“What did you think you were playing at in there?”

“I was playing at being your fiancé?” he replied.

“You overacted the part,” Emma accused furiously.

“I thought I did rather well, considering the circumstances,” Frazer replied stoically.

“Oh? And what about all those references to us sharing a bed, and that rubbish about my getting up at five to do the milking?”

“Well, he needed putting in his place. I’m sure you could get up at 5:00 a.m. if you wanted to.” Frazer grinned. “And as for the references about us sharing a bed, I was just getting into character.” Frazer’s voice dropped to a low, intimate note. “And I wouldn’t be happy about you getting out of it too early, either.” He smiled as he noted the two high spots of color that burned on her cheeks now.

“A little bit of subtlety wouldn’t have gone amiss.” She tried not to be sidetracked.

“I don’t think you have much leeway to preach about subtlety. You were the woman that dropped me into the damn situation in the first place.”

Kathryn Ross was born in Zambia, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, Designed with Love was accepted by Harlequin. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.

About the author:

Kathryn Ross is a much-loved Harlequin Presents® author with a lively, intense, sophisticated writing style. She especially enjoys creating strong heroes and spirited heroines, and Romantic Times has praised the way Kathryn “utilizes dynamic characterization…to give the reader a gratifying reading experience.” Her latest novel, Terms of Engagement, highlights this talent and we hope you’ll enjoy this story as much as Kathryn enjoyed writing it!

Terms of Engagement
Kathryn Ross

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

EMMA’S eyes widened at the breathtaking absurdity of her friend’s suggestion. ‘Jonathan and I had a civilised divorce, Tori, but it would still have to be a freezing day in hell before I’d ask him for help.’

‘Well, it’s nearly winter, and I believe it snows a lot in Scotland; you might not have long to wait,’ Tori said brightly. ‘Personally, I’d sell that place and get back down to London and civilisation quickly.’

‘I don’t want to come back to London. Of course I miss you, and my other friends, but the peace and tranquillity here are just what I needed.’

As if to prove the point to herself, Emma transferred the phone to her other hand and pulled back the curtain on the window next to her chair.

The sun was starting to go down. Golden light reflected on the smooth waters of the loch and bathed the mountains in a mellow, misty glow, highlighting the September colours of red and gold in the patchwork of fields. Swallows were flying low over the loch, wheeling and skimming after invisible prey. Soon they would leave for the winter, but she would stay, she vowed silently.

‘So how is Jonathan?’ she breathed in a soft undertone, dropping the curtain back into place.

‘The same as ever, as far as I could tell. Mind you, I didn’t stay at the party for very long. Jonathan was the guest of honour, and as you can imagine it was hard to get to speak to him. Word had just got out that he was about to start casting for his next big movie. Apparently it’s a historical epic. People were all over him.’

Emma could just imagine. Jonathan liked to be the centre of attention. He was a very successful film producer and he usually attracted a sycophantic crowd wherever he went.

‘Anyway, we spoke briefly. He asked if I’d like a small part in his new movie and I told him I’d just landed the lead role in Tom Hubert’s new film. That took the wind out of his arrogant sails.’ Tori’s laugh was the tinkling, attractive sound of pure pleasure.

‘He’s got good intentions, Tori,’ Emma said, impulsively defending her ex-husband. ‘Jonathan isn’t all bad.’

‘You know your problem, Emma? You’re too nice. Jonathan walked out on you. In my eyes that makes him a rat of the first order,’ Tori replied.

‘It was a mutual decision. We both agreed it was best to go our separate ways,’ Emma insisted firmly, then quickly moved on. ‘So, what else did he say?’ She didn’t want to talk about her marriage break-up; even after two years it was still a raw subject.

‘Just that he was looking for some wild and moody location for his film. Somewhere—and I quote—“atmospheric. A moor, a loch and an old baronial hall haunted with atmosphere.”’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘That’s exactly how I described this place to you when we spoke on the phone last time.’

