The Secret Virgin. Кэрол Мортимер

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      But that had all changed now.

      As had Rupert. But too late—fortunately! After years of saying marriage wasn’t for him, Rupert had suddenly done an about-face a few weeks ago, and now urged her to marry him every opportunity he had.

      Maybe if he had felt that way a few years ago Tory would have accepted, she acknowledged. But not any more. Rupert was no longer a golden-haired god to her. In fact, as she now knew only too well, he had feet of clay. She just thanked goodness he hadn’t asked her to marry him a couple of years ago; then she would have made the biggest mistake of her life by accepting him!

      ‘Well, I’m glad the wedding went well.’ She smiled. ‘Although it’s a shame about your ankle, Mum.’

      ‘My own fault,’ her mother dismissed. ‘How did you get on with Madison’s brother Jonny?’ she asked interestedly.

      Tory grimaced as she sat down at the table with her own cup of tea. ‘If I tell you I still called him Mr McGuire when I dropped him off at the house—’ and dropping him off a cliff might have been a better idea! ‘—perhaps that will tell you how well I got on with him!’

      ‘Oh, dear,’ her mother responded worriedly. ‘And the Byrnes are such a nice couple.’

      International film star and director they might be, Oscar winners at that, and Madison’s mother the world-renowned actress Susan Delaney and Gideon’s late father the English actor, John Byrne—having been as famous himself before his early death thirty or so years ago—but to Tory’s parents, Madison and Gideon were just ‘the Byrnes’.

      The island was home to several actors, a well-known television chef, several famous musicians and singers, as well as a handful of successful writers, amongst several lesser known millionaires. The islanders just took it in their stride if they happened to find themselves standing next to one of them in the till queue at the supermarket! After all, they all had to eat, too.

      ‘I didn’t—’ She broke off abruptly as the telephone began to ring.

      Damn—she had forgotten to switch the answer-machine back on after listening to Rupert’s message earlier. And it didn’t need two guesses to know that it would be Rupert calling again.

      Damn, damn, damn!

      ‘Would you like me to get that?’ her father offered gently as he saw the displeased look on her face.

      Coming back here to give herself room to think was one thing. Letting her father fight her battles for her was something else entirely.

      ‘It’s okay.’ She stood up, snatching up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she snapped uncompromisingly.

      There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, before, ‘How did you know it was me?’

      Not Rupert! ‘I didn’t,’ she answered Jonathan McGuire in a slightly sheepish voice, turning away from the curious glances of her parents in the hope that they wouldn’t see her uncomfortable blush.

      ‘Who else has upset you today?’ he mused mockingly, that American drawl even more distinct over a telephone line.

      ‘No one in particular,’ she said brightly. What did he want? He had left her in no doubt when she parted from him an hour ago that he wanted to be left alone.

      ‘You’re very good at that, aren’t you?’ he said admiringly.

      Tory hesitated. ‘At what?’

      ‘The evasive answer,’ he came back instantly.

      She gave a startled laugh. ‘And that coming from the expert at evasive answers!’ She knew less about Jonathan McGuire after spending almost forty minutes in his company than she had before she met him!

      A throaty chuckle resounded down the telephone line. ‘Okay, so you aren’t going to tell me who else has upset you today,’ he accepted. ‘I won’t keep you long,’ he added more briskly, ‘I know you must be anxious to go to your cousin’s wedding. I—that’s actually the reason I’m phoning.’

      Tory blinked. ‘You aren’t suggesting you would like to come with me?’ she said disbelievingly.

      She could just imagine the family speculation if she arrived at her cousin Denise’s wedding reception with a tall, dark American in tow! Not that she intended going at all now that her mother and father weren’t going to be there, but surely Jonathan McGuire couldn’t be—

      ‘Hell, no!’ he instantly disabused her of that illusion. ‘I—having had time to—think about things—I realise I owe you an apology for my behaviour earlier—’

      ‘I thought you had already made one,’ Tory said guardedly.

      ‘For not thanking you for taking time out of your day to pick me up at the airport,’ he completed determinedly. ‘I—thank you.’

      Ouch, she bet that hurt.

      ‘You’re welcome,’ she returned lightly.

      There was a deep sigh at the other end of the line. ‘I’m not usually as rude as I was today—’

      ‘Don’t tell me—you’re usually ruder!’ she teased.

      ‘You aren’t making this easy for me, are you,’ he responded irritably.

      Well, she wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was…! He had apologised, she had accepted that apology, so what was he still doing on the line?

      ‘Do you think I should?’ she returned warily.

      After all, everything he had said was true; she had taken time out of her day, missed her cousin’s wedding, just so that she could go to the airport and pick him up. Only to be faced with his rude uncooperativeness. The fact that she had been glad of the excuse not to go to the wedding was irrelevant.

      ‘Probably not,’ he accepted with resignation. ‘When you see your mother could you also thank her for the pie? I was hungry when I got here, so I’ve already eaten a piece; it’s delicious.’

      It certainly was, her mother was one of the best pastry-makers on the island. Luckily Tory seemed to have a metabolism that could handle her mother’s wonderful cooking, which didn’t just stop at pastry, otherwise she might have ended up a very chubby child and an even fatter adult!

      ‘Why don’t you tell her yourself?’ Tory declared, suddenly seeing a way of ending this conversation without appearing rude herself. ‘She’s sitting right here.’ She held the receiver out to her mother before Jonathan McGuire could make any response—positive or negative—to her suggestion.

      Tory moved to kiss her father lightly on the cheek. ‘I’m just popping over to the studio for a while,’ she told him softly. ‘Give me a yell if you need me for anything,’ she added with a glance towards her mother, the pleased flush to her mother’s cheeks as she listened to Jonathan McGuire telling Tory that he must be repeating his praise of her mother’s pastry.

      Tory gave a smile as she left the farmhouse. The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach, but the way to her mother’s was to show СКАЧАТЬ