From the rolling hills of the English countryside to the majesty of the Rocky Mountains…

THE GIRL FROM HONEYSUCKLE FARM

by Jessica Steele

Jessica Steele’s classic love stories whisk you

into a world of pure romantic excitement!

A perfect English gentleman will sweep you

off your feet in this beautiful country setting

with the scent of honeysuckle in the air…

ONE DANCE WITH THE COWBOY

by Donna Alward

Young Canadian author Donna Alward

brings you an irresistibly rugged cowboy

and a warmly emotional story

that will tug on your heartstrings…

The Girl From Honey Suckle Farm

By

Jessica Steele
One Dance With The Cowboy

By

Donna Alward

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Girl From Honey Suckle Farm

By

Jessica Steele

MILLS & BOON®

Jessica Steele lives in the county of Worcestershire, with her super husband, Peter, and their gorgeous Stafford-shire bull terrier, Florence. Any spare time is spent enjoying her three main hobbies: reading espionage novels, gardening (she has a great love of flowers), and playing golf. Any time left over is celebrated with her fourth hobby: shopping. Jessica has a sister and two brothers, and they all, with their spouses, often go on golfing holidays together. Having travelled to various places on the globe, researching backgrounds for her stories, there are many countries that she would like to revisit. Her most recent trip abroad was to Portugal, where she stayed in a lovely hotel, close to her all-time favourite golf course. Jessica had no idea of being a writer until one day Peter suggested she write a book. So she did. She has now written over eighty novels.

CHAPTER ONE

PHINN tried hard to look on the bright side—but could not find one. There was not so much as a glimmer of a hint of a silver lining to the dark cloud hanging over her.

She stared absently out of the window of her flat above the stables, barely noticing that Geraldine Walton, the new owner of the riding school, while somehow managing to look elegant even in jeans and a tee shirt, was already busy organising the day’s activities.

Phinn had been up early herself, and had already been down to check on her elderly mare Ruby. Phinn swallowed down a hard lump in her throat and came away from the window, recalling the conversation she’d had with Kit Peverill yesterday. Kit was Ruby’s vet, and he had been as kind as he could be. But, however kind he had been, he could not minimise the harshness that had to be faced when he told her that fragile Ruby would not see the year out.

Phinn was quite well aware that Ruby had quite a few health problems, but even so she had been very shaken. It was already the end of April. But, however shaken she had been, her response had been sharp when he had suggested that she might want to consider allowing him to put Ruby down.

‘No!’ she had said straight away, the idea not needing to be considered. Then, as she’d got herself more collected, ‘She’s not in great pain, is she? I mean, I know you give her a painkilling injection occasionally, but…’

‘Her medication is keeping her relatively painfree,’ Kit had informed her. And Phinn had not needed to hear any more. She had thanked him for his visit and had stayed with Ruby for some while, reflecting how Ruby had been her best friend since her father had rescued the mare from being ill treated thirteen years ago, and had brought her home.

But, while they had plenty of space at Honeysuckle Farm in which to keep a horse, there had been no way they could afford to keep one as a pet.

Her mother, already the breadwinner in the family, had hit the roof. But equally there had been no way that Ewart Hawkins was going to let the emaciated mare go back to the people he had rescued her from. And since he had threatened—and had meant it—to have them prosecuted if they tried to get her back, her owners had moved on without her.

‘Please, Mummy,’ Phinn remembered pleading, and her mother had looked into her pleading blue eyes, so like her own, and had drawn a long sigh.

‘You’ll have to feed and water her, and clean up after her,’ she had said severely. ‘Daily!’

And Ewart, the battle over, had given his wife a delighted kiss, and Phinn had exchanged happy grins with her father.

She had been ten years old then, and life had been wonderful. She had been born on the farm to the best parents in the world. Her childhood, given the occasional volcanic explosions from her mother when Ewart had been particularly outrageous about something, had been little short of idyllic. Any major rows between her parents, she’d later realised had, in the main, been kept from her.

Her father had adored her from the word go. Because of some sort of complication at her birth, her mother had had to stay in bed, and it had been left to Ewart to look after the newborn. They had lived in one of the farm cottages then, only moving to the big farmhouse when Grandfather and then Grandmother Hawkins had died. Phinn’s father had bonded with his baby daughter immediately, and, entirely uninterested in farming, he had spent hour after hour with his little girl. It had been he who, advised by his wife, Hester, that the child had to be registered with the authorities within forty-two days of her birth, had gone along to the register office with strict instructions to name her Elizabeth Maud—Maud after Hester’s mother.

He had never liked his mother-in-law, and had returned home to have to explain himself to his wife.

‘You’ve called her—what?’ Hester had apparently hit a C above top C.

‘Calm down, my love,’ he had attempted to soothe, and had gone on to explain that with a plain name like Hawkins, he had thought the baby had better have a pretty name to go in front.

‘Delphinium!’

‘I’m not having my beautiful daughter called plain Lizzie Hawkins,’ he’d answered, further explaining, ‘To be a bit different I’ve named her Delphinnium, with an extra “n” in the middle.’ And, to charm his still not mollified wife, ‘I’m rather hoping little Phinn will have your gorgeous delphinium-blue eyes. Did you know,’ he went on, ‘that your beautiful eyes go all dark purple, like the Black Knight delphinium, when you’re all emotional?’

‘Ewart Hawkins,’ she had threatened, refusing to be charmed.

‘And I brought you a cabbage,’ he’d said winningly.

The fact that he had brought it, not bought it, had told her that he had nipped over some farmer’s hedge and helped himself.

‘Ewart Hawkins!’ she’d said again, but he had the smile he had wanted.

Hester Rainsworth, as she had been prior to her marriage, had been brought up most conventionally in a workaholic family. Impractical dreamer, talented pianist, sometime poet and would-be mechanical engineer Ewart Hawkins could not have been more of an opposite. They had fallen in love—and for some years had been blissfully happy.

Given a few ups and downs, it had been happiness all round in Phinn’s childhood. Grandfather Hawkins had been the tenant of the farm, and on his death the tenancy had passed to her father. The farm had then been her father’s responsibility, but after one year of appalling freak weather, when they had spent more than they had earned, Hester had declared that, with money tight, Ewart could be farmer and house-husband too, while she went out and found a job and brought some money in.

Unlike his hard-working practical father, Ewart had had little interest in arable farming, and had seen absolutely no point in labouring night and day only to see his crops flattened by storms. Besides, there’d been other things he’d preferred to do. Teach his daughter to sketch, to fish, to play the piano and to swim just for starters. There was a pool down at Broadlands, the estate that owned both Honeysuckle Farm and the neighbouring Yew Tree Farm. They hadn’t been supposed to swim in the pool, but in return for her father going up to the Hall occasionally, and playing the grand piano for music-lover Mr Caldicott, old Mr Caldicott had turned a blind eye.

So it was in the shallows there that her father had taught her to dive and to swim. If they hadn’t taken swimwear it had been quite all right with him if she swam in her underwear—and should his wife be home when they returned, he’d borne her wrath with fortitude.

There was a trout stream too, belonging to the Broadlands estate, and they hadn’t been supposed to fish there either. But her father had called that a load of nonsense, so fish they had. Though, for all Phinn had learned to cast a fine line, she could never kill a fish and her fish had always been put back. Afterwards they might stop at the Cat and Drum, where her father would sit her outside with a lemonade while he went inside to pass time with his friends. Sometimes he would bring his pint outside. He would let her have a sip of his beer and, although she thought it tasted horrible, she had pretended to like it.

Phinn gave a shaky sigh as she thought of her dreamer father. It had been he and not her mother who had decorated her Easter bonnet for the village parade. How proud she had been of that hat—complete with a robin that he had very artistically made.

‘A robin!’ her mother had exclaimed. ‘You do know it’s Easter?’

‘There won’t be another bonnet like it,’ he had assured her.

‘You can say that again!’ Hester had retorted.

Phinn had not won the competition. She had not wanted to. Though she had drawn one or two stares, it had not mattered. Her father had decorated her hat, and that had been plenty good enough for her.

Phinn wondered, not for the first time, when it had all started to go so badly wrong. Had it been before old Mr Caldicott had decided to sell the estate? Before Ty Allardyce had come to Bishops Thornby, taken a look around and decided to buy the place—thereby making himself their landlord? Or…?

In all fairness, Phinn knew that it must have been long before then. Though he, more recently, had not helped. Her beautiful blue eyes darkened in sadness as she thought back to a time five, maybe six years ago. Had that been when things had started to go awry? She had come home after having been out for a ride with Ruby, and after attending to Ruby’s needs she had gone into the big old farmhouse kitchen to find her parents in the middle of a blazing row.

Knowing that she could not take sides, she had been about to back out again when her mother had taken her eyes from the centre of her wrath—Ewart—to tell her, ‘This concerns you too, Phinn.’

‘Oh,’ she had murmured non-committally.

‘We’re broke. I’m bringing in as much as I can.’ Her mother worked in Gloucester as a legal assistant.

‘I’ll get a job,’ Phinn had offered. ‘I’ll—’

‘You will. But first you’ll have some decent training. I’ve arranged for you to have an interview at secretarial college. You—’

‘She won’t like it!’ Ewart had objected.

‘We all of us—or most of us,’ she’d inserted, with a sarcastic glance at him, ‘have to do things we don’t want to do or like to do!’

The argument, with Phinn playing very little part, had raged on until Hester Hawkins had brought out her trump card.

‘Either Phinn goes to college or that horse goes to somebody who can afford her feed, her vet and her farrier!’

‘I’ll sell something,’ Ewart had decided, already not liking that his daughter, his pal, would not be around so much. He had a good brain for anything mechanical, and the farmyard was littered with odds and ends that he would sometimes make good and sell on.

But Hester had grown weary of him. ‘Grow up, Ewart,’ she had snapped bluntly.

But that was the trouble. Her father had never grown up, and had seen no reason why he should attempt it. On thinking about it, Phinn could not see any particular reason why he should have either. Tears stung her eyes. Though it had been the essential Peter Pan in her fifty-four-year-old father that had ultimately been the cause of his death.

But she did not want to dwell on that happening seven months ago. She had shed enough tears since then.

Phinn made herself think back to happier times, though she had not been too happy to be away from the farm for such long hours while she did her training. For her mother’s sake she had applied herself to that training, and afterwards, with her eye more on the salary she would earn than with any particular interest in making a career as a PA, she had got herself a job with an accountancy firm, with her mother driving her into Gloucester each day.

Each evening Phinn had got home as soon as she could to see Ruby and her father. Her father had taught her to drive, but when her mother had started working late, putting in extra hours at her office, it was he who had suggested that Phinn should have a car of her own.

Her mother had agreed, but had insisted she would look into it. She was not having her daughter driving around in any bone-rattling contraption he’d patched up.

Phinn had an idea that Grandmother Rainsworth had made a contribution to her vehicle, and guessed that her mother’s parents might well have helped out financially in her growing years.

But all that had stopped a few months later when her mother, having sat her down and said that she wanted to talk to her, had announced to Phinn’s utter amazement that she was moving out. Shocked, open-mouthed, Phinn had barely taken in that her mother intended leaving them when she’d further revealed that she had met someone else.

‘You mean—some—other man?’ Phinn had gasped, it still not fully sinking in.

‘Clive. His name’s Clive.’

‘But—but what about Dad?’

‘I’ve discussed this fully with your father. Things—er—haven’t been right between us for some while. I’ll start divorce proceedings as soon as everything settles…’

Divorce! Phinn had been aware that her mother had grown more impatient and short-tempered with her father just lately. But—divorce!

‘But what—’

‘I’m not going to change my mind, Phinn. I’ve tried. Lord knows I’ve tried! But I’m tired of the constant struggle. Your father lives in his own little dream world and…’ She halted at the look of protest on her daughter’s face. ‘No, I’m not going to run him down. I know how devoted you are to him. But just try to understand, Phinn. I’m tired of the struggle. And I’ve decided I’m not too old to make a fresh start. To make a new life for myself. A better life.’

‘Th-this Clive. He’s part of your fresh start—this better life?’

‘Yes, he is. In due time I’ll marry him—though I’m not in any great hurry about that.’

‘You—just want your—freedom?’

‘Yes, I do. You’re working now, Phinn. You have your own money—though no doubt your father will want some of it. But…’ Hester looked at her daughter, wanting understanding. ‘I’ve found myself a small flat in Gloucester. I’ll write down the address. I’m leaving your father, darling, not you. You’re welcome to come and live with me whenever you want.’

To leave her father had been something Phinn had not even thought about. Her home had been there, with him and Ruby.

It was around then, Phinn suddenly saw, that everything had started to go wrong.

First Ruby had had a cough, and when that cleared she’d picked up a viral infection. Her father had been marvelous, in that he’d spent all of his days looking after Ruby for her until Phinn was able to speed home from the office to take over.

The vet’s bill had started to mount, but old Mr Duke had obligingly told them to pay what they could when they could.

Phinn’s days had become full. She’d had no idea of the amount of work her mother had done when she was home. Phinn had always helped out when requested, but once she was sole carer she’d seemed to spend a lot of her time picking up and clearing up after her father.

And time had gone by. Phinn had met Clive Gillam and, contrary to her belief, had liked him. And a couple of years later, with her father’s approval, she had attended their wedding.

‘You want to go and live with them?’ her father had asked somewhat tentatively when she had returned.

‘No way,’ she’d answered.

And he had grinned. ‘Fancy a pint?’

‘You go. I want to check on Rubes.’

It seemed as though her mother’s new marriage had been a signal for everything to change. Mr Caldicott, the owner of the Broadlands estate, had decided to sell up and to take himself and his money off to sunnier climes.

And, all before they knew it, the bachelor Allardyce brothers had been in the village, taking a look around. And, all before they could blink, Honeysuckle Farm and neighbouring Yew Tree Farm, plus a scattering of other properties, had all had a new landlord—and an army of architects and builders had started at work on Broadlands Hall, bringing its antiquated plumbing and heating up to date and generally modernising the interior.

She had spotted the brothers one day when she was resting Ruby, hidden in the spinney—property of Broadlands. Two men deep in conversation had walked by. The slightly taller of the two, a dark-haired man, just had to be the Tyrell Allardyce she had heard about. There was such a self-confident air about the man that he could have been none other than the new owner.

Phinn had seemed to know that before she’d over-heard his deep, cultured tones saying, ‘Don’t you see, Ash…?’ as they had passed within yards of her.

Ash was tall too, but without that positive, self-assured air that simply exuded from the other man. Listening intently, he must have been the younger brother.

Tyrell Allardyce, with his brother Ashley, had called at Honeysuckle Farm one day while she was out at work. But from what her father had told her, and from what she had gleaned from the hotbed of local gossip, Ty Allardyce was some big-shot financier who worked and spent most of his time either in London or overseas. He, so gossip had said, would live at Broadlands Hall when his London commitments allowed, while Ashley would stay at the Hall to supervise the alterations and generally manage the estate.

‘Looks like we’re going to be managed, kiddo,’ her father had commented jocularly.

Highly unlikely!

Further village gossip some while later had suggested that Mrs Starkey, housekeeper to the previous owner of Broadlands, was staying on to look after Ashley Allardyce. It seemed—though Phinn knew that, village gossip being what it was, a lot of it could be discounted—that Ashley had endured some sort of a breakdown, and that Ty had bought Broadlands mainly for his brother’s benefit.

