Wanted: White Wedding. NATASHA OAKLEY

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      Daniel fingered the tag on the Gabrielle cream plush Paddington Bear that was destined for the twentieth century sale later in the month. Margaret Stone’s wayward granddaughter would need to be beautiful to have lived one fraction of the life village gossip attributed to her.

      He hadn’t expected her to so obviously exude class, though. Hell only knew why not. He’d known all about her Audi Roadster within minutes of it driving into the village. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the skilfully highlighted blond hair and the designer clothes.

      ‘Dan?’

      He turned.

      ‘We’ve got a problem.’ His porter rested his hand on the doorframe. ‘The blonde bombshell wants Pete’s van moved. It’s blocking her car in.’

      ‘Damn!’

      ‘She’s being quite vocal about it.’

      ‘I just bet.’

      The porter gave a rare grin. ‘I told her the driver had gone for breakfast and wouldn’t be back for twenty minutes or so, but she’s not having none of that. Says my time might be worthless but hers isn’t. She wants it moved right now.’

      Somehow he didn’t find it difficult to accept that Freya Anthony expected things to happen when and where she wanted. One imperious click of her manicured fingers and Daniel had no doubt the world habitually fell where she wanted it to.

      ‘I’ll talk to her.’

      ‘You’ll have to. She’s spitting fair to blow.’

      Daniel smiled. The image Bob was creating was all too indicative of what he expected Ms Anthony would do when the world didn’t bend to her will.

      ‘She’s one that likes things to happen yesterday, I reckon.’

      ‘Okay, I’ll sort it.’ Daniel glanced down at his watch and grimaced. There couldn’t be much more that could go wrong today. He seemed to have been running behind from the minute he’d opened his eyes this morning.

      ‘Nice looking woman, though, ain’t she?’

      Yes—if you liked the kind of woman who would eat you up and spit you out.

      He stepped out onto the forecourt, pausing for a minute to gauge how blocked-in her car was. The faint hope he’d had that it might be possible to guide her past faded as he took in how far Pete had driven the van in.

      Daniel walked towards her. ‘I’m sorry about this.’

      ‘Just get it moved.’

      He looked back at Bob. ‘See if you can find Pete and get the keys—’

      ‘You don’t have a spare set?’

      ‘Why would I? It’s not my van,’ he replied calmly, taking in the angry flash of her blue eyes. Then he turned back to Bob. ‘I think you’ll find him in Carlo’s. If not he’ll have gone on to that place in the arcade for one of their all-day breakfasts.’

      The older man nodded and ambled off towards Silver Street. Beside him, Freya made a small guttural sound of pure irritation.

      ‘It shouldn’t be too long,’ Daniel offered. ‘Would you like to wait inside?’

      ‘What’s the difference? It’s as cold in there as out here.’

      ‘You’re welcome to use the phone if you need to call someone,’ he added seamlessly.

      ‘I’ve got a mobile.’

      Quite deliberately he let the silence stretch out between them. She could be as difficult as she liked, but she wasn’t going to get a reaction out of him. After a moment it seemed she made a conscious decision to relax. Though by other people’s standards she was still as tense as a bowstring.

      Spoilt, he thought, watching the small frown disappear from the centre of her forehead. A woman who’d had her own way far too often and easily. She spun round on her ice-pick-thin heels and walked over to perch half a buttock on the low brick wall behind her car.

      His eyes travelled to the sleek grey Audi he’d heard so much about. ‘Nice car.’

      ‘I like it.’

      Daniel smiled. It was a ‘statement’ car, not one chosen simply to get you from A to B. It was a car which would always be noticed. Would inspire envy. She had to know that. Would surely have anticipated the reaction it would produce when she drove it into the village. Even in Fellingham, which had its fair share of London money.

      It made him wonder whether this was all some kind of game to her. Did she like the idea of wafting back to her old stamping ground and giving the gossips something to talk about?

      Because they were talking. Everything she did and said would be dissected. Everywhere she went…

      Did she even care?

      Daniel took in the dark smudges under her eyes and the tight hold to her mouth. She cared. He had no idea how he knew that so certainly. ‘How long are you planning on staying?’

      ‘I’ve not decided.’

      ‘Nice to have the freedom to choose.’ Daniel sat down on the wall beside her, perversely determined to make her speak. ‘Is Margaret still planning on moving to a warden-controlled place?’

      He was aware of the slight hunch to her shoulders and the short delay before she replied. ‘Quite possibly.’ Then, ‘You know, you really don’t need to wait with me.’

      ‘It’s not a problem.’

      ‘I’m sure—’ She broke off with a swift frown. ‘Bob, was it?’

      Daniel nodded.

      ‘Well, I’m sure Bob will manage to find the driver of that thing,’ she said, pointing at the white van, ‘and get it moved some time before lunch. You go on doing whatever it is you need to do.’

      Daniel stretched out his legs. ‘Pete’s on his break, so you’re going to need me to reverse it. Unless…you’re happy to do it yourself?’

      ‘I’ve no problem with that.’

      He fought down an unexpected desire to laugh. She’d do it. A vehicle she didn’t know, and a tight bend out on to a narrow road…

      He’d kind of like to see that. It was a shame Bob would refuse to hand over the keys. Pete would have him lynched if there was even the slightest scratch put on his baby.

      ‘Pete might have a problem with it. That’s his pride and joy.’

      ‘Then why make the suggestion?’

      Fair question. Why had he? Daniel studied her face for a moment.

      Because he liked to see the challenging tilt of her chin, the determination in a face that otherwise looked as if it could be СКАЧАТЬ