‘It was just a little bump really, but I suppose it was the last straw. We were both so tired by then that we started to laugh. It was that or cry.’
‘So that’s what all the giggling was about,’ he said dryly. ‘I wondered what was so funny.’
‘I think it was hysteria rather than amusement, but once we’d started laughing we couldn’t stop. You know what it’s like when you start snorting, and then you set each other off…’ Thea trailed off as she realised that he was just looking at her.
No, of course he didn’t. Obviously not.
‘Well…anyway…we didn’t realise how much noise we were making, obviously,’ she hurried on. ‘And then when we found ourselves in the wrong villa, it just seemed even funnier.’
Or had, until he had come roaring down the stairs and demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing. He had been furious. As well he might be, Thea thought contritely. If she’d been woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of someone crashing into her car, and if they had then started fooling around, laughing loudly and breaking into her house, she probably wouldn’t have been that amused either.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, wondering why it suddenly seemed so important to convince him that she wasn’t as silly as she had been last night. Or not often, anyway.
‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t your fault that I’d completely mislaid my sense of humour last night. I think we should pretend that we’ve never clapped eyes on each other before and start again, don’t you?’
‘That’s very nice of you.’ Thea smiled gratefully at him. ‘I’m Thea Martindale, and this is my niece, Clara.’
‘Rhys Kingsford.’
Nice hands, Thea thought involuntarily as they shook hands. Warm, firm, capable. No clamminess or knobbly knuckles or suggestive little squeezes. Yes, full marks on the hand front.
And the rest of him was bearing up well to closer scrutiny as well. A bit severe-looking maybe, with those dark brows and stern features, but he was certainly more attractive than she had realised last night. Not handsome like Harry, of course—no one was as good-looking as Harry—but still…yes, definitely attractive.
Certainly attractive enough for Thea to wish that she had taken the time to brush her hair properly and put on something more flattering before she came out.
Rhys was gesturing towards the little girl who was still sitting at the table, refusing to show the slightest interest in what was going on. ‘My daughter, Sophie.’
‘Hi, Sophie,’ said Thea, and Clara smiled in a friendly fashion.
His mouth thinned somewhat as she merely hunched a shoulder. ‘Say hello, Sophie,’ he said, a note of warning in his voice.
‘’lo,’ she muttered.
A muscle beat in his jaw, but he turned back to Thea and smiled with an obvious attempt to master his frustration. ‘Well…how about some coffee? There’s plenty in the pot and it’s still hot.’
Thea had been afraid he would never ask. The relationship between Rhys and his daughter was obviously strained but she was slavering too much over the smell of coffee to make a polite excuse and leave them to sort out their differences.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said firmly before the invitation could be withdrawn. ‘Actually, we came over to ask if you could possibly spare us some bread or something for breakfast,’ she went on in response to a nudge from Clara. ‘We haven’t got anything in the villa, and it’s a long drive to the shops.’
‘Of course,’ said Rhys. ‘Sophie, why don’t you go and see what you can find for breakfast—and bring a cup for Thea.’
Sophie’s brows drew together mutinously, and for a moment she looked uncannily like her father had earlier that morning. ‘I don’t know where the cups are.’
‘Try looking in the cupboard,’ he told her, keeping his temper with an effort. ‘There’s some bread and jam on the table. You could bring that out, and whatever Clara would like to drink.’
‘I’ll help you,’ offered Clara quickly as Sophie opened her mouth to protest.
Sophie looked deeply suspicious, but after a glance at her implacable father she deigned to drag herself off her chair and scuffed her way inside, accompanied by an unfazed Clara.
There was a slightly awkward pause. ‘Sorry about that,’ said Rhys, running an exasperated hand through his hair and gesturing for Thea to sit down. ‘She’s going through a difficult phase at the moment.’
‘How old is she?’ Thea hoped she would hurry back with that cup. That coffee smell was driving her wild.
‘Nearly eight.’
‘Clara’s nine. They should get on like a house on fire.’
He sighed. ‘I’m not sure Sophie gets on with anybody at the moment.’
‘Well, Clara gets on with everybody,’ said Thea cheerfully. ‘I bet you anything that they’re friends in no time.’
Rhys looked as if he wanted to believe her, but couldn’t quite let himself. ‘Clara seems a very nice little girl,’ he said.
‘She is,’ said Thea with an affectionate smile. ‘It’s a bit disheartening sometimes to find that your nine-year-old niece is more sensible than you are, but apart from that she’s a star! She’s great company too. It’s easy to forget that she’s only nine sometimes.’
‘Is it just the two of you on holiday?’
‘Yes. Clara was supposed to be coming with my sister but Nell slipped off some steps at the beach three weeks ago and managed to break a foot and a wrist, which means she’s been effectively immobilised ever since. There was no question of her being able to drive or walk, so she’d have been completely stuck up here, even if she’d been able to get here in the first place.’
‘Unfortunate,’ said Rhys. ‘Was she insured?’
Thea nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Nell’s always very sensible about things like that. I’m sure she would have been able to claim the cost of cancelling the holiday, but Clara would have been so disappointed. She’s been looking forward to this for ages. Her father never takes her on holiday.’
She scowled, thinking about her sister’s ex-husband. ‘He’s got a new family now, and his new wife doesn’t like Clara very much. I think she’s probably jealous of her.’
‘Clara’s parents are divorced?’ Rhys looked surprised. ‘She seems so…happy.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Thea. ‘She was very small when Simon left, so she’s always taken the fact that her parents live separately for granted. She sees Simon regularly, and Nell’s been very careful not to expose her to any bitterness.’
‘Maybe she and Clara will have something in common after all.’
Ah. Thea had been wondering about Sophie’s mother. ‘You’re divorced as well?’
He nodded, his face set. ‘Sophie hasn’t adjusted as well as Clara, though. She wasn’t even two when Lynda left, so she’s not used to us living together either.
‘I was working in North Africa at the time,’ he went on. ‘My work took me to the desert a lot and Lynda said it wasn’t a suitable place to bring up a child. I suppose it was difficult for her, but…’
His mouth twisted slightly at the memory and he made a