Phinn thought she could safely rule that out—the cost of Broadlands, with all its other properties, must go into millions. Surely, if it were true that Ashley had been ill, there were cheaper ways of finding somewhere less fraught than London to live? Though it did appear that the younger Allardyce brother was living at the Hall. So perhaps Mrs Starkey, whom Phinn had known all her life, was looking after him after all.

Everything within this last year seemed to be changing. To start with, old Mr Duke had decided to give up his veterinary practice. It was a relief that she had just about settled with him the money she’d owed for Ruby’s last course of treatment. Though it had worried Phinn how she would fare with the new man who had taken over. Mr Duke had never been in any hurry for his money, and Ruby, who they calculated had been about ten years old when they had claimed her, was now geriatric in the horse world, and rarely went six weeks without requiring some treatment or other.

Kit Peverill, however, a tall mousy-haired man in his early thirties, had turned out to be every bit as kind and caring as his predecessor. Thankfully, she had only had to call him out twice.

But more trouble had seemed to be heading their way when, again clearing up after her father, she’d found a letter he had left lying around. It had come from the Broadlands estate, and was less of a letter but more of a formal notice that some effort must be made to pay the rent arrears and that the farm must be ‘tidied up’—otherwise legal proceedings would have to be initiated.

Feeling staggered—she’d had no idea that her father had not been paying the rent—Phinn had gone in search of him.

‘Ignore it,’ he had advised.

‘Ignore it?’ she’d gasped.

‘Not worth the paper it’s written on,’ he had assured her, and had gone back to tinkering with an old, un-roadworthy, un-fieldworthy quad bike he had found somewhere.

Knowing that she would get no sense out of him until his mind-set was ready to think of other things, Phinn had waited until he came into supper that night.

‘I was thinking of going down to the Cat for a pint—’ he began.

‘I was thinking we might discuss that letter,’ Phinn interrupted.

He looked at her, smiled because he adored her, and said, ‘You know, little flower, you’ve more than a touch of your mother about you.’

She couldn’t ignore it. One of them had to be practical. ‘What will we do if—er—things get nasty—if we have to leave here? Ruby…’

‘It won’t come to that,’ he’d assured her, undaunted. ‘It’s just the new owner flexing a bit of muscle, that’s all.’

‘The letter’s from Ashley Allardyce…’

‘He may have written it, but he will have been instructed by his big brother.’

‘Tyrell Allardyce.’ She remembered him very clearly. Oddly, while Ashley Allardyce was only a vague figure in her mind, his elder brother Ty seemed to be etched in her head. She was starting to dislike the man.

‘It’s the way they do things in London,’ Ewart had replied confidently. ‘They just need all the paperwork neatly documented in case there’s a court case. But—’ as she went a shade pale ‘—it won’t come to that,’ he repeated. ‘Honeysuckle Farm has been in Hawkins care for generations. Nobody’s going to throw us off this land, I promise you.’

Sadly, it had not been the first letter of that sort. The next one she had seen had come from a London firm of lawyers, giving them formal notice to quit by September. And Phinn, who had already started to dislike Tyrell Allardyce, and although she had never hated anyone in her life, had known that she hated Ty that he could do this to them. Old Mr Caldicott would never, ever have instructed such a letter.

But again her father had been unconcerned, and told her to ignore the notice to quit. And while Phinn had spent a worrying time—expecting the bailiffs to turn up at any moment to turf then out—her father had appeared to not have a care in the world.

And then it had been September, and Phinn had had something else to worry about that had pushed her fear of the bailiffs into second place. Ruby had become quite ill.

Kit Peverill had come out to her in the middle of the night, and it had been touch and go if Ruby would make it. Phinn, forgetting she had a job to go to, had stayed with her and nursed her, watched her like a hawk—and the geriatric mare had pulled through.

When Phinn had gone back to work and, unable to lie, told her boss that her mare had been ill, she had been told in return that they were experiencing a business downturn and were looking to make redundancies. Was it likely, should her horse again be ill, that she would again take time off?

Again she had not been able to lie. ‘I’ll go and clear my desk,’ she’d offered.

‘You don’t have to go straight way,’ her employer had told her kindly. ‘Let’s say in a month’s time.’

Because she’d known she would need the money, Phinn had not argued. But she never did work that full month. Because a couple of weeks later her world had fallen apart when her father, haring around the fields, showing a couple of his pals what a reconstructed quad bike could do, had upended it, gone over and under it—and come off worst.

He had died before Phinn could get to the hospital. Her mother had come to her straight away, and it had been Hester who, practical to the last, had made all the arrangements.

Devastated, having to look after Ruby had been the only thing that kept Phinn on anything resembling an even keel. And Ruby, as if she understood, would gently nuzzle into her neck and cuddle up close.

Her father had been popular but, when the day of his funeral had arrived, Phinn had never known he had so many friends. Or relatives, either. Aunts and uncles she had heard of but had seen only on the rarest of occasions had come to pay their respects. Even her cousin Leanne, a Hawkins several times removed, had arrived with her parents.

Leanne was tall, dark, pretty—and with eyes that seemed to instantly put a price on everything. But since the family antiques had been sold one by one after Hester had left, there had been very little at Honeysuckle Farm that was worth the ink on a price ticket. Thereafter Leanne had behaved as decorously as her parents would wish.

That was she’d behaved very nicely until—to his credit—Ashley Allardyce had come to the funeral to pay his respects too. Phinn had not been feeling too friendly to him, but because she did not wish to mar the solemnity of the occasion with any undignified outburst—and in any case it was not him but his elder brother Ty who was the villain who went around instigating notices to quit—she’d greeted Ashley calmly, and politely thanked him for coming.

Leanne, noticing the expensive cut of the clothes the tall, fair-haired man was wearing, had immediately been attracted.

‘Who’s he?’ she’d asked, sidling up when Ashley Allardyce had gone over to have a word with Nesta and Noel Jarvis, the tenants of Yew Tree Farm.

‘Ashley Allardyce,’ Phinn had answered, and, as she’d suspected, it had not ended there.

‘He lives around here?’

‘At Broadlands Hall.’

‘That massive house in acres of grounds we passed on the way here?’

The next thing Phinn knew was that Leanne, on her behalf, had invited Ash Allardyce back to the farmhouse for refreshments.

Any notion Phinn might have had that he would refuse the invitation had disappeared when she’d seen the look on his face. He was clearly captivated by her cousin!

The days that had followed had gone by in a numbed kind of shock for Phinn as she’d tried to come to terms with her father’s death. Her mother had wanted her to go back to Gloucester and live with her and Clive. Phinn had found the idea unthinkable. Besides, there was Ruby.

Phinn had been glad to have Ruby to care for. Glad too that her cousin Leanne frequently drove the forty or so miles from her own home to see her.

In fact, by the time Christmas had come, Phinn had seen more of her cousin than she had during the whole of her life. Leanne had come, she would say, to spend time with her, so she would not be too lonely. But most of Leanne’s time, from what Phinn had seen, was being spent with Ash Allardyce.

He had driven Leanne back to the farmhouse several times, and it had been as clear as day to Phinn that he was totally besotted with her cousin. Phinn, aware, if village talk were true, of his recent recovery from a breakdown, had only hoped that, vulnerable as he might still be, he would not end up getting hurt.

Because of a prior arrangement Leanne had spent Christmas skiing in Switzerland. Ash had gone too. For all Phinn knew his notice-to-quit-ordering brother might have made one of his rare visits to Broadlands and spent his Christmas there, but she hadn’t seen him, and she’d been glad about that. The notice to quit had never been executed. It had not needed to be.

Since Phinn had no longer had a job, she’d no longer needed a car. Pride as much as anything had said she had to clear the rent arrears. She had formed a good opinion of Ash Allardyce, and did not think he would discuss their business with Leanne, but with him becoming closer and closer to her cousin, she had not wanted to risk it. She did not want any one member of her family to know that her father had died owing money. She’d sold her car and sent a cheque off to the lawyers.

Though by the time all accounts had been settled—and that included the vet’s last bill—there had been little money remaining, and Phinn had known that she needed to get a job. A job that paid well. Yet Ruby had not been well enough to be left alone all day while she went off to work.

Then Leanne, on another visit, having voiced her opinion that Ash was close to ‘popping the question’ marriage-wise, had telephoned from Broadlands Hall to tell her not to wait up for her, that she was spending the night there.

It had been the middle of the following morning when Leanne, driving fast and furiously, had screeched to a halt in the middle of the farmyard. Phinn, leaving Ruby to go and find out what the rush was about, had been confronted by a furious Leanne, who’d demanded to know why she had not told her that Broadlands Hall did not belong to Ash Allardyce.

‘I—didn’t think about it,’ Phinn had answered defensively. Coming to terms with her beloved father’s death and settling his affairs had taken precedence. Who owned Broadlands Hall had not figured very much, if at all, in her thinking at that particular time. ‘I told you Ash had a brother. I’m sure I did.’

‘Yes, you did!’ Leanne snapped. ‘And so did Ash. But neither of you told me that Ash was the younger brother—and that he doesn’t own a thing!’

‘Ah, you’ve met Ty Allardyce,’ Phinn realised. And discovered she was in the wrong about that too.

‘No—more’s the pity! He’s always away somewhere—away abroad somewhere, and likely to be away some time!’ Leanne spat. ‘It took that po-faced housekeeper to delight in telling me that Ash was merely the estate manager! Can you imagine it? There was I, happily believing that any time soon I was going to be mistress of Broadlands Hall, only to be informed by some jumped-up housekeeper that some poky farm cottage was more likely to be the place for me. I don’t think so!’

Phinn doubted that Mrs Starkey would have said anything of the sort, but as Leanne raged on she knew that once her cousin had realised that Ash was not the owner of Broadlands, it wouldn’t have taken her very long to realise the ins and outs of it all.

‘Come in and I’ll make some coffee,’ Phinn offered, aware that her cousin had suffered something of a shock.

‘I’ll come in. But only to collect what belongings of mine I’ve left here.’

‘You—er—that sounds a bit—final?’ Phinn suggested at last.

‘You bet it is. Ten minutes and the village of Bishop Thornby has seen the last of me.’

‘What about Ash?’

‘What about him?’ Leanne was already on her way into the house. ‘I’ve told him—nicely—that I’m not cut out for country life. But if that hasn’t given him something of a clue—tell him I said goodbye.’

Ash did not come looking for her cousin, and Honeysuckle Farm had settled into an unwanted quietness. With the exception of her mother, who frequently rang to check that she was all right, Phinn spoke with no one other than Ruby. Gradually Phinn came to see that she could do nothing about Leanne having dropped Ash like a hot brick once she had known that he was not the one with the money. Phinn knew that she could not stay on at the farm for very much longer. She had no interest in trying to make the farm a paying concern. If her father had not been able to do it with all his expertise, she did not see how she could. And, while she had grown to quite like the man whom Leanne had so unceremoniously dumped, the twenty-nine-year-old male might well be glad to see the back of anyone who bore the Hawkins name.

She had no idea if she was entitled to claim the tenancy, but if not, Ash would be quite within his rights to instigate having her thrown out.

Not wanting the indignity of that, Phinn wondered where on earth she could go. For herself she did not care very much where she went, but it was Ruby she had to think about.

To that end, Phinn took a walk down to the local riding school, run by Peggy Edmonds. And it turned out that going to see Peggy was the best thing she could have done. Because not only was Peggy able to house Ruby, she was even—unbelievably—able to offer Phinn a job. True, it wasn’t much of a job, but with a place for Ruby assured, Phinn would have accepted anything.

Apparently Peggy was having a hard time battling with arthritis, and for over a year had been trying to find a buyer for what was now more of a stables than a riding school. But it seemed no one was remotely interested in making her an offer. With her arthritis so bad some days that it was all she could do to get out of bed, if Phinn would like to work as a stable hand, although Peggy could not pay very much, there was a small stall Ruby could have, and she could spend her days in the field with the other horses. As a bonus, there was a tiny flat above one of the stables doing nothing.

It was a furnished flat, with no room for farmhouse furniture, and having been advised by the house clearers that she would have to pay them to empty the farmhouse, Phinn got her father’s old friend Mickie Yates—an educated, eccentric but loveable jack-of-all-trades—to take everything away for her. It grieved her to see her father’s piano go, but there was no space in the tiny flat for it.

So it was as January drew to a close that Phinn walked Ruby down to her new home and then, cutting through the spinney on Broadlands that she knew so well, Phinn took the key to the farmhouse up to the Hall.

Ash Allardyce was not in. Phinn was quite glad about that. After the way her cousin had treated him, dropping him cold like that, it might have been a touch embarrassing.

‘I was very sorry to hear about your father, Phinn,’ Mrs Starkey said, taking the keys from her.

‘Thank you, Mrs Starkey,’ Phinn replied quietly, and returned to the stables.

But almost immediately, barely having congratulated herself on how well everything was turning out—she had a job and Ruby was housed and fed—the sky started to fall in.

By late March it crash-landed.

Ruby—probably because of her previous ill-treatment—had always been timid, and needed peace and quiet, but was being bullied by the other much younger horses. Phinn took her on walks away from them as often as she could, but with her own work to do that was not as often as she would have liked.

Then, against all odds, Peggy found a buyer. A buyer who wanted to take possession as soon as it could possibly be achieved.

‘I’ll talk to her and see if there’s any chance of her keeping you on,’ Peggy said quickly, on seeing the look of concern on Phinn’s face.

Phinn had met Geraldine Walton, a dark-haired woman of around thirty, who was not dissimilar to her cousin in appearance. She had met her on one of Geraldine’s ‘look around’ visits, and had thought she seemed to have a bit of a hard edge to her—which made Phinn not too hopeful.

She was right not to be too hopeful, she soon discovered, for not only was there no job for her, neither was there a place for Ruby. And, not only that, Geraldine Walton was bringing her own staff and requested that Phinn kindly vacate the flat over the stable. As quickly as possible, please.

Now, Phinn, with the late-April sun streaming through the window, looked round the stable flat and knew she had better think about packing up her belongings. Not that she had so very much to pack, but…Her eyes came to rest on the camera her mother, who had visited her last Sunday, had given her to return to Ash on Leanne’s behalf.

Feeling a touch guilty that her mother’s visit had been a couple of days ago now and she had done nothing about it, Phinn went and picked up the piece of photographic equipment. No time like the present—and she could get Ruby away from the other horses for a short while.

Collecting Ruby, Phinn walked her across the road and took the shortcut through the spinney. In no time she was approaching the impressive building that was Broadlands Hall.

Leanne Hawkins was not her favourite cousin just then. She had been unkind to Ash Allardyce, and, while Phinn considered that had little to do with her, she would much prefer that her cousin did her own dirty work. It seemed that her mother, who had no illusions about Leanne, had doubted that Ash would have got his expensive camera back at all were it not for the fact that he, still very much smitten, used it as an excuse to constantly telephone Leanne. Apparently Leanne could not be bothered to talk to him, and had asked Phinn to make sure he had his rotten camera back.

Phinn neared the Hall, hoping that it would again be Mrs Starkey who answered her ring at the door. Cowardly it might be, but she had no idea what she could say to Ash Allardyce. While she might be annoyed with Leanne, Leanne was still family, and family loyalty said that she could not say how shabbily she personally felt Leanne had treated him.

Phinn pulled the bell-tug, half realising that ifAsh was still as smitten with Leanne as he had been, he was unlikely to say anything against her cousin that might provoke her having to stand up for her. She…

Phinn’s thoughts evaporated as she heard the sound of someone approaching the stout oak door from within. Camera in one hand, Ruby’s rein in the other, Phinn prepared to smile.

