LITMIR.BIZ

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another guessing game?’ She sighed at his steady stare. ‘Fourteen,’ she said, adding a year to her best estimate for the sake of his young male ego.

      ‘Fifteen,’ he corrected gloomily.

      ‘Oh…well, what I said actually still goes,’ she consoled him. ‘My mother thought the Bible was the only book worth reading. Novels were a big no-no in our house.’

      His thin face took on an expression of sheer horror. ‘You weren’t allowed to read any fiction at all?’

      She shrugged. ‘Not at home. I used to keep a stash in my locker at school, though.’

      ‘But that’s censorship! You should have told her that she couldn’t violate your rights like that,’ he said, showing he was a true child of the modern age. ‘I’m allowed to read anything I like.’

      ‘Lucky you. I guess your mother must be a real liberal, huh?’

      ‘I don’t know. Clare lives in America. My parents divorced when I was born, and I stayed with Dad.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

      ‘Why?’

      She was taken aback. ‘Well…I’m sorry because you didn’t have your mother there when you were a baby,’ she said, stepping gingerly.

      ‘Why? Don’t you think that men can single-parent as well as women?’

      Regan rolled her eyes. She had a feeling that this gangly youth might well best her in a debate. A question seemed to be his favourite form of reply.

      ‘Look, I really have to go.’ She couldn’t believe she had stood here chatting when Adam might already be back on the prowl. She had to find out what he was doing here and whether it was going to be possible to avoid him. If he was just a visitor maybe she could keep out of the way long enough for him to think he had made a mistake…

      ‘Sir Frank and Mrs Harriman are probably wondering where I am.’ She hesitated, looking around.

      ‘The house is back that way.’ He pulled his hand from his pocket and pointed over her left shoulder.

      ‘Thanks.’ She still hesitated.

      ‘If you turn right when you get to the bark track behind that tree big fern you’ll come out of the bush by the front flower garden,’ he added.

      She gave him a sharp look, but his thin face was telling her nothing. If he was willing to help her, he surely couldn’t be in league with Adam.

      ‘OK—thanks again. Bye…’

      ‘See you around,’ came the laconic reply.

      She paused, looking over her shoulder. ‘Will you?’

      ‘Probably.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m Ryan.’

      She wondered what test she’d passed that he was willing to honour her with the information so far stubbornly withheld. ‘I’m Regan. I’m here to help Mrs Harriman organise her granddaughter’s wedding.’

      Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t respond and she offered him a cheerful wave and went on her way.

      She discovered that her trust in him was justified, and five minutes later she was politely greeting Hazel Harriman in the drawing room at the front of the house and apologising for the state of her hands.

      ‘You look as if you’ve been pulled through a hedge backwards, lass!’ Sir Frank said, when she’d explained that she had strayed off the path amongst the trees and tripped over some creepers.

      ‘Trust you to be blunt to the point of rudeness, Frank,’ said the tall, thin, elegantly dressed woman on the Victorian sofa. Her strapped right ankle was propped on a footstool and a lightweight fibreglass cast covered her left arm from the base of her fingers to her elbow. A single crutch was propped against the arm of the sofa and an open Brides magazine lay on the polished mahogany occasional table beside her knee, along with the remains of her afternoon tea.

      She turned a coolly gracious smile up to Regan, her dark brown eyes compassionate for her obvious embarrassment.

      ‘Take no notice, my dear. I designed these grounds specifically to tempt people to explore rather than just to stand and stare.’ She tilted her beautifully coiffured ash-blonde head. ‘Won’t you sit down? I’ll ask Mrs Beatson to bring you a refreshing cool drink or cup of tea.’

      ‘Tea, please,’ elected Sir Frank. ‘And scones. With cream and some of that homemade kiwi fruit jam of yours.’

      His sister-in-law gave him a quelling look. ‘Plain tea and biscuits is all you’ll get from Alice,’ she said firmly. ‘The doctor sent her your diet sheet.’

      ‘I think I may have ended up with some tree sap on my skirt as well,’ said Regan, declining to besmirch any of the antique cream and white striped armchairs. Her nerves were on full alert as she tried to pay full attention to her hostess while also keeping one wary eye on the door for Adam, half expecting him to burst in and denounce her for a wanton harlot. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I changed first…’

      ‘Of course, and you might like a shower after your hot drive, too. Why don’t I get Alice to show you to your room? Although you’ll forgive us if the bed isn’t made up yet, since we weren’t expecting any more guests today.’ She slanted a look at her brother-in-law which made him scowl sheepishly.

      ‘I’m sorry. I quite understand, Mrs Harriman. I don’t want to be a burden—I can make up the bed myself if someone shows me where the linen cupboard is,’ said Regan. Whatever discussion had gone on between them before she’d arrived, it was evident that Sir Frank’s steamroller generosity had paid off, but that Hazel Harriman was gracefully making him aware of her displeasure.

      The smile in the soft brown eyes shifted from one of politeness to genuine warmth. ‘Now I’m the one embarrassing you, Regan—forgive me, but I couldn’t resist that little dig at Frank. You don’t have to feel awkward—I know exactly what he’s like. This idea of his was probably sprung on you with much the same lack of notice as he gave me. He calls my side of the family bossy, but he really takes the cake!’

      ‘Cake, huh!’ Sir Frank rumbled. ‘Tea and biscuits is all I get around here!’

      ‘And please do call me Hazel,’ the other woman went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘because we want to be comfortable with each other if we’re going to be working side by side for the next few weeks. Much as I hate to admit it, I do need someone to help—I’m left-handed and I have endless letters and lists still to deal with. And Carolyn is in such a mental tizzy that she can’t seem to concentrate on anything at the moment…’

      One of the tight knots of tension loosened in Regan’s chest at the rueful admission of relief. At least now, on top of her other worries, she needn’t fear that she was leeching off a reluctant hostess.

      ‘Now, why don’t you go upstairs with Alice and settle in?’ Hazel ordered briskly. ‘And later she can show you around the house, so you can get your bearings. We can leave our little get-to-know-you chat until later. Meanwhile, I suppose I should see how the meal will stretch to two extra…I think Alice told me she was doing a stuffed salmon…’

      Oh, God, was she going to have to face Adam across a formal table?

      ‘You said you weren’t expecting any more guests?’ Regan blurted. ‘Does that mean you have some staying here already?’

      She held her breath until Hazel shook her head, her softset curls shimmering. ‘Not staying, no—except for Carolyn, of course, and she often flits back to Auckland to stay overnight at her flat. No, by “guests” I meant that Carolyn’s having a little impromptu party here later this evening for some of our local friends. It’ll be a nice, informal introduction for you.

      ‘And we do have plenty of visitors popping in and out during the course of the day. Joshua’s staying down at Palm Court,

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