The Man She Should Have Married

The words replayed inside her head and she breathed out shakily. How arrogant, how naive, how frankly ridiculous that sounded.

The worst wasn’t over—it was just beginning.

She might have finally seen Farlan again, but they hadn’t so much met as unmet.

Her heart beat unsteadily in the darkness.

Seven years ago they would have found it impossible to be so close and yet not touch or talk. Despite coming from such different backgrounds, they’d had more in common than any two people she had ever known. Their tastes so similar, their feelings so in tune.

Now, though, they were walking at arm’s length in silence, and it felt as if they were strangers.

Except that strangers at least had the chance to get to know one another better.

She and Farlan wouldn’t even be able to do that.

Up ahead, she could see the porchlight of the gardener’s cottage. Relief flooded her body, and she sped up so that two minutes later she was standing on the doorstep.

She closed the umbrella and half turning, not wanting to see his face, said stiffly, ‘Okay—I’m home now, so you’ve kept your word. Thank you and goodnight.’

She pushed down on the handle and opened the door.

‘Are you kidding me?’

The snap in his voice made her hand jerk backwards. She turned towards him, her eyes wide. He was staring at her as if she had grown horns.

‘Please tell me you didn’t leave the house unlocked.’

He was outside the circle of the porchlight, his face in shadow, but she could see the tilt of his jaw, hear the tension in his voice.

‘I never lock it. Well, I would if I was going away. But I was only down the road—’

Farlan was already moving past her into the cottage.

Heart pounding, Nia stumbled through the door after him, smoothing her damp hair away from her face. ‘You don’t need to—’

She blinked. He had found the light switch and she watched dazedly as he stalked from one room to the other, then up the stairs.

She heard his footsteps reach her bedroom and suddenly she was undoing her coat, making her way to the kitchen. Finding a glass, she filled it from the tap and gulped greedily, the chill of the water burning her throat.

‘You need to be more careful.’

She turned to where he stood, his shoulders grazing either side of the doorway.

‘The back door doesn’t even lock.’

His voice was rough, raw-sounding, and she stared up at him, wanting to believe that there was concern beneath the anger, but also not wanting to add to the tangle of feelings at being alone with Farlan.

‘It does. You just have to jerk it a little—’

He was staring at her in disbelief.

‘Just get a new lock.’ His lip curled. ‘Oh, sorry, I forgot. You need to run everything past a third party before you make up your mind.’

Her anger flared again at this sudden, unexpected, unasked-for confrontation.

‘That’s not fair, Farlan.’

‘Fair? Fair!’ He stared at her disbelievingly. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’