Читать книгу The Gold Collection: A Bride For The Taking: Distracted by her Virtue / The Lost Wife / The Brooding Stranger - Maggie Cox, Maggie Cox - Страница 9

SHE felt like a fool, blurting out her refusal as forcefully as she had. As soon as the impassioned exclamation had left her mouth Sophia had wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. It made her feel like the one jarring note in a symphony that had been harmonious until her arrival. Yet, blunt as her refusal had been, she had good reason to detest alcohol. Living with a violent alcoholic whose behaviour had been coloured by terrifying unpredictable rages was apt to make a woman deeply despise it—fear it as well.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, reddening. ‘I just meant to say that I’m teetotal. Do you have some lemonade or cola, perhaps, instead?’

‘Sure. No problem.’

Paul Harvey shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos and Sophia saw that his initially welcoming manner was now tinged with wariness. It made her bitterly regret deciding to attend the party. It was true she’d wrestled with the idea of staying away. That was why she and Charlie had arrived so late. As her host turned away to get the promised soft drink, his wife Beth issued her a sympathetic smile. Along with her guests, no doubt she was privately wondering at the reason why the newest member of the village should have reacted to the offer of champagne so violently.

Sophia prayed that the other woman wouldn’t take it upon herself to quiz her at any point. The last thing she felt like doing was explaining herself to her perfect-looking hostess with her perfect-looking life, friends and husband. How could such a protected woman even begin to understand the pain, degradation and humiliation of the life Sophia had led with her husband? And all the reasons why she hated alcohol?

Silently warring with the strongest urge to just turn around and leave, she let her anxious gaze fall into Jarrett’s. His strong brow was etched with the faintest frown, yet when his clear blue eyes met hers he somehow transmitted reassurance. She found herself latching onto it like a life raft.

Jarrett didn’t yet know what Sophia’s issues with alcohol were, but he was determined to find out. He’d genuinely hoped that this party would help her to make some friends, so that she and Charlie wouldn’t feel like isolated strangers in the community for long, but already he sensed that her unconventional appearance—not bowing to the dictates of current fashion trends—and her forthright refusal of an alcoholic drink had put the other guests on their guard.

Unfortunately the insular nature of village life didn’t exactly nurture a broader view in its inhabitants, he mused. He was thankful that he had seen enough of the world to know that it was the differences in people that made them interesting. But he also realised that his desire to help her integrate could turn out to be much more complicated than he’d envisaged. He had been the one to encourage her to come to this little get-together of his sister’s and now, without being party to the reasons why, he saw for himself that what might be deemed an enjoyable experience by others might actually be torture for her. Observing her flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes, it wasn’t hard to guess that what she’d really like to do was escape as soon as possible.

‘Sophia?’ He stepped towards the slim brunette, but not so close that he might overwhelm her. ‘Why don’t you and I go and join Charlie and Dylan in the garden? We’ll get your drink on the way, and go sit on the veranda outside the summerhouse.’

Her relief was palpable. Right then, observing her shining green eyes and schoolgirl plaits, Jarrett thought her the very personification of beauty and innocence, and all his protective instincts surged to the fore, making his heart miss a disturbing beat. It was easy to forget about his desire to purchase High Ridge for himself when he was with her. Yet the thought still occurred that it might help persuade her to sell if he seriously started to woo her.

In the large, meticulously mown garden, with its uniformly neat borders of flowers and shrubs, Jarrett sat down next to Sophia on the varnished wooden bench outside the white-painted summerhouse. He silently observed her son throwing the ball to Dylan. The dog’s dark eyes and wagging tail gave the impression he couldn’t believe his luck that somebody wanted to play with him.

Folding her slim, elegant hands with their short unvarnished nails round her glass of lemonade, Sophia drew in a long breath, then softly released it. ‘They look like they’re having fun,’ she commented, her glance cautiously alighting on Jarrett.

‘Labradors and small boys were meant to be together,’ he agreed, silently owning to feeling more content at this moment, in this lovely woman’s company, than he could remember having felt in a long time. The revelation was an unexpected and tantalising gift that made the idea of wooing her even stronger.

