Wish with the Candles. Betty Neels

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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER ONE

      MISS EMMA HASTINGS closed her eyes and a shudder ran through her nicely curved person; she opened them again almost immediately, hoping, rather after the manner of a small child, that what she didn’t wish to see would be gone. Of course it wasn’t. The Rolls-Royce Cornische convertible still gleamed blackly within a yard or so of her appalled gaze. In other, happier circumstances she would have been delighted to have had the opportunity of viewing its magnificence at such close quarters, but now, at this moment, she could only wish it on the other side of the world, not here within inches of her, with the bumper of her humble Ford Popular, third hand, locked with the pristine beauty of the Rolls’ own single bumper.

      Its driver was getting out and Emma made haste to do the same, quite forgetting that the Ford’s door handle on her side could be temperamental and had taken that moment to jam while she was fiddling with it. As she tugged and pushed she had plenty of time to observe the man strolling towards them. As magnificent as his car, she thought, eyeing his height and breadth of shoulder, and her heart sank as she saw his hair, for it was a dark, rich copper, and redheaded people were notoriously nasty-tempered. Her mother apparently thought otherwise, for she said softly, ‘Oh, Emma, what a remarkably handsome man!’ and Emma, cross because she couldn’t get out, began tartly, ‘Oh, Mother…’ and went on silently fighting the door, which, to make matters worse, yielded instantly under the man’s hand.

      She got out then, all five foot three of her, feeling a little better because she was face to face with him even though her eyes were on a level with his tie. She studied its rich silkiness for a long moment and then lifted her gaze to his face. His eyes, she noticed with something of a shock were green, unexpectedly cool. Probably he was furious; she said quickly in her pleasant voice, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Dutch—it was my fault,’ and smiled with relief when he answered her in English.

      ‘You were on the wrong side of the road.’ He spoke curtly, but Emma was so relieved to hear her own tongue that she hardly noticed it and went on, ‘I’m so glad you’re English,’ and when he gave her a sudden sharp look and barked ‘Why?’ at her, she explained cheerfully:

      ‘Well, the Dutch are awfully nice, but they’re not very—very lighthearted…’

      He laughed nastily. ‘Indeed? Am I supposed to be lighthearted because I have been run into by a careless girl who has probably damaged my car? You are an appalling driver.’

      ‘I’m not,’ said Emma with spirit, ‘I’m quite good, only they drive on the wrong side of the road and when I turned the corner I forgot—only for a moment.’ She returned the icy stare from the green eyes with a cool one from her own hazel ones and added with dignity:

      ‘Of course, I will pay for any damage.’ Her heart sank as she said it; Rolls-Royces were expensive cars, doubtless their repairs cost a good deal more than the lesser fry of the motoring world. She blinked at the unpalatable thought that she would probably be footing the bill—in instalments—for months ahead and ventured uncertainly:

      ‘Perhaps the damage isn’t too bad.’

      The man looked down a nose which reminded her strongly of Wellington’s. ‘Probably extensive,’ he stated evenly, his eyes boring into hers. Emma drew a long breath—it wasn’t any good trying to guess at the cost; she thrust the unpleasant thought to the back of her mind and remarked practically, ‘Well, if we could undo the cars we could see…’

      A faint convulsion swept over the stranger’s face. ‘And how do you propose to—er—undo them?’ His voice was too smooth for her liking. She shot him a doubtful glance and then walked past him to have a look. It seemed to her that the Ford had had the worst of the encounter, for its bumpers were dented and twisted and hooked under the Rolls’ bumper. Emma, who knew very little about cars anyway, hoped that its engine was all СКАЧАТЬ