Forever His Darling

A little Christmas love in the country

Anastacia Harper is at the top of her modelling career - famous simply for being beautiful. But as Christmas approaches Ana can’t face another holiday alone in the fake celebrity world she inhabits. She’s desperate for a change of scenery and desperate to find the girl she once used to be…

Brooding and gorgeous, all Matt Darling wants to do this Christmas is lock the doors of Melville House and keep the world at bay. The last thing he needs is a model flouncing about in sequins pretending to be a country girl, but it looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

When the snow falls suddenly Ana and Matt find themselves trapped at Melville House with only each other for company. But there is magic in the air at Christmas that might just help Ana and Matt find exactly what they are looking for under the tree…

Forever His Darling

Sarah Randall

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Sarah Randall 2014

Sarah Randall asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781474007740

Version date: 2018-07-23

SARAH RANDALL

lives with her family in Lancashire and firmly believes that woman can survive on a diet of hot bubble baths, chocolate, red wine and a good romance book; preferable all at the same time.

To myparents, Norman and Pauline and in-laws, Margaret and Brian; with over 90 years of marriage between them they are the true romantics and all the inspiration I ever needed. (So Dad, does this guilt you into reading on…?)

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“You’ve done what!? Tell me you’re joking!” Matt yelled, spinning around to face his younger sister., burning his tongue and dropping the spoon on the floor.

Pip glanced up at him from her laptop as she sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen. Her eyes were wide with innocence behind the modern thick framed glasses but that old trick wasn’t going to work on him this time. She’d gone too far and he was angry; Tired and angry.

“Here,” Mrs Henderson thrust a glass of water into his hands; expertly maneuvering him away from the Aga and her bubbling stew. “I agreed to let them use Melville House to do a fashion shoot. It’s for Alix Anderson, the famous designer. He’s launching his new country wear range and using Anastacia as the model. It’s a no brainer Matt, it’s so exciting, I thought you’d be really pleased. I know I am!”

He bit on his lip hard, putting a halt to his planned volatile response as he watched Pip do a little jig in her chair. It had been a long time since his little sister had seemed happy and excited about anything. Since the summer, she’d agreed to take on more responsibility and assist Henry with the stud farm and house management. In reality Matt was still making all of the important day to day decisions, but he felt that Pip needed something to fill her time until she decided whether or not she was going back to university in Leeds to finish her business course. Which of course she was, she just needed to come to that conclusion on her own..

Clearly, he’d missed out on making this decision. It would certainly have been a “no brainer” to him…"No way in hell" would’ve been his standard reply to such an enquiry to use the house. Peace and tranquility were all he was interested in nowadays. He wasn’t about to let himself or his family become the focus of village tittle-tattle ever again.

Such requests weren’t unique. He’d frequently received pleas from film companies and the like to use the house and its grounds for film sets depicting a romantic, bygone era… films which were utter twaddle.Their mother had always put them off with one excuse or another, fearing upheaval to the house and village, and he’d simply followed her sensible stance. Generous financial enticement didn’t sway Matt; he didn’t need the money.

“Why the hell would you agree to it?” Matt held his arms out wide in question, accidentally spilling some of the water on the floor in the process and muttering a curse.

“Well duh, it’s Anastacia for goodness sake. And I did try to speak to you about it.” Pip rolled her eyes at him as she reached for a tube of Smarties next to her computer. “And I told them that they’d have to make a huge donation to your charity, so you see, you can’t possibly object, can you Matt?” she said, a pleading look on her face.

He narrowed his eyes; bemused as she tipped the Smarties out on the table and proceeded to pick out all the orange ones and pop them one by one into her mouth.

He shook his head at her weirdness before continuing. “But it’s our home, Pip, and when the hell did you try to tell me about it—wait, just wait,” he added with his hand in the air, “who’s coming?” He moved towards Pip and tried to dislodge George from beneath his feet. “George, bed,” he demanded, pleased that at least someone was listening to what he had to say as George trotted off to his bed obediently.

“Anastacia Harper, the top model,” both women giddily exclaimed in unison and laughed at each other.

Matt turned to Mrs Henderson. The woman had been the housekeeper at Melville since before he was born and liked to think of herself as his second mother. She was just as important to him.

“You know who this woman is?” raising his eyebrow at her.

“Of course sweetie, who doesn’t?” she responded, before turning back to the Aga and busying herself seasoning her stew. “Well, apart from you,” she called back over her shoulder.

Pip mumbled around the rest of the Smarties she was munching her way through, “Honestly Matt, you need to get your head out from those horses’ butts and keep up to date with what’s going on in the world. Here, catch.” Pip threw him the fashion magazine perched on the kitchen table. “I tried to talk to you about it a couple of weeks ago but you and Henry were in with the horses so I made an executive decision.”

