Terms Of Engagement

CHAPTER TWO

THE watery afternoon sunlight filtered through the damp haze hanging over the fields.

Highland cattle lifted their heads as Emma’s small car disturbed the peaceful sound of the birds and the gurgle of the freshwater stream. They watched with curious eyes as she drove past them on the narrow road.

For once Emma didn’t notice the magnificent animals; their shaggy coats and melting brown eyes were lost on her. Emma’s eyes were firmly on the road, which twisted and turned through the mountain scenery, but her mind was on the phone call she had made last night.

What had possessed her? she asked herself, for what had to be the millionth time. After Frazer McClarran had left last night, she had been filled with a fighting spirit. She would show him that she was well able to cope up here, she had told herself firmly. And in that mood of determination she had fixed the problem with the electricity with surprising ease. Then, fired by her success and a feeling of confidence, she had picked up the phone and rung her ex-husband.

Tori was right. Why not use her contacts if it would help her to stay here? It didn’t matter that her contact was Jonathan; their feelings for each other were in the past. They had both moved on now.

That bold spirit had been short-lived. Just hearing Jonathan’s voice had set a lot of poignant emotions into play. She didn’t love him, but she couldn’t hate him either. He had sounded so happy…but then why wouldn’t he be? Emma had seen pictures of his wife in a glossy magazine. Gina was incredibly beautiful…and they had a child now, something Jon had wanted above all else. Firmly Emma turned her thoughts away from that raw subject.

She wished her ex-husband well in his new life, but she didn’t want to know about it. When he had informed her on the phone that he was accompanying his location manager up to Scotland, and that he would personally call and take a look at her property, she had been taken aback—and totally horrified. But it had been too late to back out by that point, so she had found herself offering to book some accommodation for them both at the local inn. They would arrive tomorrow afternoon.

Emma’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. A feeling of ominous foreboding lay heavy in her heart.

She slowed her car as another vehicle came into sight. She recognised it as Frazer McClarran’s Land Rover. He looked as if he was having problems because it was positioned off the road with the bonnet up. A smile curved Emma’s lips. This might be fun.

She brought her car to a halt behind his and got out. ‘Morning, Mr McClarran,’ she said brightly.

Frazer stuck his head up from underneath the bonnet. ‘Good morning.’ His eyes moved over her slender figure. She was wearing faded jeans and a silky knit beige jumper which clung to her womanly curves. ‘Almost didn’t recognise you without your ballgown and boots.’

She hid her irritation behind a smile, and went to peer over his shoulder into the grimy depths of his engine. ‘Having problems?’ Her voice was light.

‘No, I like standing here with my head under the bonnet of my car. It protects me from the fierce Scottish sun.’ He flicked her an amused glance.

She smiled at him innocently, batting wide blue eyes, and then, pushing a well-manicured hand through the luxurious length of her hair, enquired, ‘Can I be of some assistance?’

‘I doubt it.’ He grinned. ‘Unless you carry a spanner in your handbag.’

‘Sorry.’ She smiled, as if unaware that he was being sarcastic. She watched for a moment as he tinkered about unsuccessfully.

He was wearing blue jeans teamed with a blue crew-neck jumper. His body was well toned, not an ounce of spare flesh on him, a hard, flat stomach, powerful shoulders. She wondered if he worked out.

‘Don’t let me detain you.’ He glanced around at her again.

‘That’s OK. I’m not in a hurry.’

She watched for a little while longer, then suggested softly, ‘Maybe you’ve got some dirt in the carburettor?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Have you checked it?’

He glared at her.

She ignored the look and smiled provocatively. ‘Or perhaps it’s just a loose connection?’

‘Look, I suggest you get off to do your shopping,’ he muttered. ‘And leave me to fix my car in peace.’

‘If you want.’ Then with another smile she reached into the engine. ‘I’ll just have a look before I go.’

Frazer stood back, staring at the back of her red-gold head with barely concealed impatience. He could smell her perfume, a flowery, feminine scent, not unappealing. Then his eyes moved to the shapely line of her bottom in those jeans. ‘Look, Mrs Sinclair, do you mind getting out of my way?’ he grated.

‘Fine.’ She straightened and bent to wipe her hands on the damp grass verge. ‘I’ll think you’ll find that it’s all right now,’ she said with quiet confidence.

‘What do you mean?’ He stared at her as if she had suddenly grown another head.

‘I mean if you try the engine it should start.’ She smiled. ‘That is unless you really like standing with your head under the bonnet, sheltering from the fierce Scottish sun?’ She couldn’t resist the jibe, before sauntering back to her own car.