‘I know. It was as if destiny had just intervened in your life.’

Emma smiled. Tori could be very dramatic, but then she was an actress.

‘So I couldn’t resist, Emma. I had to tell him all about your mysterious uncle who died and left you his estate in Scotland.’

‘You didn’t tell him he’d left me his debts and that the place was practically falling down around me, did you?’

‘No, of course not. I told him his description matched the one you had given me of your property. That you had been living up there for a month and that you were in love with the place. I gushed positively over everything in your life, darling, I really did. You’d have loved it.’

Emma wasn’t so sure about that. ‘What was his reaction?’ she asked cautiously.

‘He’d already heard a rumour that you’d left London…’ Tori hesitated. ‘Actually he said, “I give her a month before she’s running back to the city. She’s the type to get withdrawal symptoms when she leaves the five-mile radius of the beauty counters at Knightsbridge.”’

Emma’s hands balled into tight fists at her side. How dared he say something so condescending? It just went to prove he had never really known her at all. She’d show him, she vowed silently.

‘But he did also go on to say that he would be very interested to take a look at your estate. That it sounds a promising location for his purposes.’

‘He can go to hell. He’s not coming here.’

‘Don’t be hasty, Em. Do you know how much money they pay out for the right film location? It’s not peanuts, I can assure you.’

‘I know.’

‘You did tell me you would do anything to be able to stay up there? But that the level of debt outstanding against the property is too much, not to mention the work that needs doing to the place?’

‘Yes.’ Emma’s voice was flat.

‘So this could be your chance to put things right. He’s at the Hilton in London for two more nights, and he gave me his number. All you have to do is telephone him and tell him you’re interested and he’ll add your address to the list of properties his location manager will visit next week.’

Emma hesitated. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good. I’ve got to go, Emma. Speak to you soon.’

The silence in the room seemed overwhelming after the conversation.

Before the phone call she had been happily unpacking a trunk full of her clothing and footwear. The cocktail dresses and smart business suits she had once needed for her job as PA to a high-flying television executive were spread incongruously about the small study. She needn’t have bothered bringing them, because there was no way she would be wearing them again.

She glanced around the study. The faded heavy chintz curtains and the mismatched assortment of chairs had all seen better days. Yet there was an elegance to the room. It had dark panelled walls and a large inglenook fireplace which spoke of the grandeur of bygone days. Only a few rooms in the house were habitable. The floor in the east wing was rotted through with woodworm. Some of the upstairs bedrooms let in the rain because the roof leaked.

Just thinking about these problems brought a rush of panic about whether or not she had done the right thing, rushing up here from London. She had given up a perfectly good job. All right, she hadn’t been earning fortunes, but at least she had been able to afford to run her flat. This estate was well out of her league.

Maybe ringing Jon was a good idea. Tori was right; they did pay big money for film locations—money she could use to transform this place.

If it was anyone else but her ex-husband she would be picking up the phone right now. But the thought of speaking to him, maybe seeing him again, made her blood pump through her veins like molten lava. It wasn’t that she held any romantic ideas that she might still have feelings for him. Her love for Jon had died the day he’d walked out. She was more afraid of the fact that seeing him again would probably stir up painful memories, and she couldn’t face that. She’d rather manage on her own.

Emma returned her attention to her clothes. Lifting up a black plastic bag, she started to throw some of the things in. Maybe she should ask Tori to sell them for her in London. It was all designer gear and would fetch a good price.

Her hand paused over a pair of silver stilettos. Jon had bought them for her to attend the première of one of his films. There was a long silver dress that went with them.

She rooted through the clothes on the chair and found the dress, to hold it up against her slender figure. Then, on some wild impulse, she found herself kicking off her sturdy boots, jeans and jumper and slipping into the slinky dress. She stepped into the stilettos and walked across to the mirror on the wall.

