The Innocent's One-Night Confession: The Innocent's One-Night Confession / Hired to Wear the Sheikh's Ring

Not, she reminded herself hastily, that Zandor’s warnings were necessarily valid. The strange dynamics of the Harrington clan alone might well have caused him to adopt his own agenda.

On the other hand, she could see that the abbey clearly needed an injection of seriously hard cash, which she, the daughter of a country solicitor, would never be able to provide, even if she’d felt so inclined.

Because the abbey, she suspected, could well be a bottomless pit.

She was also realising that she’d probably totally misinterpreted Joanne’s comments about potential clashes over money during the weekend. Because the family history she’d subsequently heard indicated that it would not be Zandor—the gipsy, the outsider—asking his grandmother for financial help, as she’d assumed, but quite the other way round.

Not, she thought, a happy state of affairs.

However, from a purely selfish point of view, no business of hers. And something else she could soon put behind her altogether.

But at least this interlude with Gerard had been enjoyable enough to bring her permanently out of her self-imposed seclusion. In future, she’d be as much of a social animal as even Susie could wish.

And one day she might find herself involved in a real relationship. Something to hope for, anyway, she thought, sternly stifling the odd pang twisting inside her.

* * *

She was in Dolly’s stall, removing her saddle, when Jacko appeared.

‘You’d best leave that to me, and get yourself up to the house,’ he said gruffly. ‘The Missus is asking for you.’

Well, the Missus could wait, Alanna decided, relinquishing Dolly reluctantly, at least until she’d soothed in a hot bath the last of the aches and pains from being summarily dumped on the common, and put on some clothes free of mud and grass stains.

She let herself into the house by the side entrance and was just crossing the hall to the stairs when she was intercepted by the housekeeper, Mrs Jackson.

‘Oh, you’re back, Miss Beckett. That’s good. Mrs Harrington has been waiting for you to join her for coffee in the library.’

A note in her voice told Alanna unequivocally that this was not a suggestion but a command that she would do well to obey.

Reluctantly, she followed Mrs Jackson to the unexpected and unwanted rendezvous.

It wasn’t a large room, and the oak shelving that covered three of its walls from floor to ceiling, filled with leather bound tomes that Alanna could bet were never opened from one year to the next, made it seem smaller and darker, making her glad she wasn’t claustrophobic.

The fourth wall was occupied by an ornate fireplace, its grate, at this time of year, filled with an attractive arrangement of dried flowers.

Two high-backed leather armchairs, a coffee table between them, confronted each other on either side of the hearth, and Niamh Harrington, predictably, Alanna thought sourly, was seated in the one facing the door.

Since breakfast, she’d changed into a silk caftan in sapphire blue, embroidered with butterflies.

‘So here you are at last!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was becoming anxious, dear girl, when I found Jacko had come back without you. The common can be treacherous in parts,’ she added, shaking her head gravely.

Treacherous, plus bloody dangerous and unexpectedly disturbing, Alanna supplied silently as she sat down, still with a certain care.

‘So, how did you like Dolly?’ Mrs Harrington went on. ‘A bit quiet now, I dare say, bless her. But come out with me tomorrow, and I’ll put you on Caradoc.

‘My brother-in-law in Ireland bought him as a stallion, but he nearly wrecked the horse box, kicked out his stall and attacked his girl groom, as well as fighting with the other horses, so Patrick had him gelded and offered him to me as a point to pointer for Gerard.

‘But he was still a wild one, and I’d just decided to sell him on when Gerard’s cousin took a fancy to him. Came down here at weekends to work with him until Caradoc would come when he whistled.

‘Turned him into a lovely smooth ride with the manners of a saint, would you believe? But then,’ she added, shrugging, ‘gypsies always seem to have a way with horses. It’s in their genes, I dare say.’

It was the overt contempt in her voice that told Alanna that it was Zandor’s own grandmother who would never intend ‘gypsy’ to be a compliment—or even a joke. And how vile was that?

Mrs Harrington sent Alanna another bright smile. ‘So we’ll go out in the morning and see what you make of the darling boy.’

The smile was transferred seamlessly to the housekeeper, entering with a tray. ‘Set the coffee down here, Mrs Jackson dear, and we’ll serve ourselves.’

She picked up the heavy silver pot. ‘I’d guess cream but no sugar. Am I right?’

Alanna, whose mind’s eye had been suddenly filled with a sunlit image of a man riding a powerful bay as if they were fused into one, like some ancient Greek centaur, dragged herself back to reality with a start. ‘Actually, I take it black.’

Mrs Harrington tutted. ‘Ah, now, too much caffeine is bad for the system, so I’m told.’

‘I’ve heard the same thing,’ Alanna agreed, taking the cup her hostess handed her. ‘But I still prefer it that way.’

She hesitated. ‘And tomorrow we’ll be going back to London right after breakfast, so, sadly, I’ll have to miss out on another ride. But thank you for asking me.’ And produced a smile of her own. ‘Next time perhaps.’

‘Well, there’s always that,’ Mrs Harrington agreed tranquilly. ‘However, I’m afraid, my dear, that I have to disappoint you. Gerard, being the heir, has a number of responsibilities down here at Whitestone, especially now I’m not as young as I was, and we have tenants who’ll be wanting to see him tomorrow.’

She nodded. ‘I imagine that could take up most of the day, and then we’ll need to discuss everything, so he may well be spending the night. And I’m sure you need to get back to your busy life and your career in the big city.’

She sighed. ‘Ah, girls today have the best of it. Great jobs and their independence. My own family took it for granted I’d stay at home until I was married, and that’s what I did until the blessed day when Gerard’s grandfather came to claim me.

‘It will be so different for you, dear girl. You can enjoy your freedom.’

She paused, then went on more briskly, ‘But my Diana and her husband are leaving before lunch, so I’m sure they’ll be glad to give you a lift. I’ll ask them, shall I? Or you could speak to Joanne. I’ve noticed the pair of you hitting it off.’

I bet you have, thought Alanna, sipping her coffee with a fair assumption of composure. So that’s how it’s done. Nothing as crude as ‘Never darken my doors again.’

Just the subtle dagger between the ribs. And if I cared, I’d now be bleeding all over this Persian rug.

As it is, what’s twisting the knife is having to accept that Zandor was right. But at least I’ll never have to say so. Or not to him, anyway.

Knowing I’ll definitely never have to meet him again is actually one of the few advantages of the situation.

However, if Mrs H. thinks I’m going to leave in a huff right here and now, she’ll be disappointed. I intend to stick to my guns and depart with dignity.

Aloud, she said calmly, ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, Mrs Harrington. I can make my own arrangements.’

Or Gerard certainly can, she decided, stonily. I think he owes me that. Because I’m not going round begging for a lift as if I’m a Victorian servant turned off without a character.

Besides, he must know his grandmother’s plans for his future, so what on earth prompted him to invite me in the first place?

Therefore, I’m going to have some advice for him too. Grow a backbone before it’s too late.

Then, swiftly reverting to the theme of dignified departure, she smilingly accepted another ‘absolutely delicious’ cup of coffee.

Which proved to be a mistake.