Frazer McClarran got back into his vehicle and tried the engine. It fired into life with the first turn of the ignition key. The look of astonishment on his face as she drove past him made Emma chuckle to herself all the way down the steep mountain roads.

The small village of Glenmarrin lay on the coast, a few miles away from Emma’s land. It was a picturesque fishing port which nestled in the curve of the bay, surrounded by the majesty of the mountainous countryside. It had one main street, with a few shops and houses around the harbour, and was the sort of place where everyone seemed to know everyone else.

Emma parked her car by the harbour and walked across the road to pick up some groceries at the small supermarket. The first day that Emma had ventured down here for supplies she had found herself the centre of attention. Everyone had seemed very friendly.

Mrs Murray, the proprietor of the shop, greeted Emma warmly now as she walked through the door. She was a cheery woman, large and attractive, with a laugh that was infectious.

‘How are you settling in, dear?’ she asked politely as she rang up Emma’s purchases on the till.

‘Very well, thank you.’

‘If you have any problems, you can always ask your neighbour, you know—Frazer McClarran. Lovely man.’

‘Yes, we have met. He seems nice enough,’ Emma replied nonchalantly.

‘Nice?’ The woman looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘There are men and then there are men. Frazer McClarran is in a league of his own—a tower of strength to the community. A member of the mountain rescue team, a hard worker, a loyal friend.’

Emma felt as if she was being reprimanded. ‘I’m sure he is.’

‘He’s also a confirmed bachelor. Every eligible woman in the town has made a play for Frazer, but he’s not one to be tied down.’

‘Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman.’

Emma smiled to herself as she walked back to her car to put her provisions in the boot. Frazer might be a member of the mountain rescue team, but she had done the rescuing today.

The sun had taken possession of a suddenly bold blue sky. All that remained for Emma to do was go into the Traveller’s Rest Hotel and book her ex-husband a room.

The knowledge dulled her amusement and brought back her earlier uncertainties. Her instincts told her this wasn’t a good idea. Indeed, it could be a vast mistake.

Emma’s eyes moved to the old black and white building further up the road, the only hotel in the area. Her steps were slow as she headed back towards it. A seagull on the roof watched her approach, then seemed to let out a wild, cackling laugh. Maybe he agreed with her, Emma thought wryly. She had probably taken leave of her senses. But then desperate situations called for desperate measures.

As she crossed the road, a sudden flurry of rain started. It was so totally unexpected that it made her gasp. Her head down against the cold downpour, she ran the last few yards to the steps of the hotel. Her long hair obscuring her vision, she didn’t see the man who was also running towards the steps from the opposite direction. They collided with a jolt.

‘I’m sorry.’ He reached out a hand to steady her.

She looked up, and found herself looking into Frazer McClarran’s dark eyes.

‘It’s you again,’ she murmured breathlessly.

The rain was cool against her skin. It trickled over the thickness of her eyelashes, blurring his handsome features for a moment.

‘Better get in out of this,’ he said. His hand still resting at her waist, he ushered her politely up and through the doors.

‘Whew! I wasn’t prepared for that,’ she said, brushing the rain off her face and running a smoothing hand over her hair. ‘I thought it was going to be sunny this afternoon.’

‘Always expect the unexpected in Glenmarrin,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘Maybe I should have remembered that myself, when I ran into you this morning.’

She grinned back at him. ‘How is the car?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ His eyes flicked briefly over her appearance. She was wet, and the pale ribbed jumper clung tightly over a very shapely outline. ‘Where did you learn to fix a car like that?’

‘I have two brothers who are both car-mad.’ She was trying not to notice the way he had just looked at her. Was it her imagination or had there been a glimmer of male interest in those dark eyes? ‘I decided to beat them at their own game and did a course at college on car maintenance a few years ago.’

‘Very impressive.’

‘It put you in your place anyway.’ She smiled.

He had the grace to cringe. ‘I’m sorry. Was I being patronising?’

‘Just a little.’

‘I was having a bad morning.’ He smiled. ‘I hope you won’t hold it against me.’

Heavens, when he smiled at her like that she would let him get away with almost anything, she thought. Frazer McClarran was gorgeous. The notion discomfited her. He wasn’t her type, she told herself firmly. He was off-limits. She had given men up.

‘So what are you doing here?’ he asked casually.

‘I want to book a couple of rooms for…some friends.’ She faltered slightly, wondering if she should say it was for her ex-husband, then decided forcefully that was her own business. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m organising a stag night here tomorrow night.’