“Pip, I hardly think that keeping up with fashion and the celebrity gossip can be classed as—”

Matt caught sight of a tumbling waterfall of vibrant red wavy hair framing a stunning pale oval face with a smattering of cute freckles on a pert nose,, vivid eyes as green as the fir trees in the forest surrounding Melville staring straight at him from the page of the magazine. A detached but beautifully refined look on the temptress’s face. It was a heady combination. He swallowed and paused for breath, acknowledging that perhaps he should pay more attention to the celebrity news.

He allowed his eyes to trace further down the page and acknowledge the rest of the photograph. It was obvious that this woman was not the traditional stick thin model usually favoured. No, this photograph showed off an hourglass figure through the black evening dress. She definitely had curves in all the right places, reminiscent of a Hollywood starlet from the 1950’s. Curves a man could no doubt spend hours worshipping and wow, that hair. He tentatively touched the page, running his fingers over her shoulders, imagining what it would feel like to run his hands through that hair and then grab a fist-full at the nape of her neck, forcing her to look up into his eyes, before seeking the comfort of her lips. He would later try to convince himself that the action had been entirely subconscious, but it was an argument even he wasn’t claiming to win. What it would feel like to make this woman lose control and scream out in ecstasy? He felt a long-forgotten stirring in his groin and quickly slammed the door to that emotional rollercoaster firmly shut. Getting involved or even interested in another woman was so not in his plan, but perhaps he did need to start thinking about satisfying his more basic needs, which had apparently decided to come out of hibernation, stretch languidly, and show interest in a certain Jessica Rabbit like redhead.

He suddenly became conscious of the fact he’d been staring at the page for a while and quickly cleared his throat and nonchalantly dropped the magazine back on the kitchen table. Christ, he hoped neither of them had seen him trailing his finger over the magazine. He hadn’t had such a reaction to a woman in a magazine since his father had given him some interesting reading in his mid-teens…and he was embarrassed now by his reaction. In his defence, he decided that the photo was most likely cleverly edited as was the norm nowadays. No-one would look that good in real life.

“Besides,” Pip continued, seemingly unaware of his peculiar interest in the magazine, “it will be exciting for the village and excellent PR for the Stud and your children’s charity. Things could do with being shaken up around here, don’t you agree Mrs H? You need to come out of that hibernation or whatever it is you’ve been in since what happened with Emily I—”

Matt’s head shot up and Pip cut herself off at the no doubt thunderous scowl on his face. “Don’t ever mention her name in this house again Pip,” he growled at her, but he winced inwardly as he saw his sister flinch and it angered him even more that that woman still had the power over him to warrant that reaction.

Thankfully Mrs Henderson swept away the lingering tension.

“Oh yes dear. I was telling Beatrice and Phyllis at the shops the other day all about it and you know how they like to spread the news. The whole village knows about it by now. Maybe that designer chap would donate something for us to raffle off at the charity ball on Saturday night.”

Matt choked, spitting out the last gulp of water he had just taken to quell his burning tongue. “What do you mean? How long are they going to be here!?” he gasped, still coughing up his lungs.

Mrs Henderson slapped him on the back and mopped at him with a towel whilst tutting something about his manners. He wasn’t listening.

“Erm well,” Pip stuttered, casting her eyes down to her computer. “They said that they needed to stay for a couple of days, you know to, erm, make sure that they get all the photos they need and go out on location around the grounds, and it was all dependent on the light and weather and what not, I wasn’t really listening, so I, you know, said that they could all stay at the house overnight. It’s not as though we haven’t got the rooms,” she rushed nervously.

“Here, taste again,” said Mrs Henderson, bringing a spoon filled with her stew up to his mouth. “Better?”

Matt sipped at the spoon. “Hmm, yeah, that’s delicious.” he agreed, handing the spoon back and turning his attention to Pip, crossing his arms over his chest, but bringing one to rub at sore eyes; gritty from lack of sleep.

“You do remember that Jumal will be here any day. His foal is due in the next couple of days’. What the hell is he going to think is going on with a fashion designer and his posse running wild at the house?” He dropped his hand back to his chest and let out a sharp breath before continuing. “We’re the most prestigious Stud farm in England and he’s going to think he’s landed at some sort of celebrity house party. I know he’s a mate but he’s still a bloody Sheik, Pip. I just can’t believe—!” He shook his head and rubbed at his temples to try to stave off the headache which was developing at a fast pace.

“Jumal is coming? When? Why didn’t you say?” Pip asked anxiously.’