Her reflection was a ghostly shimmer in the fading evening light. The dress was exquisite. It clung to her womanly curves, highlighting the firm swell of her breasts, the narrow waist. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair was wild about the pallor of her small face. She lifted it up, twisting it and tucking it into the sophisticated style she had worn that evening long ago, with Jon on her arm.

They had been a happy couple that night. But then that had been before they had started trying for a family, before they had found out that she could never bear him a child. When that knowledge had entered their relationship Jon’s love for her had started to wither and die.

The light was fading fast, and she reached to switch on the lamp beside her. Golden light cheered the room for just a second, then went out. Frowning, she tried the overhead light. She flicked the switch several times but no light came on.

‘Damn!’ Her voice was unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. She would have to find some candles and go down and check out the fuse-box in the cellar. The thought made a shiver of unease rush through her.

Although she loved the solitude here during the day, at night the isolation was a bit intimidating. She certainly didn’t want to be without electric light.

Emma went across to the bureau by the window and rifled through the drawers until she found some matches. As she straightened a loud banging noise resounded through the house.

Emma dropped the box of matches on the floor in shock. It took her a moment to realise it was someone knocking forcefully against the front door.

Who on earth could that be? she wondered nervously. She was out in the middle of nowhere and she hadn’t heard a car engine.

Retrieving the matches from the floor, she then tried to peek cautiously out of the window towards the door.

It was impossible to see who was standing there because of the awkward angle, and with the onset of darkness a mist was rolling in over the loch. It hung in heavy, damp swathes over the front gardens. There was an eeriness about the scene. She decided that she wouldn’t answer the door. Again someone struck the knocker against the door. Whoever it was, they were very impatient.

She moved quietly out to the hallway, wondering if she could see whoever it was from the window there.

The letterbox rattled as someone lifted it. It made Emma’s heart pound with apprehension.

‘Mrs Sinclair?’ a deep voice with a rolling Scottish accent asked. ‘Mrs Sinclair, I’m Frazer McClarran, your next-door neighbour.’

The name was familiar. Her late uncle’s solicitor had mentioned a Frazer McClarran. She racked her brain to remember what he had told her. It had been something to do with the fact that her uncle Ethan had had a long-running feud going with the man. She had no idea what it was about, but the memory was not reassuring.

‘What do you want?’ she called out cautiously, unwilling to open up the door to a total stranger.

‘A member of your livestock has escaped, causing considerable damage on my property.’ The voice held barely concealed impatience.

‘How do you know it belongs to me?’

‘Because there is a big red E branded on the creature’s butt,’ the voice grated. ‘And if talk around the village is correct, that means it now belongs to you.’

Emma hesitated.

‘Mrs Sinclair, are you going to open the door? Or should I just unload the animal onto your front porch? I can’t hang around here all night; I’ve got things to be doing.’

‘Hold on a moment.’ There was an old oil lamp on the hall table. It took her a few moments to light it with the matches, and the glow did little to illuminate the vast hallway, but it was better than nothing. She put the chain on the front door and swung it open a crack.

‘Can you come a bit closer, please, so that I can see you?’ she asked crisply.

‘What are you doing? Checking I’m not an alien?’ The voice held a hint of amusement now. It was an attractive voice—husky, sexy.

‘How do I know that you are who you say you are?’ she asked.

‘Well, I haven’t got a password, but I do have your damn goat in the back of my Land Rover.’ He hesitated, then his voice softened. ‘Look. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll tie the animal up out here and you can deal with it yourself when I’m gone.’

The gentle concern in the Celtic voice brought her senses rushing back. So, OK, her uncle had had a disagreement with his neighbour, but that didn’t mean the guy was dangerous.

She closed the door, unhooked the chain and swung it open again.

Frazer McClarran’s appearance was quite a revelation. He was about her age, thirty-two, and very good-looking if you went for the dark swarthy, rugged type. Which she didn’t, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t interested in getting involved with any man again.

He wore a crew-neck sweater. Its thick cream cable looked good against his dark skin. The black jeans hugged lithe hips and long legs.