‘Oh?’ Was he getting married? she wondered. Maybe Mrs Murray didn’t know everything.

‘Did you get your errant goat back under lock and key?’

‘Yes, your underwear is safe again.’ She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Molly is back where she belongs. But it took three of us this morning to catch her.’

He laughed. ‘Rosa will be pleased.’

‘Rosa?’

‘My housekeeper.’

They were interrupted by a woman coming out to the reception desk beside them. She was an attractive blonde in her early twenties. ‘Frazer, this is a nice surprise,’ she said cheerfully. ‘What brings you in here on a Friday afternoon?’

‘Mark’s stag night.’ Frazer turned with a smile. ‘How are you, Angela?’

It wasn’t his stag night, Emma noted. Not that it made a blind bit of difference to her whether this man was about to be married or not.

‘Bearing up, under the circumstances.’ Angela patted her stomach. She wore a black dress that did little to disguise the fact that she was heavily pregnant.

‘How long have you got to go now?’

‘Another month, would you believe?’

‘You’re looking well.’

Angela laughed, then looked curiously at Emma.

‘This is Emma Sinclair. Ethan Daniels’ niece.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’

Emma wondered if she was imagining the momentary look of surprise on the woman’s face. It was as if she’d done a double take on her appearance.

‘We were very sorry to hear about your uncle’s death.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said politely, then felt impelled to explain, ‘I didn’t really know him very well.’

‘Not a lot of people did. He withdrew into himself after his daughter’s death. Became a near recluse.’

There was a feeling of awkwardness for a moment. Then Angela said in a bright, businesslike tone, ‘Well, Frazer, what can I do for you?’

‘Better see to Mrs Sinclair first,’ Frazer replied. ‘She wants to book some rooms.’

‘No, it’s OK. You go ahead.’ Emma was happy to put off the moment. She was starting to think she should ring Jon and tell him there was no accommodation available. ‘I’m not in a hurry. I don’t particularly want to go back outside until it stops raining anyway.’

Frazer shrugged. ‘Fair enough. It’s just that Mark’s decided we should have the meal earlier, Angela, and there are a few extra guests now.’

As Emma listened idly her eyes moved over Frazer’s long, lean form. She wasn’t surprised to learn he was a member of the mountain rescue team. He was the epitome of the outdoor athletic type, ruggedly masculine, laden with sex appeal, yet so casually natural that he seemed totally unaware of it.

Emma’s attention wandered. Her eyes moved over the reception area—a red tartan carpet and walls panelled with dark wood. The building was obviously hundreds of years old; the floors seemed to be uneven and the doorways through to the bar were low, the ceiling beamed with black oak. Through the open door she could see there was only one old man in the bar lounge. He was sitting by a large inglenook fireplace which held the remaining glimmer of a dying fire, a pint in front of him. He looked as if he was asleep.

She wondered what Jon would think of this place. His world was cocooned in absolute luxury; he only stayed in top-class hotels. She pulled herself up sharply. She didn’t care what Jon thought. All she wanted was the opportunity to start her life afresh here.

‘How many rooms did you want to book, Mrs Sinclair?’ Angela finished dealing with Frazer and turned to her.

‘Two singles for tomorrow night.’ Emma was very conscious of the fact that even though Frazer’s business was concluded he continued to stand next to her.

Angela turned on a computer screen next to her. ‘Was it just for one night?’

‘Yes, I think so.’ She hoped so.

‘And what name is the booking to be made in?’

‘Lesley May and Jonathan Sinclair.’ Emma felt very uncomfortable now. The woman keyed in the names and smiled at her.

‘They’re flying up from London to Edinburgh in the morning, then driving here. They should arrive late in the afternoon.’

‘That’s fine,’ Angela said easily.

‘Thank you.’ Emma swallowed hard. There, she’d done it.

She’d face Jon tomorrow and pretend to herself that he was just a stranger.

She turned and looked up at Frazer. For a fleeting second he noticed the haunting sadness in her eyes. Then she smiled, and the shadows were banished, making him wonder if he had imagined them.

‘It’s still raining,’ he remarked, looking towards the doors. ‘I’m going to have a coffee in the lounge. Would you care to join me?’

Emma hesitated, then nodded. Company was just what she needed to take her mind off what she had just done. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘I’ll get Sandra to bring them through for you,’ Angela said as they made their way into the other room.

She noticed how Frazer had to bend his head to get into the bar. The man by the fire looked up, then seemed to fall back to sleep again.

