two, in the middle of her Finals at university, when Frances had died suddenly. And in all those years Frances had never revealed who the father of her child was—had been so secretive about that part of her life that discussion on the matter had become almost a taboo subject. All she would ever tell her daughter was that she had loved deeply, only the once, and that certain things could not be spoken of, that some words were better left unsaid.

Melody had had to be content with that. But somewhere in this village there was a living part of her, part of her mother and the father she would never know, and somehow she knew that just by being here, breathing this air, she was completing her family circle so that she almost felt as if she was being embraced. So didn’t she, Melody, have her own very personal reasons for wanting to live here again, even on a part-time basis? Wasn’t she entitled to return to the family nest, to the village where her mother, too, had been born? How much more right did anyone need to belong here?

She turned over, flinging her arm across the pillow.

She opened her eyes and stared around the room for a moment. Her mother must have cleaned this place hundreds of times when she was housekeeper here, she thought. Servicing all these rooms and cooking for the Carlisle family, who’d owned Poplars for three generations, must have been desperately hard work. Melody’s eyes misted for a moment, thinking of Frances’s determination that her daughter should be qualified and independent. That education was the way up and the way out. So whatever life threw at her, her girl would always be able to stand on her own feet and follow her dreams. And that was what she was doing now!

In his own room on the ground floor, Adam slumped in an armchair by the window, feeling wide awake and knowing that he wasn’t likely to get to sleep easily. He knew he was still upset at letting the cottage slip through his fingers—and especially upset to lose it to a woman—a stranger to the village—who’d bought the place on a whim.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance at the thought that if he’d bid just once more he’d have won. But he’d already exceeded the stake he’d put in of his own money, to help his friends out, and hadn’t wanted to undermine Callum’s confidence by upping and upping the price unreasonably. Callum was such a straightforward, honest man, and he and Fee had already repaid every penny that Adam had lent them way back, when they’d first purchased Poplars. They’d worked so incredibly hard to be able to do that. Now this woman had sauntered in and stolen the cottage from under their noses.

After a few moments, his mind took another turn. He had to admit that Mel seemed much nicer than she’d appeared at first…not so damned sure of herself. His lip curled faintly. She’d jumped nearly a foot into the air when Tam had licked her leg, and he’d sensed her edginess a mile off! He paused in his thoughts. It must have been a terrible blow to be widowed so soon after her marriage—though she obviously had no financial worries, he mused. His eyes narrowed briefly. Maybe all was not lost, after all…

Was it just possible that he might be able to change the course of things, make her change her mind and sell it to his friends after all? It was a long shot—he knew that—but it was worth a try. Another place would come up sooner or later, if buying a country retreat was really what she wanted. He stood up restlessly. She was going to be here for a few weeks yet, so she’d said. That should be long enough for him, Adam Carlisle, to demonstrate his masculine powers of persuasion. But he’d have to be clever about it. This woman was worldly-wise, unlikely to be a push-over, in any circumstances—and she was intelligent and perceptive. She’d spot his motives a mile off if he went blundering in. No—softly, softly, with a dose of gentle cunning, might work. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off. Something told him he was going to enjoy this!


CHAPTER THREE

TWO days later Melody stood once more outside her cottage, this time with a set of keys in her hand. Everything had been signed, sealed and delivered, and now the only person who had a legal right to enter the place was her! Melody Forester!

She waited a moment before opening the door, realising for the first time just what lay ahead of her. Before she was due to return to London in a couple of weeks there was a lot of work to be done! But she’d get things moving straight away, she thought decisively. First of all she’d hire someone to help her clean the place right through, and then she’d go shopping for curtains and floor coverings. The cottage was absolutely devoid of anything, except some ancient lino in the kitchen, so at least she had a clean sheet and could start from scratch. Of course she couldn’t do everything at once, but she’d make a jolly good start, and then focus her mind on the kind of furniture she wanted. It would be simple, but comfortable.

She smiled to herself. She was supposed to be here on holiday, to rest and recharge her batteries after the heavy but very successful year which her team had had—and here she was, giving herself another set of problems with decisions to be made. Holiday? What holiday!

She unlocked the front door and stepped into a small hallway which led almost at once into the sitting room—which had windows at either end, making it light and airy. She stood quite still for a moment. In a strange way she almost expected her mother to appear, for this had been Frances’s home for more than twenty years—all the time she’d been employed at Poplars—and in spite of the total nakedness of the place, the atmosphere felt warm and welcoming to Melody. She felt oddly connected here. It felt like home, and that was what she would make it. Even if Adam Wotsisname didn’t approve, she’d come here time and time again—make it a home from home!