Then the front door opened and was pulled back—and her smile never made it. For it was not Mrs Starkey who stood there, and neither was it Ash Allardyce. Ash was fair-haired, but this man had ink-black hair—and an expression that was far from welcoming! He was tall, somewhere in his mid-thirties—and clearly not pleased to see her. She knew very well who he was—strangely, she had never forgotten his face. His good-looking face.

But his grim expression didn’t let up when in one dark glance he took in the slender, delphinium-blue-eyed woman with a thick strawberry-blonde plait hanging over one shoulder, a camera in one hand and a rein in the other.

All too obviously he had recognised the camera, because his grim expression became grimmer if anything.

‘And you are?’ he demanded without preamble.

Yes, she, although having never been introduced to him, knew very well this was the man who was ultimately responsible for her father receiving that notice to quit. To quit the land that his family had farmed for generations. It passed her by just then that her father had done very little to keep the farm anything like the farm it had been for those generations.

‘I’m Phinn Hawkins,’ she replied—a touch belligerently it had to be admitted. ‘I’ve—’

His eyes narrowed at her tone, though his tone was none too sweet either as he challenged shortly, ‘What do you want on my land, Hawkins?’

And that made her mad. ‘And you are?’ she demanded, equally as sharp as he.

She was then forced to bear his tough scrutiny for several uncompromising seconds as he studied her. But, just when she was beginning to think she would have to run for his name, ‘Tyrell Allardyce,’ he supplied at last. And, plainly unused to repeating himself, ‘What do you want?’ he barked.

‘Nothing you can supply, Allardyce!’ she tossed back at him, refusing to be intimidated. Stretching out a hand, she offered the camera. ‘Give this to your brother,’ she ordered loftily. But at her mention of his brother, she was made to endure a look that should have turned her to stone.

‘Get off my land!’ he gritted between clenched teeth. ‘And—’ his tone was threatening ‘—don’t ever set foot on it again!’

His look was so malevolent it took everything she had to keep from flinching. ‘Huh!’ she scorned, and, badly wanting to run as fast as she could away from this man and his menacing look, she turned Ruby about and ambled away from the Hall.

By the time she and Ruby had entered the spinney, some of Phinn’s equilibrium had started to return. And a short while later she was starting to be thoroughly cross with herself that she had just walked away without acquainting him with a few of the do’s and don’ts of living in the country.

Who did he think he was, for goodness’ sake? She had always roamed the estate lands freely. True, there were certain areas she knew she was not supposed to trespass over. But she had been brought up using the Broadlands fields and acres as her right of way! She was darn sure she wasn’t going to alter that now!

The best thing Ty Allardyce could do, she fumed, would be to take himself and his big city ways back to London. And stay there! And good riddance to him too! She had now met him, but she hoped she never had the misfortune of seeing his forbidding, disagreeable face ever again!

CHAPTER TWO

SOMEHOW, in between worrying about finding a new home for herself and Ruby, Phinn could not stop thoughts of Ty Allardyce from intruding. Though, as the days went by and the weekend passed and another week began, Phinn considered that to have the man so much in and out of her mind was not so surprising. How dared he order her off his land?

Well, tough on him! It was a lovely early May day—what could be nicer than to take Ruby and go for a walk? Leaving the flat, Phinn went down to collect her. But, before she could do more than put a halter on the mare, Geraldine Walton appeared from nowhere to waylay her. Phinn knew what was coming before Geraldine so much as opened her mouth. She was not mistaken.

‘I’m sorry to have to be blunt, Phinn,’ Geraldine began, ‘but I really do need the stable flat by the end of the week.’

‘I’m working on it,’ Phinn replied, at her wits’ end. She had phoned round everywhere she could think of, but nobody wanted her and Ruby. And Ruby fretted if she was away from her for very long, so no way was Ruby going anywhere without her. Phinn had wondered about them both finding some kind of animal sanctuary, willing to take them both, but then again, having recently discovered that Ruby was unhappy with other horses around, she did not want to give her ailing mare more stress. ‘Leave it with me,’ she requested, and a few minutes later crossed the road on to Broadlands property and walked Ruby through the spinney, feeling all churned up at how it would break her heart—and Ruby’s—to have to leave her anywhere.

The majestic Broadlands Hall was occasionally visible through gaps in the trees in the small wood, but Phinn was certain that Ty Allardyce would by now be back in London, beavering away at whatever it was financiers beavered away at. Though just in case, as they walked through fields that bordered the adjacent grounds and gardens they had always walked through—or in earlier days ridden through—she made sure that she and Ruby were well out of sight, should anyone at the Hall be looking out.

Hoping not to meet him, if London’s loss was Bishops Thornby’s gain and he was still around, Phinn moved on, and was taking a stroll near the pool where she and her father had so often swum when she did bump into an Allardyce. It was Ash.

It would have been quite natural for Phinn to pause, say hello, make some sort of polite conversation. But she was so shaken by the change in the man from the last time she had seen him that she barely recognised him, and all words went from her. Ash looked terrible!

‘Hello, Ash,’ she did manage, but was unwilling to move on. He looked positively ill, and she searched for something else to say. ‘Did you get your camera all right?’ she asked, and could have bitten out her tongue. Was her cousin responsible in any way for this dreadful change in him? Surely not? Ash looked grey, sunken-eyed, and at least twenty pounds lighter!

‘Yes, thanks,’ he replied, no smile, his eyes dull and lifeless. But, brightening up a trifle, ‘Have you seen Leanne recently?’ he asked.

Fleetingly she wondered if Ash, so much in love with Leanne, might have found cause to suspect she was money-minded and, not wanting to lose her, not told her that it was his brother who owned Broadlands. But she had not seen her cousin since the day Leanne had learned that Ash was not the one with the money and had so callously dropped him.

‘Leanne—er—doesn’t come this way—er—now,’ Phinn answered, feeling awkward, her heart aching for this man who seemed bereft that his love wanted nothing more to do with him.

‘I don’t suppose she has anywhere to stay now that you’re no longer at Honeysuckle Farm,’ he commented, and as he began to stroll along with her, Phinn did not feel able to tell him that the only time Leanne had ever shown an interest in staying any length of time at the farm had been when she’d had her sights set on being mistress of Broadlands Hall. ‘I’m sorry that you had to leave, by the way,’ Ash stated.

And her heart went out to this gaunt man whose clothes were just about hanging on him. ‘I couldn’t have stayed,’ she replied, and, hoping to lighten his mood, ‘I don’t think I’d make a very good farmer.’ Not sure which was best for him—to talk of Leanne or not to talk of Leanne—she opted to enquire, ‘Have you found a new tenant for Honeysuckle yet?’

‘I’m—undecided what to do,’ Ash answered, and suddenly the brilliant idea came to Phinn that, if he had not yet got a tenant for the farm, maybe she and Ruby could go back and squat there for a while; the weather was so improved and it was quite warm for early summer. Ruby would be all right there. But Ash was going on. ‘I did think I might take it over myself, but I don’t seem able to—er—make decisions on anything just at the moment.’

Ash’s confession took the squatting idea from Phinn momentarily. Leanne again! How could she have been so careless of this sensitive man’s fine feelings?

‘I’m sure you and Honeysuckle would be good for each other—if that’s what you decide to do,’ Phinn replied gently.

And Ash gave a shaky sigh, as if he had wandered off for a moment. ‘I think I’d like to work outdoors. Better than an indoor job anyway.’ And, with a self-deprecating look, ‘I tried a career in the big business world.’

‘You didn’t like it?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’m the academic type. That’s more Ty’s forte. He’s the genius in the family when it comes to the cut and thrust of anything like that.’ Ash seemed to wander off again for a moment or two, and then, like the caring kind of person he was, he collected himself to enquire, ‘You’re settled in your new accommodation, Phinn?’

‘Well—er…’ Phinn hesitated. It was unthinkable that she should burden him with her problems, but the idea of squatting back at Honeysuckle was picking at her again.

‘You’re not settled?’ Ash took up.

‘Geraldine—she’s the new owner of the stables—wants to do more on the riding school front, and needs my flat for a member of her staff,’ Phinn began.

‘But you work there too?’

‘Well, no, actually. Er…’

‘You’re out of a job and a home?’ Ash caught on.

‘Ruby and I have until the end of this week,’ Phinn said lightly, and might well have put in a pitch for his permission to use Honeysuckle as a stop-gap measure—only she chanced to look across to him, and once more into his dull eyes, and she simply did not have the heart. He appeared to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she just could not add to his burden.

‘Ruby?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t know you had a child?’

He looked so concerned that Phinn rushed in to reassure him. ‘I don’t.’ She patted Ruby’s shoulder. ‘This lovely girl is Ruby.’

His look of concern changed to one of relief. ‘I don’t know much about horses, but…’

Phinn smiled. There wasn’t a better-groomed horse anywhere, but there was no mistaking Ruby’s years. ‘She’s getting on a bit now, and her health isn’t so good, but—’ She broke off when, turning to glance at Ruby, she saw a male figure in the distance, coming their way at a fast pace. Uh-oh! Ash hadn’t seen him, but she didn’t fancy a row with Ty Allardyce in front of him. ‘That reminds me—we’d better be off. It’s time for Ruby’s medication,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you again, Ash. Bye.’

And with that, unfortunately having to go towards the man she was starting to think of as ‘that dastardly Ty Allardyce’, she led Ruby away.

‘Bye, Phinn,’ Ash bade her, seeing nothing wrong with her abrupt departure as he went walking on in the opposite direction.

With Ruby not inclined to hurry, there was no way Phinn could avoid the owner of the Hall, who also happened to be the owner of the land she was trespassing on. They were on a collision course!

Several remarks entered her head before Ty Allardyce was within speaking distance. Though when he was but a few yards from her—and looking tough with it—her voice nearly failed her. But in her view she had done nothing wrong.

‘Not back in London yet, I see!’ she remarked, more coolly than she felt.

‘Why, you—’ Ty Allardyce began angrily, but checked his anger, to demand, ‘What have you been saying to my brother?’

While part of Phinn recognised that his question had come from concern for Ash, she did not like Ty Allardyce and never would. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ she challenged loftily.

His dark grey eyes glinted, and she would not have been all that surprised had she felt his hands around her throat—he looked quite prepared to attempt to throttle her! ‘It has everything to do with me,’ he controlled his ire to inform her shortly. ‘You Hawkins women don’t give a damn who you hurt…’

‘Hawkins women!’ she exclaimed, starting to get angry herself. ‘What the devil do you mean by that?’

‘Your reputation precedes you!’

‘Reputation?’

‘Your father was devastated when your mother dumped him. My—’

Mother dumped him! Phinn was on the instant furious, but somehow managed to control her feeling of wanting to throttle him to butt in with mock sarcasm. ‘Oh, really, Allardyce. You truly must try to stop listening to village gossip…’

‘You’re saying he wasn’t devastated? That his reason for not paying the rent had nothing at all to do with the fact that your mother took up with some other man and left your father a total wreck?’

Oh, Lord. That quickly squashed her anger. She did not doubt that her father had been capable of conveying his marriage break-up as his reason without exactly saying so. But his marriage break-up had had nothing to do with him not paying the rent—the fact the rent had not been paid had been more to do with her mother’s hands no longer being on the purse strings. It was true, Phinn had discovered, that the rent had only ceased to be paid when her mother had left.

‘What went on between my father and mother is nothing at all to do with you!’ Phinn stated coldly, wanting her anger back. ‘It’s none of your business…’

‘When it comes to my brother I’ll make it my business. You’ve seen him! You’ve seen how gutted he is that your cousin ditched him the same way your mother ditched your father. I’m not having another Hawkins anywhere near him. Get off my land and stay off it! And,’ he went on icily when she opened her mouth, ‘don’t give me “Huh!” This is your last warning. If I catch you trespassing again I’ll have you in court before you can blink!’

‘Have you quite finished?’

‘I hope never to have to speak to you again,’ he confirmed. ‘You just leave my brother alone.’

‘Be glad to!’ she snapped, her eyes darkening. ‘I don’t know what Bishops Thornby ever did to deserve the likes of you, but for my money it was the worst day’s work he ever did when old Mr Caldicott sold this estate to you!’ Thereafter ignoring him, she addressed the mare. ‘Come on, Rubes. You’re much too sweet to have to stand and listen to this loathsome man!’

With that, she put her nose in the air and sauntered off. Unfortunately, because of Ruby’s slow gait, she was prevented from marching off as she would have wished. She hoped the dastardly Allardyce got the idea anyway.

Her adrenalin was still pumping when she took Ruby back to her stall. Honestly, that man!

Phinn wasted no time the next day. Once she had attended to all Ruby’s needs, she made the long walk up to Honeysuckle Farm. She walked into the familiar farmyard, but, having been away from the farm for around three months, as she stood and stared about she was able to see it for the first time from a different perspective. She had to admit to feeling a little shaken.

Rusting pieces of machinery littered the yard, and there was a general air of neglect everywhere. Which there would be, she defended her father. Had he lived he would have repaired and sold on the rusting and clapped out pieces. Had he lived…

Avoiding thoughts that some of the machinery had lain there rusting for years, and not just since last October when her father had died, and the fact that the place had become to be more and more rundown over the years but that until today she had never noticed it, Phinn went to take a look at the old barn that had used to be Ruby’s home.

The secure door latch had broken years ago, but, as her father had so laughingly said, they had nothing worth stealing so why bother repairing it? That his logic was a touch different from most people’s had all been part of the man she had adored. It hadn’t been that he was idle, he’d just thought on a different and more pleasurable level.

The barn smelt musty, and not too pleasant. But it was a sunny day, so Phinn propped the doors open wide and went in. Everything about the place screamed, no! But what alternative did she have? Ruby, her timid darling Ruby, would by far prefer to be up here in the old barn than where she was. Had Phinn had any idea of Ruby’s fear of the other horses she would never have taken her there in the first place. Too late now to be wise after the event!

Looking for plus points, Phinn knew that Ruby would be better on her own, away from the younger horses. As well as being timid, Ruby was a highly sensitive mare, and with their mutual attachment to each other, Honeysuckle was the best place for them. Another plus: it was dry—mainly. And there was a field. Several, in fact. Overgrown with weeds and clutter, but in Phinn’s view it wouldn’t take her long to clear it and put up some sort of temporary fencing.

With matters pertaining to Ruby sorted out in her head, Phinn crossed the yard, found a ladder, and was able to gain entry into the farmhouse by climbing up to a bedroom window. Forcing the window did not take a great deal of effort, and once in she went through to what had once been her own bedroom.

It smelt musty, but then it hadn’t been used in months. There was no electricity, so she would have to do without heat or light, but looking on the brighter side she felt sure that Mickie Yates would cart her few belongings up for her. Mickie had been a good friend of her father’s, and she knew she could rely on him not to tell anyone that she was squatting—trespassing, Allardyce would call it if he knew—at Honeysuckle.

Phinn left Honeysuckle Farm endeavouring not to think what her mother’s reaction to her plan would be. Appalled would not cover it.

By Thursday of that week Phinn was trying to tell herself that she felt quite enthusiastic about her proposed move. She had been to see Mickie Yates and found him in his workshop, up to his elbows in muck and grease, but with the loveliest smile of welcome on his face for her.