Several guests had moved outside with their refreshments onto the patio, he noticed, and immediately the sight put him on his guard. Every now and then they glanced over at Jarrett and his companion, clearly speculating on their apparent closeness. He made a point of deliberately meeting their glances and staring right back.

‘It’s a shame that Beth and Paul haven’t got kids that can play with Dylan,’ he commented, seeking to divert Sophia from the realisation that his sister’s guests were paying them an inordinate amount of attention.

‘How long have your sister and her husband been married?’

‘About ten years, I think.’

‘Do they want to have children?’

‘They’ve said many times that if it happens it happens … but in the meantime they’ll concentrate on their careers and just enjoy each other’s company.’

‘Are they happy?’

Pausing, Jarrett gave the question proper consideration. He had straight away registered the apprehension, hope and even envy in the arresting emerald eyes that studied him so fervently, and he guessed the answer was important to her. ‘I think so.’ He shrugged, smiling, then added, ‘Although anyone can present an image of happiness, contentment and togetherness, can’t they? In truth, only the individuals concerned know if they’re happy or not.’

‘I agree. Unfortunately if they seem happier than you, then you can feel a bit of a failure.’

Intrigued, Jarrett leaned forward a little.

‘Have you ever asked yourself why happiness seems to come so easily to some and not to others?’ she pondered. ‘Do you think it’s got anything to do with deserving it?’

‘No. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with deserving it,’ he replied. ‘There are too many examples in the world to disprove that. Why? Has someone told you that it has?’

‘No. Maybe I just feel too guilty about the wrong turns I’ve made.’

‘It sounds to me as if you’re much too hard on yourself. Maybe if you could just dump all the guilt that weighs you down and try to be more optimistic things might get a little easier for you, Sophia? I know you can’t control everything that happens in life, but I must confess I’m a strong believer in creating your own luck … being captain of your own ship.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do you have other views on the matter?’

Working her even white teeth against her plump lower lip, Sophia lightly shook her head. ‘I do—but I think they might be somewhat prejudiced. I started out being very optimistic about life … convinced that I knew which road to take to make me happy. But although I remained optimistic and hopeful I made some very poor decisions that made me anything but. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’

‘We all make poor decisions and mistakes from time to time. It comes with the territory of being human. It doesn’t mean that you won’t ever make a good decision again and achieve some level of satisfaction and happiness.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’

‘Going back to your original question about my sister and her husband—what’s your impression? Do you think that they’re happy?’

‘Well, I’ve only just met them, but if this extremely tidy garden is any indication I get the impression that they live a very ordered and potentially happy life together.’

‘Beth and Paul are both very practical people. I’d never call them dreamers, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

Hunching forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he examined the neat borders with new eyes, almost guiltily recalling Beth’s account of her several visits to a local garden centre for advice on creating the perfect lawn. The very concept had bemused him.

‘And, yes, they don’t appear to leave very much to chance,’ he agreed cautiously.

‘Dreamers or not, life has a way of subverting even the most carefully laid plans.’

Sophia gazed off into the distance, as if preoccupied by some disturbing recollection that still haunted her. Turning to observe her, Jarrett felt his insides submerged in a wave of sympathy.

A second later Charlie called out to her to watch him throw the ball, and her lovely face broke into an unguarded smile, the disturbing memory temporarily banished. ‘That’s wonderful, darling!’

‘You should learn to play cricket, Charlie,’ Jarrett called out. ‘You’re a natural bowler.’

‘Will you teach me, Mr Gaskill?’

‘I’d be delighted to … but only if you call me Jarrett.’

The small boy gifted him with a self-conscious grin. ‘Okay!’

‘That’s settled, then.’

‘You shouldn’t promise him things that you don’t have the time or the intention to follow through on,’ Sophia scolded him, her cheeks flushing pink. ‘He has a memory like an elephant. He forgets nothing … even the things I wish he would.’

It was the last part of her statement that perturbed Jarrett the most. Now wasn’t the time, but very soon he fully intended to ask her exactly what she meant by it. He also wanted to ask why she’d commented that she wasn’t sorry she was a widow. That discussion they’d just had about happiness was already taking on a significance that he wanted to explore.