She bit her lip thoughtfully. She hadn’t seen Adam since that first evening—for which she was thankful. She didn’t want any hindrances, any bothersome ties here, and something about him suggested that he could be somewhat over-helpful if she gave him the slightest encouragement. Then she felt guilty—what had he done except buy her lunch and take her for a moonlit walk? In his way, he was sort of charming—and annoyingly handsome, it had to be admitted—but his attitude had rankled from the start. He patently considered her an outsider, and had no problem declaring the fact.

There was only one other room downstairs. It was small, but would be useful as a study if she needed one—or it could even be used as an occasional third bedroom. She didn’t doubt that she’d have plenty of takers among her colleagues for the chance of a short holiday here now and then!

With her feet echoing on the wooden floors, she went up the narrow stairway and into the back bedroom where, apparently, she’d first seen the light of day. From its window she not only had a full view of her garden, but in the near distance over the tops of the trees she could just see the roof of Poplars. She stood quite still for a moment, a frown crossing her features. Why was it that her mother had never wanted to come back to the area—even for a short visit? Melody had been told so much about the way of life in the village—the wonderful walks and peaceful atmosphere which Frances had loved—yet her mother had always made some excuse or other not to return. No—it had been beyond excuses. It had been a firm decision that that part of her life was over. For ever.

Melody shrugged, kneeling forward on the shabby cushioned window seat as she continued to gaze at the scene below. Suddenly there was a light tap on her front door, and Adam’s voice calling from below halted her in her reverie. She tutted to herself—he hadn’t wasted any time, she thought. She’d only taken possession of the cottage half an hour ago!

She heard him run swiftly up the stairs, his strong footsteps echoing through the place, and he came straight in to stand next to her. She turned to look up at him, trying to look pleased at his unexpected entrance. He was wearing jeans and a fine grey T-shirt, and his dark hair shone with healthy vigour…though he did tend to wear it rather long. Not that it didn’t suit his persona, she admitted—it was just that the men she usually mixed with all seemed to favour neat and formal hairstyles.

He was holding a huge bouquet of roses and lilies, and he thrust them forward. ‘Morning, Mel,’ he said easily, smiling down at her. ‘Just a small welcome gift for your first day.’

Melody was genuinely touched. ‘Oh…how lovely! And how unexpected!’ She took the bouquet from him, examining it appreciatively. ‘You must have known that these are my all-time favourites! But—thank you…you shouldn’t have!’

‘Oh, I think I should,’ he said, going over to the window, his hands in his pockets. ‘Buying houses isn’t an everyday occurrence, is it? At least, not for most people,’ he added. ‘I’ve brought a vase down from Poplars, by the way.’

‘Yes…I’ve just been thinking about all the stuff I’m going to have to buy,’ Melody said. ‘I hadn’t got around to the question of vases yet! But I shall certainly need some, because flowers always light up a house, don’t they?’

He glanced down at her, thinking how exquisite she looked in a fresh, simple green cotton sundress which showed off the lightly tanned, smooth skin of her neck and shoulders to perfection. Her long pale hair was pulled back casually and held with a tortoiseshell clip. He’d noticed at their first meeting that she wore very little make-up, but what she did use certainly suited her, because from her appearance she might have stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine. This place didn’t need flowers to light it up, he thought. She did that all by herself!

He pulled his thoughts up sharply. He didn’t want to admire this woman to the point where he started to feel anything for her, he told himself. If it hadn’t been for her, the cottage’s ownership would have been in very different hands, and it still peeved him beyond words that he hadn’t gone the extra mile. But how could he have known that he was so close? He’d only seen her, the other bidder, from the back during the auction, but there’d been something about the way she’d sat there that morning—the angle of her head, the slim, determined hand that had kept raising her card—depicting a businesswoman who was used to getting what she wanted.

He turned away briefly. What was done was done—for the moment. He knew it was a long shot, but he did have a little time to perhaps change things, to make her see just what she had taken on and maybe convince her that this wasn’t what she really wanted. That it could become more of a burden than a bonus if it turned out that she simply did not have enough time away from her London life and job to justify the financial outlay and upkeep. He also felt instinctively that a town was where she fitted in—where everything you needed was on tap at all hours of the day. In this village tomorrow was always deemed soon enough for most people!

