Forever His Darling

She mouthed her thanks to Heidi for the tea she’d just placed on her tray table and tentatively sipped at it.

“But what if they change their mind when I get there? I’m not exactly the body type they’ve gone for traditionally am I?” she said, now biting her lower lip.

“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, if I could get my hands on your mother I swear—”

“Okay, Okay. Calm down Mike Tyson.” She chuckled as she heard him mutter “Who?”. “It’s just that we both know that this is it for me. At twenty-six, I’m not going to get a chance like this again and I’m just doing my usual doubting routine. Sorry.”

““Okay, well there’s an official-looking airline chap wandering around in an ill-fitting uniform just begging for a make-over so I better get off and see what’s happening with our flight. I’ll see you soon and we can celebrate properly.”

“Okay, see ya, mwah.”

She managed to get the phone back in the holder without too many problems this time and sipped again at her drink, trying to forget the fact that it was Christmas in a few days and she hadn’t done any shopping so it was likely to be another mad rush around on Christmas Eve. It saddened her to think that she and her mother were basically strangers now and would be spending yet another Christmas apart. Not that she’d ever had a normal Christmas with her family. Her very early Christmas memories with her mother usually meant party after party with the Hollywood types whilst she was left at home being cared for by Angela. That was a ’good Christmas’. A normal one meant that she didn’t even get to go home for Christmas; she stayed boarding at school in England and got to watch all the other children being collected by their parents or at least their parents’ chauffeurs. She remembered how she hated those children, but it wasn’t their fault they had parents who actually gave a damn.

“Miss Harper, sorry, but would you like anything else to drink? The captain says we’ll be hitting some turbulence as we descend through some bad weather so he’s about to put on the seatbelt sign.”

She dragged her thoughts from her troubled reverie “Oh, no thank you Heidi, I’m fine, you go and buckle up. And I’ve told you, please call me Anastacia. You’ve flown with me all around the world and you’ve even done a fifty yard dash down a runway to retrieve my fly-away knickers to save my dignity, so I’d say we’re on first name terms, wouldn’t you? She raised her eyebrow and smiled.

Heidi nodded and returned her smile as she retreated towards the back of the jet.

Ana returned her stare out of the small window to look at the darkening sky, not that she could see much. It was quite a change from the weather in Rome.

***

After a few hair-raising moments of bad turbulence the plane finally landed and taxied to its stand.

She gathered her belongings and wrapped her new cashmere wrap around her shoulders, thankful for the gift from Alix. As she approached the doorway she was hit by a blast of frigid Yorkshire air and falling snow which was starting to stick to the ground. She snuggled into her wrap and stepped out, hoping to God that Alix had chosen warm, practical clothes for her. She laughed to herself; if you couldn’t trust a fashion designer to pick clothes for you, who could you trust!? Despite her fierce independence, even she wouldn’t have turned down a chivalrous offer of a coat from a gentleman round about now. If only.

“Welcome to Yorkshire Anastacia, have a lovely stay and thank you again for the tickets to London Fashion Week. My daughter will love it. We’ll wave to you.”

“No worries and you’re very welcome. I’ll see you soon Heidi. Safe flying.” She said, giving a quick hug.

It had been lovely and warm in Rome, even in December. She didn’t like cold weather and neither did her favourite Jimmy Choo’s.

***

“Stay, George.”

Matt recklessly abandoned the heap of metal affectionately known by all at the stud farm as ’the hummer’ and rushed into the arrivals hall. He was late. He hated being late for anything; the upshot of being rapped over the knuckles with a ruler by the nuns at his strict Catholic school. Being late was a sign of tardiness. Still, on the plus side, he had to smile at the thought of keeping Miss Tall and Snooty waiting around the arrivals hall and having to mill about with the locals. Ah well, every cloud…

The airport was packed with people arriving home. But then what did you expect a few days before Christmas?

He stood back and held open the doors for an elderly couple struggling to push their heavy cases on a trolley and he felt compelled to help them into a waiting taxi. He didn’t even mutter a curse when one of the heavy cases dropped onto his foot and instead smiled through gritted teeth and wished them a Merry Christmas as they went on their way. At least Mrs Henderson would be proud.