The flickering light from her lamp played over his features, highlighting the glitter of black eyes, the powerful line of his shoulders, the square, firm jawline. His hair had a slight curl to it, an unruly thickness that was very attractive.

They stared at each other. For an instant she had the impression that he was as surprised by her as she was by him. Then she remembered why. The long dress she wore was hardly what you’d describe as casual attire. She must look as if she had just stepped out from a summer ball, not an old hall that was half falling down.

His gaze moved over her in one comprehensive sweep of an appraisal, making her feel very self-conscious. Her long strawberry-blonde hair was in need of a taming brush to bring it under control, the dress showed every curve of her slender figure, and on her feet she wore the frivolous pair of silver high heels.

His gaze returned to the lamp she held in her hand. ‘Have I interrupted a seance, or do you always walk about dressed like that with the lights off?’ he asked with some amusement.

‘A seance!’ Talk about being cut down to size. She had thought she looked attractive in the dress, like Claudia Schiffer, not an eccentric clairvoyant. ‘I’ve got a problem with the electricity,’ she answered stiffly. She couldn’t think of an excuse for her clothes, she didn’t know why she had put the dress on. It had been a moment’s whim, she supposed. A nostalgic backward glance at the way her life used to be. Anyway, it was none of his business.

‘Have you paid the bill?’

‘The bill?’

‘The electricity bill,’ he said patiently.

‘Of course I have.’ She glared at him.

He grinned. ‘So what do you want to do about your other problem?’

‘What other problem?’ she asked, captivated by the darkness of his eyes. Were they really so olive-black, or was it just a trick of the light?

‘The problem of your goat.’ He waved a hand behind him. ‘I have the creature in the back of my Land Rover. It’s probably eaten its way through the seats by now.’

‘Oh, yes.’ She pulled herself together. ‘Step inside for a moment. I’ll just put a jumper on, then I’ll come and give you a hand.’

His gaze flicked again to her shoes. His lips curved in wry amusement. ‘Sure,’ he drawled sceptically.

She bit down on a terse reply. It was obvious that her neighbour thought she would be about as much help as a butterfly on a building site.

He looked around as he stepped inside. ‘It’s years since I stepped over Ethan’s threshold,’ he remarked dryly. ‘I bet he’s turning in his grave.’

‘Why?’ She paused with her hand on the door to the study.

He shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘Are you going to be long? I’ve got work to get back to.’

‘No, I’ll be a minute.’ She opened the door into the study and put the lamp down on the sideboard. ‘It’s late to be going back to work, isn’t it?’ she asked, reaching for her sweater and pulling it over the silver dress.

‘Working on a farm isn’t like working in an office, you know,’ he drawled. ‘You can’t tell your animals that you’re clocking off at five-thirty.’ There was that amusement in his tone again.

He watched as she pulled her hair out from beneath the sweater, then kicked off the high heels and stuck her feet into her boots. She probably made a curious spectacle—a long silver skirt with a woollen sweater and hiking boots—but she didn’t care. ‘Ready when you are,’ she said brightly as she finished lacing her boots and threw her hair out of her eyes.

His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the cocktail dresses and smart suits that lay sprawled over the furniture. ‘What were you doing? Having a fashion show?’

‘I was unpacking.’

He bent and picked up a shoe from beside him. It had delicate lacy straps and a high platform sole. ‘You’re planning on going for long walks over the moors, I take it?’ he grated sarcastically.

She tried very hard not to blush. ‘Something like that.’ She grabbed the shoe away from him and refused to allow herself to explain that she had been in the process of getting rid of this stuff. ‘Shall we go?’

‘After you.’ He waved towards the door and watched as she struggled to take forceful strides in the tight skirt.

It was cold outside. A full moon sailed majestically from behind silver-edged clouds, reflecting on the still waters of the loch.

‘Where are you parked?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t hear the car engine.’ She was struggling to keep up with his long stride.

‘I couldn’t drive up to the house because your gate was locked across the approach road.’

