Christmas With The Duke. Katrina Cudmore

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       CHAPTER TWO

      FOR A BRIEF second Ciara hoped Tom was teasing her. Like he’d always used to do.

      He had spent one whole summer trying to convince her that the entire dairy herd at Loughmore talked to him. Whenever they passed the grazing cows on their way to the woods he would stop and chat to them over the still-to-ripen blackcurrant laden hedges, relaying back to her what they were saying.

      ‘Blue says it’s going to rain later, but Nelly says Blue is talking rubbish. What’s that, Nelly...? Ciara’s looking beautiful today? Can’t say I’d noticed it myself.’

      At which point Ciara would give him a friendly thump on the arm and start pedalling her bike away, trying not to laugh, happiness bubbling in her chest at his words and at the way he would softly gaze at her when he said she looked beautiful.

      But now there was no softness or laughter in his eyes.

      She stepped towards him, murmurs of panic breaking through her disbelief. ‘Sell Loughmore? Are you serious?’

      He looked away from her and out towards the formal terraced gardens of Loughmore, rolling his neck from side to side. ‘With my work commitments I rarely get the chance to come here. It doesn’t make sense to hold on to the castle and estate.’

      His voice was impassive, as though selling Loughmore was nothing other than yet another business deal to him.

      Ciara moved away to the tea tray, staggered by just how devastated she felt by his casualness, by how little the castle meant to him. Her teacup rattled as she poured more tea. She could not let him see how upset she felt.

      Loughmore was everything to her. Embraced not only by her grandparents, but also the rest of the staff, it had been a refuge from her lonely childhood in Dublin. It was where she had fallen in love for the first time...with the man so offhandedly telling her now he was selling it. The man she had lost her virginity to. The man who had created a baby with her, here on the grounds he was so indifferently about to sell.

      Anger and deep upset fought for supremacy in her chest. She inhaled time and time again. Trying to calm down. Eventually she managed to say, ‘Loughmore has been in your family for ever...you can’t sell it.’

      He glanced at her unhappily before walking towards the log basket at the side of the fireplace. ‘There’s no point in retaining a property that’s never used.’

      Seeing he was about to take some firewood and add it to the now-dying fire, she dashed forward and took hold of the log in his hand. ‘I’ll take care of the fire,’ she said tersely.

      She pulled at the log but he refused to let go. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after it,’ he said.

      Ciara tried again to drag the log towards herself. ‘It’s not expected of you. I should have seen to it.’

      With a heavy sigh Tom prised the log out of her grip, muttering, ‘To hell with what’s “expected”.’

      Bending, he lifted another log from the basket before walking back to the fire.

      ‘I don’t have the same old-fashioned expectations of my staff as my father did.’ Throwing the logs onto the fire, sending a shower of sparks rising upward, he added, ‘I thought you’d know that.’

      Standing upright, he pulled off his suit jacket and threw it on the back of a nearby chair. His tie soon followed. Then he eyed her silently, his mouth set angrily, his shoulders squared, his hands propped on his hips.

      They’d used to have stand-offs like this before. But back then Tom hadn’t been quite so resolute. There was a harder edge to him now.

      Ciara rolled back on her feet. She was unsure how to play this. He was the Duke now. She had to respect his position. But the anger and hurt inside her had her saying curtly, ‘Those logs are smothering the fire—you need to set them at a more upright angle.’

      Tom scowled at her. ‘I didn’t say I would do a good job of it, though, did I?’

      And then for the briefest moment his mouth twitched.

      Her heart took flight in her chest.

      Oh, Lord, he was always irresistible when he smiled. His eyes would become magnetic in their silver sparkle and his wide-mouthed grin would swallow up everything that was wrong and horrible in the world.

      But today the hint of that smile was nanosecond-brief before he turned back to the fire.

      Ciara leant against the warm marble mantelpiece as he adjusted the logs with a fire iron. ‘You’re going to cause consternation amongst the staff if you change the way things are done around here.’

      Hunkered down before the fire, he turned to her, those silver eyes holding hers. Softly he said, ‘I’m selling Loughmore, Ciara.’

      She winced at his words, but even more so at the heat that seeped through her body at the memory of how he’d used to whisper softly into her ear, telling her how much she meant to him. She’d used to laugh off what he said, calling him a chancer, terrified of believing him.

      She moved away, taking care to skirt the antique Persian rug and cringing at her clumpy footsteps on the oak floorboards, thanks to her heavy work boots. She stood at the window on the opposite side of the room overlooking the walled garden. She had spent all summer working in there, reintroducing specimens that had been removed during an ill-judged replanting over forty years ago. What on earth would happen to the castle and its unique gardens and grounds if new owners took over?

      Surely his mother and sisters weren’t in agreement with him selling? They spent every summer and New Year here, and from what Ciara could tell they adored it. His mother was a remote and formal figure, who kept her interactions with staff to a minimum, but her affection and loyalty for Loughmore was clear in the way both she and the late Duke had carried out a thorough tour of every single part of the property each time they returned, making instructions on improvements and repairs to be СКАЧАТЬ