The Deserving Mistress

She became very still, her expression puzzled now. ‘He isn’t?’

‘No,’ Max confirmed wryly.

‘Why isn’t he?’ she demanded frustratedly. ‘It was what he wanted. What he came here for. What on earth—?’

‘The reason he telephoned me just now was to ask me while he’s away to submit Will’s second set of plans, the ones excluding this farm, to the local planning committee,’ Max informed her quietly.

May was well aware of the fact that Will, as Jude’s architect, had drawn up two sets of plans for the proposed health and country club he intended building on the neighbouring Hanworth Estate, also knew that one of those sets of plans included this farm, and that the other one didn’t. The question was, why was Jude choosing to submit the latter?

She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Actually—’ Max gave a rueful smile ‘—neither do I.’

May burst out laughing at this blunt admission from a man who, as a lawyer, was often carefully ambiguous in his own statements. ‘Well, that’s honest, I suppose,’ she conceded. ‘Although it doesn’t help me, does it?’ she added frowningly.

‘Not if you’re really serious about selling, no.’ Max grimaced. ‘You can be sure that January and March will agree to anything you decide to do about the farm,’ he assured lightly. ‘After all, it’s you it affects the most.’

Yes, it was, and in the circumstances she had decided the best thing to do was sell. The problem with that appeared to be that Jude no longer wanted to buy.

She frowned darkly, quickly coming to a decision. ‘Max, has Jude already gone? Or is he still at the hotel?’

Max looked momentarily stunned by the question, and then he gave a rueful shrug. ‘I don’t think he was calling from his mobile, so I presume he must still be at the hotel— May, where are you going?’ he called as she spun on her heel and walked quickly towards the door of the shed where they had been working.

She glanced back at him briefly. ‘To the hotel, of course.’

‘But—’

‘Max—’ she turned back impatiently ‘—did Jude tell you when he would be coming back?’

‘No,’ Max answered slowly.

She nodded. ‘Then there’s no telling when that will be, is there? In which case, I intend talking to him before he leaves.’ Jude might have time to waste, but she certainly didn’t.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Max offered softly.

May became very still. She would like nothing better than the moral support, at least, of the company of this self-assured man who was in love with her youngest sister. But at the same time she appreciated that each time she and

Jude had spoken together the last couple of days their conversation had always returned to the subject of her connection to April Robine—and that was something May did not intend discussing in front of Max.

She gave him a grateful smile. ‘It’s good of you to offer, but no, thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,’ she assured with a lot more confidence than she actually felt.

Max didn’t look in the least reassured by her words, either, frowning darkly. ‘Are you sure? Jude sounded—a little terse, this morning,’ he warned ruefully.

At the moment, sensitive as May was to her own love for him, a terse Jude Marshall would be preferable to the seductive one of last night. ‘I’m sure.’ She nodded confidently. ‘If you wouldn’t mind continuing to collect the eggs for me…?’ she added teasingly.

‘Not at all.’ Max returned her smile. ‘This last couple of days have been a complete leveller for me; I had no idea how hard farmers have to work.’ He grimaced.

May gave an appreciative laugh as she let herself out of the shed, although her smile faded to a look of grim determination as she made her way quickly to her car.

If she gave herself too much time to think then the mountain might just change its mind about going to Mohammed!

Jude came to an abrupt halt as he stepped out of the lift, completely unprepared for the sight of May, having spotted him alighting from the lift, striding confidently towards him across the reception area of the hotel.

Despite the earliness of the hour, several other heads turned to look in her direction as she walked towards him, including that of the wide-eyed receptionist. Not surprising, really—May looked as if she had come here straight from the farmyard, her coat old and mud-stained, with disreputable jeans tucked into muddy wellington boots, and the latter were making a terrible mess of the pristine whiteness of the hotel floor tiles.

The situation might have been funny at any other time, but, still raw from their encounter the previous evening, Jude wasn’t in the least pleased to see May here, muddy boots or not.

He hadn’t slept at all the previous night, had paced the hotel suite for hours as he’d tried to come to some sort of inner acceptance of what had happened between himself and May, to clarify and then dismiss it as just a situation that had got completely out of hand. He had tried to do that…