‘I’m talking to you.’
‘Too late. I’m off the news desk.’ She shrugged. ‘Actually, with several million to spend on property I think I’d have chosen something rather less of a liability than Cranbrook Park.’
‘Would you? And here was me thinking that you were in love with the place. All those Christmas parties in the great hall, picnics, gymkhanas courtesy of Sir Robert.’
‘You can mock, but it’s been the backdrop to my life since I was four years old,’ she told him. ‘It’s a big part of local history and every stone is full of stories. That doesn’t mean I’d want to be responsible for it. Or live in it.’
‘I was born in Cranbrook,’ he reminded her, ‘which gives me a good few years on you, but you’re in excellent company. My accountant would endorse the former sentiment and my PA would definitely agree with the latter.’
‘Miss Webb doesn’t enjoy country life? Or is that Mrs Webb?’ she asked.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Not to me. Presumably it does to her.’
‘She’s Mrs Webb. Divorced but—’
‘There’s a lot of it about,’ she said, not wanting to know about her ‘buts.’
‘Her problem isn’t with country life, it’s to do with country plumbing.’
‘Wimp,’ she murmured.
‘I wouldn’t let her catch you saying that,’ he replied. There was nothing wrong with his hearing. Nothing wrong with any bit of him…
She was the problem. She had the wrong name.
She glanced back at Ally, but she was too busy looking out of the window to be interested in them.
‘So?’ She kept her voice light as she asked the big question. ‘Why did you buy Cranbrook Park?’
They were paused at the traffic lights and he looked at her. ‘Because I could?’ he offered.
And then he smiled.
It was nothing spectacular as smiles went, no more than the tiniest contraction of lines fanning out from indigo eyes but the effect was like sticking wet fingers into a live socket and the fizz went all the way down to her toes.
‘It’s about power, then,’ Claire said, doing her best to ignore the tingle. Was there anything more galling than getting that kind of a sexual buzz from a man you didn’t want to fancy? That it would be crazy to fancy?
Working with Hal North Rule Number Four: Don’t say anything that will make him smile.
‘No, it’s about a promise I made the day I left Cranbrook,’ he replied. Clearly the memory was not a good one because he abruptly lost the smile and the tingle was reduced to something more like the aftermath of pins and needles.
It wasn’t over, but you could breathe again.
‘Really?’ she said, working to keep it that way. ‘Did you swear to return rich as Croesus and buy out the wicked baron?’
Bad mistake. As an anti-smile strategy it worked for him but she found her own imagination running wild with the mental picture of some over-the-top confrontation between Hal and Sir Robert as he parked his motorcycle on the marble floor of the entrance hall. The miscreant—in black leathers rather than armour—swearing a fierce oath to return and claim his rightful place. A modern version of the dispossessed knight.
No.
Really.
Why on earth would he do that? Besides, he’d already told her it wasn’t that incident which had got him banned from the estate.
On the other hand he hadn’t bothered to deny it. And why else would he ride in through the front door, if not to make some statement of intent.
‘It’s a bit of a cliché isn’t it?’ she suggested, pushing him to tell her what had really happened.
‘Clichés are what happen in moments of high drama, Claire.’
True her own small drama had contained just about every cliché in the book, but it was his story she was interested in.
‘What drama?’ she asked. ‘How high?’
More importantly, who had he made that promise to? His mother? Sir Robert? Or just himself? Who was still around who might know?
Her mother almost certainly, but they’d have to be on speaking terms before she could ask her.
His mother…
‘How is your mother?’ she asked.
He glanced at her, a slight frown buckling his forehead as, unsurprisingly he hadn’t followed her thought processes. ‘She’s well enough. She’s living in Spain.’
‘Will we see her? What does she think of you buying the estate?’
‘She doesn’t know.’
‘Oh.’ Weirder and weirder… ‘She was always very kind to me. I missed her when she left.’ She looked at him, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘After your father died.’
His mouth tightened. ‘It was an accident waiting to happen. The towpath on a foggy night is no place for a drunk.’
‘Hal…’ she warned, with a touch to his arm, reminding him that they weren’t alone. Curling her fingers back when he looked across at her. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. About your dad.’
‘Why would you? You were never around when he came home after closing time.’
‘No.’ Had he been a violent drunk, or a sullen one? She restrained a shiver. ‘Even so it was a shocking thing.’
‘Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind, Claire? Where was I when my mother needed me?’
‘No… At least I assumed the ban was still in place,’ she said. ‘I begged my mother to speak to Sir Robert. It seemed so cruel.’
‘Did you?’ Was that a smile? Stupid question, her heart rate had gone through the roof… ‘And did she?’
She shook her head. ‘She said I didn’t understand. That it wasn’t that simple. That you’d never come back.’
‘How wrong can you be?’ He took the slip road off the ring road. ‘Have you told her?’
‘That you’ve bought Cranbrook Park? No.’
‘Mothers. Always the last to know anything…’ He shrugged. ‘Well, when you do you can inform her that she was wrong on both accounts. It wasn’t the ban that kept me away.’
He slowed for the roundabout, his hand brushing her leg as he changed down. She jumped as his touch shot through her like a charge of electricity but he didn’t appear to notice.
‘The boring truth is that I was in India on business when it happened and my mother made sure that I didn’t hear about it until it was all over and done with. I had her out of here the minute I did.’ He glanced at her. ‘She wouldn’t leave before. In case you were wondering.’
‘Why would I wonder? I had no idea you were so successful. Or that she might be unhappy.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, Hal.’
‘Don’t be. At least not for me.’ He picked up speed, reached for the stick shift to change up but before she could move her knees out of the danger zone, he said, ‘Jack North wasn’t my natural father.’
Claire, stunned, opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of a thing to say and closed it again.
Hal, shockingly, laughed. ‘Could that be you losing the power of speech?’ he asked.
‘No!’
Not