Depositing his glass of wine on the small wrought-iron table in front of them, he suddenly pushed to his feet. ‘What makes you think I wouldn’t keep my promise?’ he asked, irked that she would doubt him.

‘He’s been let down by people breaking their promises to him before, and I don’t want him building up hopes only to have them dashed again.’

‘Not everyone breaks their promises. Maybe you need to learn to trust a little bit more?’

‘Trust you, you mean? I barely know you.’

‘That can be remedied.’

She lifted a slim, nonchalant shoulder to indicate her ambivalence, but Jarrett saw her lips duel unsuccessfully with her natural inclination to smile. Satisfied at the sight, he grinned, then hurried down the veranda steps, calling out to the boy on the lawn at the same time, ‘Throw me that ball, Charlie, and we’ll see how good you are at catching!’

Returning to the kitchen a while later to replenish their drinks, he found his sister standing at the sink, staring out of the window into the garden as she expertly rinsed some used glasses.

‘I’ve been watching you playing with Charlie. You looked like you were really enjoying yourself,’ she remarked.

‘Why so surprised? I do have the ability to enjoy myself, you know.’

‘It’s just that you looked quite bored until Sophia arrived … then you lit up.’ Beth turned to give him an affectionate smile. ‘I’m pleased that you seem to enjoy their company so much.’

‘I don’t deny it. She intrigues me, and Charlie is a great little boy.’

Walking forward to rinse the empty glasses he’d brought with him, Jarrett wasn’t surprised when Beth took them from him and set them down on the drainer.

‘You don’t have to wash the glasses. Just leave them and get some fresh ones.’ Frowning, she dried her hands on a teatowel, then patted down her hair. ‘I’ve just been standing here thinking about Sophia. She strikes me as quite a troubled person. I wonder what’s behind that sad look in her eyes. She seems very protective of her son.’

‘And that’s a crime, is it?’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course it isn’t. But everybody who heard her hesitate about letting him play out in the garden thought it was a little over the top.’

‘Ah.’ Folding his arms across his chest, Jarrett endeavoured not to let irritation get the better of him. ‘So it’s a case of the majority rules, is it?’

‘It’s only natural that people speculate. Think about it. Sophia appears out of nowhere and moves into the most coveted house in the district when the place wasn’t even up for sale. Is there some family connection? If so, why not let it be known? It arouses suspicion when people are so secretive. My guess is that there was some kind of tragedy in her life before she came here. Something to do with Charlie’s father, perhaps.’

Jarrett was so taken aback by this observation that for a moment words deserted him. Then he sighed, disturbed because Beth was probably right. What if, for instance, Sophia’s husband had done the unthinkable and taken his own life? Maybe he’d suffered from depression and that was why she’d alluded to the fact that the marriage had been unhappy?

‘If that turns out to be the case then all anyone can do is offer sympathy and kindness and not judge her. Don’t you agree?’ he said.

Lifting her shoulders in a somewhat chastened shrug, his sister visibly softened her expression. ‘You’re right.’ But, clearly unable to put the matter to bed entirely, she added, ‘Has she said anything to you?’

‘No, she hasn’t. It’s not likely that she’d confide in me about anything, is it? Since we’ve only just met?’ Quirking an eyebrow, Jarrett made his way across to the counter that was laden with cartons of juice and bottles of wine. ‘I’d better get our drinks and get back to her.’

‘It’s not just because she owns High Ridge that you find yourself attracted to her, is it?’

‘What?’ He spun round, his heart drumming a dizzying tattoo inside his chest.

‘Don’t be mad at me for asking. It’s just that I know you’ve always loved the place. Perhaps you’re hoping that if you become friends she’ll consider selling it to you?’

‘I think we’d better end this conversation right here.’

He’d been seriously intent on wooing Sophia, but Beth’s comments made him fear that she was viewing him solely as the hard-headed landowner he was reputed to be. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to be mercenary if it suited him, rather than the amiable brother she loved. Her good opinion mattered to him. The bright afternoon was suddenly soured.