‘Sorry.’ Why was she apologising? she wondered. After all, she hadn’t known he was coming. She wished to heaven he’d slow down. He must be well aware that she was practically running to keep up with him.

His Land Rover came into view as they rounded a corner, an old, rickety vehicle that looked as if it had been left over from World War II. It wasn’t until they reached the gate that Emma realised she would have to climb over it.

Frazer hitched himself up over the five-bar gate with ease and swung his legs over to jump down the other side.

If she had been wearing her jeans it would have been no problem.

‘Need a hand?’ Frazer asked, one dark eyebrow raised as he turned to watch her.

‘No, thanks. Just grab hold of the lamp.’ She passed it over to him. He promptly took it, blew the flame out and put it down on the grass. ‘We don’t need it,’ he said as she looked at him in some annoyance.

True enough, the night was bright. The moon had a powerful glow. It shone over the darkness of his hair, highlighting him like a charcoal drawing. Dark eyes, high cheekbones, his lips set in that almost arrogant firm slant, as if she was some insect who amused him.

She did the only thing she could do: hitched her dress up, giving a brazen glimpse of long shapely legs as she swung over to join him. She felt pleased that she had managed the manoeuvre with as much dignity as possible, then spoilt it by catching her foot awkwardly on the cattle-grid and stumbling.

Frazer reached out a hand, catching her around the waist and steadying her.

For a brief instant she was held very close to him, her body touching the long length of his. She could smell the aroma of soap from his jumper. It was fresh and clean and somehow warmly comforting.

Flustered, she pulled herself hastily away. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s OK.’ He sounded matter-of-fact. Obviously her closeness hadn’t had the same effect on him.

‘Don’t know how the goat got out.’ She forced herself to talk in an effort to cover her awkwardness. ‘There are cattle-grids on all the gates.’

‘There are umpteen gaps in your hedges, your stone walls need maintenance and your fences are all a disgrace,’ Frazer commented wryly. ‘An elephant could get out.’

‘Please feel free not to hold back on your criticism,’ Emma muttered with sarcasm, her moment of awkwardness forgotten.

‘I suppose it’s your business if you want to let your livestock roam the country,’ he replied tersely. ‘But it does become mine when they wander onto my land and wreak havoc.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She had to admit he had a point. ‘Did the goat do a lot of damage, then?’

He flicked a look at her as he went across to open the back of the Land Rover. ‘If you call eating four pairs of underpants and some bedlinen a lot of damage.’

‘Four pairs of…’ She wanted to laugh suddenly.

He glanced at her again. She was very glad that the moon chose that moment to go behind a cloud. She shouldn’t laugh. It was destruction of someone else’s property. But she couldn’t help being amused.

‘Your wife must have been annoyed.’ She kept a serious note in her voice with difficulty.

‘I don’t have a wife, just a housekeeper, and she was not best pleased.’

Emma went to stand next to him.

The goat stared at them both, its eyes reflecting brightly as the moon once more glided out from behind the clouds.

‘Come on, you pest.’ Frazer’s voice was gentle as he reached for the rope he had tied around its neck.

The goat gave a baleful bleat. It sounded loud in the night air. ‘Come on, now. I haven’t all night.’ Frazer leaned in so that he didn’t have to drag the animal with unnecessary force. It bleated again, and backed away from him, its hooves making a scraping sound on the floor.

‘Seeing as you’re here, grab the end of the rope, will you?’ Frazer muttered to Emma as he climbed into the back of the vehicle.

She noticed that his voice held a kinder, more patient note when he was talking to the animal than when he spoke to her.

He moved to pick the animal up, but missed as it made a dash for the door.

‘Catch her—’

Too late, the animal shot past Emma. She caught hold of the end of the rope as it whipped by and then found herself running behind the animal over the uneven turf, unable to stop it.

‘Let go, for heaven’s sake, or you’ll kill yourself.’

