The Boss's Bride

‘Good.’

She knew that he meant it. Lydia had worked for him a long time. First in Wiltshire, where he’d lived after leaving university, and then London. He was very fond of his housekeeper, and if you didn’t get on with her, then that was your problem, not hers. Fortunately, Lydia hadn’t taken her in aversion either. She hadn’t taken to Arabella, but Claris didn’t know why. She quite liked the other girl. She hadn’t expected to, but she did. Empty-headed maybe, but pretty and amusing. She and Adam had been seeing each other off and on for ages. She didn’t entirely understand the attraction, but then, it was none of her business.

Parking, as instructed, down by the Quay, she collected her bag and wrap, locked the car, and they walked slowly up Mermaid Street towards the ancient and famous inn. Walking carefully, because of the cobbles, she murmured quietly, ‘I like Rye.’

‘So do I.’

‘I went into the Heritage Centre this morning and sat through seven hundred years of its history. They have the most amazing town model. Sound and light effects to capture the imagination. It was very well done.’

‘Good.’

She smiled and passed through the heavy door he was holding for her.

Adam nodded to the desk clerk, gave his name, and they were directed to a small room at the end of a narrow corridor. Mark Davies and his wife were already there. They both looked nervous.

Two hours and a great many scribbles on the tablecloth later, Adam glanced at Claris, and she nodded.

‘I’ll get my lawyer to draw up details,’ he told the other man.

‘You’ll fund it?’ he asked almost in disbelief. ‘Just like that?’

‘Yes.’ Taking his business card from his pocket, Adam scribbled a number on the back. ‘Ring him tomorrow…’

‘Tomorrow’s Saturday…’ Mark began. Adam just looked at him, and the other man gave a nervous smile.

‘His name’s Andrew Delane. He’ll deal with everything. Don’t discuss it with anyone else.’

‘No.’

With a faint smile, Adam held out his hand, and Mark grasped it as though it was a lifeline. Which it probably was. All his hopes and dreams rested on that handshake.

Taking Claris by the elbow, Adam escorted her out. She turned once to smile at the young couple before she was urged outside.

Instead of turning left, Adam moved her to the right, through a heavy door, and into a small bar at the rear of the inn with a fireplace big enough to roast an ox. Looking round her with interest, she briefly examined the oak beams, crossed swords, and some rather nice carvings, but what seemed bizarre were the rather modern lamps set in the fireplace.

‘What will you have? More orange juice?’ he asked with a rather wicked glint in his eye.

‘Seeing as I’m driving,’ she agreed drily, ‘yes.’

‘Find yourself somewhere to sit.’

Easier said than done; the place was obviously very popular. The door to the garden stood open, and she headed in that direction. A small table became vacant just as she reached it and she hastily sat, her back to the inn wall. Putting her bag and wrap on the other chair, to keep it free, she stared at the other couples who had also chosen the fresh air.

Her mind on the young couple they had just left, she only gradually became aware of the hissed conversation going on between two young women who were sitting somewhere behind her.

‘That’s Adam Turmaine.’

‘Who?’

‘Adam Turmaine! My mother knows his aunt’s cleaner. He’s living with that redhead that just went outside. Unmarried mother with some sort of hold over him. Apparently,’ the first woman whispered, ‘she won’t let anyone see him. Mrs Staple Smythe…’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, you won’t know her,’ she said dismissively. ‘She’s a friend of his aunt, but she was apparently absolutely furious at not getting in to see him. Said the redhead blocked all attempts. Didn’t even tell him she was there!’

‘Perhaps she’s a control freak!’

Control freak? Astonished, Claris leaned even further back, in order to hear better.

‘I wouldn’t mind controlling him,’ the woman’s friend giggled. ‘He is gorgeous!’

‘Perhaps he likes domineering women.’

‘Bondage!’

Claris bit her lip.

‘You never can tell with people,’ one of the girls said sagely. ‘I mean, she wasn’t even pretty.’

‘Well, you know what they say. You don’t look at the—’

‘Linda!’ her friend exclaimed, sounding scandalised, and they both dissolved into muffled laughter.

‘Mum said Bernice…’

‘Who?’

‘Mrs Turmaine’s niece,’ she explained impatiently. ‘Mum said she’d marked him out for herself.’ There was more giggling, and then, ‘Perhaps she’ll try to get rid of her.’

‘How?’

‘God knows. Perhaps she’ll get her aunt to get Mrs Staple Smythe to hire a hit man. She apparently does everything Harriet Turmaine tells her.’

Interesting, Claris thought.

‘Why would she get Mrs Staple Smythe to do it?’

‘Because old SS apparently knows everything about everybody. And if anyone was likely to know of a hit man, she would. Shh, he’s coming.’

Claris imagined them both smiling at him. She doubted Adam would even notice. Whatever else he was, he certainly wasn’t conceited. She doubted he ever considered the fact that women found him attractive. Certainly he never seemed to have considered that his assistant might find him so.

Quickly moving her things, so that he could sit down, she suddenly saw a couple move from another table and hastily got to her feet in order to grab it before someone else could. She didn’t want Adam overhearing any interesting conversations.

Her employer didn’t even look surprised at her sudden move, merely followed her and sat down.

‘Good boy,’ she praised.

He slanted her a look of pure mockery.