Whatever he thought when she asked for use of him and one of his vehicles to transport her cases and horse equipment on Friday she did not know. All he’d said was, ‘After three suit you, Phinn?’

She knew he would be having his ‘lunch’ in the Cat and Drum until two fifty-five. ‘Lovely thank you, Mickie,’ she had replied.

It was a surprisingly hot afternoon, and Phinn, not certain when she would be in the village again, decided to walk Ruby to the village farrier. It would be even hotter at the forge, so she changed out of her more usual jeans and top, exchanging them for a thin, loose-fitting sleeveless cotton dress. Donning some sandals, she felt certain that by now grumpy Allardyce must be back in London, where he surely more particularly belonged.

Perhaps after their visit to Idris Owen, the farrier and blacksmith, a man who could turn his hand to anything and who had been another friend of her father’s, Phinn and Ruby might take another stroll in the shady spinney.

Knowing that she should be packing her belongings prior to tomorrow’s move, she left her flat—and on the way out bumped into Geraldine Walton. Geraldine seemed difficult to miss these days. But for once Phinn was not anxious about meeting her.

‘You do know I shall want the flat on Saturday?’ Geraldine began a touch stiffly, before Phinn could say a word.

‘You shall have it,’ she replied. ‘Ruby and I are moving tomorrow.’

Geraldine’s severe look lightened. ‘You are? Oh, good! Er…I hope you’ve found somewhere—suitable?’

Phinn ignored the question in her voice. Villages being villages, she knew she could not hope to keep her new address secret for very long. But, her new address being part of the Broadlands Estate, the longer it was kept from Ty Allardyce the better. Not that she was aware if Geraldine even knew him, but there was no point in inviting more of his wrath—and a definite court summons—if they were acquainted.

‘Most suitable,’ she replied with a smile, and, aiming to make the best of what life was currently throwing at her, she went to collect Ruby.

Idris greeted Phinn with the same warm smile she had received from Mickie Yates. Idris was somewhere around fifty, a huge mountain of a man, with a heart as big. ‘How’s my best girl?’ he asked, as he always did. No matter what time of day she visited, he always seemed to have a pint of beer on the go. ‘Help yourself,’ he offered, as he checked Ruby’s hooves and shoes.

Phinn still did not like beer any better than she had when she had first tasted it. But it was blisteringly hot in there, and to take a healthy swig of his beer—as encouraged so to do in the past by her father—was now traditional. She picked up the pot and drank to her father’s memory.

When he was done, Idris told her that she owed him nothing, and she knew he would be upset if she insisted on paying him. So, thanking him, she and Ruby left the smithy and headed for the small wood.

Keeping a watchful eye out for the elder Allardyce, Phinn chatted quietly to Ruby all the way through the spinney, and Ruby, having a good day for once, talked back, nodded and generally kept close.

Once out of the shaded spinney, they strolled towards the pool with the heat starting to beat down on them. Ruby loved the warmth, and Phinn, catching a glimpse of the pool, had started to think in terms of what a wonderful day for a swim.

No, I shouldn’t. She attempted to ignore that part of her that was seeing no earthly reason why she shouldn’t take a quick dip. She glanced about—no one in sight. They ambled on, reaching the pool and some more trees, and all the while Phinn fought down the demon temptation.

She would never know whether or not she would have given in to that demon had not something happened just then that drove all other thoughts from her head. Suddenly in the stillness she heard a yell of alarm. It came from the dark side of the pool. It was the cry of someone in trouble!

In moments she had run down the bank and did not have to search very far to see who was in trouble—and what the trouble was! Oh, God! Her blood ran cold. Across from the shallow end was a dark area called the Dark Pool—because that was precisely what it was: dark. Dark because it was overhung with trees and the sun never got to it. Not only was it dark, it was deep, and it was icy. And everyone knew that you must never attempt to swim there. Only someone was in there! Ash Allardyce! He was flailing about and quite clearly close to drowning!

All Phinn knew then was that she had to get to him quickly. There was a small bridge spanning the narrow part of the pool, but that was much farther down. And time was of the essence. There was no time to think, only time to act. Her father had taught her lifesaving, and had taught her well. Up until then it was a skill she had never needed to use.

Even as these thoughts were flashing thought her mind Phinn was kicking off her sandals and pulling her dress over her head. Knowing she had to get to Ash, and fast, and all before she could query the wisdom of what she was doing, Phinn was running for the water and taking a racing dive straight in.

After having been so hot, the water felt icy, but there was no time to think about that now. Only time to get to Ash. Executing a sprinting crawl, Phinn reached him in no time flat, gasped a warning, ‘Stay still or you’ll kill us both,’ turned him onto his back and, glad for the moment that he was twenty pounds lighter than he had been, towed him to the nearest bank, which was now on the opposite side from where she had first seen him.

How long he had been struggling she had no idea. ‘Cramp!’ he managed to gasp, and managed to sit up, head down, his arms on his knees, exhausted, totally drained of energy.

It had all happened so quickly, but now that it was over Phinn felt pretty drained herself, and had an idea she knew pretty much how a mother must feel when she had just found her lost child. ‘You should have had more sense,’ she berated him with what breath she could find. ‘Everybody knows you don’t swim in that part of the pool.’ Suddenly she was feeling inexplicably weepy. Shock, she supposed. Then she remembered Ruby, and looked to the other bank. She could not see her. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said, and took off.

Not to swim this time—she didn’t feel like going back in there in a hurry—but to run down to the small bridge. It fleetingly crossed her mind as she ran to wonder if Ash had perhaps been a touch suicidal to have chosen to swim where he had. Then she recalled he had said he’d had a cramp, and she began to feel better about leaving him. She had been brought up knowing that a deep shelf had been excavated on that side of the pool for some reason that was now lost in the mists of time. The water was deep there—nobody knew how deep, but so deep as to never heat up, and was regarded locally with the greatest respect. Ash, who hadn’t been brought up in the area, could not possibly have known unless someone had told him. Well, he knew now!

Phinn ran across the bridge, and as she did so she saw with relief that Ruby had not wandered off and that she was quite safe. Phinn’s relief was short-lived, however, because in that same glance she saw none other than Ty Allardyce. Phinn came to an abrupt halt.

Oh, help! He was facing away from her and had not yet spotted her. He was looking about—perhaps searching for his brother? He was close to Ruby. Then Phinn saw that he was not only close to Ruby, he had hold of her rein. Phinn knew then that it was not his brother he was searching for but Ruby’s owner—and that Ruby’s owner was in deep trouble!

As if aware of someone behind him, Ty Allardyce turned round. Turned and, as if he could not believe his eyes, stared at her.

And that was when Phinn became aware of how she was dressed—or rather undressed. A quick glance down proved that she was as good as naked! Standing there in her wet underwear she was conscious that her waterlogged bra and briefs were now transparent, the pink tips of her breasts hardened and clearly visible to the man staring at her.

Her face glowed a fiery red. ‘A gentleman would turn his back,’ she hissed, with what voice she could find.

Ty Allardyce favoured her with a hard stare, but was in no hurry to turn around. ‘So he would—for a lady,’ he drawled.

Phinn wanted to hit him, but she wasn’t going any closer. And he, surveying her from her soggy braided hair down to the tip of her bare toes, took his time, his insolent gaze moving back up her long, long shapely legs, thighs and belly. By this time her arms were crossed in front of her body. Strangely, it was only when his glance rested on her fiercely blushing face that he gave her the benefit of the term ‘lady’ and, while still holding Ruby’s rein, turned his back on her.

In next to no time Phinn had retrieved her dress and sandals and, having been careless how her dress had landed, found that her hands were shaking when she went to turn it right side out.

But once she had her dress over her shoulders, she felt her former spirit returning. She had to go close up to him to take Ruby’s rein, and, as embarrassed as she felt, she somehow managed to find an impudent, ‘Lovely day for a dip!’

His reply was to turn and favour her with one of his hard stares. It seemed to her as if he was deciding whether or not to pick her up and throw her in for another dip.

Attempting to appear casual, she moved to the other side of Ruby. Not a moment too soon, she realised, as, not caring for her insolence, ‘That’s it!’ he rapped, his eyes angry on her by now much paler face. ‘I’ve warned you twice. You’ll receive notice from my lawyers in the morning.’

‘You have my address?’ she enquired nicely—and felt inclined to offer him her new address; but at his hard-eyed expression she thought better of it.

Ty Allardyce drew one very harsh, long-suffering breath. ‘Enough!’ he snarled. ‘If you’re not on your way inside the next ten seconds, I shall personally be escorting you and that flea-bitten old nag off my land!’

‘Flea-bitten!’ she gasped. How dared he?

‘Now!’ he threatened, making a move to take Ruby’s rein from her.

‘Leave her alone!’ Phinn threatened back, her tone murderous as she knocked his hand away. She was not sure yet that she wasn’t going to hit him—he was well and truly asking for it! Emotional tears sprang to her eyes.

Tears he spotted, regardless that she’d managed to hold them back and prevent them from falling. ‘Of for G—’ he began impatiently. And, as if more impatient with himself than with her, because her shining eyes had had more effect on him than her murderous threat, ‘Clear off, stay off—and leave my brother alone!’

Only then did Phinn remember Ash. A quick glance to the other side of the pool showed he had recovered and was getting to his feet, which told her she could safely leave him. ‘Wouldn’t touch either of you with a bargepole,’ she told Ty loftily, and turned Ruby about and headed in the direction of the spinney.

With everything that had taken place playing back in her mind, Phinn walked on with Ruby. She had no idea how long it was since she had seen Ash in trouble—ten perhaps fifteen minutes? A glance to her watch showed that it did not care much for underwater activity and would never be the same again.

She felt ashamed that she had very nearly cried in front of that brute. Flea-bitten old nag! But she started to accept—now that she was away from him, away from the pool—that perhaps she had started to feel a bit of reaction after first seeing Ash in difficulties, taking a header in to get him out, and then, to top it all, being confronted by Ty Allardyce.

Yes, it must be shock, she realised. There was no other explanation for her thinking, as she had at the time, that Ty Allardyce had been sensitive to a woman’s tears.

Sensitive! She must be in shock still! That insensitive brute didn’t have a sensitive bone in his body! How could he have? He had actually called her darling Rubes a flea-bitten old nag! Oh, how she wished she had hit him.

Well, one thing was for sure. She would take great delight in marking any lawyer’s letter that arrived for her tomorrow ‘address unknown’, before she happily popped it in the post box to be sent speedily straight back whence it came!

CHAPTER THREE

AS SOON as she had settled Ruby, Phinn went to the stable flat, stripped off, showered and washed the pool out of her hair. Donning fresh underwear, a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, she wrapped a towel around her hair and made herself a cup of tea. She admitted that she was still feeling a little shaken up by the afternoon’s events.

Although, on reflection, she wasn’t sure which had disturbed her the most: the unexpectedness of coming upon Ash Allardyce without warning and her efforts to get the drowning man to the bank, or the fact that his hard-nosed brother had so insolently stood there surveying her when she had stood as near to naked as if it made no difference.

He quite obviously thought she had taken advantage of the hot weather to strip off to her underwear and have a swim in waters that belonged to his lands. And he hadn’t liked that, had he? He with his, ‘Clear off, stay off—and leave my brother alone!’

She cared not whether Ash ever told him the true facts of her swim. She had always swum there—weather permitting. Though she did recall one marvellously hysterical time when it had come on to rain while she and her father had been swimming, and he had declared that since they couldn’t get any wetter they might as well carry on swimming.

Barefooted, she padded to get another towel and, because her long hair took for ever to dry naturally, she towelled it as dry as she could, brushed it out, and left her hair hanging down over her shoulders to dry when it would.

Meantime, she packed her clothes and placed a couple of suitcases near the door, ready for when Mickie Yates would come round at three tomorrow afternoon. Now she had better start packing away her china, and the few ornaments and mementoes she had been unable to part with from her old home.

The mantelpiece was bare, and she had just finished clearing the shelves, when someone came knocking at her door. Geraldine coming to check that she was truly leaving tomorrow, Phinn supposed, padding to the door. She pulled it open—only to receive another shock!

Finding herself staring up into the cool grey eyes of Ty Allardyce, Phinn was for the moment struck dumb. And as he stared into her darkening blue eyes, he seemed in no hurry to start a conversation either.

The fact that she was now dry, and clad in shorts and top, as opposed to dripping and in her underwear as the last time he had studied her, made Phinn feel no better. She saw his glance flick to her long strawberry-blonde hair, free from its plait, and pulled herself sharply together.

‘As I live and breathe—the lesser-spotted superior Allardyce,’ she waded in. ‘Now who’s trespassing?’

To his credit, he took her remark equably. ‘I should like to talk to you,’ he said for openers.

‘Tough! Get off my—er…’ damn ‘…doorstep.’

His answer to her command was to ignore it. And, much to her annoyance, he did no more than push his way into what had been her sitting room-cum-kitchen.

‘You’re leaving tomorrow?’ he suggested, his eyes moving from her suitcases to the boxes of packed teacups, plates and ornaments.

Phinn fought to find some sharp comeback, but couldn’t find one. ‘Yes,’ she replied, belligerent because she saw no reason to be any other way with this man who wanted to curtail her right to use and respect his grounds as her own.

‘Where are you going?’ he enquired, and she hated it that, when she could never remember any man making her blush before, this man seemed to be able to do so without the smallest effort.

‘I—er…’ she mumbled, and turned away from him, walking towards the window in a vain hope that he had not noticed she had gone red.

‘You’re looking guilty about something,’ he commented, closing the door and coming further into the room, adding, as she turned to face him, ‘I do hope, Miss Hawkins, that I’m not going to wake up on Saturday morning and find you camping out on my front lawn?’

The idea amused her, and despite herself her lips twitched. And she supposed that ‘Miss Hawkins’ was one better than the plain ‘Hawkins’ he had used before. But she quickly stamped down on what she considered must be a quirk in her sense of humour. ‘To be honest, that was something I hadn’t thought of doing,’ she replied.

‘But?’

This man was as sharp as a tack! He knew full well that there was a ‘but’. ‘But nothing,’ she replied stiffly. She didn’t want a spanner thrown into the works of her arrangements at this late stage. But Ty Allardyce continued to look back at her, his mind fully at work, she didn’t doubt. ‘Well, I’ve things to do. Thank you for popping by,’ she said coolly, moving towards the door, knowing full well that this wasn’t a social call, but at a loss to know what else one would call it.

‘What you would need,’ he stated thoughtfully, his glance lighting briefly on her long length of leg in the short shorts, ‘is somewhere you can lay your head, and somewhere where at the same time you can stable that—’

‘Her name is Ruby,’ Phinn cut in, starting to bridle. ‘The flea-bitten old nag, as you so delight-fully called her, is Ruby.’

‘I apologise,’ he replied, and that surprised her so much she could only stand there and blink. And blink again when he went on. ‘Do you know, I really don’t think I can allow you to go back to Honeysuckle Farm? It—’

‘How did you know I intended to go there?’ she gasped in amazement. Surely Mickie hadn’t…?

He hadn’t. ‘I didn’t know. That is I wasn’t sure until you just this minute confirmed it.’

‘Clever devil!’ she sniffed. Then quickly realised that she was in a hole that looked like getting bigger and bigger—if she couldn’t do something about it. ‘Look,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘I know you’re cross with me—full-time, permanently. But I wouldn’t harm the place. I’d—’

‘Out of the question,’ he cut in forthrightly.

‘Why?’ she demanded, when common sense told her she was going about this in totally the wrong way.

