So Close and No Closer

She wasn’t used to feeling ill at ease with herself this way. Although she had never forgotten the trauma of her short marriage, she had forced herself to put it behind her. The life she had built for herself here in Vine Cottage was secure and comfortable. Other people might consider her life lonely and indeed in some ways unnatural for a young woman of her age, but to Rue that loneliness represented safety.

If there was no one to share her life with her, then there was no one to hurt her, and she had been quite content for it to be that way. Her friends did occasionally try their hand at matchmaking, but she always left the men concerned in no doubt at all as to her feelings, so that very few of them were brave enough to risk getting a second rebuff. And now, shockingly, within a very short space of time Neil Saxton had invaded her life, threatening her security in a way that made her feel bitterly resentful.

Last night, when he had kissed her… She shivered and put down her half-empty cup of coffee. She didn’t want to think about that kiss…about the sensation that had touched her so very briefly and so very unforgettably, before she had torn herself out of his arms.

Irritated with herself for her weakness, she reached out and switched on the radio, tuning in to the farmers’ weather forecast. Worry darkened her eyes as she listened to the bulletin. It was warning that the spell of good weather was almost at an end, and that thunderstorms were on their way.

Her main crop of summer-flowering blossoms needed another two days of sunshine at least before they would be at their peak. If she picked them before then, the blooms would not be open to their fullest extent, but if she left them and the thunderstorms arrived early… Gnawing on her bottom lip, she refilled her mug, roaming restlessly round the kitchen and then going to stand in front of the window.

It was getting properly light now. The herbs she grew in the shelter of the walled garden were always safe from high winds and need not cause her too much concern, but her fields lay beyond the protection of the walls and were too exposed.

The majority of the plants she grew for drying were summer-flowering. It was then that the rich colours that were so popular with her clients were at their best. If she lost that crop… She shivered, her shoulders sagging slightly.

It was at times like this that she was truly conscious of being alone, of wanting… What? she derided herself angrily. A shoulder to lean on? Immediately a mental image of Neil Saxton flashed across her mind. Angrily she dismissed it, furious with the way her body was playing tricks with her. The man was her enemy. He wanted her land, and if she was stupid enough to fall for his curious charm and flattery then she fully deserved the fate that would undoubtedly be hers.

Hadn’t she learnt anything from her marriage to Julian? Hadn’t she sworn after he had left her that she would never, ever again allow any man to gain an ascendency over her through her emotions? And yet here she was, in a moment of tiredness and weakness, allowing herself to give in to the basic feminine urge to seek protection from life’s harshness—and why? Wasn’t it true that women were and had to be far more emotionally strong than men, that women all over the world had to cope with far worse than she was having to endure? Many, many millions of them had not only to earn their own living, but to bring up children as well, often without the support of the man who had fathered them.

Hadn’t she learnt yet that men were not to be trusted, that it was far, far better to remain independent? The weather bulletin finished and music echoed from the radio. Impatiently she reached out and switched it off.

Horatio came padding into the kitchen and looked enquiringly and a little disapprovingly at her, as though to ask what on earth she was doing out of bed at such an early hour. It was too late to go back to sleep—another hour and it would be fully light. She was impatient suddenly to be out in the fields, checking on the progress of her flowers, even as she acknowledged that no amount of willing them to be ready was going to have the slightest effect upon them.

Upstairs she showered and dressed, pulling on a pair of clean but very old jeans and a thin T-shirt. It had faded and shrunk in the wash, and clung a little too closely to the curve of her breasts for her liking. She shrugged the thought aside as she pulled on a sweatshirt for extra warmth. After all, no one was likely to see her in it.

As soon as it was properly light, she went into the field. It was too early as yet to check on the progress of her flowers. They needed the sun to warm them before she would be able to do that. Restless and yet tired at the same time, she went into the barn and started preparing the blossoms she had picked the previous day for drying. As always, once she started work she became totally absorbed in what she was doing, so much so that Horatio’s soft whine of pleasure and recognition didn’t break through her fierce concentration until it was too late.

A shadow fell across the

doorway, momentarily blocking out the early sun. She lifted her head, tension quivering sharply in her stomach as she recognised her visitor.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded shortly, her whole body stiff with rejection and fear.

She saw his eyebrows lift, hating the amusement that crinkled his eyes as he bent down to fuss Horatio. To the dog he said thoughtfully, ‘It seems that your mistress is not in a very good mood this morning. Now, I wonder why.’

The look he gave her made her face burn. Mentally seething, Rue turned her face away from him. How very like a man to assume that just because she had not welcomed him with open arms last night she must now be suffering from regrets and sexual frustration.

‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘If it’s about the land, I’ve already told you…’

‘It isn’t about the land,’ he interrupted her calmly. ‘I wanted to talk to you about last night.’

Her eyes betrayed her instantly, darkening with apprehension and fear. He reached out a hand to touch her and then, as though he had thought better of it, let it drop to his side.

‘There is nothing to talk about,’ she told him stiffly. If only he would go away, but he was far too big, far too male for her to be able to force him to do so. Men liked using their physical superiority to dominate women, she thought bitterly. She had learned that from Julian.

‘You’re trespassing,’ she added shortly, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw his mouth harden a little.

‘Why is it that you’re so antagonistic towards me?’ he asked her quietly.

His arrogance and effrontery almost took her breath away. She turned on him, putting down the flowers she had been holding, her hands balled into small fists at her side as she told him fiercely, ‘I should have thought you would have the intelligence to know the answer to that! You come here pestering me to sell you my land, even when I’ve already told you I have no intention of doing so; you invite me to your house under false pretenses and then, when everything else has failed, you try to provoke me into giving you what you want by using the kind of caveman tactics that…’

‘Now just a minute,’ he interrupted her smoothly. ‘Granted, I wanted to buy your land, and I wouldn’t be much of a negotiator if I gave up at the first hurdle, but you’re completely wrong about what happened last night. You’re using your antagonism to mask your fear,’ he told her, stunning her with his perception. ‘Is it just me who terrifies you so much, I wonder, or is it men in general?’

Rue stared at him without saying a word. She couldn’t have said a word. Her throat muscles felt as though they were completely paralysed, her legs so jelly-like with shock that she had to grab hold of the counter to support herself. He was looking right at her, and the calm steadiness of his gaze wouldn’t allow her to look away.

He was mesmerising her, Rue thought disjointedly. He was trying to weaken her, to read her mind, to overwhelm her with his maleness in the same way that Julian had once done. It seemed a lifetime before he relented and allowed her to look away, and almost miraculously, as she did so, her throat muscles relaxed and she was able to deny huskily, ‘I’m not frightened of you.’

‘No?’ He said it grimly rather than triumphantly, and then took a step towards her.

Instinctively Rue moved back until she felt the hard spikes of the worktop against her spine.