Heaven Here On Earth

‘Take it easy!’ she laughed, as more food seemed to come over the side of the bowl rather than into his mouth, the water slopping out of the other bowl as he almost leapt inside it. Ragtag carried on eating until all the food had gone, looking up at her expectantly once the bowl was empty. ‘More!’ Ryan chided, standing up. ‘I bet Grant will be glad to get rid of us, Ragtag.’ She frowned down at him. ‘Maybe once you’ve had a bath you won’t look so ragtaggled.’

‘Talking to yourself could become a dangerous habit,’ a familiar gravelly voice taunted her.

She blushed, looking up at Grant Montgomery, finding it impossible to read his expression, as the sun was directly behind him. For such a big man he moved very quietly, she hadn’t even been aware of his presence in the cobbled yard until he spoke.

‘Talking to a dog could be an even more dangerous one,’ she returned softly, shushing the ungrateful Ragtag as he began to growl at the intruder.

‘You think so?’ Grant mocked.

‘I’m hoping not,’ she said ruefully. ‘I seem to be doing it all the time.’

‘I believe when the dog answers you is the time to begin worrying,’ he drawled dryly. ‘Are you joining us for tea?’ he briskly changed the subject.

It was as well that he had; Ryan was open-mouthed about his show of humour. It came as something of a surprise after his earlier rudeness, and was totally in opposition to his harsh expression as he moved out of the sun.

‘I—I’ll just go and wash first,’ she mumbled.

‘Very well,’ he nodded abruptly, as if regretting the softening of his mood, striding off into the house.

Ryan went up to her room to wash, then hurried down to the drawing-room to join the brother and sister for tea. She was beginning to feel rather hungry, a sandwich or two would see her through until it was time for dinner.

‘It’s all right for you,’ Mandy was complaining when Ryan reached the drawing-room door. ‘You’re out at work most of the day, but how am I supposed to entertain this friend of Mark’s?’

Ryan’s hand froze in the action of opening the door. They were talking about her!

‘She doesn’t need entertaining,’ Grant dismissed. ‘Just leave her to her scribbles up in the studio.’

Scribbles! Ryan could feel her temper beginning to rise. How dared he call her work ‘scribbles’!

‘After all, it is partly Mark’s home too—even if he does rarely use it,’ Grant added hardly. ‘If he wants this girl to stay here as his guest then he has a perfect right to expect us to let her. It’s only for three weeks, Mandy,’ he consoled. ‘Then we’ll probably never see her again.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’ The scowl could be heard in his sister’s voice. ‘Mark called her earlier, and they seemed very friendly.’

‘If it lasts as long as Mark’s other “friendships” I won’t worry too much,’ Grant derided.

‘She also thinks you’re handsome,’ Mandy mused. ‘I wonder what Valerie would think of that.’

‘She wouldn’t think anything,’ Grant snapped. ‘The opinion of one of Mark’s Bohemian girl-friends is not in the least important to either Valerie or myself.’

Ryan didn’t want to listen to any more; she ran back to her bedroom before her presence outside the door was detected, leaning back against the door once she was safely inside her room.

How dared he! Bohemian girl-friend, indeed! No wonder Mark rarely came here if that was the sort of opinion he had to put up with. And Mandy—how could she have repeated that remark she had made about Grant being handsome!

How was she supposed to face him again after that? And who was Valerie? Mark hadn’t mentioned his brother having a girl-friend, but in the circumstances she could not think who else Valerie could be.

She couldn’t go down there now, not after what she had just heard, it would be too embarrassing.

‘Miss Shelton?’ A knock sounded on the door to accompany the butler’s query.

She swallowed hard, straightening her hair before opening the door to him. ‘Yes?’ She sounded cool enough.

‘Mr Montgomery asked me to enquire if you had changed your mind about joining them for tea?’

‘Er—yes,’ she said jerkily. ‘I—I have a bit of a headache, I thought I’d go for a walk instead.’ Her voice gained confidence as her excuse took shape. ‘Please give them my apologies.’

‘Of course, miss,’ the middle-aged man nodded. ‘Is there anything I can get you? Aspirin?’

‘The fresh air is all I need,’ she smiled brightly. ‘Thank you.’