‘There aren’t any services up there for a start.’

‘I won’t need any. I’ve got a supply of candles. And it’s too warm for me to need heating. And…’

‘And what if it rains and the roof leaks?’

‘It doesn’t. I was up there the other…’ Oh, grief—just think before you speak!

‘You’ve been inside?’ he demanded. ‘You still have a key?’

‘Yes and no.’ He looked impatient. She hated him.

‘Yes, I’ve been inside. And, no, I haven’t got a key.’

‘You got in—how?’

It wouldn’t have taken much for her to tell him to get lost, but she was still hopeful of moving back to Honeysuckle Farm tomorrow. ‘I—um—got in through one of the bedroom windows,’ she confessed.

‘You climbed in…’ He shook his head slightly, as if hardly believing this female. ‘You include breaking and entering in your list of skills?’

‘I’m desperate!’ she exclaimed shortly. ‘Ruby’s not well, and—’ She broke off. Damn the man. It must still be shock—she was feeling weepy again. She turned her back on him, wanting to order him out, but ready to swallow her pride and plead with him if she had to.

But then, to her astonishment and to her disbelieving ears, she discovered that she did not have to plead with him at all. Because, staggeringly, Ty Allardyce was stating, ‘I think we can find you somewhere a bit better than the present condition of Honeysuckle Farm to live.’

Things like that just did not happen for people like Delphinnium Hawkins—well, not lately anyhow. She stared at him open-mouthed. He didn’t like her. She definitely didn’t like him. So why? ‘For Ruby too?’ she asked slowly.

‘For Ruby too,’ he confirmed.

‘Where?’ she asked, not believing it but desperately wanting to.

‘Up at the Hall. You could come and live with—’

‘Now, wait a minute!’ she cut in bluntly. ‘I don’t know what you think I am, but let me tell—’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ He cut her off irritably. Then, taking a steadying breath, let her know that she could not be more wrong. ‘While I’ll acknowledge you may have the best pair of legs I’ve seen in a while—and the rest of you isn’t so bad either…’ She refused to visibly blench, because he must be referring to the sight he’d had of her well-proportioned breasts, pink tips protruding. ‘I have better things to do with my free time than want to bed one of the village locals!’

Village locals! Well, that put her in her place. ‘You should be so lucky!’ she sniffed. But, with Ruby in mind, she could not afford to be offended for very long. ‘Why would you want me living up at the Hall?’

‘Shall we sit down?’ he suggested.

Perhaps her legs would be less on display if she sat down. Phinn moved to one chair and he went and occupied the other one. Then, waiting until she looked ready to listen, he began, ‘You did me a service today that will render me forever in your debt.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ She shrugged off his comment, but realised then that he now knew all about his brother’s attack of cramp. ‘See where trespassing will get you!’

‘Had you not trespassed…had you not been there—’ He broke off. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ he said, his jaw clenching as if he was getting on top of some emotion.

‘Ash wasn’t to know that that part of the pool is treacherous. That you have to stick strictly to the shallows if you want to swim,’ she attempted lightly.

But Ty was not making light of it, and seemed to know precisely how tragic the consequences could have been. ‘But you knew it. And even so—according to Ash when he was able to reflect back—you did the finest and fastest running racing dive he’d ever seen. He said that you dived straight in, not a moment’s hesitation, to get him out.’

‘Had you arrived a little earlier than you did, I’d have happily let you go in,’ she murmured, starting to feel a touch embarrassed. With relief she saw, unexpectedly, the way Ty’s mouth had picked up at the corners and knew her attempt at humour—her intimation that she would quite happily have let him take his chances on drowning—had reached his own sense of humour.

Though he was not to be drawn away from the seriousness of their discussion it seemed, because he continued. ‘You saved my brother’s life with not a thought for your own, when you knew full well about that treacherous side of the pool. You went straight in.’

‘I did stop to kick my sandals off and yank my dress over my head,’ she reminded him, again attempting to make light of it.

But then wished that she hadn’t, when grey eyes looked straight into hers and he commented, ‘I have not forgotten,’ adding in a low murmur, ‘I doubt I ever shall. I thought you’d been skinny-dipping at first.’ He brought himself up short. ‘Anyhow, Ash—for all he’s lost a lot of weight—is still quite heavy. Had he struggled, you could both have drowned. Dear God—’He broke off again, swallowing down his anguish.

Seeing his mental torment, and even if she didn’t like him, Phinn just had to tell him, ‘Ash didn’t struggle. It wasn’t an attempt at suicide, if that’s what you think. It was cramp, pure and simple. The water’s icy there. There’s a deep shelf…He…’

Ty Allardyce smiled then. It was the first smile he had ever directed at her and her heart went thump. He was so handsome! ‘I know he wasn’t attempting to take his own life,’ he agreed. ‘But from that remark it’s obvious that you’ve observed that my brother is…extremely vulnerable at the moment.’

Phinn nodded. Yes, she knew that. ‘I know you blame me in part, but truthfully there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I mean, I didn’t know that Leanne would—er—break it off with him the way she did.’

‘Perhaps I was unfair to blame you,’ Ty conceded. ‘But to get to other matters—Ash tells me you have a problem, with no job and no home for you and your—Ruby. I,’ he stated, ‘am in a position to offer you both.’

A home and a job? Things like this just did not happen. ‘I don’t want your charity!’ she erupted.

‘My God, you’re touchy!’ Ty bit back. But then, looking keenly at her, ‘You’re not…? Are you in shock? Starting to suffer after-effects from what happened today?’

Phinn rather thought she might be. And—oh, grief—she was feeling weepy again. ‘Look, can you go back to being nasty again? I can cope with you better when you’re being a brute!’

He wasn’t offended, but nor was he reverting to being the brute that always put her on her mettle. ‘Have you any family near?’ he asked, quite kindly.

This—his niceness—was unnerving. So unnerving that she found she was actually telling him. ‘My mother lives in Gloucester, but…’

‘I’ll drive you there,’ he decided. ‘Get—’

‘I’m not—’ she started to protest.

‘Stop being argumentative,’ he ordered. ‘You’re in no condition to drive.’ And, when she would have protested further, ‘You’ll probably get the shakes any minute now,’ he went on. ‘It will be safer all round if I’m at the wheel.’

Honestly—this man! ‘Will you stop trying to bulldoze me along?’ she flared crossly. ‘Yes, I feel a bit shaken,’ she admitted. ‘But nothing I can’t cope with. And I’m not going anywhere.’

‘If I can’t take you to your mother, I’ll take you back to the Hall with me.’ He ignored what she had just said.

‘No, you won’t!’ she exploded, going on quickly. ‘Apart from anything else, I’m not leaving Ruby. She’s—’

‘She’ll be all right until you pick her up tomorrow,’ he countered. ‘You can—’

‘You can stop right there. Just stop it!’ she ordered. ‘I’m not going anywhere today. And when I do go, Ruby goes with me.’

Ty Allardyce observed the determined look of her. And, plainly a man who did not take defeat lightly, he gave her a stern expression of his own. ‘I’ll make you some tea,’ he said, quite out of nowhere—and she just had to burst out laughing. That just made him stare at her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized, and, quickly sobering, ‘I know tea is said to be good for shock, but I’ve had some tea and I don’t want more. And please,’ she went on before he could argue, ‘can we just accept that I know you truly appreciate my towing Ash back onto terra firma this afternoon and then forget all about it?’

Steady grey eyes bored into her darkened blue ones. ‘You want to go back to me being the brute up at the Hall who keeps trying to turf you off his land?’

Phinn nodded, starting to feel better suddenly.

‘And I’ll go back to being the—er—village local…’ Her lips twitched, and she saw his do the same before they both sobered, and she went on. ‘The village local who thinks you’ve one heck of a nerve daring to stop me from doing things I’ve always done on Broadlands land.’

He nodded, but informed her, ‘You’re still not going back to Honeysuckle Farm to live.’

‘Oh, come on!’ she exclaimed. ‘I have to leave here tomorrow. Geraldine wants the flat for a member of her staff, and I’ve promised I’ll move out.’

‘That, as I’ve mentioned, is not a problem. There’s a home and a job waiting for you at the Hall.’

‘And a home for Ruby too?’

‘At the moment the stable is being used for storage, but you can clear it out tomorrow. It’s dry in there and—’

‘It has water?’

‘It has water,’ he confirmed.

‘You have other horses?’ she asked quickly, and, at his questioning look, ‘Ruby’s a kind of rescue mare. She was badly treated and has a timid nature. Other horses tend to gang up on her.’

‘You’ve no need to worry on that score. Ruby will have an idyllic life. There’s a completely fenced-off paddock too that she can use.’

Phinn knew the paddock, if it was the one she was thinking of. As well as being shaded in part by trees, it also had a large open-ended shed a horse could wander into if it became too hot.

All of a sudden Phinn felt weepy again. She would be glad when this shock was over and done with! Oh, it did sound idyllic. Oh, Ruby, my darling. ‘This is a—a permanent job?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, you’re not going to turf me out after a week?’

‘It wouldn’t be a permanent position,’ he replied. Though he added before she could feel too deflated, ‘Let’s say six months definite, with a review when the six months are up.’

‘I’ll take it,’ she accepted at once, not needing to think about it. She would have six months in which to sort something else out. Trying not to sound too eager, though unable to hold back, she said, ‘I’ll do it—whatever the job is. I can cook, clean, garden—catalogue your library…’

‘With a couple of part-time helpers, Mrs Starkey runs the house and kitchen admirably, and Jimmie Starkey has all the help he needs in the grounds.’

‘And you don’t need your library catalogued?’ she guessed, ready to offer her secretarial skills but suspecting he had a PA in London far more competent than she would be to take care of those matters.

‘The job I have for you is very specialised,’ Ty Allardyce stated, and before she could tell him that she was a little short in the specialised skills department, he was going on. ‘My work in London and overseas has been such that until recently I’ve been unable to spend very much time down here.’

At any other time she might have thrown in a sarcastic We’ve missed you, but Ty Allardyce was being deadly serious, so she settled for, ‘I expect you keep in touch by phone.’

He nodded. ‘Which in no way prepared me for the shock I received when I made what was meant to be a snatched visit here a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Ah—you’re talking…Ash?’

‘You’ve noticed the change in him?’

Who could fail to? ‘He’s—not ill?’

‘Not in the accepted sense.’

‘Did Leanne do this to him?’ She voiced her thoughts, and saw his mouth tighten.

‘I couldn’t believe that some money-grabbing female could so wreck a man, but—’ He broke off, then resumed, ‘Anyhow, I felt there was no way I could return to London. Not then. Not now—without your help.’

‘I’ll do anything I can, naturally.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘The job is yours.’

She stared at this man who she had to admit she was starting to like—though she was fully prepared to believe that shock did funny things to people, but still felt no further forward. ‘Er—and the job is what, exactly?’

‘I thought I’d just said,’ Ty replied, ‘I want you to be Ash’s companion.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘You want me to be your brother’s companion?’ she echoed.

‘I’ll pay you, of course,’ Ty answered, seeing absolutely nothing untoward in what he was proposing.

‘You want me to be his paid companion?’ she questioned again, as it started to sink in. ‘His—his minder?’

‘No, not minder!’ Ty answered shortly. ‘I’ve explained how things are.’

‘Not really you haven’t,’ Phinn stated, and was on the receiving end of an impatient look.

‘The situation is,’ he explained heavily, ‘that while I can do certain parts of my job in my study, via computer and telephone, other matters require my presence in London or some other capital. I’ve been down here for two weeks more than I originally intended already. And, while I have a pressing need to get back to town, I still don’t feel ready to leave Ash on his own.’

Phinn thought about it. ‘You think I might be the person to take over from you for a while?’

‘Can you think of anyone better than someone who has actually risked their own life for him, as you did today?’

‘I don’t know about that,’ she mumbled.

‘Ash likes you. He enjoyed talking to you the other day.’

‘Um—that was the day you told me to leave him alone, to—’

‘I was angry,’ Ty admitted. ‘I didn’t want another Hawkins finishing off what your cousin had done to him. But that was before I was able to reason that he was still so ensnared by her that other women just don’t exist for him. Frankly, Ash wouldn’t fancy you even if you did use your beauty to try to hook him.’

Beauty? Hook him? Charming! At that point Phinn was in two minds about whether or not she wanted the job. She felt sorry for Ash—of course she did. As for her cousin…she was feeling quite angry with Leanne. But…then Phinn thought of Ruby, and at the thought of a stable and a paddock there was no question but that she wanted the job.

‘I haven’t the first idea what a paid companion is supposed to do…I mean, what would I have to do? You wouldn’t expect me to take him down to the pub and get drunk with him every night, I hope?’

‘You like beer?’ he asked sharply.

‘No!’ she shot straight back.

‘You’d been drinking this afternoon,’ he retorted, obviously not caring to be lied to. ‘There was a smell of beer on your breath.’

‘Honestly!’ she exclaimed. And she was thinking of working for this man who could sniff out beer at a hundred paces! But what choice did she have? ‘If you must know, I hate the stuff. But I’ve been having a courtesy swig out of Idris Owens’ beer tankard ever since I was ten years old—it’s a sort of tradition, each time I go to the farrier. It would have been churlish to refuse his offer when I took Ruby to have her hooves checked over by him this afternoon.’

For a moment Ty Allardyce said nothing, just sat there looking at her. Then he said quietly, ‘Rather than hurt his feelings, you quaffed ale that you’ve no particular liking for?’

‘So what does that make me?’ she challenged, expecting something pretty pithy in reply.

But, to her surprise, he replied in that same quiet tone. ‘I think it makes you a rather nice kind of person.’ And she was struck again by the change in him from the man she had thought he was.

‘Yes, well…’ she said abruptly—grief, she’d be going soft in the head about him in a minute. Buck up, she instructed herself. This man could be ironhard and unyielding without any trouble. Hadn’t she witnessed that for herself? ‘So I’m—er—to take over the sort of guardianship of Ash from you while you—um—go about your business?’

‘Not quite,’ Ty replied. ‘What I believe Ash needs just now is to be with someone who will be a sensitive ear for him when he needs to talk. Someone to take him out of himself when he looks like becoming a little melancholy.’

‘You think I’ve got a sensitive ear?’

Again he looked steadily at her. ‘You’ll do,’ he said. And he would have left it at that, but there were questions queuing up in Phinn’s mind.

‘You think it will take as long as six months for Ash to—um—get back to being his old self?’

‘Hopefully nowhere near as long. Who knows? Whatever—I’m prepared to guarantee stabling and a place for you to rest your head for the whole six months.’

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘You’ll start tomorrow?’

And how! ‘You’d better let me have your phone number,’ she requested, overjoyed, now it had had time to sink in, that by the look of it Ruby was going to have a proper stable and a paddock all to herself.

‘Why would you want my phone number?’ Ty asked shortly.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she erupted at her new boss. ‘So I can ring Ash and ask him to come and pick me up with my belongings. I can bring Ruby over later.’

‘You want to inspect her accommodation first?’

‘I’d—er—have put it a little more tactfully,’ she mumbled. ‘But, yes, that’s the general idea. I could still ask Mickie if you don’t want Ash to do it.’

‘Who’s Mickie?’

‘He lives in the village. He’s a bit eccentric, but he has a heart of gold. He—er—’ She broke off—that was more than he needed to know.

She quickly realised that she should have known better. ‘“He—er—” what?’

