Expectant Mistress

‘I should be so lucky! Gotta go! Give Macro my love—’ ‘Don’t be silly, Pets,’ Trish said fondly. ‘He doesn’t know you from Adam.’

A squeal of laughter ricocheted down the line. Trish realised what she’d said and began to giggle, too.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ jerked Petra, in fits of laughter. ‘Bye!’

With no time to wonder if her friend was cracking up at last, Trish prepared the best guest room. Vases of flowers, home-made biscuits in a tin, orange and cinnamon soap and bath oils ready in the en suite, magazines, soft, fluffy towels... She looked at the chintzy bedroom proudly, then she went to finish the vegetables for the evening meal and to set up a welcoming tea tray.

Trundling down to Church Quay in her borrowed hill buggy, with terns calling overhead and the scent of honeysuckle filling her nostrils, she reflected that it was just as well Adam wasn’t interested in her. He’d never give up city life with all its attractions, and she’d never give up Bryher.

It was still hard, though, coming to terms with the aching sense of loss she’d had, ever since she’d stolen out of the hotel like a thief in the night. She was glad to be busy. From past experience she knew that if she worked non-stop and fell into bed exhausted she’d have less time to feel sorry for herself.

The thought of going home had instantly lifted her spirits. As the train had gathered speed, London’s concrete and tarmac had melted away into the distance. Green fields and trees had flashed by the window and her aching heart had been soothed a little.

She’d even hugged herself when Land’s End came into sight. The end of England. Nothing ahead but the Scilly Islands, scattered like glittering jewels in the vast Atlantic. Together with the tourists on board the helicopter, she’d looked down on the dramatic jagged rocks and Caribbean-white beaches with enormous excitement.

It was good to be home. Tun might not make her feel ecstatic—and they didn’t see one another often, as he lived on the main island. But they were terribly fond of one another. Her future lay with him.

Her decisions made, Trish drove onto the soft white sand by the quay in quite a cheery frame of mind. Parked there already was the Land Rover which belonged to the only hotel on the island. She chatted with Norman, its driver, and watched the afternoon boat from Tresco island heading towards them.

Trish and Norman wandered along the quay to meet their guests. She greeted Bryher’s handful of schoolchildren, smart in their royal-blue sweatshirts, coming home after a day at Tresco Island School. They scrambled off the Faldore with an ease born of a lifetime spent getting in and out of boats. Trish watched them skipping and running happily to their parents. They were followed by a small group of holiday-makers—

And Adam.

She stood on the quay, dumbstruck. He wore what he probably assumed was suitable casual wear: beige linen trousers and a shirt and matching V-neck the colour of sam-phire leaves. But everything was too clean and pressed. He was far too well groomed to fit in. This was a city man to the core. In comparison with the other visitors, in their walking boots, well-worn jeans and sweatshirts, he looked totally out of place.

He put down his cases, smiled faintly and raised his eyebrows in query, as if his presence was the most natural thing in the world. Reluctantly she walked towards him. He intended to stay!

Frantically she looked around for Norman, to take Adam off her hands and sweep him away to the hotel. But Norman seemed content with his quota of guests and was already stacking luggage into the back of the Land Rover.

‘Hello!’ she said, summoning up a cheery tone for Adam’s benefit. ‘You’d better hurry! You’ll miss your lift to the Hell Bay Hotel!’

‘I’m not staying there.’

It was the way he looked at her that made the penny drop. Dismay flooded her face. ‘Oh, no, Adam! No! You’re not... You can’t be...Mack Rowe—!’

‘Macro.’ His features had tightened slightly at her groan. ‘It’s a computer term, Trish. I hoped you wouldn’t recognise it.’

Petra had known, she thought, furious with her friend for not warning her. So she was to give Petra’s love to Macro, was she? Her eyes blazed with anger.

‘Why?’ she forced out fiercely.

He didn’t seem too pleased at her lack of enthusiasm. ‘Because you wouldn’t have given me house room, would you?’

Her expression told him he’d hit the nail on the head with marksman-like accuracy. ‘You had no right to deceive me!’ she said hotly.

‘Needs must,’ he replied, his jaw set like granite. ‘I don’t let anything stand in my way I had to be here; I made sure that happened.’

‘It didn’t sound like you on the phone,’ she muttered crossly.

‘It wasn’t. A colleague fixed it up.’

‘But...’ She had to ask. Defying his alarmingly linked dark brows, she looked him straight in the eyes and asked incredulously, ‘You’re here on business?’

‘What else?’ he replied crjsply, picking up his Louis Vuitton and a black leather briefcase ‘The hotel’s full. I thought of you ’

‘But...apart from the hotel, there’s no one on Bryher with a computer worthy of your personal attention—’

‘How do you know?’

She gave him a pitying look. ‘Because everyone on the island knows everyone else’s business”

‘Why shouldn’t there be someone in one of the self-catering cottages who needs expert help?’

‘Someone important enough to drag you here?’ she demanded.

‘It would have to be, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh.’

Bemused, she stood staring at him, transfixed by the thought that Adam was here, on her island. Her gaze moved to his smooth Jaw and throat. He swallowed at the same moment that she did. Hastily she flicked her eyes to the high line of his broad shoulder He was tense.

Perhaps he was worried that he’d be left to sleep on the beach, she thought wryly, her confused eyes meeting his.

‘Are you going to leave me here to fend for myself, as a punishment for playing a trick on you?’ he drawled.

‘I’m tempted. You deserve to be tied up and left to sleep in the kelp pit!’

‘Kelp. That’s seaweed, isn’t it?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Yes.’

He arched one sardonic eyebrow. ‘I’d be very smelly.’

She tipped up her chin. ‘That would be the least of your problems. You’d probably die of exposure before anyone could complain’

A faint smile eased Adam’s hard mouth. ‘Nice to be given island hospitality.’

Trish felt ashamed. ‘I suppose you’ll have to stay with me,’ she said grudgingly. ‘How long are you planning on working here?’ She glanced at her hands in surprise. They were trembling. ‘Your colleague said up to a week.’

Her breath had shortened. A week! In the same house as Adam again, serving him breakfast and dinner, cleaning his room, touching his things’ She’d be a bag of nerves.

‘Depends,’ he said cryptically. ‘I’ll pay for two weeks in advance, Just to keep the room, as a precaution. I should have got the problems sorted out by then.’

‘Two...’ Trish’s eyes glazed. Luckily her hair was blowing over her face so he probably didn’t notice that she was in a state of shock.

‘You’ll hardly know I’m around. Where’s your car?’ He shaded his eyes and followed the progress of the Land Rover till it disappeared around the corner by the church. ‘I thought you said there was no transport?’

Dazed, she motioned for him to follow her to the beach. ‘We only use vehicles to collect and return people who have luggage. And to pick up stores,’ she said faintly. Glum-faced, she strode towards the buggy. There wasn’t another boat till the morning, but maybe she could persuade him to take it. ‘I borrow the ATV—the all-terrain vehicle—from the neighbouring flower farm. I bake a cake or two in return. For the rest of the tune, we walk. Adam, I think you’d be better off on Tresco. Or the main island, St Mary’s. Bryher isn’t your sort of place at all, and if you’ve business here you can commute each day—’