Instead she yanked at the rope, determined to get the animal to stop, turned over on her ankle, lost her balance and fell. She looked up in time to see the goat making a brave leap across a small mountain stream and disappearing through a hole in the hedge.

‘Are you OK?’ Frazer strolled over and offered her his hand.

Ignoring it, she got to her feet. ‘I’m fine.’ She brushed her hand over her clothes. Apart from the fact that there was a huge grass stain on the front of her silver dress, she was relatively unscathed.

‘Let that be a lesson—don’t attempt farming in your ballgown,’ Frazer murmured with a tinge of humour.

‘Very funny.’

Frazer grinned. ‘Well, I guess there’s nothing more you can do about old nanny goat until the morning. I suggest you get one of your farm labourers to find her first thing. Don’t leave her to wander.’

‘Of course I won’t,’ Emma murmured. ‘I’ll get Brian onto it in the morning.’ She picked some old twigs and pieces of bracken from the wool of her sweater.

‘Brian Robinson? Is he still working here?’ Frazer sounded incredulous.

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

Frazer shook his head and walked to close the back doors of his Land Rover. ‘I suppose you are going to put this place up for sale?’ he asked, ignoring her question.

‘No. I’m planning on staying, making a success of it.’

‘On your own?’ He sounded shocked.

‘Why not?’

Then he laughed.

Emma glared at him. Was he going to make bigoted remarks like Jon? ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked tersely.

‘No offence, but you don’t look like the type to be stuck out here.’ His voice was dry. ‘Do you know anything about farming?’

‘I’m learning.’

‘Who’s teaching you?’

‘I’ve got books from the library—’

‘You’re not serious?’ He laughed again.

‘I’ve got the farm-hands, people who are experienced and trustworthy.’ She was starting to lose her temper. He was dangerously close to sounding like her ex-husband.

‘People like Brian?’ His tone was sarcastic. ‘Let me give you some advice. Don’t trust him around your livestock unless he’s well supervised.’

‘I don’t need any advice, thank you,’ she said stiffly.

‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugged. ‘When you get fed up playing farm, get in contact with me. I’d be interested in buying the place. I could use the extra land.’

‘It’s not for sale.’

‘I’ll offer you a good price.’

‘It’s not for sale,’ Emma repeated firmly.

‘Whatever you say.’ He shrugged again, and glanced at his watch. ‘Do you want me to walk with you back to the house? See if I can sort out your electrical problem before I go?’

Emma was sorely tempted to say yes, but that would be admitting she needed a man’s help, and she wasn’t about to do that. ‘No, I’ll manage. But thank you.’

He nodded. ‘You know, you remind me a lot of your uncle Ethan,’ he remarked.

With that he swung himself into the driver’s seat of his Land Rover and started the engine.

‘See you around,’ he said, without glancing at her again.

Emma watched as he drove away. What had he meant by that crack about being like her uncle? she wondered. Men were the most irritating of creatures, she thought with exasperation.

CHAPTER TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘That’s OK. I’m not in a hurry.’

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

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Have you checked it?’

He glared at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Very well, thank you.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Very impressive.’

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

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

‘Just a little.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed. ‘Rosa will be pleased.’

‘Rosa?’

‘My housekeeper.’

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

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

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

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

‘How long have you got to go now?’

‘Another month, would you believe?’

‘You’re looking well.’

Angela laughed, then looked curiously at Emma.

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

‘Pleased to meet you.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, I think so.’ She hoped so.

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

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

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

‘That’s fine,’ Angela said easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Saturday week.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Are you the best man?’

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

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

‘Thanks, Sandra.’

She nodded and left them.

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

‘No, I take it black, thanks.’

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

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

This man was having a very curious effect on her.

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

‘So you’re a country girl at heart?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled. ‘Yes, I think I did.’

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

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

Frazer studied her over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘Are you planning on getting back together, then?’

‘Heavens, no! He’s just coming up to discuss some business. He’s remarried now, to a very beautiful Italian girl called Gina.’