Phinn gave a resigned sigh. ‘Well, if you must know, I’d already arranged for Mickie to take my cases and bits and pieces up to Honeysuckle Farm for me tomorrow.’

Ty Allardyce shook his head, as though she was a new kind of species to him. ‘Presumably he would have kept quiet about your whereabouts?’

‘Well, there you are,’ she said briskly, about nothing, and then fell headlong when, in the same bracing tone, she said, ‘Had I not sold my car, I…’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Well, I did,’ she added quickly. And then, hurriedly attempting to close the interview—or whatever it was, ‘So I’ll get Mickie to—’

‘You sold your car?’ Ty Allardyce took up.

‘Yep.’ He didn’t need to hear more.

And nor did he, she discovered. Because what this clever man did not know he was astute enough to decipher and guess at. ‘According to my lawyers, you paid a whole whack of back rent before you handed in the keys to the farm,’ he commented slowly. Adding, ‘Had I thought about it at all, I’d have assumed that the money came from your father’s estate. But—’ he looked at her sharply ‘—it didn’t, did it?’

She shrugged. ‘What did I need a car for? I thought I’d got a steady job here—no need to look for work further afield. Besides, I couldn’t leave Ruby on her own all day.’ Phinn halted, she’d had enough of talking about herself. ‘Have you told Ash that you were going to offer me a job?’

Ty looked at her unspeaking for some moments, and then replied, ‘No.’

She saw it might be a little awkward if Ash objected strongly. ‘How do you think he’ll take my moving in to be his companion?’ No point in ducking the question. If Ash did not want her there, then the next six months could be pretty miserable all round.

‘My brother feels things very deeply,’ Ty began. ‘He has been hurt—badly hurt. In my view it would be easier for him if he didn’t know the true reason for your being at the Hall.’

‘I wouldn’t be able to lie to him,’ Phinn said quickly. ‘I’m not very good at telling lies.’

‘You wouldn’t have to lie.’

Phinn looked into steady grey eyes and felt somewhat perplexed. ‘What, then?’ she asked. ‘I can’t just ring him out of the blue and ask him to come and get me.’

‘It won’t be a problem,’ Ty assured her. ‘Ash knows that you and Ruby have to leave here. I’ll tell him that, apropos of you having nowhere to go, I called to thank you for what you did today and offered you a temporary home.’

Phinn’s eyes widened. ‘You think he’ll believe such philanthropy?’ she queried—and discovered that her hint of sarcasm was not lost on him.

‘My stars, I pity the poor man who ends up with you!’ he muttered under his breath, but then agreed, ‘Normally I doubt he’d believe it for a moment. But, apart from him not being too concerned about anything very much just now, he’s as grateful to you as I am that you were where you were today.’ The matter settled as far as he was concerned, he took out his wallet, extracted his business card, wrote several numbers on it and, standing up, handed it to her.

Phinn glanced at the card in her hand and read that he had given her his office number, his mobile number, the phone number of his London home and the one she had asked for—the number of the Hall.

‘No need to have gone raving mad,’ she commented. She had only wanted one telephone number, for goodness’ sake!

‘Just in case,’ he said, and she realised he meant her to ring him if she felt things were going badly for Ash. ‘Feel free to ring me at any time,’ he added.

‘Right,’ she agreed, and stood up too. She found he was too close and, feeling a mite odd for no reason, took a step away.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he thought to ask before he turned to the door.

‘Feeling?’ For a moment she wasn’t with him.

Without more ado he caught hold of both of her hands. When, his touch making her tingle, she would have snatched her hands back, he held on to them. ‘You’re not shaking,’ he observed—and then she was with him.

‘Oh, I think the shock has passed now,’ she informed him, only then starting to wonder if this man—this complex kind of man—had stayed talking with her as long as he had so as to be on hand if she looked like going into full-blown shock. ‘You’re kinder than I thought,’ she blurted out, quite without thinking—and abruptly had her hands dropped like hot coals.

‘Spread that around and I’ll have to kill you,’ he said shortly. And that was it. He was gone.

Starting to only half-believe that Ty Allardyce had been in the flat and made that staggering, not to say wonderful job and accommodation offer for her and Ruby, Phinn went quickly to the window that overlooked the stableyard.

He was there. She had not dreamt it. Ty Allardyce was in the stableyard talking to Geraldine Walton. What was more, Geraldine was smiling her head off. Never had Phinn seen her look more animated or more pleasant.

Phinn added ‘charm’ to Ty Allardyce’s list of accomplishments, and wondered what he was talking to Geraldine about. Keeping out of sight, she watched for a minute or so more, and then the two of them disappeared.

While they were gone she observed that there was a pick-up vehicle in the yard that did not belong to the stables. She assumed that Ty Allardyce had driven over in it.

She soon saw that her assumption was correct. When he and Geraldine Walton appeared again, he was hauling a bale of straw and Geraldine was wheeling a bale of hay. Phinn watched as the two bales were loaded onto the pick-up. She kept out of sight as the two disappeared again, and then reappeared with the special feed Phinn herself had bought for Ruby, who needed it on account of her teeth not being what they once had been.

Feeling little short of amazed, Phinn watched as the two chatted a little while longer, before Ty got into the pick-up and drove away.

Was he a mover or was he a mover? My heavens, it had all been cut and dried as far as he was concerned before he had even left Broadlands! Ty Allardyce needed someone trustworthy to keep his brother company while he returned to the business he had already neglected for far too long, and he had it all planned out before he had come to see her!

While he might not have cared for her standing up to him over her right to trespass, it was plain that in his view, when it came to being trustworthy with his brother, there was no higher recommendation than that she had that day taken a header into the pool to get his brother out when Ash had got into difficulties. Plan made, all that he’d needed to do was come and see her and—as it were—make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

That he had known in advance that she would not refuse his offer was evidenced by the fact he had driven over in the pick-up. Efficient or what? Since he would be at the stables, he might as well collect a few things and save an extra journey later.

Feeling a little bit stunned by the man’s efficiency, Phinn went out to check on Ruby. Inevitably, it seemed, she bumped into Geraldine Walton.

‘You didn’t say you were starting work up at the Hall?’ Geraldine commented, and seemed more relaxed than she had before.

Phinn felt a little stumped as to how to reply. There was no way she was going to reveal to anyone the true nature of her job at the Hall. On the other hand, given that Geraldine could be tough when she had to be, she did not want to part with bad feelings.

‘I’m just hoping my secretarial skills aren’t too rusty,’ she answered lightly. It was the best she could do at a moment’s notice, and she hoped it would suffice as a white lie. ‘Must go and check on Ruby,’ she added with a smile, and went quickly on.

Ruby came over to her as soon as she saw her, and Phinn told her all about the move tomorrow, and about the nice new paddock all to herself. Ruby nuzzled into her neck appreciatively—and Phinn came near to feeling relaxed for the first time in an age.

She stayed talking to Ruby for quite some while, and was in fact still with her when she thought that perhaps she had given Ty plenty of time in which to tell his brother that from tomorrow on they were to have a house guest.

Realising she had left her mobile phone and the phone numbers Ty had given her back in the flat, she parted from Ruby briefly while she nipped back to the accommodation she would be vacating in the morning.

Finding the card, she dialled the number of the Hall and, for no known reason expecting that Ash would be the one to answer her call, was a little nonplussed to hear Ty’s voice. ‘Allardyce,’ he said, and she knew straight away that it was him.

‘Oh, hello, Ty—er—Mr Allardyce,’ she stumbled, feeling a fool.

‘Ty,’ he invited, and asked, ‘Did you want to speak with Ash?’

‘If I may,’ she replied primly. And that was it. A few minutes later Ash was on the line.

‘I wanted to ring you,’ he said, before she could say a word. ‘We hadn’t got your number, but I wanted to thank you so much, Phinn, for what you did today. I didn’t get a chance before. When I think—’

‘That’s all right, Ash,’ she butted in. ‘Er—actually, Ty stopped by to thank me. Um—I think you must have told him about my need to move from here?’

‘I’m glad I did. Ty says he knows we can never repay you, but that he’s offered you and your horse temporary accommodation here until you can sort something out.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Good Lord, no! Ty’s suggested I get busy sorting out the old stable in the morning.’

‘I’ll come and help!’ Phinn volunteered promptly.

‘Actually, I’m without wheels, so if you could come and collect me and some of my stuff, it…?’

‘I owe you—big-time. Nine o’clock suit?’

Phinn went to bed that night with her head buzzing. She barely knew where to start when she thought of all that had happened that day. Drinking beer in the forge! That ghastly picture of Ash in trouble! His complex brother! His amazing offer! All in all, today had been one almighty day for huge surprises.

Strangely, though, as she lay in the dark going over everything in her head, it was Ty Allardyce who figured most largely in her thoughts. He could be hard, he could be bossy—overbearing, even—but he could be kind too. Complex did she say? Ty Allardyce was something else again.

She remembered the way he had taken her hands in his, and recalled the way she had tingled all over. Don’t be ridiculous, she instructed herself. Just look forward to going to Broadlands Hall to be a companion to Ash so that Ty can get back to the work he so obviously loves.

From her point of view, things couldn’t be better. When she thought about it, a return to Honeysuckle Farm had been a far from ideal solution. Both she and Ruby would fare much better at Broadlands. They were truly most fortunate.

But—Phinn fidgeted in her bed—why was she feeling just a little disturbed? As if there was something not quite right somewhere?

CHAPTER FOUR

PHINN was up and about long before Ash called for her the next day. She had tended to Ruby’s requirements earlier, and spent her time waiting for Ash in folding Ruby’s blankets and in getting the mare’s belongings together.

Turning Ruby out into the field for the last time, Phinn cleaned out her stall so that Geraldine would have nothing to complain over. But even though she felt sure Ruby’s new accommodation would be adequate, she still wanted to look it over before she moved her.

A little after nine Ash drove into the yard and found her waiting for him. He looked dreadfully tired, Phinn thought, as though his nights were long and tortuous.

‘Ready?’ he asked, pushing out a smile.

‘There’s rather a lot to cart over,’ she mentioned apologetically.

They had almost finished loading the pick-up when Geraldine Walton appeared, and Phinn introduced the two. ‘You manage the estate, I believe?’ Geraldine commented pleasantly, clearly having been in the area long enough to have picked up village gossip.

‘Something like that,’ Ash muttered, and hefted the last of Phinn’s cases into the back of the pick-up. ‘That it?’ he asked Phinn.

She smiled at him and, feeling that he had perhaps been a little off with Geraldine, smiled at her too. ‘I’ll be over for Ruby later,’ she confirmed.

‘She’ll be fine until then. No need to rush back. I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Geraldine promised.

A minute or so later and Ash was driving the pick-up out of the stableyard. Her job, Phinn realised, had begun. ‘Er—Ty gone back to London?’ she enquired—more to get Ash to start talking than because she had any particular interest in his brother.

But Ash took his glance from the road briefly to give her what she could only describe as a knowing look as he enquired, ‘Didn’t he phone you before he left?’

There was no reason why he should phone, as far as Phinn was aware, and she almost said as much—but that was before, on thinking about that knowing look, the most astonishing thought hit her! It couldn’t be—could it?

She tried to look at the situation from Ash’s angle. Given that she was unable to tell Ash that the real reason she was coming to live at the Hall was in order to keep an eye on him and, unbeknown to him, be his companion, did Ash think that there was more in his brother’s invitation for her to stay at the Hall than his gratitude after yesterday’s events?

She opened her mouth to tell Ash bluntly that there was nothing going on between her and his brother Ty, nor likely to be, but the moment had passed. Then she was glad she had said nothing; she had obviously got it wrong. In actual fact, when she thought of the glamorous females that Ty probably dated, she was doubly glad she had said nothing. Far better to keep her mouth shut than to make a fool of herself.

Ash drove straight to the stable. There were bits and pieces of packing cases outside, she noticed as they drove up. ‘I was supposed to have the stable empty before you got here, but I—er—got kind of sidetracked,’ Ash excused.

‘Well, with two of us I don’t suppose it will take us very long,’ Phinn said brightly, more concerned with having a look inside than anything else just then.

Taking into account that there were more packing cases inside, plus an old scrubbed kitchen table and other items which she guessed had come out of the Hall when it had been modernised, the stable was more than adequate—even to the water tap on one wall. Indeed, once she had got it all spruced up, brushed out, and with fresh straw put down, it would be little short of luxury for Ruby.

‘Roll your sleeves up time!’ she announced.

‘You don’t want to go into the house and check on your room first?’

Where she laid her head that night was immaterial to Phinn just then. Her first priority was to get Ruby settled. ‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ she answered. ‘Will you help?’

Reluctantly at first, Ash started bundling boxes out of the way. And then gradually he began to take over. ‘Leave that one,’ he ordered at one stage, when she tried to manhandle what had been some part of a kitchen cabinet. ‘I’ll move that.’ And later, ‘What we’re going to have to do is to take this lot down to the tip.’

Sacrilege! Phinn took out her phone and pressed out Mickie Yates’s number. With luck she’d get him before he went for lunch, and she needed to talk to him anyway.

She was in luck. He was home. ‘Mickie? Phinn Hawkins.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he replied, a smile in his voice. ‘Three o’clock.’

‘Change of plan,’ she stated. ‘I’m—er—working and staying at the Hall for a while.’ She could feel Ash’s eyes on her, and felt awkward. ‘The thing is, we’re clearing out the stable for Ruby. Can you find homes for some kitchen units and the like that still have some life in them, do you think?’

‘Today?’

‘That would be good.’

‘An hour?’

‘That would be brilliant.’

‘See you, lovely girl.’

Putting her phone away after making the call, Phinn looked up to find that Ash was staring at her. ‘You’re working here?’ he enquired.

She went red. Grief—what was it about these Allardyce brothers? ‘Shut up—and help me move this,’ she ordered—and to her great delight, after a stunned moment she saw a half-grin break on Ash’s features. It seemed an age since she had last seen him smile.

She was delighted, but a moment or two later she distinctly heard him comment, ‘She blushes, and Ty says he’ll try and get back tonight…’ And then she heard him deliberately sing a snatch of ‘Love Is in the Air’.

‘Ash,’ she warned.

‘What?’ he asked.

What could she say? ‘Nothing,’ she replied.

‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘Am I treading all over your tender feelings?’

There was no answer to that either. ‘Now, where did I put that yard broom?’ she said instead, but knew then she had to believe that Ash thought that there might be something going on between her and his elder brother.

What? After only seeing her once? Though on second thought, how did she know that since Ty did not want Ash to know the real reason she was there, Ty had not instigated or at least allowed Ash to nurture such thoughts? He could quite truthfully have told Ash that, apart from the time she had called at the house with his camera, they had bumped into each other on a couple of other occasions and stopped for a chat.

That, ‘Get off my land!’ and a threat to summons her for trespass hardly constituted ‘a chat’ was neither here nor there. But it was plain Ash thought that there was more to Ty inviting her to live under his roof and offering to stable her horse than appeared on the surface. Hadn’t she herself asked Ty, ‘You think he’ll believe such philanthropy?’ Clearly Ash did not. What Ash had chosen to believe was that she was some kind of would-be girlfriend to his brother. And, bearing in mind that she could not tell Ash the truth, there was nothing she could do to disabuse him of the idea.

Having reached the conclusion that Ash was not so down as she had at first thought, she saw the more cheerful mood he had been in while they had been busy start to fall away once the stable was empty of impedimenta and Mickie Yates had called and carted everything away.