He dodged around groups of festive travellers and flinched at the sight of what looked like a young father abandoning his travel bag as he dropped to his knees, his welcoming arms sweeping up two young children in a hearty embrace that made them giggle in delight before returning them to their feet to take their smiling mother’s face in both of his hands to kiss her. Matt forced his eyes away from the newly reunited family and absently rubbed at his chest to try to ease the now familiar ache that witnessing such tender scenes still caused, muttering apologies as he bumped into yet another embracing couple. While scanning faces in the crowd a flash of red caught his eye.

He approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, this way.”

She spun around and Matt momentarily forgot his own name.

The picture he’d drooled over earlier did not do her justice. No clever photo editing would ever be needed.

At her blank look he finally recovered and added, “Quickly, I’m double-parked.”

“Oh, hi there. Can I help you? Did you want an autograph?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor and holding out her hand to him.

She was English, not American as he’d mistakenly assumed, although he could detect a hint of an American influence on her accent.

Matt was vaguely aware that she’d asked him a question and was still waiting for a reply, holding her hand out and narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot and finally dropped her hand back to her side. Her smile dropped.

Say something you idiot, he berated himself. “This way.” He motioned randomly with his hand somewhere directly behind his shoulder before bending to pick up her bag so they could get moving.

“Sorry, who are you?” she enquired, bending with him to take a surprisingly strong grip on her bag handle.

“Matt Darling,” he told her brusquely before continuing at her quizzical look and the on-going tug-of-war between them over her bag. “The owner of Melville ’whose peaceful life you and your magazine friends are about to disrupt and no,” he bent his head slightly and she took a small step back at his invasion, her eyes widening, “I don’t want your autograph Miss Harper. Shall we go or would you prefer to waste some more of my time?”

He groaned inwardly at his terse dialogue and at her equally shaken expression. The truth was that she’d momentarily shocked him; rather, his gut reaction to her had shocked him and his survival technique, honed to perfection since Emily’s departure, had kicked in automatically.

Thankfully she let go of the bag, probably in surprise at his rudeness. “Okkkkayy…” she glanced nervously around the other passengers in the arrivals hall before quickly recovering her composure to fix a smile on her lips before continuing. “Well, I’m Anastacia, pleased to meet you. Thanks for coming out in this horrid weather to get me,” she said cheerily, holding out her hand again.

Goddamn it. Now she was deliberately highlighting his rudeness. What a cow…

He stared at her outstretched hand, unable to compute that she wasn’t offended by him and yelling him to sod off and come back when he’d found some manners. He held out his hand but then quickly ran it over his jean-covered thigh, acutely aware that he was about to touch her. Matt never second guessed himself… what the hell was the matter with him? He was a successful businessman who negotiated multi-million pound contracts on a daily basis.

She placed her hand in his and his body reacted at the warmth of her skin; he had a sudden desire to place his hand on her cheek. What the hell?

He also felt a strange need to apologise for his tardiness but what actually came out of his mouth was, “My car’s this way,” before he turned on his heel and set off in the direction of the main doors like a man on a mission.

***

Spotting a newsagent Matt excused himself for a moment and Anastacia was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath.

Hellllo. Not since her first crush on James Newman aged eleven had her stomach had butterflies like this upon meeting a man. Matt Darling was a hunk! The rudest she’d ever met, and she’d met a fair few snakes in her life to date, but still. At least he’d be something nice to look at until Alix could get his butt here, wherever “here” actually was. She’d just have to gag the obnoxious twerp.

Too swiftly he returned and once again set off towards the car park, leaving her scurrying behind him in her heels. God she felt like an idiot. She was supposed to be in a taxi on her way home to her flat in Chelsea to pack for this trip, before the unpredicted bad weather had changed all the best made plans.

Matt opened the front door of an old-style land rover, the kind used around farms and the countryside. It was a battered heap covered in mud. Authentic.

