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minutes later, her father steered his car round from the rear of the house where the garages were. He wound down a window as he passed and commented, ‘Old Stan will have your hide if you mess that up,’—Old Stan being the gardener—and went on down the drive.

      Karrie smiled and waved to her father, and tried to concentrate once more on her weeding. Never had an evening sped by so quickly. They’d talked and talked, she and Farne, and she hadn’t felt gauche or unsophisticated in his sophisticated company once. She supposed it said a lot for the man himself that he’d made her feel so comfortable with him. Oh, she’d just die if he never phoned again. Even while she knew there would be nothing in the world she could do about it if he didn’t ring her, she fell to wondering—did he like her? Just a tiny bit? He must do, mustn’t he? Otherwise he wouldn’t have phoned her in the first place. Oh, she did so hope that nothing she’d said or done had put him off. Had she...?

      Her thoughts at that moment were suspended after the sound of a car purring into the drive broke into them. Thinking that it was her father, returning from wherever he’d been, Karrie looked up—and got the shock of her life!

      It was not her father’s car which made its elegant way up to the top of the drive and which halted outside her front door. But the long, sleek black car in which she had been a passenger only last evening!

      At first Karrie thought that she’d had Farne so much on her mind that she was imagining that he was there. But no, as the man in his mid-thirties extracted his long length from the vehicle and, having spotted her, began to make his way over to her, she could see for herself that it was none other than Farne Maitland!

      Hurriedly she scrambled to her feet. She wanted to call out a greeting, but her voice seemed to have died on her. Had she left something in his car? Her brain went dead too—she couldn’t remember. Had he called on her to return whatever it was?

      Suddenly she became aware of his faultlessly cut trousers, shirt and tie—and her own grubby appearance. Then Farne was there, standing looking at her, his glance going from the bunches she had made of her hair, over the fine bone structure of her face, and down to her dirt-fingered tee shirt, baggy kneed trousers, and ending at her worn and soiled plimsolls. Karrie, left blushing furiously, was absolutely certain that she couldn’t have looked more scruffy if she’d tried!

      ‘Caught me looking my best again!’ she attempted, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her.

      ‘I didn’t think women did that any more,’ he remarked teasingly about her blush, his blue eyes now holding her brown ones.

      Trust him to notice! He smiled, and her knees felt as saggy as her trousers at his smile. ‘I only do it when there’s an “R” in the month,’ she managed to trot out lightly—regardless that it was July.

      His glance went down to her upward-curving mouth. ‘I’m on my way to lunch at The Feathers,’ he informed her, mentioning a smart hotel nearby. ‘I was passing when I thought I’d stop and ask if you’d join me?’

      Like a shot! Her heart went all fluttery. She wasn’t going to have to wait to see him! She wasn’t going to have to wait and hope he would phone! This was happening now! ‘My mother will hate me!’ Her prevarication was no prevarication at all. No way was she going to deny herself this opportunity of a few hours of his company. ‘I’ll let you be the one to tell her she’s peeled too many potatoes while I go and get cleaned up.’

      Taking Farne indoors, she left him talking with her mother while she went sedately up the stairs—and then positively flew around getting ready.

      Fifteen minutes later, wearing a dress of a delicate nasturtium colour, Karrie—just as sedately—returned down the stairs and went into the drawing room. Farne got to his feet. ‘Hope I didn’t keep you too long,’ she smiled, having completed the quickest scrub-up and change on record. He made no answer—but his glance was appreciative.

      ‘I’ll see you when I see you,’ Margery Dalton said, knowing full well that her daughter had an appointment elsewhere for tea.

      Karrie had been to The Feathers Hotel quite a few times before. But this time, lunching with Farne, everything seemed so much better, brighter—magical.

      Again she enjoyed his company. He was amusing, charming, attentive—and gave every appearance of seeming to enjoy being with her as much as she enjoyed being with him. Oh, she did so hope it was true, that it wasn’t all part and parcel of his natural charm—and that he wasn’t like this with everybody. In short—she wanted to be special to him.

      After lunch she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up and to give herself something of a talking to. For goodness’ sake—special to him! They hadn’t known each other a week! She had been out with him twice. Twice—that was all—and she wanted him to regard her as someone special in his life!

      Grief—he was a man about town. He could have his pick of just about anybody. What was so special about her? Karrie just then had a blindingly clear—and unwanted—mental picture of standing in front of Farne, her hair pulled back in two rubber bands, dirt everywhere—and also a picture of the polished and elegant women she was sure he more normally went out with. Special—get real!

      Pinning a smile on her face, she left the ladies’ room to join him. They went out to the hotel’s car park and, striving hard not to think that the drive to her home would take only about twenty minutes—less than that if Farne happened to put his foot down on the accelerator—Karrie got into the passenger seat.

      More joy was hers, however, when Farne forgot to turn left at a road junction. ‘You’ve missed the turn,’ she felt honour-bound to point out.

      ‘I thought we might go and take a look at the river,’ he replied. Her heart rejoiced. ‘That is, unless you’re desperate to get back?’

      She was desperate to stay exactly where she was, with him. ‘It’s very pleasant down by the river,’ she answered, desperate not to be pushy, but having a hard time not grabbing at every opportunity to be in his company.

      In no time they were in open countryside. When Farne pulled over by a footbridge and asked, ‘Fancy a stroll around?’ she thought it a splendid idea.

      They walked over the bridge, and, keeping by the water’s edge, across a couple of fields. And it was in one particularly grassy area that Farne commented, ‘If we’d had a car rug we could sit down.’

      ‘You city boys are too sissy for words,’ Karrie, scorned, and was seated on the grass before it dawned on her that was exactly what Farne had intended she should do. ‘You’re too smart for me!’ she accused, but he only grinned and joined her. For the next hour they seemed to amicably fall into a discussion on any subject that happened to crop up. Music, books, ski-ing. She didn’t know how ski-ing had got in there, but it had; everything was just so relaxed and easy between them, somehow.

      They both seemed to have gone from sitting to resting, lying on their elbows as they watched a couple of swans majestically glide by, when suddenly Karrie became aware that Farne was not watching the birds. He had turned and was looking at her.

      ‘You’re very lovely,’ he murmured quietly—and all at once her heart was rushing like an express train. There was something in his look, something in the very air that seemed to tell her that Farne wanted to kiss her. Well, that was all right by her, she wanted to kiss him too.

      His head came nearer. He looked deep into her eyes, giving her every opportunity to back away. She smiled a gentle smile—and he needed no further encouragement.

      Gently he took her into his arms, moving her unresisting form until they were lying together on the grass. Unhurriedly, his lips met hers in a lingering tender kiss, and it was the most wonderful experience she had ever known. Never had she known such tenderness, and, as her heart started to pound, Karrie knew that Farne Maitland was the love of her life. She was no longer falling in love with him. She did love him, was in love with him, and nothing was ever going to change that.

      When their kiss ended Karrie was left struggling to make

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