‘I think I’ll take a shortcut through the spinney and collect Ruby,’ Phinn said lightly. Straw was down; water was in the trough they had unearthed and scrubbed.

‘I’ll drive you there if you like?’ he offered, but she knew that his heart was not in it.

For a moment she wondered if the fact that Geraldine had the look of her cousin and it would upset him had anything to do with it. If so, perhaps it would be kinder not to trigger memories of Leanne should Geraldine be about.

‘No need,’ she answered gently. But, bearing in mind that he had seemed happier when working, she went on. ‘Though if you’re strolling down anywhere near the paddock you might check if it’s Ruby-friendly for me.’

Ash nodded and went on his way. By then Phinn was learning to trust Ty enough that if he thought the paddock was suitable for Ruby, there would be no stray barbed wire or plant-life dangerous to horses.

She was feeling sorely in need of a shower and a change of clothes, but Ruby still had to be Phinn’s first priority. She wanted her away from the other horses, and so went as quickly as she could to get her.

First she was met by Geraldine—a smiling Geraldine—who offered to supply her with hay and straw from her own supplies. ‘You can have it for the price I pay for it,’ she offered pleasantly.

Thanking her, feeling cheered, Phinn went looking for Ruby, and was instantly rewarded when Ruby spotted her straight away and came over to her as fast as she could. ‘Come on, darling,’ Phinn murmured to her softly. ‘Have I got a lovely surprise for you.’

Ruby did not have much of an appetite, and after staying with her for a while as she got used to her new surroundings, Phinn left her and went over to the house.

She went in though the kitchen door and at once saw Mrs Starkey, who was at the sink scrubbing new potatoes. She smiled when she saw her. ‘Come in, Phinn, come in. Your room’s all ready for you.’

‘I hope I haven’t put you to a lot of trouble?’ Phinn apologised.

‘None at all! It will be nice having you in the house,’ Mrs Starkey answered cheerfully, more than happy, it seemed, in her now streamlined kitchen. ‘Dinner’s usually about seven-thirty, but I’ve made you a sandwich to tide you over. Or you could have some soup, or a salad, or…’

‘A sandwich will do fine, Mrs Starkey. What I need most is a shower and a change of clothes.’

Mrs Starkey washed and dried her hands. ‘Come on, then. I’ll show you your room. Ashley came in earlier with your belongings and took them up for you. I hope it’s all right? I’ve had your cardboard boxes put in the storeroom, but…’

‘That’s lovely.’ Phinn thanked her, and as they climbed the winding staircase asked, ‘Where is Ash? Do you know?’

For a brief second or two the housekeeper lost her smile. ‘I think he’s taken himself off for a walk. He didn’t want anything to eat, and he barely touched his breakfast.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, more to herself than anything as they went along the landing.

Phinn was unsure what, if anything, to answer. But she was saved having to make a reply when Mrs Starkey halted at one of the bedroom doors.

‘Here we are,’ she said, opening the door and standing back for Phinn to go in. ‘I hope it’s to your liking.’

Liking! ‘Oh, Mrs Starkey, it’s lovely!’ she cried. And it was.

‘I’ll leave you to get settled in and have your shower.’ Mrs Starkey seemed as pleased as Phinn herself.

Phinn stood in the centre of the recently refurbished room and turned very slowly around. The huge, high-ceilinged, light and airy room, with its own modernised bathroom, was more of a bedsitting room than anything. One wall had been given over to built-in wardrobes, with a dressing table in between—far more wardrobe space than she would ever need, Phinn mused. And there was a padded stool in delicate cream and antique gold in front of the dressing table area that had a light above it.

The bed was a double bed, with a cream and antique gold bedcover. At the foot of the bed was a padded cream ottoman, and further in front of that a padded antique gold-coloured chaise longue. A small round table reposed to the side of it, and to the side of that stood a small matching padded chair.

Remembering her cold and draughty bedroom at Honeysuckle Farm, where she would have been returning today but for the turn of events, Phinn could only stare in wonder. She took another slow turn around again—and she had thought Ruby’s accommodation luxurious!

Feeling a little stunned, and thinking that she would not want to leave when her six months at Broadlands Hall were over, Phinn went to inspect the bathroom. She was not disappointed. There must be a snag, she pondered. And, stripping off, stepped into the shower—certain that the plumbing or some such would prove faulty.

It proved not faulty. The water was fine, as hot or not as she would have wished.

Refreshed from her shower, Phinn quickly dressed in some clean clothes and, with her thoughts on introducing Ruby to the paddock, swiftly left her room—she could unpack later. She went to the kitchen.

‘Tea or coffee?’ Mrs Starkey asked as soon as she saw her. And only then did Phinn realise that she felt quite parched.

‘Actually, I’d better go and see to Ruby. But I’ll have a glass of water,’ she answered. No time to wait for tea or coffee.

‘Juice?’ Mrs Starkey offered, and as Phinn glanced at the motherly woman she suddenly felt as if she had come home.

‘Juice would be lovely,’ she replied gratefully. And while she drank her juice she saw Mrs Starkey fold her sandwich up in a paper napkin.

‘Our John never used to have a moment to breathe either,’ she remarked, handing over the sandwich with a smile.

‘Thank you, Mrs Starkey,’ Phinn said, and had her empty glass taken out of her hand when she would have taken it over to the sink and washed it, and the sandwich pressed in its place.

Life was suddenly good. Phinn all at once realised that she was feeling the best she had felt since her father had died. Now, who did she thank for that? Ty, Ash, Mrs Starkey—or just the passage of time?

Whatever—just enjoy.

Another plus was that Ruby appeared a little hungry. Some of her special feed had gone anyway. Phinn took her down to the fenced-off paddock, checked she had water, and sat on the fence eating her sandwich while Ruby found her way around.

After a while Phinn got down from the fence. Ruby was not her only concern, but this was her first day, and apart from having to clear out the stables and make everything ready, Phinn had not got into any sort of pattern as yet. But she was mindful that she should be looking out for Ash.

Leaving Ruby, Phinn went looking for him. He had gone for a walk, Mrs Starkey had said. But that had been hours ago.

Phinn had gone some way, and was near to the pool when through the trees she caught a glimpse of something blue. If memory served, Ash had been wearing a blue shirt that morning. Should she leave him or keep him company?

The matter was solved when she recalled that she was being employed to keep Ash company. She went forward, making sufficient noise so as not to suddenly startle him. She found him sitting on the bank, his expression bleak, and her heart went out to him. How long had he been sitting there, staring at the water without really seeing anything but her cousin?

‘Can you believe this glorious weather?’ she asked, for something to say.

‘Get Ruby over okay?’ Ash roused himself to ask.

‘The paddock’s a dream!’

‘Good,’ he replied politely, and made no objection when she decided to sit down beside him.

Sitting down beside him was one thing. Now she had to think of something to talk about! ‘Are you really the estate manager?’ she asked, playing the companion role by ear.

‘It doesn’t need much managing,’ he replied.

‘You reckon?’

‘You know differently?’ he countered, and she sensed an interest—slight, but a spark of interest nevertheless.

‘No. Not really,’ she answered hurriedly. ‘Only…’

‘Only?’

‘Well, I couldn’t help noticing the other day when I was walking through Pixie End Wood that there are one or two trees that need taking out and new ones planting in their place.’

‘Where’s Pixie End Wood?’

Phinn worked on that spark of interest. ‘If I’m not too busy with Ruby tomorrow I’ll take you there, if you like?’

He nodded, but she knew his interest was waning. ‘How’s Leanne?’ he asked, totally unexpectedly.

Oh, Ash. Phinn knew, just as she knew that there was nothing she could do to help, that Ash was bleeding a little inside. ‘We’re not in contact,’ she replied. ‘It’s like that with relatives sometimes. You rarely ever see each other except for weddings and—’ She broke off, spears of sad memory still able to dart in unexpectedly and stop her in her tracks.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ash, like the normally thoughtful person he was, sensed what she had not been able to say. The last time Leanne had surfaced had been to attend Phinn’s father’s funeral. ‘Come on,’ he said, shaking off his apathy in the face of Phinn having a weak moment. ‘Let’s go and see how Ruby likes her new digs.’

By early evening Phinn was in her room again, wondering at her stroke of luck at being at Broadlands. Because her watch had stopped working she was having to guess at the time, but she thought it had been around six that evening when she and Ash had returned to the house. She had come straight to her room and begun finding homes for her belongings.

She had been surprised, however, when opening a drawer in her bedside table, to find an envelope with her name on it. When she had opened it, it had been to extract a cheque written and signed in Ty’s firm hand, for what she presumed was her first month’s wages.

She felt a little hot about the ears when, never having been paid in advance before, she wondered if Ty had guessed at the parlous state of her finances. The fact that the cheque was for more than she would have thought too made her realise the importance he gave to his brother’s welfare. In his view Ash needed a companion when Ty could not be there himself—and he was prepared to pay up-front for that cover.

Knowing that she was going to do her best to fulfil that role, Phinn, surmising that ‘companions’ probably ate with the family, went to assess her wardrobe. She had several decent dresses, but she had no wish to be ‘over the top’. Jeans were out, she guessed, so she settled for a smart pair of white trousers and topped them with a loose-fitting short blue kaftan.

It seemed an age since she had last used anything but moisturiser on her face, but she thought a dab of powder and a smear of lipstick might not be a bad idea. Why, as she was studying her finished appearance, she should think of Ty Allardyce she had no idea.

She hadn’t seen him since yesterday. Nor had she heard him come home. Would he be there at dinner? Did she want him there at dinner? Oh, for goodness’ sake—what the blazes did it matter where he was? He—

Someone tapping on her door caused her to break off her thoughts.

And, on her answering the door, who should be standing there but none other than the subject of her thoughts? She felt suddenly shy.

‘Hungry?’ Ty enquired easily.

She at once discounted that she was in any way shy of him. ‘Mrs Starkey said dinner was around seven-thirty,’ Phinn responded. Shy or not, she glanced away from those steady grey eyes and raised her left hand to check the time on her wrist. No watch!

‘It’s seven forty-five,’ Ty informed her.

‘It isn’t!’ she exclaimed. Where had the day gone?

‘You look ready to me,’ he observed. And, stepping back, he clearly expected her to join him.

A smile lit the inside of her. Ty must have come up the stairs purposely to collect her. ‘Busy day?’ she enquired, leaving her room and going along the landing with him.

‘Not as physically busy as you, from what I hear. Ash tells me you put him to shame.’

She shook her head. ‘Once Ash got into his stride it was he who did the lion’s share of lumping and bumping,’ she stated, and saw that Ty looked pleased.

‘And your friend Mickie Yates came and took everything away?’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Good Lord, why would I?’ Ty replied, and startled her completely when, totally away from what they had been talking about, he shot a question at her. ‘Where’s your watch?’

Taken by surprise, she answered, ‘It got wet,’ quite without thinking. And was halfway down the stairs when Ty stepped in front of her, turned and halted—causing her to have to halt too.

‘You mean you forgot to take it off when you did your Olympian dive yesterday?’

‘I can’t think of everything!’ she exclaimed. ‘It will be all right when it dries out,’ she added off-handedly, knowing that it would never work again, but not wanting to make an issue of it. It hadn’t been an expensive watch, after all.

‘As you remarked—you’re no good at telling lies.’ He neatly tripped her up.

What could she do? Say? She gave him a cheeky grin. ‘The paddock is lovely,’ she informed him.

He shook his head slightly, the way she noticed he did when he was a little unsure of what to make of her.

Dinner was a pleasant meal, though Phinn observed that Ash ate very little. For all that the ham salad with buttered potatoes and a rather fine onion tart was very palatable, he seemed to be eating it for form’s sake rather than because he was enjoying it.

‘Did you find time to get into the estate office today?’ Ty, having included her in all the conversation so far, put a question to his brother.

‘Who wants to be indoors on a day like today?’ Ash replied. ‘I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,’ he added. Ty did not press him, or look in any way put out. And then Ash was confessing, ‘Actually, I think Phinn would make a better estate manager than me.’

Phinn opened her mouth, ready with a disclaimer, and then noticed Ty’s glance had switched to her. He was plainly interested in his brother’s comment.

‘I’m beginning to think that nothing Phinn does will surprise me,’ he said. ‘But—’ he glanced back to Ash ‘—why, particularly?’

‘Apparently I’m being taken on a tour of Pixie End Wood tomorrow. Phinn tells me there are a couple of trees there that need felling, and new ones planting.’

Ty’s glance was back on her, and she was sure she looked guilty. She knew that he was now aware that her trespassing had not been limited to the few places where he had witnessed it.

When, after dinner, a move was made to the drawing room, Phinn would by far have preferred to have gone to the stable. But, even though she felt that Ty would not expect her to be on ‘companion duty’ when he was home to keep his brother company, she was aware that there were certain courtesies to be observed when living in someone else’s home.

And so, thinking that to spend another ten minutes with the Allardyce brothers wouldn’t hurt, she went along to the drawing room with them. But she was hardly through the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.

‘Grandmother Hawkins’ table!’ she exclaimed, all the other plush furnishings and antique furniture fading from her sight as she recognised the much-loved, much-polished, small round table that had been theirs up until ‘needs must’, as her father had called their impecunious moments, and the table had been sold.

‘Grandmother Hawkins?’ Ash enquired. ‘You mean you once owned that table?’

Grandmother Hawkins had handed it down to Phinn’s parents early in their marriage, when they’d had little furniture of their own. They had later inherited the rest of her antiques. ‘It’s—er—lovely, isn’t it?’ she replied, feeling awkward and wishing that she hadn’t said anything.

‘You’re sure it’s yours? Ty bought it in London.’

‘I’m sure. We sold it—it wasn’t stolen. We—er…’ She had been about to say how it had been about the last one of their antiques to go, but there was no need for anyone to know of their hard-up moments. ‘It was probably sold to a dealer who sold it on.’

‘And you recognise it?’

‘I should do—it was my Saturday morning job to polish it. I’ve been polishing it since I was about three years old.’ A gentle smile of happy remembering lifted her mouth. ‘My father’s initials are lightly carved underneath. We both got into trouble when he showed me how to carve mine in too. My mother could never erase them—no matter how much she tried.’

‘The table obviously holds very happy memories for you,’ Ty put in quietly.

‘I had the happiest of childhoods,’ she replied, and suddenly felt embarrassed at talking of things they could not possibly be interested in.

‘You were upset when your father sold it?’ Ty enquired, his eyes watching her.

She looked at him in surprise, the blue top she wore reflecting the deepening blue of her eyes. How had he known it was her father who had sold the table and not her mother? ‘He was my father!’ she protested.

‘And as such could do no wrong?’ Ty suggested quietly.

She looked away from him. It was true. In her eyes her father had never been able to do anything wrong. ‘Would you mind very much if I went and took a look at Ruby?’

She flicked a quick glance back to Ty, but his expression was inscrutable. She took that to mean that he would not mind, and was on her way.

Ruby had had the best of days, and seemed truly happy and content in her new abode. Phinn stayed with her, talking softly to her as she did every evening. And as she chatted to her Phinn started once more to come near to being content herself.

She was still with Ruby when the mare’s ears pricked up and Phinn knew that they were about to have company.

‘How’s she settled in?’ Ty asked, coming into the large stable and joining them.

‘I think we can safely say that she loves her new home.’

Ty nodded. Then asked, ‘How about you?’

‘Who could fail to love it here? My room’s a dream!’

