Emerald Mistress

‘You don’t know what the paparazzi are capable of,’ her brother said worriedly. ‘A paparazzo could have been in here taking photographs, or snooping in search of a good story.’

‘Do paparazzi usually make beds for their victims?’

A reluctant grin wiped the unusual gravity from his boyishly handsome features. ‘All right. I sound paranoid,’ he conceded.

‘Yes, you do. I honestly believe that while you’re in Ballyflynn you won’t be bothered by the press or anybody else.’

The day was flying past, and Harriet was determined to see Rafael. He would think that she had terrible manners because she had not immediately contacted him to thank him for his generous gift, she reflected guiltily. But she had just not known what to say. Leaving her brother happily discussing Irish property and investment values on the phone, she went into her room to freshen up.

There, she was visited without the slightest warning by the eerie suspicion that the perfume bottles on her dressing table had been moved. For some reason the room seemed indefinably different to her eyes, although there was not a single change that she could exactly identify. Had Samson sneaked up on the bed and rumpled the spread? It was perfectly possible. She did not allow the tiny dog to come into her bedroom, but he never gave up trying. My goodness—what was the matter with her? She was not a fanciful person by nature. Of course nobody had been in the cottage while she and her brother were exploring Slieveross! Things were almost certainly just as she had left them. Why on earth was she letting Boyce spook her? But, bearing in mind her brother’s renown in the music business, perhaps it would be a good idea to be more cautious about locking up while he was staying. She went outside and removed the spare key from its rather obvious hiding place under a stone by the back door.

It was almost four by the time she reached Flynn Court. There was no sign of Tolly. A maid ushered her into the library. Harriet was astounded by the strength of her hunger to see Rafael again. That craving sprang on her without warning and filled her with the most unbearable shyness. As he strolled forward to greet her, the essence of sophistication in a silver-grey pinstripe suit, nervous tension rushed her straight into speech.

‘I wanted to phone and ask what was happening with Una, but I knew you had a lot to sort out between you and I decided to wait for a day or two,’ Harriet shared breathlessly, her attention welded to his lean, hard features, her mouth running dry. ‘But when you sent the brooch—’

‘Did you like it?’ Rafael cut in, smooth as silk.

Her fingers knotted together as she sought for the right words. ‘Very much…I mean, it’s exquisite. But—’

‘I’m glad you like it. We had a good time together, and the Irish and Italian in my soul gives me quite a sentimental streak.’ His deep dark drawl was casual, dismissive in tone, and could not have provided a more cynical contrast to the emotional base he claimed. ‘I like to say goodbye with style. Please don’t try to return my gift.’

Shock made Harriet stop breathing. Goodbye with style? She did not move a muscle, did not trust herself to do so, for she was afraid that in the heat of the moment she might betray her hurt. When they had left his stud on the day of the races she had had no idea whether or not he planned to see her again. But when the gold, emerald and diamond horseshoe brooch had arrived, she had honestly believed that her worries had been misplaced. It had not once crossed her mind that a man might give such a carefully chosen gift to mark the end of an affair. She could feel the blood draining out from below her skin. It was as though she had been forcibly woken from a dream to find herself walking a tightrope when she had a terrible fear of heights. And, worst of all, she was totally unprepared for the power of her own reaction.

‘Una…?’ In the humming silence, Harriet snatched at the teenager’s name again with an edge of desperation.

His spectacular dark golden eyes rested on her with an impassivity that she found unnervingly distant. ‘I’ve agreed to let her miss the last few days of term. The school doesn’t want her back in any case. She’s almost certainly dyslexic, and she’s agreed to accept specialist tutoring. I’ve said that I’ll look into more local possibilities on the education front, and make a decision by the end of the summer. However, I haven’t made any promises.’

Harriet forced a valiant smile. ‘It all sounds good…Obviously you’re talking to each other and getting everything sorted. I’m pleased about that, but surprised that she hasn’t called round even to see the yard. Though I expect she’s very busy at present.’

‘Perhaps.’ Grim amusement assailed Rafael, for he was well aware that his surprisingly partisan half-sibling was furiously disappointed with Harriet, and would almost certainly speak her mind when she had got over her present desire to huff and sulk over the issue.

‘Did I mention the opening I have planned for the tack shop next weekend?’

‘I wasn’t aware that you were planning to open a shop.’

‘You did say that you weren’t interested in details. But in future I’ll put everything on paper to ensure that you’re kept informed,’ Harriet declared brightly, putting her all into maintaining a jolly front while she went on to tell him about the gymkhana. ‘It’ll provide good publicity.’

‘Do you really think that you’ll still be living in Ballyflynn in a year’s time?’

That dry, sceptical note sent colour surging into her cheeks, banishing her strained pallor. His apparent conviction that the livery yard would fail within twelve months felt like the ultimate insult to Harriet, implying as it did a low opinion of her ability to keep the yard afloat.

‘I’m well aware that most new businesses go bust in the first year, but the livery won’t be one of them. The shop will stock only basic supplies, but it should generate enough trade to cover overheads, and it’ll keep the customers calling. Perhaps you are not aware of it, but when you offered me a superb Georgian stable yard as a base, and a resident groom, you gave me a much better chance of surviving.’

The phone on the desk buzzed.

‘Tell Una I said to call in whenever she gets the chance.’ Harriet turned gratefully away, emptied of artificial good cheer, feeling much as though she had withstood ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer.

Rafael strode past the ringing phone to pull open the door for her. He wondered why even now he was so much better mannered with her than he had ever been with any other woman. He wondered what she would do if he simply used the fierce desire which had shattered her only days earlier to bring her back to him. That hunger had been very new to her. True love versus sexual passion. He was not convinced that she would be strong enough to resist temptation. In such circumstances Valente would not have hesitated to play dirty. Rafael was surprised to discover that, unlike his late father, he had scruples.

‘Where’s Tolly?’ Harriet felt a need to fill the silence while she crossed the gracious hall with firm steps, her slim shoulders stiff with the effort of dignity.

‘His brother in England has been taken ill. He went over to see him yesterday,’ Rafael advanced.

She got into her car and drove off without looking back or doing a single dramatic thing. She felt hollow, shaken. Rafael had made her feel like a teenager on a rollercoaster of excitement. Like a silly kid, she had developed a crush on him. Everything about him had knocked her out: his incredible looks, his wickedly racy sexy reputation, his charismatic smile. No, she definitely didn’t want to think about his smile. It had been a stupid transitory

fling, a total and absolute mistake, and it was over…so what was the matter with her? Before she reached home again she pulled off the road because her face was wet with tears. Dragging in a steadying breath, she dashed away the tears, angry that she was upset.

Determined not to let her brother suspect anything was amiss, she drove round for a while with the car window wound down, praying the stiff breeze would blow away the evidence that she had been crying. For good measure she bought some groceries from the supermarket. At the checkout she noticed Tolly’s daughter-in-law, Sheila, standing by the freezers, staring at her. What was that woman’s problem? Irritated, Harriet felt like walking over and asking. But Sheila’s husband, Robert, appeared behind her. His square face ruddy with colour, he hurried the older woman on.