Irked, Jarrett left her in the kitchen, shouldering past the guests outside on the patio and deliberately ignoring any attempts to engage him in conversation. Surprised glances followed him into the garden as he made a beeline across the grass to the pretty woman still sitting on the bench outside the veranda.

Catching hold of her hand, he pulled her to her feet. ‘I think it’s time that we left.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

Instantly regretting being the instigator of what looked like fear in her eyes, Jarrett abruptly let go of Sophia’s hand and took a deep breath to compose himself. ‘It’s my fault. I should never have persuaded you that it was a good idea to come here today. How do you feel about my taking you and Charlie to the seaside instead? There’s still plenty of daylight left. If you want to stop off at home to collect your camera so that you can take some pictures you can do that. We’ll drive down in my car.’

Regarding the earnest expression on his handsome face, and trying hard to ignore the bolt of electricity that had shot through her insides when he’d grabbed her hand, Sophia couldn’t deny that Jarrett’s impromptu suggestion was appealing. But, even so, the memory of past wrong decisions aroused her caution.

‘Do you really think I should risk going with you anywhere when I hardly even know you?’ she asked.

He held her gaze with a long and steady stare. ‘You’re getting to know me … you know my name and who I am. You also know who my sister is and where she lives, and there are plenty of other people here who could testify to seeing us leave together. Isn’t that enough to reassure you that I’m no sinister stranger with unsavoury motives?’

Sophia was indeed reassured. She smiled. ‘Okay, I’ll go to the seaside with you … Charlie will be ecstatic at the idea. But first I want you to tell me what’s made you suddenly decide we should leave.’

Dropping his hands to his lean jean-clad hips, Jarrett glanced down at the ground, as if to glean inspiration as to how best to answer, then raised his head and scowled. ‘Excluding yourself and Charlie, let’s just say the company isn’t as charming as I thought it would be.’

Now it was Sophia’s turn to be dismayed. Someone must have said something unflattering about her. But even though she was curious to know what had been said, she knew it was a pointless and self-destructive exercise to find out. After what she and Charlie had been through what could it possibly matter what anyone thought of her? Especially people she didn’t know and who didn’t know her?

‘Let’s get out of here.’ Obviously impatient to be gone, Jarrett glanced over at Charlie, who was still throwing the ball for an excitable Dylan to fetch.

Sophia touched his sleeve to get his attention. ‘If someone’s running me down I’m quite capable of standing up for myself, you know. You don’t need to act as my protector.’

‘No one’s running you down. People are just curious about you, and I don’t want you to feel inhibited by what you imagine they think of you.’ Shaking his head, he hunted her with his azure gaze so that there was nowhere for her to hide. ‘I’ve sensed since we met that something bad happened before you came here … something you want to escape from. You told me that you’re a widow but that you aren’t sorry about the fact. I’m not asking you to reveal the details about what happened right now, but all I’ll say is that if you’ve been hurt by someone I don’t intend for you to be hurt again by people’s narrow-minded suspicions.’

‘I see.’

Whilst she’d already told him that she didn’t need him to act as her protector, Sophia couldn’t deny the wave of warmth that his compassionate defence stirred inside her. It was an exhilarating feeling, and she wondered what she had done to deserve it. Having dealt with her problems single-handedly for so long, it was irresistibly comforting to have someone exhibit compassion towards her.

Just when Jarrett seemed about to make another plea for them to leave, she lifted a slender brow, smiled, and asked lightly, ‘Does our little trip to the seaside include food? It’s just that you’re dragging us away from that incredible-looking feast up there on the patio and I’m feeling rather hungry.’

‘I’ll treat you both to a five course meal at a swanky restaurant, if that’s any inducement?’

‘You don’t need to go that far. Charlie and I are extremely partial to a bit of fish and chips at the seaside.’

With a cheeky grin that squeezed Jarrett’s heart, Sophia swept past him to inform her son about the sudden change of plans.

Not only had Sophia collected her camera by the time Jarrett had followed her and Charlie home in his Range Rover, but she’d also picked up her son’s swim-trunks, towel, and a bucket and spade.