He looked pleased. ‘Any problems I should know about?’ he asked. ‘Don’t be afraid to say—no matter how small,’ he added.

‘It’s only my first day. Nothing untoward, but—’ She broke off, caught out by the memory of Ash giving her that knowing look that morning.

‘What?’ Ty asked.

My heavens, was he sharp! ‘Nothing,’ she answered. But then she thought that perhaps she should mention it. ‘Well, the thing is, I think Ash seems to have got hold of the idea that—um—you and I—are—er—starting some sort of…’ Grief, she knew she was going red again.

‘Some sort of…?’ Ty questioned, not sparing her blushes.

And that annoyed her. ‘Well, if you must know, I think he thinks we’re starting some sort of romantic attachment.’ There—it was out. She waited for him to look totally astounded at the idea. But to her astonishment he actually started to grin. She stared at him, her heart going all fluttery for no good reason.

Then Ty was sobering, and to her amazement he was confessing, ‘My fault entirely, I’m afraid.’

‘Your fault?’

‘Forgive me, Phinn?’ he requested, not for a moment looking sorry about anything. ‘I could tell the way his mind was working when I told him I’d asked you to stay with us for a while.’

Phinn stared at him. ‘But you didn’t tell him—?’ she gasped.

‘I thought it better not to disabuse him of the notion,’ Ty cut in.

‘Why on earth not?’ she bridled.

‘Now, don’t get cross,’ Ty admonished. ‘You know quite well the real reason why you’re here.’

‘To be Ash’s companion.’

‘Right,’ Ty agreed. ‘You’re here to keep him company—but he’s not to know about it. From where I’m viewing it, Ash has got enough to handle without having the added weight of feeling under too much of an obligation for what you did for him yesterday. He’s indebted to you—of course he is. We both are,’ Ty went on. ‘The alternative—what could have happened had you not been around and had the guts to do what you did—just doesn’t bear thinking about. But he’s under enough emotional pressure. I just thought it might take some of the pressure from him if he could more cheerfully think that, while things might be going wrong for him in his personal life, I—his big brother—was having a better time of it and had invited you here more because I was smitten than because of what we both owe you.’

Despite herself, Phinn could see the logic of what Ty had just said. She remembered how down Ash had seemed when she had come across him on the bank today. She recalled that bleak expression on his face and had to agree. Ty’s brother did not need any extra burden just now.

‘As long as you don’t expect me to give you a cuddle every now and then,’ she retorted sniffily at last.

She saw his lips twitch and turned away, and, feeling funny inside, showed an interest in Ruby.

‘As pleasant as one of your cuddles would surely be, I’ll try to hold down my expectations,’ Ty replied smoothly, and for a minute she did not like him again, because again he was making her feel a fool. All too plainly the sky would fall in before he would want to be anywhere near cuddling distance with her.

‘Are you home tomorrow?’ she turned to enquire, thinking that as it was Saturday he might well be.

‘Want to take me to Pixie End Wood too?’

She gave him a hostile look, bit down on a reply of Yes, and leave you there, and settled for, ‘You intimated you’d neglected your work in London. I merely wondered if you’d be going back to catch up.’

‘You don’t like me, do you?’

At this moment, no. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can take you or leave you,’ she replied, to let him know that she was not bothered about him one way or the other. But flicking a glance to him, she saw she had amused him. Not in the least offended, he looked more likely to laugh than to be heartbroken.

‘How’s the…Ruby?’ He made one of his lightning switches of conversation.

Ah, that was different. Taking the talk away from herself and on to Ruby was far preferable. ‘She’s happy—really settled in well. She’s eaten more today than she has in a while. And this stable, the paddock—they’re a dream for her.’

‘Good,’ Ty commented, and then, dipping his hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a wrist-watch and handed it to her. ‘You’ll need one of these until your own dries out,’ he remarked.

Having taken it from him, Phinn stared at the handsome gentleman’s watch in her hand. ‘I can’t…’ she began, trying to give it back to him.

‘It’s a spare.’ He refused to take it. ‘And only a loan.’

She looked at him, feeling stumped. The phrase ‘hoist with her own petard’ came to mind. She had told him her watch would be all right again once it had dried out—but he knew that, no matter how dry it was, it would never be serviceable again.

‘I’ll let you have it back in due time.’ She accepted it with what dignity she could muster, and was glad when, with a kind pat to Ruby’s flank, Ty Allardyce bade her, ‘Adieu,’ and went.

Phinn stayed with Ruby, wondering what it was about the man that disturbed her so. In truth, she had never met any man who could make her so annoyed with him one second and yet on the point of laughter the next.

Eventually she said goodnight to Ruby and returned to the house, musing that it had been thoughtful of Ty to loan her a watch. How many times that day had she automatically checked her left wrist in vain?

The evidence of just how thoughtful he was was again there when, having gone up the stairs and into her room, Phinn discovered that someone had been in there.

She stood stock still and just stared. The small round table that had been by the antique gold chaise longue had been removed. In its place, and looking every bit as if it belonged there, was the small round table that had been in the drawing room when last she had seen it.

‘Grandmother Hawkins’ table,’ she said softly, and felt a warm glow wash over her. Welcome home, it seemed to be saying. She did not have to guess who had so thoughtfully made the exchange. She knew that it had been Ty Allardyce.

Phinn went to bed liking him again.

CHAPTER FIVE

PHINN sat on the paddock rail around six weeks later, keeping an eye on Ruby, who’d had a bout of being unwell, and reflecting on how Broadlands Hall now seemed to be quite like home. She knew more of the layout now. Knew where Ty’s study was—the place where he always spent some time when he was there.

Most of the rooms had been smartened up, some replastered and redecorated. The room next for redecoration was the music room—the room in which she had often sat listening with Mr Caldicott while her father played on his grand piano. The music room door was occasionally left open, when either Wendy or Valerie, who came up from the village to clean, were in there, giving the room a dusting and an airing. Apparently the piano had been left behind when all Mr Caldicott’s other furniture had been removed. Presumably Ty had come to some arrangement with him about it.

Phinn patted Ruby’s neck and talked nothings to her while at the same time she reminded herself that she must not allow herself to become too comfortable here. In another four or so months, probably sooner if she were to get anything established for Ruby, she would have to begin looking for a new home for the two of them.

But meantime how good it was to not have that worry hanging over her head as being immediate. What was immediate, however, was the vet’s bill that was mounting up. Last month’s pay cheque had already gone, and the cheque Ty had left on Grandmother Hawkins’ table for her to find a couple of weeks ago was mostly owed to Kit Peverill.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Kit had told her when she had settled his last veterinary bill. ‘There’s no rush. Pay me as you can.’

He was kind, was Kit, and, having assumed she had come to the Hall to work in the estate office, he had called to see Ruby as soon as he could when Phinn had phoned. She could not bear to think of Ruby in pain, but Kit had assured her that, though Ruby suffered some discomfort, she was not in actual pain, and that hopefully her sudden loss of appetite would pick up again.

Kit had been kind enough to organise some special food for Ruby, and to Phinn’s surprise Geraldine Walton had arrived one day with a load of straw. Ash had been off on one of his ‘walk-abouts’ that day. But soon after that Geraldine had—again to Phinn’s surprise—telephoned to say she had a surfeit of hay, and that if Ash was available perhaps he would drive over in the pick-up and collect it.

Having discovered that Ash was at his best when occupied, Phinn had asked him if he would mind. ‘Can’t you manage without it?’ he had enquired, clearly reluctant.

‘Yes, of course I can,’ she’d replied with a smile. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you.’

He had been immediately contrite. ‘Yes, you should. Sorry, Phinn, I’m not fit company these days. Of course I’ll go.’ Muttering, ‘With luck I shall miss seeing the wretched woman,’ he went on his way.

From that Phinn gleaned that it was not so much the errand he was objecting to, but the fact that he did not want any contact with the owner of the riding school and stables. Which gave her cause to wonder if it was just that he had taken an aversion to Geraldine. Or was he, despite himself, attracted to her and a little afraid of her because of what another woman with her colouring had done to him?

Phinn had kept him company as much as she could, though very often she knew that he wanted to be on his own. At other times she had walked miles with him all over the estate lands.

She had talked with him, stayed silent when need be, and when he had mentioned that he quite liked drawing she had several times taken him sketching down by the trout stream. Which had been a little painful to her, because it was there that her father had taught her to sketch.

She had overcome her sadness of spirit when it had seemed to her that Ash appeared to be less stressful and a shade more content when he lost himself as he concentrated on the sketch he was creating.

But Ash was very often quite down, so that sometimes she would wonder if her being there made any difference to him at all. A point she had put to Ty only a week ago. Cutting her nose off it might have been, had he agreed with her and suggested that he would not hold her to their six-month agreement. But it was nothing of the sort!

‘Of course you’ve made a difference,’ Ty assured her. ‘Apart from the fact I feel I can get back to my work without being too concerned over him, there is a definite improvement from the way he was.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ he replied, and had meant it. ‘Surely you’ve noticed that he’s taking more of an interest in the estate these days? He was telling me on the phone only the other day how you had both met with some forester—Sam…?’

‘Sam Turner,’ she filled in. ‘I was at school with his son Sammy. Sammy’s followed in his father’s footsteps.’ And then, getting carried away, ‘Ash and I walked the whole of Pixie End Wood with Sam and Sammy…’ She halted. ‘But you probably know that from Ash.’

Ty hadn’t answered that, but asked, ‘Is there anybody you don’t know?’

For the weirdest moment she felt like saying, I don’t know you. Weird or what? Anybody would think that she wanted to know him—better. ‘I was brung up around here,’ she replied impishly—and felt Ty’s steady grey glance on her.

‘And a more fully rounded “brung-up” female I’ve never met,’ he commented quietly.

‘If I could decide whether that was a compliment or not, I might thank you for it,’ she replied.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he informed her, and she had gone about her business wondering about the other women of his acquaintance.

By ‘fully rounded’ she knew he had not been talking about her figure—which if anything, save for a bosom to be proud of, she had always thought a little on the lean side. So were his London and ‘other capitals’ women not so generally ‘fully rounded’? And was being ‘fully rounded’ a good thing, or a bad thing? Phinn had given it up when she’d recalled that he had said that it was a compliment.

But now, sitting on the rail mulling over the events of these past weeks, she reflected that Ty, having employed her so that he could go about his business, seemed to come home to Broadlands far more frequently than she had thought he would. Though it was true that here it was Friday, and he had not been home at all this week.

Phinn felt the most peculiar sensation in her insides as she wondered, today being Friday, if Ty would come home tonight? Perhaps he might stay the whole weekend? He didn’t always. Some filly up in London, her father would have said.

But she did not want to think about Ty and his London fillies. Phinn titled her head a fraction and looked to Ruby, who was watching her. ‘Hello, my darling Rubes,’ she said softly, and asked, ‘What do you say to an apple if I ask Mrs Starkey for one?’

Mrs Starkey was continuing to mother her, and Phinn had to admit she did not object to it. Occasionally she would sit and share a pot of tea with the housekeeper, and Phinn would enquire after Mrs Starkey’s son, John, and hear of his latest doings, and then go on to talk of the various other people Phinn had grown up knowing.

Bearing in mind her own mother had taken up golf, and was more often out than in, Phinn had made contact with her to let her know of her move. After her mother’s third-degree questioning Phinn had ended the call with her mother’s blessing.

About to leave her perch and go in search of an apple for Ruby, Phinn just then heard the sound of a car coming up the drive and recognised Kit Peverill’s vehicle. She had asked him to come and look Ruby over.

Ruby wasn’t too sure about him, but was too timid by nature to raise any strong objections. Instead she sidled up to Phinn and stayed close when he had finished with her.

‘She’ll do,’ he pronounced.

‘She’s better!’ Phinn exclaimed in relief.

‘She’s never going to be better, Phinn,’ Kit replied gently. ‘You know that. But she’s over this last little upset.’

Phinn looked down at her feet to hide the pain in her eyes. ‘Thank you for being so attentive,’ she murmured, and, leaving Ruby, walked to his vehicle with him to collect some medication he had mentioned.

‘It’s always a pleasure to see you, Phinn,’ he commented, which took her out of her stride a little, because he had never said anything like it before. Indeed, she had always supposed him to be a tiny bit shy, more of an animal person than a people person. But she was to discover that, while shy, he was not so shy as she had imagined. And that he quite liked people too as well as animals, when he coughed, and followed up with, ‘Er—in fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you—er—how do you feel about coming out with me one night—say, tomorrow night?’

Phinn kept her eyes on the path in front while she considered what he had said. ‘Um…’ She just hadn’t thought of him in a ‘date’ situation, only a ‘vet’ situation. ‘We—I’m…’ Her thoughts were a bit muddled up, but she was thinking more about how long she would want to leave Ruby than of any enjoyment she might find if she dated this rather pleasant man.

‘Look, why not give me a ring? I know you won’t want to be away from Ruby for too long, but we could have a quick bite over at the Kings Arms in Little Thornby.’

Phinn was on the point of agreeing to go out with him, but something held her back. Perhaps she would go if Ty came home this weekend. Surely she was not expected to stay home being a companion to Ash if Ty was there to keep him company?

‘Can I give you a ring?’ she asked.

After Kit had gone, Phinn thought it time she attended to her duties, and went looking for Ash. The sound of someone busy with a hammer attracted her towards the pool, and she headed in that direction where, to her amazement, she found Ash on the far side, hammering a large signpost into the ground. In bold red the sign proclaimed ‘DANGER. KEEP OUT. TREACHEROUS WATER’. Close by was another post, from which hung a lifebelt.

Ash raised his head and saw her. ‘Thought I was useless, didn’t you?’ he called, but seemed the happiest she had seen him since her cousin had done a brilliant job of flattening him.

What Phinn thought was that he was an extremely bruised man, who loved well, but not too wisely, and was paying for it.

‘I think you’re gorgeous,’ she called back with a laugh, and felt a true affection for him. Had she had a brother, she would have liked one just like Ash.

Ash grinned, and for the first time Phinn saw that perhaps her being there was making a bit of a difference. Perhaps Ash was starting to heal. Phinn went to get Ruby an apple.

It started to rain after lunch, and although Ruby did not mind the rain, it was heavy enough for Phinn to not want to risk it for her. After stabling her she went indoors, and was coming down the stairs after changing out of damp clothes when the phone in the hall rang.

Phinn had spotted Mrs Starkey driving off in her car about fifteen minutes ago, and, with Ash nowhere to be seen, she picked up the phone with a peculiar sort of hope in her heart that the caller would not be Ty, ringing to say that he wouldn’t be home this weekend.

An odd sort of relief entered her soul when the caller was not Ty but Geraldine Walton again, with an offer of more straw. ‘I’m running out of space under cover here, so if Ash could pop over he’d be doing me something of a favour,’ Geraldine added.

‘It’s very good of you think of me,’ Phinn replied, feeling for certain now that Ash was more the cause for the call than the fact that Geraldine had more straw than she knew what to do with. Geraldine had said not one word about having surplus stocks when she had wandered over yesterday to settle what she owed her! ‘Ash isn’t around just now. But I’d be glad of the straw,’ she accepted.

Phinn was about to go looking for Ash, and found she did not have to when he came crashing in through the front door. ‘It’s bucketing down out there!’ he exclaimed, shaking rain from his arms.

‘You don’t fancy going out again?’

‘Need something?’ he enquired, at once willing to go on an errand. He hadn’t heard what the errand was yet!

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