Matt smirked at her. “Oops, I must have forgotten to mention it. Not nice, is it?” he tormented, raising a brow.

“Ha bloody ha. Anyway, stop stressing Matt, Alix and Anastacia will have left before Jumal arrives to view his baby horse.”

“Foal, Pip, it’s called a foal, not a baby horse,” he said, shaking his head again in exasperation.

“Anyway, you need to get her from the airport because she lands in just under an hour, and take that picture with you so you recognise her”.

Matt didn’t think he could forget that face. She’d be the one surrounded by a group of suck-ups dangling on her every word while she pouted and posed for pictures, no doubt flicking that wild hair around her shoulders as she soaked up all the adoration. He briefly pondered whether this model would be the stereotypical spirited redhead with fire in her belly…? His brain finally decided to re-engage and take control over his wandering thoughts.

“What? Why?” His attempt to grab a freshly baked shortbread biscuit from the table was foiled by Mrs Henderson as she smacked his hand away.

“You’ll spoil your tea.” The woman was as swift as a ninja, quicker than his judo instructor!

He pointed at Pip. “But she’s just worked her way through a whole tube of sweets!”

She tutted at him. “Now, now Matt, you’re not a child, although you are as grumpy as a teething toddler at the moment.”

He scowled at Pip as she stuck her tongue at him ’before she continued. “Well I told them that we’d collect her from the airport and as head of our family it should be you. Besides, do you really trust me to drive your Range Rover after what I did to your Porsche?” She tilted her head to the side. Good point.

“Anastacia is flying in directly from Rome due to some mix up or another, er, the bad weather actually I think, and the rest will arrive later today from London. I’ve arranged for an executive mini bus to collect them.” She waved her hand at him urgently. “So you’d better get a wiggle on brother, before this bad weather sets in.”

Matt sighed heavily. He was so damn tired and just wanted to fall into his bed…not that he would actually get any sleep.

“Pippa, this conversation is not over,” Matt grumbled as he grabbed his battered but favourite Barbour coat and car keys.

“Oh and you need to pop into a supermarket and grab some sparkling Perrier water on your way,” she shouted over her shoulder.

“What?” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in defeat, no longer able to gather the energy to get angry.

“Anastacia’s agent emailed a rider list and the only thing we couldn’t get in the village was Perrier, so you need to grab some. Oh and don’t forget your phone.”

Matt caught his phone and pocketed it.

“I updated it for you. You’re welcome.”

He stared coldly at his sister, mentally counting to ten before he dropped the keys to his Range Rover back on the table and grabbed the keys to the Stud’s twenty year old land rover, used to ferry around bedding hay and feed and other necessities. It was most certainly not what the haughty America’s Top Model or whatever she was, would be expecting. He gritted his teeth at the thought of his quiet life being invaded by a woman who was no doubt a shallow, fame-obsessed wannabe accompanied by her equally annoying sycophantic entourage.

“George, come.” Matt patted the side of his leg and whistled.

He cursed to himself and absently raked his fingers through his hair; crossing the snow covered driveway towards the truck wondering how his day could go any further downhill and deciding that he’d simply stay out of the way—out of the house if necessary. Pip’s timing couldn’t be any worse: one of his ’mares was showing signs of an imminent delivery and his experience told him that she faced a potentially difficult time. The last thing he needed was a group of pompous big city dwellers who’d create nothing but upheaval and shine an unwanted spotlight upon his home.

***

Mrs Henderson and Pip stared at the snow cloud formed on the drive as Matt accelerated away from the house, and looked at each other.

“There’s going to be fireworks,” Mrs Henderson chuckled, crossing her flour covered hands over her apron.

Pip smiled mischievously. “Well someone needs to rattle his feathers and shake him up. Let’s hope he’s thinking ’Emily who?’ after the next couple of days, hey.”

The co-conspirators clinked their tea cups together in celebration of a job well done.

***

Anastacia couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she tried repeatedly to put the plane’s phone back in its holder following the most important phone call of her life.

“Oh God, oh God, breathe girl just breathe.” She repeated the mantra to calm her racing heart, breathing in and out slowly and trying to remember her yoga techniques; her hands moving up and down in sync…well, that was useless.

She yanked out the phone again and dialed. He answered after a couple of rings.

“It’s me. Guess what?”

“Erm, I’ll go with… you’ve decided to become a nun and you want me to design a totally bodacious habit for you?”

“Alix honey, people don’t say bodacious anymore. You’re showing your age.”

She heard him suck in a breath in disgust. “You take that back or else I’ll make you look like Miss Bloody Piggy, or worse.”