‘But you’ve still got a soft spot for him?’ Frazer hazarded a guess.

‘No!’ Emma’s voice was emphatic, and louder than she had intended.

The man by the fire looked over at them curiously.

‘Certainly not,’ she repeated in a softer tone. ‘Jon is a film producer and he’s looking for a Scottish location for his latest production. He’s going to take a look at my estate.’

Frazer made no reply to that, just continued to look at her with those intense dark eyes. There was something about those eyes that made her feel he could look into her soul. It unnerved her for a minute.

‘They pay a lot of money for a good location,’ she continued briskly. ‘And, as you said yourself, the farm is very run down. I could do with an injection of cash.’

Frazer considered what she had told him for a moment, before saying calmly, ‘It’s none of my business, but it sounds to me like you’re playing with fire.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Emma was instantly on the defensive.

He shrugged. ‘Intuition.’

Emma didn’t like the analysis, especially as it wasn’t a million miles away from her own feelings, but out loud she said firmly, ‘It just makes good business sense. Jon and I are still friends. What was between us is in the past.’

‘As I said, it’s none of my business anyway.’ Frazer shrugged. ‘What would I know? I’ve never been married.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I have learned though, that sometimes it’s safer to leave the past behind you. Digging around in it can be a painful experience.’ He finished his coffee and looked out towards the window. ‘Sun is out.’

‘So it is.’ Emma wished it would rain again. She would have liked to ask him what had happened for him to draw that conclusion.

‘If you change your mind about selling, give me a ring.’ He got out his wallet to pay for their drinks and slid a card with his number on it towards her.

‘I’ve already made it clear that I won’t.’

‘I’d be prepared to rent some of your lower pastures.’ He smiled, not one bit deterred by her obstinacy. ‘I’ll pay good money. Maybe not as good as your film producer, but it’s an option if you decide you don’t want a lot of strangers trudging around your house.’

Emma picked up the card and played with it absently in her long fingers. ‘I’ll think about it.’

He nodded, and then glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get going. I’ve got a lot of work still to get through.’

‘Yes, I have too.’ Emma wondered if his earlier gentle friendliness had just been a ploy to soften her, so that he could get his hands on some of her land. She was surprised by how disappointed that idea made her feel.

Despite his words, he made no move to leave. Their eyes met. She felt a flare of red-hot heat inside her. Frazer McClarran was just too disturbingly sexy. Suddenly she found herself wanting to detain him, to talk to him some more.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she said impulsively.

‘Sounds ominous.’ He smiled.

Emma had never met a man whose smile could arouse butterfly sensations in her stomach. With determination she pushed the feelings away. ‘I’m just curious to know why my uncle fell out with you.’

‘Ah.’ Frazer’s lips twisted ruefully. ‘It was an old feud between him and my father. So long ago now that I’ve almost forgotten what it was about. But Ethan didn’t forget. He kept the fires well stoked even after my father died.’

‘And you can’t remember what it was about?’

Frazer shrugged. ‘Ethan withdrew away from society after his daughter died. He was a very bitter, stubborn man. The more people tried to help him the more he drove them away.’

‘I take it he wouldn’t sell to you either,’ Emma said with an impish grin.

‘Something like that,’ Frazer agreed. ‘I told you. You’re a lot like him.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t know. I never met my uncle, or for that matter my cousin who died.’

Frazer looked surprised. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Emma said softly. ‘And I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.’

‘I wouldn’t be bored.’ Frazer seemed to settle himself back down against the sofa.

‘I suppose you knew Ethan and his family quite well? You sound as if you’ve lived in these parts for a long time.’

‘My family go back several generations here.’ Frazer nodded.

‘Well…Ethan’s brother, Robert, was my father. My mother met him when they were both studying at Oxford. Their affair was passionate and my mother fell wildly in love. But the relationship was never meant to be long-term as far as Robert Daniels was concerned. He had no intention of marrying my mother. In fact, when he discovered she was pregnant he said he didn’t want to see her again. She left Oxford and went to live with her sister in Kent. My father got his degree and went back to take over the running of his family estate. I never met him.’

