Mistress On Loan

She spread her hands, then realised there was an element of weakness in the gesture and let them fall to her sides instead.

‘You say I could live my life, but that’s rubbish. What kind of existence would I have, living here as your kept woman? Who the hell would want to know me under those circumstances?’

‘Get real,’ he said wearily. ‘You’re not some Victorian virgin, ruined by the wicked squire. What difference will it make to anyone?’

‘It will make a hell of a difference to me,’ she threw back at him.

‘You didn’t mind selling yourself to Piers Mendoza.’ The casual contempt in his voice cut through the uneasy turmoil of emotion within her, bringing only swift, searing anger burning to the surface.

She said, ‘Bastard,’ and her hand came up to slap him across the face.

But his fingers caught her wrist, not gently, before the blow could reach its target.

‘I see time hasn’t soothed that temper of yours,’ he remarked with a touch of grimness as he released her. ‘Keep the fires damped down, Adrien, and don’t trade on your gender. It won’t work.’

She rubbed her wrist, staring at him with resentful eyes. ‘I thought that was exactly what you wanted me to do.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But on my terms, not yours.’

‘Which I’m not prepared to meet. So, buy someone else to share your bed. Because I’m telling you to go to hell,’ she added fiercely.

He shrugged, unperturbed. ‘That’s your privilege, Adie. Go off—explore what other avenues you like. But don’t be surprised if they all lead back to me.’

‘I’m sure you’d like to think so,’ she said. ‘But if I have to degrade myself, I’d prefer to do it in my own way.’

‘As you wish.’ He paused. ‘My offer stands, but it has a time limit. So, if you decide to change your mind, don’t wait too long to tell me. I can be reached at the King’s Arms.’

‘Slumming at a hotel, Mr Haddon?’ Adrien asked with contempt. ‘I thought the new lord of the manor would have taken immediate possession.’

His glance went past her to the camp bed, standing forlorn and solitary beneath the window. His brows lifted mockingly. ‘On that, darling? I prefer comfort—and room to manoeuvre.’ He watched sudden colour invade her face, and laughed softly. ‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she advised scornfully, and walked past him, out of the room.

He said, ‘You’ll be back.’

‘Never.’

‘If only,’ he continued, ‘to collect this bag you’ve packed with such care.’

Adrien swung round, mortified, to find he was holding it, his mouth curved in amusement.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Catch.’ And tossed it to her.

She clutched it inelegantly, caught off-balance in more ways than one, then gave him one last fulminating look before turning and heading for the stairs.

Walk, she told herself savagely, as she descended to the hall. Don’t run. Don’t let him think for one minute that he’s got to you—even marginally.

But for all her bravado she was shaking when she got into the Jeep. She sat gripping the steering wheel until her hands ached, fighting for her self-control.

She thought, There must be something I can do. Oh, God, there just has to be…

Somehow she had to find a way out—a way of escape. But her immediate priority was to start the engine and get away. The last thing she wanted was to give Chay the satisfaction of finding her, sitting there as if she’d been turned to stone.

She drove home with immense care, using every atom of concentration she possessed. Not relaxing until she found herself turning the Jeep into the parking area at the rear of Listow Cottage. As she switched off the engine a small group of women came out of the workroom and walked past her, laughing and talking. When they spotted her, they gave a friendly wave.

And one day soon I’m going to have to tell them that they’re out of work, Adrien thought, feeling sick as she lifted a hand in response. As she climbed out wearily, a football bounced towards her, with Smudge running behind it. His small, rather pale face was alive with excitement.

‘Adie—Adie, guess what? We’re getting a puppy. Mum says we can go and choose it this weekend.’

Adrien paused, forcing her cold lips into a semblance of a smile. ‘Well—that’s terrific,’ she said, trying to ignore the sudden hollow feeling inside her.

Zelda had hesitantly asked a couple of weeks before if Adrien would mind her acquiring a dog.

‘Smudge would really love one,’ she’d said wistfully. ‘And so would I. Dad would never let me have a pet of any kind when I was little.’

‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Adrien had immediately approved. ‘Have you any idea about breeds?’

Zelda laughed. ‘I guess it’ll be strictly a Heinz,’ she’d said cheerfully. ‘They’ve got a couple of litters at the animal sanctuary that’ll be ready soon.’

I’ll have to talk to Zelda straightaway, Adrien thought now, her heart sinking. Warn her that she may not be able to stay on here. That the whole place could be repossessed.

Zelda’s door was standing ajar, so Adrien tapped and peeped round it, scenting the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Zelda was chopping vegetables at the table, but she looked up with a welcoming grin.

‘Hi, stranger. I saw Smudge nail you. It is still all right about the puppy?’

She waved Adrien to a chair, set a couple of mugs on the table, and checked the percolator.

It was an incredibly warm and welcoming kitchen, Adrien thought, looking round. Zelda had chosen rich earth tones to complement the stone-flagged floor, and homely pine units. Smudge’s paintings occupied places of honour on the terracotta walls, and several of them, Adrien saw with a pang, featured dogs.

Zelda had changed her own image too. The dark hair was now cut sleekly to her head, and she was wearing the black leggings and tunic that comprised her working gear. She looked sophisticated and relaxed, Adrien thought, a young woman in control of herself and her environment. But what would happen to her new-won confidence if she had to go back to the crowded family house and her father’s unceasing complaints and strictures?

And how would Smudge cope? He’d been a quiet, almost withdrawn little boy when Adrien had first met him. A child who’d never had his own space. Who’d not been allowed to play in the garden in case he damaged the prize-winning begonias that his grandfather exhibited with such pride at the local flower show. A kid whose every word and action had been subject to restriction.

‘Are you OK?’ Zelda was staring at her. ‘You’re very quiet.’

Adrien smiled constrainedly. ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind.’