The End of her Innocence. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘Unless I get arrested for twin-strangling in the meantime.’

      Her successor had arrived—a widow in her forties with a brisk air. She had dismissed Chloe’s computer system, saying that she had her own methods, at the same time running a suspicious finger along the office windowsill in search of non-existent dust.

      Life at the Manor, Chloe thought wryly as she wished her luck, could become quite interesting quite soon.

      She stopped at a roadside pub for a lunch of ham sandwiches and coffee to fuel her for the final two hours of her journey, choosing a table outside in a sheltered corner of the garden where bees were busy among the honeysuckle.

      With the excitement of all the coming reunions bubbling away inside her, she almost had to force herself to eat.

      As she poured her second cup of coffee, she reached into her bag for her mobile phone.

      She’d called Aunt Libby again the previous evening to tell her what time she hoped to arrive, and while her aunt had seemed her usual warm self, Chloe had detected another faint nuance beneath the welcoming words.

      ‘Is something wrong?’ she’d asked at last. Libby Jackson had hesitated.

      ‘I was wondering if you’d spoken to Ian yet—informed him you were coming home, this time for good.’

      ‘But I told you, Aunt Libby, I want to surprise him.’

      ‘Yes, darling, so you said.’ Another pause. ‘But I can’t help thinking that a complete change of your whole life-plan like this, which involves him so closely, really needs some prior warning.’

      ‘Not unless he’s developed some serious heart condition and you think the shock could kill him.’ Chloe was amused. ‘Is that it?’

      ‘God forbid,’ said her aunt. ‘When last seen, he looked as strong as a horse. But I keep thinking of these dreadful surprise parties people keep giving, which I’m sure are far more fun for the organisers than the recipients. Just a thought, my dear.’

      And maybe it was a good one, Chloe decided, clicking on Ian’s number. But it went straight to voicemail, indicating that he was working. So she left a message then rang the cottage, and announced herself on the answer-phone too.

      Belt and braces, Aunt Libby, she thought. So now he should be ready and waiting.

      She smiled to herself as she replaced the phone, imagining the smile in his eyes when he saw her, the warmth of his arms around her, and the touch of his lips on hers.

      He was so worth waiting for, she thought gratefully. And now she was back, she would not leave again.

      She had five miles still to go when the petrol warning light suddenly appeared on the dashboard, when only fifteen minutes before it had been registering half-full.

      Chloe wrinkled her nose, wondering which was the true reading. ‘Memo to self,’ she murmured. ‘Take the car to Tom Sawley’s garage and get the gauge seen to. Particularly before the MOT becomes due again.’

      Fortunately, she was approaching a turning for the main road, where there was a small filling station only a few hundred yards away.

      All three pumps were busy when she arrived, so she joined the shortest queue, and got out of the car stretching.

      And then she saw it, parked over by the wall, its number plate as familiar to her as that of her own car.

      Ian’s jeep, she thought joyously. What was more, the bonnet was up, and there he was bending over the engine with his back to her, his long legs encased in blue denim, as he made some adjustment.

      She was sure he would sense her presence and turn, but he was leaning too far over, intent on what he was doing.

      As soon as she was within touching distance, she reached for him, her mouth curving mischievously as she ran her fingers over the taut male buttocks and slid one hand between his thighs.

      He yelped and sprang upright, cursing as he hit his head on the bonnet.

      And as he did so, Chloe backed away gasping, praying for the ground to open up beneath her.

      But it remained heartlessly intact, so that she was still there, open-mouthed with horror when the man swung round, and looked at her, his blond hair tousled, and the green eyes blazing.

      ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?’ asked Darius Maynard, his voice a snarl of pure anger. ‘Or have you just gone raving mad?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHLOE took another step backwards, aware that she was burning from the soles of her feet up to her hairline, and probably beyond.

      Oh, God, let me wake up, she prayed frantically, and find this is only a nightmare.

      When she could speak, she said hoarsely, ‘You—you! What are you doing with Ian’s jeep?’

      ‘Correction,’ he said brusquely. ‘My jeep for the past eight weeks. Cartwright was trading it in for a newer model and I bought it.’

      ‘You’ve been back here for two months?’

      ‘For over six, actually.’ He added curtly, ‘If it’s any concern of yours, Miss Benson.’

      Her flush deepened, if that was possible. ‘I—I didn’t realise.’

      What on earth was going on? she wondered. Why had he returned when his banishment was supposed to have been permanent? How could that kind of breach possibly have been healed? Sir Gregory surely wasn’t the type to welcome back the prodigal son. And how did Andrew, the betrayed husband, feel about it?

      Above all, why had no-one mentioned it? How was it Ian hadn’t said, ‘By the way, I’ve sold my jeep, and to Darius Maynard of all people.’

      ‘Why would you know?’ He hunched an indifferent shoulder. ‘You haven’t been around much to catch up on the local sensations.’

      ‘I’ve been working.’

      ‘Most people do,’ he said. ‘Or are you claiming particular credit?’

      I am not going to do this, Chloe told herself, swallowing back the impetuous retort that had risen to her lips. I am not going to stand here bandying jibes with Darius Maynard.

      Because he’s perfectly correct. However I may feel about it, his return is absolutely none of my business and I must remember that. I will remember it.

      ‘Not at all.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And now I must be going.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I—apologise for what just happened. It was a genuine mistake.’

      ‘It must have been,’ he drawled. ‘After all, we were never exactly on goosing terms, were we, Miss Benson? I wasn’t aware you had that kind of relationship with Cartwright either.’

      ‘Clearly, you also have some catching up to do.’ She turned away. ‘Goodbye, Mr Maynard.’

      She got back in her СКАЧАТЬ