Allowing her to go first, they went downstairs, and Melody turned on the kitchen tap and filled the large glass jug which Adam had brought with him. Pausing for a moment, she said lightly, ‘I really don’t know where to start. I mean…this kitchen could do with some work, though it seems to have been refitted at some point in the past.’ She looked around her doubtfully, then opened the fridge door and peered inside. ‘This is clean enough—and I suppose I won’t need anything any bigger.’ She stood back. ‘But there’s no washing machine, and I’ll certainly need one of those…’

‘The last owner died,’ Adam said matter-of-factly. ‘That’s why the place came on the market. And I think the washing machine was in a bad way, so it was chucked.’

‘I wonder if there’s room for a dishwasher—’ Melody began, and he interrupted.

‘Oh, I don’t think this kitchen has ever sported one of those. I’m afraid you’ll have to do everything by hand, Mel!’

Melody said nothing as they wandered into the sitting room, where the sun was streaming in through the windows, lighting up all the dusty corners.

‘What are those two boxes on the floor doing there?’ Melody said, frowning.

‘Oh, I brought them with me—for us to sit down on,’ Adam said, promptly kicking one to one side and taking up position. ‘It’s quite comfy, actually—who needs expensive chairs? Now, then—’ he rubbed his hands together briskly ‘—I’ve come to help!’

Melody looked at him, a faint feeling of hopelessness sweeping over her. This man was here to stay! Her worst fears were being realised! She was not going to be allowed to be anonymous, to be by herself and work things out quietly and in her own time.

She placed the flowers carefully on the windowsill, and turned to look down at him.

‘I really don’t want to take up your time, Adam, or for you to use up your holiday on my behalf,’ she said evenly. ‘I’m sure you’ve other far more interesting things to think about than me and my cottage.’

‘Oh, not true,’ he said at once. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve already been here a number of weeks, and I was beginning to get quite bored. Your current project might prove to be an interesting diversion for me—and, well, you know, a pair of brawny arms can be useful at times.’

He looked pointedly at her own slender frame in a way which made Melody’s colour rise, and she shrugged resignedly. The fact was that being here now, in the revealing light of day, had made her feel less sure of herself. When they’d bought and furnished their flat in London, Crispin had been there, and they’d worked as a team and had lots of interested friends all helping out. But now she was here, alone, in virtually unknown territory—even though her mother had spoken many thousands of words about the place, which had made it seem familiar.

Melody’s earlier euphoria was threatening to give way to a feeling of doubt. Had purchasing the cottage been something that she was going to regret? she wondered. Then she scolded herself! What was the matter with her? This wasn’t like her. Of course she’d cope alone—hadn’t her mother had to do that, all her life?

‘I vote that we first of all go to the Rose & Crown for coffee,’ Adam said brightly, ‘and then decide on a plan of action.’

‘It can’t be that time already, surely?’ Melody said, glancing at her watch. ‘Anyway, Fee’s breakfasts are so generous, coffee will seem an unnecessary indulgence.’

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed lazily eating bacon, eggs, sausages and mushrooms, followed by lovely warm, crunchy toast and fresh farmhouse butter. Not to mention home-made marmalade!

‘Well, holidays are a time for indulging ourselves,’ Adam said firmly.

Melody looked at him shrewdly. There was a distinct change in his attitude from when they’d first met, she thought—the animosity he’d demonstrated seemed to have disappeared. Her eyes narrowed briefly. If he thought that he’d met someone who’d be good for a holiday fling, he was going to be disappointed. She was not on the market for such things, thanks very much.

Patting the other box for her to sit down, Adam leaned back nonchalantly. ‘See—this feels cosy already,’ he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

‘Um, well…not as cosy as it will do—in time,’ Melody retorted as she sat down as well.

‘Talking of which,’ he went on, ‘how much time do you have?’

‘Just under two weeks—’ she began, and he cut in.

‘Your employers are very generous,’ he said. ‘From what you’ve told me, you’ll have had about six weeks off, won’t you? Do all the staff enjoy such annual freedom?’

‘Some do—sometimes,’ she replied shortly. ‘We’ve had an exceptionally tough time this last year. We—me and the rest of the team—often don’t leave the office until ten o’clock or after, and we always start early. They are very long days,’ she added, trying to hide the irritation she felt at having to defend herself. What did he know?

‘Mmm… You’re a fund manager, you said?’ he went on. ‘It must be fun, playing around with other people’s money.’ He’d only made the remark to annoy her. He realised only too well what a highly skilled and specialised job it was.

‘Oh, it’s great fun. A real laugh,’ Melody said dryly. ‘We all sit there, playing Monopoly with millions and millions of pounds which don’t belong to us.’ She paused. ‘For your information, we spend hundreds of hours researching the companies we invest in on behalf of others, going over and over it until we’re satisfied. Being in charge of pension schemes, where we’re fully aware how we affect people’s future well-being, is a nail-biting process which is taken very seriously.’ Her eyes flashed as she spoke, as she relived just how much effort everyone had put in during the year to keep pace with the country’s fluctuating economy and prospects.

