‘Oh, right.’ But, grateful for this temporary reprieve, she said, ‘In that case perhaps we’d better not disturb him again. I’ll just go and fetch our things in from the car.’
‘You could drive round to the back to save carrying them. It’s what everyone else does.’ Then, looking up from the wriggle of puppies, ‘I thought I should tell you that in case you didn’t ask.’
‘Smart thinking, Maisie.’
‘You can put it in the coach house if you want.’
‘Maybe I’d better wait for an invitation from Harry, first.’ She’d see how he reacted to the fact that she’d moved in before she started getting really pushy and helping herself to garage space. ‘I won’t be a minute. Don’t move from that spot while I’m gone. And don’t touch anything.’ Then, as Maisie opened her mouth to protest, ‘Except the puppies.’
‘No, Jacqui.’
‘Promise.’
The child looked up and smiled, and in that instant Jacqui knew that her fate was sealed. She wasn’t going anywhere until Maisie had done with her.
‘I promise,’ she said.
Harry Talbot lifted his head as he heard the sound of a car starting, attempting to squash a lick of guilt as the throaty roar proclaimed only too loudly that its exhaust had suffered in the journey up the lane.
He’d promised his aunt he’d get it sorted while she was away. And he would. Just before she came home. The last thing he wanted was the neighbourhood dropping by, being neighbourly. He’d even persuaded the postman to leave the mail at the shop for collection.
Dammit, he had come here to avoid company. Be alone. Was it too much to ask?
He slammed the wrench into the side of the boiler and then slammed it down and headed for the stairs. If Jacqui Moore drove back down the lane with her exhaust bouncing around, there’d be nothing left of it when she got to the main road.
But by the time he’d reached the front door, there was no sign of her or her car.
He listened, but couldn’t hear the sound of her retreat either, which, despite the muffling effect of the mist, surprised him. He should have felt relief, but instead walked to the gate, half expecting to find her stopped a few yards down the lane.
No relief, just guilt. Tomorrow. He’d do something about it tomorrow. And in the meantime he’d call the garage in the village and have them look out for her and offer assistance.
One of the dogs—a lanky, cross-bred creature with pretensions to deer hound—joined him, in expectation of another run.
‘Forget it, mutt,’ he said, returning to the house, grabbing his collar to stop him taking a short cut through the front door. ‘Round the back with you. Susan will kill us both if we trail mud over her polished floor.’ He pulled it shut and then followed the dog around the back.
He came to an abrupt halt when he saw the VW pulled up in the courtyard. He should have realised it was too good to be true.
Jacqui Moore, alerted by the dog, who’d rushed over to her looking for a fuss, straightened from the back seat as if caught out in a guilty act. Forgetting, for a moment, that his intention had been to stop her, that he was intent on an errand of mercy, he said, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Which was stupid, because he could see what she was doing. She was unloading the car.
‘Would you mind not using that language in front of Maisie?’ she replied, passing the child a small white bag.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, moving closer, calling the dog to heel before both females were covered in mud, further delaying their departure. ‘I’ll rephrase the question. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Jacqui leaned into the car, ostensibly to pick up the matching white holdall, but in reality to gain breathing space.
She understood that Harry Talbot didn’t want them cluttering up his life. She understood and was sorry to be such an annoyance, but her first concern was Maisie. She hated confrontation as much as anyone, but since it was clear that she wasn’t being offered a choice, she might as well get it over with. The sooner he realised that she couldn’t be bullied, the sooner he’d stop.
‘Take your bag inside, Maisie, and stay in the warm,’ she said. And only then did she give her full attention to Harry Talbot. It wasn’t that difficult. The grey wool shirt hung loosely from his shoulders suggesting that he had, however impossible it seemed, actually lost weight and muscle. That he’d once been even broader than he was now. The washed thin denims he wore still clung to powerful thighs, however, and stretched over a hollowed stomach that only emphasised…
‘Well?’ he demanded, bringing her sharply back to reality.
She swallowed. ‘Well, Mr Talbot,’ she said, trying to erase the errant thoughts from her mind. ‘This is a car and this is a bag and what I’m doing is taking the latter out of the former.’
Sarcasm, Harry realised, had been a mistake.
He’d known it from the moment he’d opened his mouth. Regretted it the moment he’d opened his mouth. The fact that she was blonde, with curves in all the right places, didn’t make her dumb.
Despite a full lower lip that drooped enticingly and the kind of earthy sex appeal that sent out a siren call to man’s most basic instinct, she was still a nanny and nannies didn’t take nonsense from anyone. As if to confirm it, she gave him a look from grey eyes as cool as her mouth was hot, leaving him in no doubt that she wasn’t in the mood to take any from him.
‘Why?’ he demanded. It was a fair question.
‘Extraordinary,’ she replied, shaking her head, so that her misted hair swung in a soft invitation to touch. How long was it since he’d touched a woman’s hair…?
He curled his fingers tight against his palms, but she was already leaning back inside the car to pick up a second bag.
‘You don’t look stupid,’ she said, turning to him as she straightened.
He wasn’t about to debate it. He’d already had all the conversation he could handle.
‘You can’t stay here.’
She smiled. ‘There! I was right. You knew the answer all along.’
‘I mean it.’
‘I know you do, and I’m sorry, truly. But the car is damaged, Maisie is tired and, as you’ve already said, you can’t manage her on your own.’
‘That’s not what I…’ He stopped, suddenly aware of a yawning chasm opening in front of him. If he declared himself more than capable of looking after one small girl—this small girl above all others—she’d walk away and leave him to do just that.
He’d come to High Tops for solitude. Peace. To seek some kind of future for himself. She had to go and take the child with her. Now.
‘Didn’t you say something about catching a plane?’ he enquired.
‘There’s always another plane.’ Then, putting out a hand as if to touch his arm, reassure him, ‘Don’t worry, Mr Talbot, we’ll keep out of your way as much as possible.’
He moved before she could make contact. ‘This is intolerable. I’ll speak to Sally, make her see reason.’
‘You’ll have to stand in line,’ she replied. ‘There’s a queue. But no one will be speaking to your cousin until tomorrow. She’s on her way to China.’
‘China?’
‘Where the silk comes from.’ They both turned to look at Maisie, who was standing in the doorway, and once she had their full attention, she gave a little shrug