Liz Fielding - British Bachelors - Tempting & New

She’d let herself think a new chapter had opened in her life. Yet how in the world could she have mistaken lukewarm for passionate? Except, of course, she had no benchmark for comparison. Or, at least, not then...

No, don’t go there.

Switching her mind determinedly back to Patrick, she could see now why there had been no pressure from him to consummate their relationship. Not consideration as she’d thought but indifference.

My God, she thought wryly. Even Dad saw that I was fooling myself.

And so did Jago...

Jago...

Even the whisper of his name made her tremble.

Now, there she could find pain, she thought. Pain that was immeasurably deep and frighteningly intense. Even life-changing. The certainty of it tightened her throat and set her pulses thudding crazily.

Patrick’s kisses had been enjoyable but had always left her aware she should have wanted more but wondering about her uncertainty. Yet the mere brush of Jago’s mouth on hers had opened a door into her senses that she’d never dreamed could exist. Offered a lure as arousing as it was dangerous.

And he hadn’t even been trying. In fact, he’d probably been amusing himself by gauging the precise depth of her innocence.

Maybe because he too thought she was ‘a nice kid’, she told herself, and flinched.

Hang on to that thought, she adjured herself almost feverishly. That’s the way to armour yourself against him, because you must do that. No out of the frying pan into the fire for you, my girl.

Tomorrow you go back to Market Tranton and you find a job stacking shelves or anything else that offers pay.

And you forget the past, disregard the present and concentrate on the future.

* * *

‘Was Mrs Wilding at church?’ she asked her father later as she dished up their lunch of lamb steaks with new potatoes and broccoli.

‘Fortunately, no,’ Mr Denison said, helping himself to mint sauce. ‘I imagine she’ll be transferring her allegiance to Saint Peter’s in Gunslade for the duration.’

Tavy stared at him. ‘But, Dad, she’s on the parochial church council.’

‘Yes, my dear, but that always had more to do with establishing her position in the village than anything else.’ He paused. ‘Did I mention that Julie Whitman and her fiancé were coming this afternoon at two-thirty to discuss their wedding? It could well be Holy Trinity’s last marriage service, so we’ll have to find some way to make it special.’

‘Oh, don’t say that.’ Tavy shook her head. ‘Maybe if we got up a petition...’

‘I don’t think so, darling. I’m afraid we have to bow to the inevitable, however unwelcome.’

Once the apple crumble which followed the lamb had been disposed of, Tavy cleared away, loaded the elderly dishwasher, and took her coffee into the garden. As she stepped on to the lawn, she heard the front doorbell sound in the distance. Julie and Graham had arrived early, she thought with a faint smile.

It was a warm day with only a light breeze and she wandered round, looking at the garden as if seeing it for the first time, kicking off her shoes to feel the fresh, sweet grass under her bare feet. Wondering if the lilac and laburnum had ever been so lovely and breathing in the scent of the early roses. Trying to capture a lifetime of memories in a moment.

She was under no illusions as to what would happen to the garden. The whole site would be bought up by a developer who would demolish the rambling inconvenient house, and use all the land to build a collection of bijou village residences. And she hoped she would be miles away when that happened, she thought fiercely.

She sat down under the magnolia on the ancient wooden bench she’d been planning to repaint and sipped her cooling coffee.

A wave of weariness swept over her. The day’s revelations had taken their toll after all. Nor had she slept well the night before. Snatches of her disturbing dreams kept coming back to her, and she was glad she could not remember the rest of them.

Above her the magnolia blossoms shivered, and, through half-closed lids, she saw a shadow fall across the grass in front of her.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a jerk, nearly spilling the remains of her coffee when she realised who was standing there.

She said breathlessly, ‘How did you get in here?’

Jago shrugged. ‘I rang the doorbell in the conventional way, was greeted by your father and chatted to him until the would-be-weds arrived when he sent me out here to find you. Is there a problem?’

She glared at him. ‘It didn’t occur to you that you’re the last person I want to see?’ And especially when I’m wearing the old denim skirt and washed out T-shirt I’d have once opted for.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t let it trouble me for long.’

She said coldly, ‘I suppose you’ve come to apologise.’

‘Why? For suggesting you wake up and smell the coffee, or for kissing you? If so, you’ll be disappointed. I have no regrets on either count.’ Uninvited, he sat down on the grass, stretching long legs in front of him.

More chinos today, she noticed unwillingly, and a shirt the colour of a summer sky.

‘Has the man at the top of your welcome list put in an appearance?’

‘No,’ said Tavy, fighting an urge to grind her teeth. ‘Nor is he likely to.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and gave her a thoughtful glance. ‘So you know.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted curtly.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I went over to his flat this morning—to talk.’ She lifted her chin. ‘She was—just leaving. It was clear she’d been there all night.’

He said quietly, ‘And you’re upset.’

‘I’m devastated,’ she said defiantly. ‘Naturally.’

Jago’s dark brows lifted. ‘Then I can only say—I’m sorry.’

There was a silence, then Tavy said, ‘Tell me something. How did you find out?’

‘I became suspicious that night in the pub. She was so insistent we go there, and then the landlord told me they’d been quarrelling at the bar, and she’d been winding him up, apparently about being with me.

‘I also have the hidden advantage of knowing Fiona’s soon-to-be ex-husband,’ he added calmly. ‘We’ve had dinner a couple of times in London. I learned a lot about his brief marriage including his conviction that she’d been seeing someone else almost from the start. A boyfriend from the old days.’

Tavy moved uncomfortably. ‘But as they’re getting divorced, anyway...’

‘It’s not that simple.’ Jago shook his head. ‘Apparently the Latimer family had their lawyers draw up a form of pre-nuptial agreement. Under it, Fiona gets a more than generous divorce settlement if the marriage breaks down, unless infidelity can be proved, when she only gets a fraction more than zilch.’

He shrugged. ‘I believe that’s why she got Patrick to leave London, in case they were being watched.’

Tavy said numbly, ‘And why he needed a local girlfriend—as a smokescreen.’

‘Try and look on that as a blessing,’ Jago said smoothly. ‘It could have been worse.’

She bit her lip. ‘Is that why you’re here? To tell me all this?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then what do you want?’ she demanded.

‘I came to offer you a job.’

There was a silence, then Tavy said unevenly, ‘If this is some kind of unpleasant joke, I don’t find it funny.’

‘On the contrary, it’s a bona fide offer of employment with proper hours and real wages. Work starts on the house next week, and I cannot always be around to oversee it, so I need a project manager onsite to sort out any problems as soon as they happen and make sure it all goes smoothly and on time.’ He paused. ‘Obviously, I thought of you.’