Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ and why?’

      ‘Neither,’ Bobbie fibbed fiercely as he opened the door and walked through it, but despite the conviction she had injected into her denial, she somehow had the uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t believe her.

      Oh, damn the man, he was the last complication she needed to have around now, the very last.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      BOBBIE woke up with a start to realise that someone was knocking discreetly on her door. Whoever it was, it thankfully could not possibly be Luke Crighton; discretion and that man could never be said to go hand in hand.

      The waiter standing outside with a table fully set for a breakfast for two, which included freshly made Buck’s Fizz, refused to listen to her insistence that she had most certainly not ordered such a lavish and highly obvious ‘the morning after the night before’ breakfast.

      ‘This breakfast was most definitely ordered for this room,’ he informed her.

      ‘It can’t possibly have been...’ Bobbie began to deny and then changed her mind, an ominous thought occurring to her as she demanded warily, ‘Ordered by whom?’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ the waiter apologised, but Bobbie suspected that she did.

      No doubt this was another of Luke Crighton’s little tricks to convince Fenella that he had spent the night here with her, although how on earth he expected the other woman to discover that he had ordered breakfast for two for Bobbie’s room, she had no idea, unless Fenella was the type who made a habit of checking up on that kind of thing. Perhaps she did. Bobbie made a small moue of distaste before surveying the feast she had been left with. Buck’s Fizz... Strong coffee was her normal breakfast indulgence. Somehow she had never seen herself as the kind of woman who drank Buck’s Fizz for breakfast and neither, she suspected, did Luke Crighton, not for a moment.

      Recklessly she reached for a glass and took a sip. The orange juice was freshly squeezed and deliciously tangy, the champagne icy cold, making her taste buds shiver in pleasure.

      If she had been sharing this treat with a lover, she doubted that it would have done anything to encourage her to leave the warmth of her bed—or him—rather the opposite.

      Disconcertingly, just as she raised the glass to her lips to take a second rebellious sip, she was revisited by the same disturbing mental image of Luke she had had the previous evening.

      The bubbles in the champagne made her splutter slightly, which just went to show how highly dangerous it could be to consume alcohol first thing in the morning, she told herself sternly, firmly replacing the glass.

      An hour later, having consumed two cups of strong coffee and eaten some wholemeal toast, she was downstairs in the hotel lobby comfortably dressed in a pair of soft, cream trousers and a soft, silky knit top.

      She wasn’t here in England to waste time lying in bed and drinking champagne, she reminded herself firmly, and she certainly wasn’t here to indulge in crazy mental images of disconcerting and recklessly intimate scenarios between her and a man who she had good reason to know was never likely to partner her in the kind of highly sensual and erotic love play their tangled bodies had indicated. She walked determinedly across to the reception desk and asked the clerk behind the counter if there were any messages for her.

      Smilingly he handed her a couple of sealed notes. Frowning a little since she didn’t recognise the handwriting on either of them, Bobbie opened the top one and then dropped it on the desk as though it had burned her fingertips when she read the message contained inside.

      ‘Thank you for last night, you were wonderful. I can’t wait until tonight, Luke.’ As the clerk picked up the note and discreetly handed it back to her, Bobbie realised that she was now not the only one to have seen his outrageous message.

      He certainly believed in acting out the part, she acknowledged wrathfully as she stuffed the note into her pocket and started to walk away from the reception desk. She opened the other envelope. Its contents, too, were unexpected, but in a very different way from the message contained in Luke’s.

      It was signed by Olivia and read:

      I tried to catch you before we left, but unfortunately we missed you. There is something I would like to discuss with you following our chat last night and I wonder if you are likely to be free to have lunch with me today? If so, could we meet at the Brasserie here at one o’clock?

      Olivia

      Pensive, Bobbie worried at her bottom lip. She knew, of course, what it was Olivia wanted to discuss; she knew, too, how Sam would feel if she turned down such a golden opportunity. Working for Olivia would give her a good chance to put their plan, or rather Sam’s plan, into action. There was no doubt that Olivia would be a valuable contact, but she had liked her so much last night...enjoyed her company and that of her husband so much that she...

      She had nothing to lose by at least listening to Olivia, she reminded herself, and potentially an awful lot to gain and not just a free lunch! No, not if she discounted her own sense of honesty and, of course, Olivia’s respect and burgeoning friendship....

      ‘Will you be in for lunch?’ the receptionist asked her when Bobbie handed in her room key.

      ‘I...yes, I’m lunching with ... a friend in the Brasserie at one,’ Bobbie told her. There, she had made her decision, committed herself.

      As she walked out of the hotel and into the bright sunshine, she wondered if Joss and his family were already on their way back home to Haslewich.

      Joss... It was odd to think of him and Max being brothers.

      She spent an hour wandering around the town, pausing every now and again to consult her guidebook and admire the city’s ancient buildings. Outside the castle she stopped a little longer than she had done anywhere else and even longer outside the building facing onto the river that had a discreet brass plate by the door bearing the legend, ‘Crighton, Crighton and Crighton’.

      A flutter of movement at an upstairs window made her glance around uneasily and then walk past. Surely there was no one actually working in the offices on a Sunday.

      It was half an hour, spent lazily and apparently purposelessly meandering through the narrow streets on a route she had planned earlier, before she arrived at her real destination.

      Chester’s cathedral had originally and uniquely been a monastery, only later being converted into a church, but fascinating though the history of the building was, Bobbie didn’t have time to follow the other tourists in the direction of the ancient arched crypts but instead hurried eagerly in the direction of the graveyard.

      It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. In Chester the Crightons had been men of substance and law for many, many generations as the large mausoleum in which they had chosen to bury their dead testified.

      Bobbie gazed at it with mixed feelings. Some of the names inscribed on the marble tablet affixed to one end were so faded it was almost impossible to read them; others were much brighter, much newer. Unsteadily she reached out and traced one of the names.

      ‘He was my great-grandfather,’ a familiarly unwelcome voice said from behind her.

      I know, Bobbie wanted to say, and it was СКАЧАТЬ