Wicked Caprice. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ heard,’ replied Joe impassively, slowing for a roundabout. ‘Mrs Gregory isn’t always fussy about keeping her voice down.’

      ‘No.’ Patrick conceded the point, aware that whatever was said between them would go no further. ‘Let’s hope I have some success this time. I don’t want to make this journey again. I’ve got to go to the States on Monday, and I’m not going to have any more time.’

      Joe bowed his bullet-shaped head. In common with a lot of young men of his age, he wore his head shaved, and that, combined with his broad shoulders and powerful physique, was enough to deter any would-be kidnapper. Patrick had had his share of threats, like any man in his position, and Joe served as both chauffeur and bodyguard—and confidant, on occasion.

      ‘Does that mean you won’t be having lunch in Horsham?’ Joe ventured, accelerating past a pair of cyclists, and Patrick gave him an impatient look.

      ‘Yes, it does,’ he said shortly, aware that Joe was bearing the brunt of his ill humour. ‘Dammit, this isn’t a social call.’

      Joe shrugged, too used to his employer’s moods to be put out. Besides, normally Patrick Shannon was an excellent employer, and it was only when his sister got on his back that other people suffered.

      Meanwhile, Patrick was brooding over what to do about the shell necklace. All right, he had bought the damn thing, but he had never intended to return to collect it. OK, Isobel Herriot hadn’t been what he had expected, and just for a few moments there she had briefly laid siege to his senses, but that was all it had been—a momentary aberration. The very idea of him and his brother-in-law sharing the same taste in women was ludicrous—apart from the very real emotions Jillian would feel if he told her he had been attracted to the woman too.

      There wasn’t a space to park in the high street this morning, so Patrick had Joe drop him off near the craft shop, and arranged to meet him outside the shop in fifteen minutes.

      ‘In the car?’ asked Joe, pushing his luck, and Patrick’s eyes narrowed.

      ‘In the car,’ he agreed, stepping out onto the pavement. ‘If you can find somewhere to park, get yourself a cup of coffee, right?’

      ‘Right, boss,’ agreed Joe sardonically, and Patrick’s lips twitched at his attempt at humour. Bloody hell, he thought irritably, this was an impossible situation. He should have spoken to Richard first, not his mistress.

      The trouble was that speaking to Richard was a little like trying to catch raindrops in your hands. Just when you thought you’d caught one, it slipped away through your fingers. Patrick had spoken to Richard before, and his brother-in-law had made promises he’d never had any intention of keeping. He knew that so long as Jillian wanted him Patrick didn’t stand a chance.

      Caprice.

      As he’d done on that other occasion, Patrick looked in the shop window before venturing inside. Apart from a child and its mother, who appeared to be talking to someone behind the counter, the shop was empty.

      Oh, well, he thought, he didn’t have time to wait any longer. When Joe brought the car back, he intended to be waiting, whether his mission was accomplished or not.

      A bell rang as he pushed open the door, and a handful of wind chimes rustled in the breeze. His entry attracted the attention of both the women by the counter, and the child regarded him solemnly, its thumb pushed into its mouth.

      It only took a moment to realise that neither of the women was Isobel Herriot. He had hardly expected her to be the young mother anyway, but the girl behind the counter looked like a teenager. His spirits plummeted, the determination that had driven him through the door bringing a resigned droop to his mouth. He might have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever was.

      ‘Hello.’ The girl behind the counter was regarding him with a rather avid interest, and although he wasn’t a conceited man he suspected that there was a certain covetousness in her gaze. ‘Are you looking for Issy?’ she asked, desecrating what Patrick had previously thought of as a very attractive name. ‘She’s in the back. I’ll get her. She was just about to go for lunch.

      ‘I—well—’

      She was gone before he could stop her, and the young woman hanging onto the toddler gave him a reassuring look. ‘Nice day, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘If only we could get rid of that wind. Still, it dries the clothes, and saves the electricity. That’s what my husband always says.’

      Patrick smiled, and only someone who knew him rather better than she did would have known that his smile wasn’t genuine. ‘At least it’s fine,’ he managed smoothly, wondering why the English always talked about the weather. He looked down and saw that the little girl had snatched what looked like a handful of dried leaves out of an open barrel and was about to stuff them into her mouth. He nodded. ‘I think your daughter’s trying to tell you something. It’s lunchtime for her too, I guess.’

      ‘What? Ooh, Tracy!’ The young woman bent down and tipped the crushed debris out of her hand. ‘That’s pot pourri,’ she added, pronouncing it so that it rhymed with ‘hot fury’. ‘Aunty Chris will get into trouble if you’re naughty like that again.’

      Patrick was turning away to prevent himself from grinning at the youngster, when Isobel came out of the room at the back of the shop. The other girl was following her, smiling and quirking her eyebrows at the woman with the toddler. He supposed Isobel must have told her assistant that he had come back to collect the necklace, but he couldn’t believe they got so few customers that his purchase was unique.

      She was wearing a floral print today, a dress this time, but with a similarly long hem. As she came around the end of the counter and handed him a package, he saw that the heavy boots were still in evidence, together with a denim haversack over one shoulder, which added to her outdoor appearance.

      ‘There you are,’ she said, apparently undisturbed by the stares from the other women. ‘I’ve put a ribbon on it. I thought she might like it to look special.’

      ‘She?’

      For a minute, Patrick was confused. The delicate aroma of her perfume had surrounded him again, and he was intensely conscious of the nearness of her body. The dress had short sleeves and a V neckline, and in the opening he could see the dusky hollow between her breasts. He could smell the faint heat of her skin, too, as she turned aside from him, her mission apparently completed.

      ‘Your niece.’

      Her response drifted over her shoulder, and he struggled to pull himself together as what she had said suddenly made sense. ‘Oh, yes, my niece,’ he agreed mechanically, weighing the gift-wrapped package between his fingers. ‘Um—thank you,’ he added lamely. ‘I’m sure she’ll be delighted.’

      Liar.

      He knew, just as he’d known when he’d bought the necklace two days ago, that Susie would never see it. He supposed he could pretend he’d bought it elsewhere, but it was too big a risk to take. Besides, it wasn’t as if it had been expensive. He could have been stuck with a bill for a piece of jewellery if Isobel had worked for a goldsmith. As it was, he had his parcel and no further need to stay.

      Or so she thought.

      But what the hell could he do with the other two women watching his reactions so closely? What were they expecting? he wondered. What had she told them about him? He found that he СКАЧАТЬ