“Amanda just called.” She let the statement just hang in the air teasingly until she heard his sharp intake of breath as he connected the dots.

“You got it didn’t you, you bloody well got it. I knew it, tell me you got it.”

“I got it.” She held the phone away from her ear as he screamed and eventually decided to join in, tapping her feet on the floor in delight.

Eventually they ran out of air.

“Oh pumpkin, I am so proud of you. God I can’t believe my girl is going to be the face of Passion. Wow, just…ha, do you remember when we used to flick through all those fashion magazines at school. You always loved those moody arty black and white Passion adverts and look at you now. Well done babe, I’m so proud.”

She swallowed the lump which had formed in her throat at his praise. He was genuinely proud of her achievement. She could always count on Alix. She could only count on Alix, she quickly amended. “We’ve done all right haven’t we. It’s everything, all my dreams come true, but now I’m scared Alix. What if I mess it all up? Three years is a long time and they’ll have huge expectations. They’ll want their pound of flesh. Skinny flesh,” she emphasised.

“Nonsense, you won’t mess it up, you’ve got me. I won’t let you. New York baby!!” Alix went off screaming again and muttering about all the plans he had for them in New York while she half listened, knowing Alix could entertain himself for quite a while without needing her input or encouragement. Talking with Alix always soothed her. She reclined her chair on the private Gulf Stream jet, closing her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last few nights and spent most of the time tossing and turning waiting to hear from her agent. She’d taken a sleeping pill earlier in the day in the hope that it would help her get some sleep on the plane, then the call had come through.

“So did you manage to pack some clothes for me?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Yep, got ’em. So what exactly happened in Italy? You sound like you’ve been partying too hard babe.”

She decided to ignore his quip about partying. Telling Alix she wasn’t sleeping would only lead to an inquisition and she wasn’t ready for that. “A complete nightmare. Take one over-emotional photographer and an equally stroppy designer having artistic differences into the mix and what do you get? Both of them storming off the shoot in different directions leaving me shivering in the middle of a bloody fountain in a bikini wondering what the hell just happened, and having to wait around ’till they kissed and made up. Honestly these dramatics are turning into an occupational hazard in Italy. So what time’s your flight?”

She could hear the background commotion and sounds of his fellow disgruntled passengers. “Er, well, it’s saying on the board that it’s delayed at the moment. It’s a good thing you could arrange to fly straight there from Rome rather than trying to come back to London first. I don’t think anything is landing or taking off from Heathrow at the moment.”

“Hmm, well, okay. Will you let me know when you know more?”

“Will do. So, have you spoken to her yet?”

She let out a long breath before responding. “What’s the point? I’ll just get Angela. I speak more to my mother’s assistant than I do her. Anyway she’ll be out at some LA premier and then I’d be sat waiting for her call; which we both know won’t come so…” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare let her spoil this for you.’ She’s not worth it. But I know you’ll call her anyway, won’t you?”

“Probably.” She could see him rolling his eyes at her and shaking his head.

He groaned out loud before continuing sheepishly. “It goes without saying that I’ll owe you big time for doing this for me, I—”

“Alix, you’re my rock. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve been there for me so don’t you dare say thank you to me for spending a weekend in Yorkshire modeling your creations. It’s the least I can do for you, okay?” She owed him more than he would ever know.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “So what’s involved with Passion from now?” he asked, cleverly changing the topic.

“Well, Amanda is going to email me the papers which I’ll have a look at once I get to Melville later. She said they’ve already found me an apartment on the upper-east side near their offices and they want everything in place and ready to go after London Fashion Week. So it all fits together nicely. By the way, do you have any idea where this Melville house actually is?”

“Not a clue, I just Googled it and fell in love with the house and grounds, it’s a farm or something somewhere in the North Yorkshire Moors. There’re picking you up so you’ll be fine. Anyway, I’m just glad I got you to model for me before you become even more famous and your head won’t fit through my clothes.”

“Ha de ha ha. I know I can always rely on you to keep me grounded.” After a short pause they both laughed.

“There’s no hope for you then pumpkin!”

She smiled to herself and she recalled that it was she who comforted Alix as he passionately jumped from one disastrous relationship to another and had his heart broken over and over, yet she admired his tenacity and zest for life. She was the constant in his life and vice versa and she’d recently made a pledge to herself to help him find the love of his life…at least that stopped her examining her own disastrous love life too closely. Her last boyfriend had sold all the juicy details of their six month relationship to the press. At least what they had fabricated had been juicy—the reality had been that they’d barely dated due to work pressures—but hey, at least he’d got his profile heightened and no doubt made a few quid out of it..