Catherine George - The Mistress Of His Manor

‘I’ll give it some thought.’ She sighed as she glanced at her watch. ‘I really must go.’

‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

‘I’m afraid it’s parked all the way back at the garden centre.’

‘All to the good. Longer walk.’

She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Though not much longer than the trek you took me on to find the pansies!’

His eyes gleamed unrepentantly. ‘I swear I don’t make a practice of kidnapping married ladies. I persuaded myself that a few innocent minutes in your company hardly counted as adultery.’

Her lips twitched. ‘Surely adultery has to be consensual?’

‘No idea. That’s one sin I’ve never committed.’

‘Do tell about the others!’

‘On Tuesday,’ he promised.

Joanna sent her compliments to the chef when she said goodnight to the landlord. Outside in the starry darkness she shivered a little, and March helped her into her sweater, then took her hand as they walked down the quiet road leading to the garden centre.

‘In case you stumble in uncharted territory,’ he said lightly.

‘Now we’ve left the pub behind it’s so quiet here,’ she commented, enjoying the contact.

‘Too quiet sometimes. Occasionally I need a fix of city lights.’

She looked up at him. ‘You live alone?’

‘Yes, Joanna,’ he said amused. ‘As I told you, I’m single.’

‘You could be living with your mother,’ she suggested cheekily.

‘She died some years ago; my father more recently.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Joanna squeezed his hand, full of sympathy for anyone who lacked parents. ‘Thank you for the meal, March. I enjoyed it—and the evening—very much.’

He smiled down at her as they reached her car. ‘So did I. A pity you have to go home so early.’ He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven on Tuesday.’

In her car mirror Jo could see March standing under the overhead light, watching her out of sight. She drove home in a thoughtful mood. It was useless to pretend she hadn’t been delighted with everything about the entire evening, including March’s demand to repeat it so soon. The unruly hair and easy laid-back manner—and those eyes—appealed to her strongly. He’d been so easy to talk to she’d been more forthcoming about herself than usual. Nevertheless, she had an idea that a very strong personality lay behind the effortless charm. No Jekyll and Hyde stuff—just a feeling that there was far more to him than met the eye—like a surname, she thought suddenly. Or maybe March was his surname. She’d forgotten to ask.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.