His Convenient Marriage - Sara Craven

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rains but it pours.’ That was what Mrs Chubb, their current and longest-serving daily help would say.

      Her little laugh turned into a groan. Once she’d told Miles her decision, it would be impossible for her to stay on at Silvertrees. In spite of his assurances, it would make things altogether too awkward.

      There was a temping agency in the nearby town. She would make enquiries there, and then trawl through the letting bureaux for the cheapest possible flat.

      Oh, why had Miles done this to her? she asked herself with something bordering on despair. Things had been fine as they were, and now everything was ruined again. And it wasn’t as if he even wanted her.

      Although that was something to be grateful for, at least. Because what would she have done if he had ever made a move on her?

      Before she could stop herself, for one startled, stunned moment, she found she was imagining herself in Miles’ arms, breathing the musky scent of his skin, feeling his mouth move on hers, coaxing her lips apart. His lean, long-fingered hand grazing her skin in a first caress …

      Chessie came gasping back to reality, like a diver reaching the surface of some deep lake. Every inch of her body was tingling. Inside the silk shirt, her small breasts were burning, the nipples hardening helplessly.

      Her eyes were green, like a drowsy cat’s, she thought, gazing at herself in horror. Her lips, parted and trembling.

      There was no way she could return to the table like this. Or he would know. And then she would be totally lost.

      Oh, God, she thought frantically. What’s happening to me? And what am I doing to myself?

      And could find no answer that made any sense at all.

       CHAPTER THREE

      IF I don’t go back to the table soon, thought Chessie, combing her hair for the umpteenth time, Miles will be sending out a search party.

      Her skin no longer scorched her, but she was still shaking inside, and her hand felt too unsteady to renew her lipstick.

      The cloakroom door opened, and two girls came in, giggling together. Chessie was aware of the curious glances they sent her as they passed by.

      She thought, I cannot go on hiding like this.

      As she walked reluctantly back towards the dining area, she was waylaid by Jim Fewston. ‘Evening, Miss Lloyd. Hope you enjoyed your meal.’

      ‘The food was delicious,’ she assured him. But as for enjoyment …

      ‘And how’s that young sister of yours?’ He shook his head. ‘These days—they grow up before you know it.’

      ‘Yes,’ Chessie said. ‘I suppose they do.’

      ‘Sometimes,’ he went on. ‘they can be a little too grown-up for their own good.’

      Suddenly, Chessie was uneasy. Up to then she’d thought Mr Fewston was just being the jovial landlord. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

      He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I hope she wasn’t too put out the other night. In a strange pub, she might have got away with it, but I’ve known her all her life, as you might say, and I know she’s not eighteen yet.’

      He paused. ‘The local police are down on under-age drinking like a ton of bricks, and I’m not prepared to risk my licence. I don’t care for the lad she was with either, so

      when she started pushing her luck, and asking for vodka and tonic, I had to ask them to leave.’

      He sighed. ‘I’m sure you understand my position, and no hard feelings either way.’

      ‘I don’t think I understand much at all.’ Chessie shook her head. ‘Are you saying that Jenny has been in here trying to buy alcohol? I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.’

      ‘No mistake, Miss Lloyd.’ His voice was kind, but firm. ‘Why don’t you ask her, my dear? Often a quiet word is all that’s needed. I know it can’t be easy raising a girl of that age when you’re only a slip of a thing yourself, but this is something that wants nipping in the bud. And I’d keep an eye on her boyfriends, too,’ he added with a touch of grimness.

      ‘But Jenny has no boyfriends.’ Chessie’s protest was bewildered. ‘She doesn’t even go out at night. She’s in her room, studying.’

      ‘Not every night, Miss Lloyd, and other publicans will tell you the same. I suggest you make enquiries.’ He gave her a polite nod, and went back into the bar.

      She stood for a moment, staring after him dazedly, trying to assimilate what he’d told her. To make some sense of it. Jenny, she thought. Jenny?

      As she made her way back to the table she saw that their waitress had brought the cafetière. But she didn’t move away immediately. She was smiling and talking as she rearranged the cups and cream jug, bending over the table towards Miles as she did so. Fiddling with the collar of her blouse, Chessie realised, and pushing back her hair.

      My God, she thought incredulously. She’s coming on to him. She really is. And he’s not exactly brushing her off either. He’s leaning back in his chair, amused, but taking the whole thing in his stride.

      It brought home to her once again just how little she really knew about the way in which Miles Hunter conducted his private life. In fact the entire evening had awoken all kinds of uncertainties she could well have done without.

      She found herself moving forward more quickly, and the girl, noticing her approach, gave one last smile then hurried away.

      As Chessie sank into her seat Miles glanced across at her, his brows snapping together interrogatively. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Not a thing.’ Chessie summoned a smile of her own. ‘I was just thinking how attentive the service is here.’ She could hear the waspishness in her voice, and groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to sound jealous or proprietorial in any way.

      But Miles, fortunately, seemed oblivious to any undercurrents.

      ‘Your friends run a smooth operation,’ he returned. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that there’s something the matter. What is it? Are you ill?’

      ‘No—really.’ She swallowed. ‘But it’s getting late. Would you mind if we just paid the bill and left?’

      ‘Yes, I think I would,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘Whatever Jenny’s been up to, it can wait until we’ve completed our first meal together in a civilised manner. In fact, I suggest you have a brandy. You look as if you need it.’

      Indignation swamped her. ‘Why should it be anything to do with Jenny?’

      ‘Because that’s what that stricken look of yours inevitably means.’ His glance challenged her to deny it. ‘Will you have that brandy?’

      Biting her lip, she nodded silently.

      ‘Good.’ Miles gave her a faint smile as he signalled to the waitress. ‘Rushing off in all directions won’t solve a thing.’

      ‘It’s so easy for you,’ she said bitterly. ‘Jenny is not your responsibility.’

      ‘Not at the moment, certainly.’ He saw the swift colour flood her face, and his smile widened sardonically. ‘Which, I suppose, is your cue to tell me that you wouldn’t have me if I came gift-wrapped.’

      ‘No.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘You asked me to think it over, and I will.’ After all, she reasoned, she needed a breathing space to find a new job—a new flat. And she needn’t feel too badly about it either. Judging by tonight’s performance, he’d have little trouble finding a replacement when she turned him down.

      ‘Hopefully it will have the added bonus of diverting your mind from Jenny, too.’

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