When they got to the beach she made a foray into the frigid sea in her rolled-up jeans and shirt—with a shrieking Charlie splashing about beside her—whilst Jarrett stood barefoot in the sand calmly watching them, declaring that they must be mad to even think of immersing themselves in such freezing cold water. Though she didn’t turn round to check, Sophia sensed his eyes on her as though they were twin suns burning into her skin. Just the thought of him observing her was enough to make her temperature rise, despite the cold of the sea.

To distract herself from the realisation, she dipped her hands into the water, spun round and aimed what she’d collected at Jarrett. The water hit him straight in the face.

‘I can’t believe you just did that.’ He rubbed at his dripping eyelids and scowled.

Laughing out loud at his shocked expression, Sophia couldn’t prepare herself for his reaction. Never mind that he was going to get soaked, Jarrett raced up beside her, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her high into his arms.

Charlie could scarcely contain his delight. ‘What are you going to do with my mummy, Mr Jarrett?’ he squealed.

‘All’s fair in love and war, Charlie.’ Directing the comment at Sophia, Jarrett gave her an unashamedly roguish grin.

Her heart thumped in alarm when she realised that he was probably going to dump her fully clothed into the sea, so she fastened her arms round his neck and made her expression as fierce as she was able. ‘Don’t you dare! If you do I’ll take you with me, I swear!’

‘That’s a puny threat. I’m twice your size. You’re hardly strong enough to take me down with you.’

‘Try me!’ Sophia warned.

But as her furious gaze locked with his the volatile tenor of the situation changed completely to something far more exciting and disturbing to her peace of mind. His nearness, along with the sexily musky aroma of his cologne, made her feel dangerously weak. Not just weak but aroused … Straight away she saw by Jarrett’s darkened pupils that she was having the same effect on him.

‘Maybe I’ll save the dunking for another day,’ he commented huskily, then abruptly returned her to her feet and the freezing water that lapped the shore.

Murmuring, ‘In your dreams …’ to hide her embarrassment, Sophia directed her full attention back to her son. ‘Come on, Charlie, let’s run towards the waves and run back again before they reach us!’

By the time she and Charlie ran back onto the shore, a few minutes later, Jarrett was waiting with the generous sized bathtowel she’d brought from home. Catching her eye, he smiled as if to reassure her he held no grudges about her splashing him with ice-cold seawater. Then he unhesitatingly wrapped the towel around Charlie, as if genuinely concerned that he get warm and dry again as quickly as possible.

Sophia was certain that anyone observing them would assume that he was the boy’s father. Their colouring—apart from the eyes, of course—was practically identical. The notion gave her the strangest most unsettling pang. Jarrett was bigger, leaner and more muscular in build than her husband Tom had been … taller too. It wasn’t likely that Charlie would reach a similar height. Yet he would undoubtedly be handsome when he was grown.

Ruffling her son’s damp corkscrew curls, Jarrett stood aside so that Sophia could finish off the drying and help him get dressed. With his T-shirt and shorts on again, Charlie was eager to collect some seashells, so he skipped a little bit further on down the beach with his red bucket and spade, his mother’s clear instruction to not wander out of her sight ringing in his ears. Deliberately avoiding glancing directly at Jarrett, because his commanding masculine presence was making her feel painfully self-conscious, she lifted her long, drenched plaits off the back of her neck, arranged the towel round her shoulders and stooped to pick up the straw bag with the spare set of clothing that she’d left lying on the sand next to her sandals. Her jeans and shirt were plastered icily to her skin where Charlie had splashed her.

‘I’m going over by those rocks to change,’ she told Jarrett, finally meeting his arresting cobalt gaze. ‘Would you keep an eye on Charlie for me?’

‘No problem. I’ll go and join him to help collect seashells.’

Even though they’d spent a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon together on the beach, and at the small seaside restaurant where they’d had fish and chips, Jarrett honestly hadn’t expected Sophia to invite him in when they reached High Ridge. But fate was on his side. Charlie had fallen asleep in his car seat.

Sophia got out of the car, peered in at him, then glanced round at Jarrett with an almost apologetic shrug. ‘Would you mind carrying him into the house for me? I’ll grab our things and open the door.’