After a few moments she calmed down. He’d made a flippant remark which she’d taken too seriously, she reasoned. She had the distinct impression that he’d only said it to get her going—and she’d taken the bait!

Adam had been watching her closely as she’d been speaking. ‘Do you like what you do? Do you enjoy it?’ he asked casually.

‘Yes, of course! I wouldn’t do it otherwise. I can’t see myself doing anything else, ever.’

Well, he’d known she was a career woman. She was not going to tear herself away and come all the way down here just for a few days now and then. It was a total waste for her to own this cottage, he thought. It was like a spoilt child, seeing something in a shop window that he thought he wanted but which would never leave the toy cupboard.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to think about work—there are other things on my mind! I need to hire someone to clean the cottage from top to bottom. I expect there are locals who might be glad of some work?’

‘Oh, don’t count on that,’ he said bluntly. ‘Casual labour isn’t that easy to come by—just ask Fee! All the guesthouses use up most of what’s on offer.’ He paused. ‘And I’m afraid we don’t run to agencies here, to cope with such demands.’ He grinned. ‘I’d hazard a guess that it’s going to be just you and me, Mel!’ Looking at her soft hands and beautifully manicured nails, he smiled inwardly. She might be a whiz-kid at what she did for a living, but he somehow couldn’t imagine the woman down on her knees with a scrubbing brush!

Melody shrugged. ‘Well, in that case the first thing will be to buy cleaning materials,’ she said, fielding his remark briskly. She knew very well what he was thinking: that she wasn’t used to domestic labour. Well, he’d got another thing wrong, she thought. Even though her mother had always put education at the top of the list for her daughter, Frances had also encouraged Melody to help with everything in the house—and she had. And when Frances had been unwell, which had been the case often in the years before the woman’s untimely death six years ago, Melody had taken over. Shopping, cooking a nourishing meal and baking a cake were no problem!

‘And what about you and your extended holiday?’ Melody asked suddenly. ‘I suppose being the privileged son in a family business means you have all the perks—which obviously means lots of time off. I wonder what the other staff think of that!’

‘Oh, the staff don’t have any problems with that,’ he said, unperturbed at her remarks. ‘In fact, they are extremely happy with their lot. They’ve never had it so good, and they’re grateful.’

Suddenly a light footstep outside heralded Fee’s appearance, and she popped her head in through the open door, beaming at Melody.

‘I just had to call by and say welcome to our new neighbour,’ she said, and Melody was struck by Fee’s kind enthusiasm—which was more than generous in view of the circumstances.

She came in and looked around her, and Adam immediately stood up.

‘Come and sit down on this lovely upholstered seat, Fee,’ he said jovially. ‘Not quite up to modern standards, but needs must.’ He pulled the woman gently towards him on to the box he’d been sitting on, and just then his mobile rang. He wandered outside to answer it. Fee looked across at Melody.

‘You must be thrilled, Mel,’ she said simply. ‘This is going to be such a lovely change from your home in London.’

‘Yes, of course…’ Melody replied quickly, feeling slightly awkward. ‘You run a marvellous guesthouse, Fee,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Everything seems to run like clockwork. Which means, of course, that someone—you—works extremely hard all the time. Success at anything never happens by chance, does it? It’s always hard graft in the end.’

Fee sighed, wiping her forehead with a tissue, and closing her eyes briefly. ‘I’m used to hard work.’

Melody looked at her quickly. ‘Are you all right, Fee?’ she said. ‘You do look rather warm…’

‘Oh, yes—I’m fine,’ Fee said, smiling briefly. ‘As a matter of fact… Oh…it doesn’t matter…’

‘Go on,’ Melody said gently, sensing that the woman wanted to talk.

Fee waited a moment before going on. ‘It’s just that I’m pregnant, Mel—after all this time, after all the false alarms and disappointments.’

‘But that’s terrific—fantastic, Fee!’ Melody said enthusiastically. She had no doubt that Callum and Fee would make the most wonderful parents.

‘We’ve not told anyone yet—not even Adam,’ Fee said, lowering her voice, and Melody thought Adam must be a very special friend if he was usually privy to all their important news. ‘He’s known all about my past problems,’ Fee went on, ‘but it’s a bit soon, and I don’t want anyone to get excited on our behalf. Not until I’ve passed the three-month stage—which isn’t quite yet.’




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