‘Lively place, isn’t it?’ Frazer remarked with a grin as he led the way up to the sofas in the window. Emma sat opposite to him.

There was a feeling of tension as she met his eyes. It was strange, but he made her very aware of herself as a woman. She wondered if her hair was a mess after that rain, and wished now she had excused herself and gone to the ladies’ before following him in here. The opportunity to refresh her lipstick and tidy her hair would have been most welcome. She moistened her lips nervously. His eyes rested for a moment on the softness of her mouth. There was something blatantly sensual about that look, something that made Emma’s pulses quicken.

She searched for something to say, something to break the bizarre intimacy of the moment. ‘When does your friend get married?’ It was the best subject she could come up with.

‘Saturday week.’

‘It’s to be hoped the weather picks up,’ she said idly, looking past him at the rain which pounded against the windows, obscuring the view of the harbour in a watery haze.

‘Yes, I hope so. Especially as they’ve hired a marquee for the occasion.’

‘Apparently they come with heating installed, and it doesn’t really matter if the weather isn’t good,’ she continued lightly.

‘As long as it isn’t blowing a gale,’ Frazer said with a grin, ‘they should be all right.’

When he smiled it lit his eyes. They were wonderfully warm and dark. With difficulty she turned her attention away from his good looks.

‘Are you the best man?’

Frazer nodded. ‘I’ve known Mark and Ruth for years.’

A young woman brought a tray of coffee and put it down on the table. She smiled at Frazer shyly, and blushed when he smiled back at her.

‘Thanks, Sandra.’

She nodded and left them.

‘That’s Angela’s young sister. She’s seventeen.’ Frazer reached to pour their drinks. ‘Do you take cream and sugar?’ He glanced up at her.

‘No, I take it black, thanks.’

‘So where do you hail from, Emma? May I call you Emma?’ he asked casually.

‘Please do.’ She noticed how small the delicate cup and saucer looked in his hand. She took the drink from him, being careful not to brush against his skin. Why, she couldn’t have said.

This man was having a very curious effect on her.

Emma leaned back in the sofa and crossed her long legs, trying her best to appear relaxed. ‘I was brought up in Kent, but I’ve lived most of my life in London.’

‘So you’re a country girl at heart?’

She smiled. ‘I like to think so, but I’ve still got a lot to learn.’

‘You’re determinedly forging your way through those library books?’ He laughed.

She felt herself colouring with embarrassment. ‘I know it probably sounds silly to you. Obviously there is no substitute for experience. But I’ve got to start somewhere.’

He nodded. ‘It doesn’t sound silly. I shouldn’t have laughed,’ he said gently.

The sincere note in his voice made her senses respond to him in a very strange manner. Maybe her first judgement of him had been harsh.

‘I was just stunned that you were attempting to run that estate on your own with no real knowledge of even the basics of farming.’

‘I’m getting the hang of things,’ she assured him swiftly. ‘And I’ve got farm labourers to help.’

‘You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.’ He leaned forward, an earnest light in the darkness of his eyes. ‘But you know that estate is in a bad state of disrepair. It’s going to be bleak there this winter. Life can be harsh up here at the best of times.’

She felt the hand of reality settle firmly on her shoulder, and with it disappointment. ‘This isn’t a prelude to you offering to buy the estate from me again, is it?’ she asked warily. ‘Because, if so, the answer is still no.’

‘It’s just neighbourly concern,’ he said gently. ‘Ethan’s estate isn’t really the place for a young widow on her own. Especially a woman who is used to the city.’

‘Well, I can assure you I’m going to be fine,’ Emma said firmly. ‘And I’m not a widow,’ she corrected him. ‘I’m divorced.’

‘Oh!’ He sat back. ‘I’m sorry. The talk in the village was that you were recently widowed.’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know where they got that idea from.’

He laughed. ‘Did you ever play that game Chinese Whispers when you were a child?’

She smiled. ‘Yes, I think I did.’

‘Well, Glenmarrin is the home of that kind of gossip. What one person says is distorted as it passes down the chain, until it bears little resemblance to the truth once it reaches the last person in the line. And the trouble is you can’t avoid hearing the rumours even if you try. News of a young widow inheriting Ethan’s place has been the number one subject for weeks.’

‘Sounds like the social scene in London. Maybe things in the country aren’t so different after all.’ Emma grinned, then added impulsively, ‘Anyway, they’ll probably all know the truth by tomorrow. I’m divorced, and one of the rooms I’ve just booked was for my ex-husband.’