He paused at the entranceway to the restaurant and fixed his eyes on Claire, making her stumble over her sentence.
‘Finally,’ Matt said, jumping up and placing his hand to his heart. ‘My hero.’
Everyone laughed and Milo’s gaze broke from Claire’s.
‘He even looks like one, doesn’t he? Tall, dark, handsome,’ Matt said, striding over to him and shaking his hand. Milo flinched. ‘Jesus, of course, sorry. How’s your hand?’
‘I’ll survive. How’s the ego?’
Everyone laughed as Sarah clapped her hands.
‘Bruised,’ Matt said, leading Milo to the chair across from Claire’s.
Claire didn’t remember much about the start of that dinner, just the way Milo looked, his lips red from the wine, his dark fringe in his eyes. And how, each time he caught her eye, she felt her skin turn warm. So she avoided his gaze by watching the happy couple instead. Had things been like that with Ben before they married? She thought so, despite how stressful it had been balancing her job with organising caterers and florists and God knows what else. Was it natural, this gradual abrasion of feeling? Or was the infertility just the death knell for a marriage that had been weak from the start? She took a quick sip of wine. Why was she being so bloody negative? She should be fighting for her marriage, riding the good waves and the bad, as her sister Sofia would say.
Milo caught her eye again and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Did fighting for her marriage mean blushing every time a handsome farmer looked her way?
Sarah shot Claire a knowing smile as she looked between them. Claire wanted to shake her by the shoulders, tell her she’d got the wrong end of the stick, it was just the emotion of the day, the drama.
When pudding arrived, so did Milo’s brother Dale. He pulled a chair up next to Claire. ‘I hear my brother nearly shot you yesterday,’ he said, pouring himself a glass of red wine, some of it sloshing over the sides. His eyes were like Milo’s: penetrating, intense. But there was something else there too, a detachment that unsettled her.
‘Not quite,’ Claire said. ‘It’s all a bit embarrassing now really.’
‘It’s just the way it is. If an animal needs to die – for food, to put it out of pain, to save a younger animal – you kill it. That’s what our father used to say.’
Claire laughed nervously. ‘You make it sound like Milo was trying to put me down.’
Dale didn’t return her laugh, just stared at her with that dispassionate look in his eyes. Then he turned his gaze to his brother. ‘Milo’s too soft, you know. When he was sixteen, one of our bitches had a mongrel litter and Dad was about to shoot them all and who turns up but my little brother, the sap. Just goes and stands right in between that gun and those pups, kicks up a stink, saves their lives. Dad told me he beat him black and blue after,’ he added, laughing. Claire moved away slightly, feeling uncomfortable. She could see what Henry meant now about Dale. Maybe seeing all he’d seen in the Falklands had made him like this? ‘Five of the pups died anyway,’ he continued in a bored voice. ‘Only Blue survived. Milo reckons it was worth a broken rib to save that mongrel.’
‘He does adore Blue,’ Claire said, not sure what else to say. Dale gave her a cold smile in response, his gaze holding hers for a beat more than was comfortable.
Claire looked over at Milo. He was talking to Sarah, his face animated as he tried to explain something to her. How different your first impressions can be of someone. When he’d killed that stag, she’d thought him heartless, violent. But it appeared he was very far from that, just a man who cared deeply for his family and the animals in his care. His brother, it appeared, was a different story.
Dale followed Claire’s gaze. ‘He’ll be gone soon enough. He’s got the travel bug like our grandfather, always going on about running a farm in another country.’ He laughed. ‘Wonder if he’ll end up putting a gun in his mouth and blowing his brains out like our grandfather did?’
Chills ran down Claire’s spine. How could he say things like that so flippantly?
He slugged back more wine, some of it spilling from the side of his mouth, leaving a trail of red down his chin. ‘He’s definitely got the bug all right. Just needs to save enough money. Then I’ll be left alone to deal with all the crap.’
Claire looked towards Jay as a way to escape but he was deep in conversation with the man to his right. She could make her excuses and go to the toilet but what about Archie?
‘Ah, the blushing bride,’ Dale said, leaning back in his chair and watching Sarah over the rim of his glass. ‘They’re never as innocent as they look, you know, especially the pretty ones. I told Henry to stop doing the weddings, makes us look like a bloody chain hotel. Makes me sick, every one of them.’ He slugged back another mouthful of wine, his face stony, shoulders tense. Milo peered over at his brother, his face clouding over as though he could sense the tension.
‘All right there?’ he asked, looking between Dale and Claire.
‘Just saying how tedious it is,’ Dale said in a loud voice, ‘seeing one wedding after another here. They all blur into one after a while, one boring sentimental mess.’
The table went quiet and Sarah’s blue eyes widened. Milo’s face flushed. ‘Dale, why don’t we—’
Their sister Jen appeared then, exchanging a look with Milo. ‘Dale, can you help me get a keg from the cellar? I can’t find Henry anywhere.’
‘Maybe that’s because he’s hiding in the waitress’s knickers,’ Dale said under his breath, his lip curling. Jay raised an eyebrow and Claire looked at Jen to see if she’d heard but her expression remained unchanged. Dale stood up, nearly knocking over Claire’s drink. Milo leaned forward and grabbed the glass before its contents spilled all over Claire’s dress, mouthing a ‘sorry’ to her as Dale stumbled off after his sister.
‘What a romantic soul your brother is,’ Jay said to Milo.
Milo swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. ‘He gets a bit cynical after having a few.’ He turned to Sarah. ‘Sorry, he didn’t mean any of it, not really. He’s had a lot of stress recently.’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘I completely understand, must be very difficult for farmers.’
‘What about you, Milo?’ Matt asked. ‘Are you cynical about love? Or have you managed to find yourself a farmer’s wife in between all that muck-clearing and cow-milking?’
Milo dug his spoon into his apple crumble, his expression unreadable. ‘No time to look for anyone really.’
‘Surely they come searching for you?’ Sarah said.
Milo’s cheeks flushed.
‘You better get a move on,’ Matt said. ‘Every man needs a good woman to look after him.’
Sarah flicked her napkin at her fiancé. ‘Since when did you turn into a chauvinist pig?’
‘Damn, I was hoping to keep that bit hidden from you until after the wedding.’ He glanced back at Milo. ‘So?’
‘You don’t need a wedding ring on your finger to look after someone. A couple can be just as secure without a piece of paper binding them.’
Claire stared at her wedding ring. She’d actually been the one who wanted to get married quickly after Ben proposed. He’d wanted to wait, save more money. But she’d needed that piece of paper, that ring on her finger, to prove she wasn’t like her dad and to start on her road to security.
Jay turned to Claire. ‘Do you agree?’
She glanced up, noticing everyone’s eyes on her. ‘I don’t know what I think really. But my dad’s old friend gave his wife a ring made from