On entering the hallway, he saw the ceiling with its old-fashioned cornices was far loftier than he’d anticipated, but the overall impression Jarrett got was that the place was as dark and dingy as Miss Havisham’s decaying manor in Great Expectations. The remaining evening light that did manage to stream in through the front door’s decorated windowpanes was nowhere near illuminating enough to make the place remotely welcoming. Underfoot was an equally dingy, well-trodden maroon carpet that in his view ought to be replaced, or at least given a professional clean.

As he followed Sophia into the house, carefully transporting her still-sleeping little boy in his arms, he couldn’t help reflecting that he’d love to help restore the place to its former beauty. But even as the thought stole into his mind Jarrett’s sight was helplessly waylaid by the graceful sway of the lithe yet shapely hips of the pretty woman in front of him. Her long slim legs along with the peach-like derrière snugly enclosed in a pair of almost shabby blue jeans suspended any further reflections bar the realisation that he wanted her. From the moment he’d seen her lissome shapely figure outlined by the clinging jeans and shirt at the beach, and briefly lifted her into his arms, he’d ached with every fibre of his being to be intimate with her—and soon.

‘You can put him down on the couch,’ his lovely companion instructed him, her porcelain cheeks flushing a little as her emerald eyes warily met his.

He willingly complied—but not before thinking how much he’d love to free her beautiful chestnut hair from the plaits she’d worn all day, knowing that it would ripple down her back like a pre-Raphaelite beauty’s. Jarrett had a powerful compulsion to comb out the long silken skeins with his fingers, then gently smooth them back so that he could more closely examine the sublime contours of her lovely face.

‘I can carry him up to bed if you’d prefer?’

Sophia declined the offer. ‘He’ll be fine right here on the couch. We don’t use the bedrooms upstairs. There’s a lot of work to be done to make them anywhere near habitable, I’m afraid. Charlie and I sleep in what was once the parlour. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, got rid of the dust and cobwebs—that sort of thing. I’ve put up some new curtains and arranged our beds in there. There’s even a fireplace that we can use in the winter if need be. The house doesn’t have the luxury of central heating, and I’m sure the temperatures will be bitter by then.’

After gently pulling the colourful crocheted blanket that lay folded at the end of the antique sofa over Charlie’s sleeping form, Jarrett straightened to give her his undivided attention. ‘I don’t mean this unkindly, but did you even know what you were doing when you bought a place like this?’

Sophia dropped the straw bag she’d taken to the seaside onto a nearby Edwardian chair and folded her arms. Then she lifted her chin in a gesture that clearly illustrated her defensiveness. ‘I didn’t buy it. Do I look like the kind of person who could afford to buy a house like this?’

He shrugged. ‘What does a person who can afford to buy an expensive period property look like? If you didn’t buy it, then how did you come to be here?’ Sensing this wasn’t the kind of information she readily wanted to share, he almost held his breath as he silently willed her not to keep it a secret.

Absently freeing the two covered red bands that secured her plaits, she started to loosen her hair. Jarrett’s mouth turned helplessly dry as he watched her comb her slender fingers through it. Just as he’d imagined, the luxurious fall of rippling dark strands might have come straight out of a pre-Raphaelite painting.

‘My aunt left it to me.’

‘Mary Wingham was your aunt?’

‘My great-aunt.’

Taken aback for a moment, he rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘Did you visit her much when she was alive?’

She looked downcast. ‘No. I didn’t. The last time I was here was when I was about twelve years old.’

‘Yet she bequeathed you this house?’

‘Yes.’

‘She must have been very fond of you.’

‘Hmm.’ The soft green eyes glimmered wryly. ‘My dad always told me she didn’t exactly like our family … although I think she secretly had a bit of a soft spot for him. Anyway, the last time I personally set eyes on her was at his funeral, and I remember her looking pretty upset. But I still don’t know why she chose to leave the place to me. Of course I’m very grateful that she did.’

‘But—’

‘I’m tired, and I really think I’ve answered enough questions for one day.’

Even though he yearned to hear more, the expression on Sophia’s face was determined enough to make Jarrett conclude he shouldn’t push his luck—and neither should he forget that for a woman who had an obvious tendency to be reclusive she had at least let her guard down enough to allow him to spend time with her and her son.