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suppose so. Although it seems odd—having him back here just as if nothing had happened.’

      He shrugged. ‘It must have been with his father’s agreement, Clo, so it’s their family business, not ours.’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She played with a fork. ‘I understand Sir Gregory’s getting over his stroke.’

      ‘Indeed he is. Coming on by leaps and bounds, according to the latest reports.’

      ‘I’m glad. I always liked him, although he could be intimidating.’ She paused. ‘I used to go up the Hall when I was in my teens and read to Lady Maynard when she was so ill.’

      ‘How did that happen?’

      ‘I won a school poetry competition that she judged. I enjoyed being with her. She was the sweetest person. Darius was with her a lot too and I always felt that he was secretly her favourite.’ She paused. ‘I was always glad she didn’t know how he turned out. What he did to—Andrew.’ She bit her lip. ‘Betrayal’s such a terrible thing.’

      ‘It is,’ Ian said quietly. ‘But we don’t actually know the circumstances. Maybe they couldn’t help themselves.’

      Upon which the first course arrived, and the conversation turned inevitably to the food.

      And Ian was quite right about the pork, Chloe decided after she’d tasted one of the tender cubes of fillet, flavoured with garlic and coriander, cooked in wine, and served with savoury brown rice and mangetouts.

      For dessert, she chose an opulent dark-chocolate mousse, well-laced with brandy, while Ian opted for cheese and biscuits.

      ‘You should have picked another pud, so we could share like we used to,’ she told him in mock reproach.

      He gave a constrained smile. ‘Out of practice, I guess.’

      For what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening, he took his mobile phone from his pocket and checked it.

      And what a very annoying habit that is, thought Chloe as she ate her last spoonful of mousse.

      Aloud, she said mildly, ‘Isn’t Uncle Hal taking your calls this evening?’

      ‘Well, yes.’ Ian replaced the phone in his jacket. ‘But I’m waiting for news of the Crawfords’ Kirsty. She’s a really good little bitch—won all kinds of shows already, and this may be her only litter, so it needs to go well.’

      Chloe’s brows lifted. ‘But I thought it had already happened last night.’

      ‘False alarm,’ he said. ‘Main event still expected at any moment, and they want me to stand by in case of emergency.’ He signalled to the waitress. ‘Would you like filter coffee or espresso?’

      She took a deep breath, summoning up courage she hadn’t thought she’d need. ‘Why don’t we make our minds up about that back at the cottage? It’s been a gorgeous meal, but a bit public for a proper reunion, don’t you think?’ She reached across the table, and touched his hand with hers. ‘I really think we need to spend some time alone together—and talk.’

      ‘Yes, of course we should, and I want that too,’ Ian said quickly. ‘But not tonight, Clo.’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘For one thing, the cottage is in a bit of a mess. For another—there’s been barely minimum contact between us for a whole year now. I’ve hardly heard from you, let alone seen you. Being on opposite sides of the country didn’t help, either, and both of us being so busy. And now you turning up out of the blue like this is frankly the last thing I was expecting.’

      He added quickly, ‘It isn’t that it’s not wonderful to see you, or that I don’t want you—please believe that. Just that maybe we should take it easy for a while—get to know each other again—before, well, anything …’

      His voice tailed off uncomfortably and in the silence that followed, Chloe could hear her heart beating a sudden tattoo—a call to arms. Because the situation was going terribly, disastrously wrong.

      Men go off the boil as quick as they go on it … Mrs Thursgood’s words rang ominously in her ears. But that couldn’t be happening—not to them …

      She removed her hand, and sat back in her chair. Summoned a smile that would somehow manage to be calm and amused at the same time. And give no hint of her inner turmoil of shocked disbelief.

      ‘Actually, you may well be right in wanting not to rush things.’ She made herself speak almost casually. ‘Being wise for both of us, no less. And, anyway, taking our time could be much nicer. Even exciting.’

      She paused. ‘Besides, you’re clearly up to your ears in work and the new plans for the practice. And I—I have to start looking for another job.

      ‘As for coffee,’ she added brightly. ‘I think I’d prefer decaf. And when the bill comes, in line with our fresh start, I insist we go Dutch.’

      And she stuck to her guns in spite of his obvious reluctance.

      Now all I want to do is get out of here, she thought, reaching for her bag, and the blue-and-gold fringed shawl she’d brought instead of a jacket.

      But the Fates hadn’t finished with her yet.

      As she walked back into the bar, the first person she saw was Darius Maynard at a table by the window, talking with apparent intimacy to a girl she’d never seen before, slim and very attractive in a sleeveless red dress, with blonde hair drawn back from her face into a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck

      And it seemed Darius had spotted her in return, she thought, her heart sinking as he rose to his feet, smiling faintly.

      ‘What a delightful surprise. Lindsay and I have been to the cinema in East Ledwick and we just popped in for a nightcap. Would you care to join us?’

      ‘It’s a kind thought, but I think I’ll pass, if you don’t mind.’ She had no wish to allow any hint of the edgy state of her relationship to become apparent to those shrewd green eyes, currently assessing the deep slash of her neckline. Or expose it to the scrutiny of some strange blonde either. ‘Stuff to do tomorrow and all that.’

      ‘But the night is still young,’ he said softly. ‘So, what about you, Cartwright? Surely you can talk your lady round?’

      ‘On the contrary,’ Ian returned, a little frostily. ‘Once Chloe’s made up her mind, it usually stays that way. And I also have a busy day ahead of me. But thanks again, anyway.’

      ‘I see that leopards don’t change their spots,’ Chloe commented as they walked to the jeep. ‘Who’s his latest fancy?’

      ‘Her name’s Lindsay Watson,’ Ian said shortly. ‘And she’s his father’s resident nurse.’

      Aunt Libby’s charming girl, thought Chloe and gave a faint whistle. ‘Under the same roof, even,’ she said lightly. ‘How very convenient.’

      ‘Not necessarily.’ Ian started the engine. ‘He’s not irresistible, you know.’

      When they reached the Grange, Chloe turned towards him. ‘I won’t invite you in, but does the fresh start merit a goodnight kiss?’ she asked, her voice teasing. ‘Or do we just shake hands?’

      ‘Of course I want to kiss you,’ he said with sudden roughness. ‘Any man would. Hell, even Maynard was looking at you as if he could eat you.’

      He pulled her into his arms, his mouth heavy and demanding where she’d expected tenderness—even diffidence. This was the moment she’d been dreaming of—longing for—yet she was struggling to respond, the thrust of his tongue between her parted lips feeling almost—alien.

      As his hand pushed aside the edge of her dress to close on her bare breast, she tore her mouth free and sat up abruptly, bracing her hands against his chest in negation.

      ‘Ian—no, please.’ she protested hoarsely.

      ‘What’s

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