‘A nice guy,’ Frazer murmured caustically.

‘Was he?’ Emma asked, curious to hear any snippets of information about the man she had always wondered about.

‘I was being facetious.’

Seeing the look of disappointment in her eyes, he added, ‘To be honest, I don’t remember him that well. He was Ethan’s older brother, and the estate went to him after their father died. Then Robert died…I must have been about eleven at the time. If I remember correctly, it was a drowning accident.’

Emma nodded. ‘Yes, it was. The only reason I know was that Ethan wrote to my mother and told her. Apparently, every year on my birthday my mother had sent my photograph to my father. I think she hoped for a long time that he would come after her and change his mind. But of course he never did. Never so much as wrote to acknowledge receiving the photographs. When Ethan inherited the estate after his death, he found the photographs bundled together at the bottom of a drawer.’

‘But Ethan didn’t invite you up to Scotland?’ Frazer asked.

‘No. After my father’s death it was as if a curtain had been pulled down over the past. My mother married Tony and had two sons.’

‘The car enthusiasts?’

Emma nodded. ‘Sean is nineteen. He’s off seeing the world. Taylor is twenty, married with a young baby. He’s a rally driver, based in France at the moment.’

‘And you’ve ended up inheriting your father’s estate after all,’ Frazer remarked.

‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ Emma said lightly. ‘Apparently I was Ethan’s only living relative, so he made his will out to me. You can imagine my surprise when his solicitor tracked me down and his letter fell through my letterbox. I mean, I had never so much as received a Christmas card from my father or his brother. Then suddenly all their worldly possessions fell at my feet.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose it would have gone to Ethan’s daughter had she lived.’

‘I guess so,’ Frazer agreed quietly. ‘And maybe Ethan felt guilty about the way his brother had treated your mother.’

Emma shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ll never know what he thought. I would have liked to have known him though…and my cousin, Roberta.’ She smiled sadly for a moment. ‘I once asked my mother for their address. I was only about fifteen at the time, and I had this romantic notion that I could turn up on their doorstep and be welcomed. She refused to give it to me and my stepfather was furious that I had asked…’ She trailed off. What she didn’t tell Frazer was that she had been very unhappy at that time in her life. She had never felt as if she’d fitted in to her mother’s new life.

Frazer’s eyes moved absently over her red-gold hair. ‘You look like your cousin. Roberta had the same colouring, the same way of holding a man’s attention.’

Emma didn’t know how to take that remark. Was it a compliment? ‘How well did you know her?’

‘Fairly well. We were at school together for a while.’ He hesitated. ‘She was only twenty-five when she died.’

‘So I heard. It was really very sad. No wonder Ethan felt bitter.’

Frazer inclined his head. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He glanced again at his watch. ‘I’ve really got to go.’

‘OK. Thank you for the coffee.’ She wondered if she had talked too much. She didn’t usually open up like that, especially to someone she hardly knew.

He looked over at her, held her eyes for a moment. ‘Would you like to have dinner with me one night?’ he asked suddenly.

The invitation made her blood rush like fire through her veins. She hesitated, then smiled and managed to say casually, ‘That would be nice.’

He stood up. ‘OK, I’ll give you a ring and we’ll arrange something.’

‘It might be better to wait until after this weekend. I’ll be fairly tied up with my ex-husband being here.’

‘Fine.’ He nodded towards the card that she still held in her hand. ‘Meanwhile, think about my offer.’

Was that why he had asked her out? she wondered as she watched him walking away from her across the deserted bar. Or was she just being cynical?

She wondered if she had made a mistake accepting his invitation. Then she shrugged to herself. She was only thirty-two—too young to lock herself away in a convent. She could have fun, just as long as she didn’t allow herself to get serious.

Trouble was, Frazer McClarran was seriously attractive.

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