She picked up her jacket once he had gone, then hurried from the house, collecting Ragtag to set off across the fields at the back of the house. There were sheep everywhere, most of the ewes having a young lamb gambolling at their side.

It was the latter that finally calmed her, and she sat on a wall to watch their antics, finding the little twins the funniest, each trying for a place next to their mother, pushing each other out of the way in their hurry. There was something very soothing about watching this fight for survival at such an early age. Ryan had had to fight to survive in the same way in the children’s home, and she had no intention of letting the Montgomerys get to her. Nothing and no one was going to stop her using that beautiful studio.

She dressed with care for dinner, having brought a couple of long skirts and contrasting tops with her, just in case she was invited up to the house while she was here. She was glad she had now that she was actually living in it!

She wore a long black woodgrain skirt, the pale blue of her silky blouse deepening the colour of her eyes, making her hair appear more golden than usual; her make-up was light, her lip-gloss the palest plum-colour.

She looked quite respectable as she gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, not at all like a Bohemian! Oh, how that rankled, the sheer arrogance and bias used in the judgment angering her. To Grant Montgomery she was an artist, and it naturally followed that she was untidy and without morals too.

Only Mandy was in the lounge when she entered the room several minutes later, and she offered no explanation for Grant’s absence. But it soon became obvious where he had been; a car sounded in the driveway, and then footsteps out in the hallway. But she needn’t have worried about facing him again, because accompanying Grant when he opened the double doors was a tall raven-haired woman of about his own age, an exquisitely beautiful woman, even if her brown eyes were a little hard as they flickered over Ryan. Probably pricing her skirt and blouse to the last penny, she thought bitchily. The woman’s own clinging black dress looked like a couture model, the sort where you never looked at the price tag—because it didn’t have one!

Grant looked very impressive in a black evening suit, the snowy white of his shirt emphasising his rugged tan, his eyes appearing greener than ever. He really was a magnificent specimen of manhood, and in his dinner suit he took Ryan’s breath away. How much more lethal he would be if he were actually charming too!

The woman at his side seemed to read her thoughts; her hand was possessive on his arm, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Introduce us, darling,’ she said throatily.

He did so smoothly. ‘Valerie Chatham, Ryan Shelton.’

‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’ Valerie’s voice lacked sincerity, and she made no effort to offer her hand. ‘You didn’t bring Mark with you?’ Her arched eyebrows rose censoriously.

‘He’s busy. In London,’ Ryan replied abruptly.

‘Isn’t he always?’ the other woman taunted. ‘Shall we go in to dinner now, Grant darling? I’m sure that, like most young people, Miss Shelton is starving.’

Ryan bit her tongue to stop the caustic comment she had been going to make back, and looked up to meet Mandy’s amused hazel eyes, a certain sympathy for her in their depths. Maybe against the beautiful Valerie they could be allies?

The older woman certainly went out of her way to be condescending during dinner. And she made sure that Ryan was no longer under any misapprehension as to who she was; her claim on Grant was made time and time again, both physically and verbally. Grant’s expression remained bland as he smoothly played the part of perfect host, and Ryan used the word ‘played’ in her mind deliberately. Grant gave every impression of being lazily relaxed, and yet his gaze, whenever she happened to encounter it, was rapier-sharp. Nothing escaped his attention, not even her nervousness when she dropped her napkin, nor the way her hand on her wineglass shook slightly as his gaze lingered on her longer than usual.

She blushed as that same enigmatic gaze lingered on her once they all returned to the drawing-room, and she wondered at his thoughts behind those shuttered green eyes.

Valerie’s expression hardened as she intercepted that look. ‘Shouldn’t we be going now, darling?’ she prompted Grant. ‘We did tell Giles and Anna we’d put in an appearance after their dinner party.’

He looked away from Ryan with effort. ‘Of course.’ He rose slowly to his feet. ‘Perhaps Ryan and Mandy would like to come too?’ he looked at them both enquiringly.

She liked the way he said her name; she had been startled the first time he had called her it during dinner, but somehow it sounded right in his deep gravelly voice. Somehow she found it hard to use the same informality with him, and did not call him anything.

‘I doubt it.’ Valerie’s harsh voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘The company would be a little—old for their tastes, darling.’

‘Of course,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘If you’ll excuse us, girls?’