“George, down!”

Anastacia was shocked to find a chocolate labrador bounding towards her and jumping up at her, trying desperately to lick her face. “Hello there boy,” she greeted in that dopey voice people always seemed to use around animals.

George finally decided to acknowledge his master but not before getting a good lick of his new friend.

“Er, sorry. He’s clearly a sucker for a redhead too.”

She risked a quick glance at her chauffeur and thought she caught a puzzled look on his face before he recovered. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed a clean handkerchief to her..

Patting George and rubbing his ears, she looked up at Matt. “Yes, yes I’m fine… he’s very friendly. I’ve never had a dog but I’ve always loved labs. Such a gorgeous man, you’re a beauty aren’t you,” she said, ruffling his ear’s and planting a kiss on George’s powerful head.

“Okay George that’s enough,” Matt said, intervening. “In the back,” he ordered.

She wasn’t about to argue. The man was clearly pissed at something or other. She moved to open the rear door—

“Not you.”

She heard him sigh wearily, like she was living up to his belief that she was a buffoon.

Matt guided her out of the way and opened up the back of the truck, placing her carry case on the floor as George jumped up and eventually settled down with his head between his paws.

As she stood back to watch the pair, a cold shiver went up her spine and she hugged her wrap closer. She’d actually lost all feeling in her exposed toes and dropped her head to check her polish hadn’t turned blue!

She saw him shake his head and thought she heard him mutter something about her being stupid. “You’re freezing. Why the hell wouldn’t you pack a coat?” He chastised her like a child. “Never mind. Here.” Matt started to shrug out of his jacket.

“Oh no really, I’m—" She tried to hide her gasp at a shiver as he held it out to her.

“Take it. It’s a long drive.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, as if thinking about something important before quickly dismissing it, as he opened the front passenger door for her and stood back. Anastacia took the coat and offered a smile as she wrestled with the sleeves and hopped up into the front seat.

Despite her best attempt, Matt noticed the expression on her face which she’d tried to hide.

“Yeah. It’s a working farm vehicle. Cold and smelly. We use it to ferry things around. Hummer by name, hummer by nature, and our limousine is booked in for its service.” He smirked at her mockingly before he looked down towards his feet and uttered something that she couldn’t quite make out and slammed the door.

What the hell had she done to offend this man? She’d only just met him… but this was a record, even for her!

Still, she conceded, the man smelt divine as she caught the faint smell of his cologne and him as she discreetly snuggled her face into his coat for a deeper sniff…purely to escape the offensive pong of the Hummer. The cologne was a favourite of hers and she basked in the residual warmth from his body and started to defrost; wiggling her toes. She thought about his name and decided it didn’t suit him. Matt made her think of a relaxed, friendly type of man who’d go out of his way to do anything for anyone. Most certainly not this grumpy farmer, even with his perfectly tight arse which, in her defence, she couldn’t help but notice as he’d stormed on ahead in the arrivals hall, expertly dodging passengers and trailing suitcases like he was a contestant on ’It’s a Knockout’.

“So how long will it take us to get there?” she said, rubbing her hands together before bending to take off her impractical but heavenly shoes and curl her legs up underneath her body on the car seat. At his curious expression she added, “Years and years of Yoga.”

He nodded in understanding before explaining. “Usually about an hour or so, but I think this weather might slow us down a bit.”

She’d noticed that the snowfall was much heavier now and it was sticking to the roads with menace.

“If they close the pass to the village then we’ll be staying somewhere else for the night.” He glanced over at her and she saw a flash of concern on his face which he didn’t bother to hide. “Ever sleep in anything other than a six star hotel?” He raised another mocking brow at her.

All right buster, she thought, I’ve played nice so far but now we’re alone with no camera phones to record me and upload it all online.

“Have I done something to offend you Mr Darling? Am I getting special attention or did the hens just refuse to lay today? Or perhaps you think this,” she waved her arm at him, “grumpy farmer routine or whatever it is you’ve got going on is just what the tourists want?” She raised her brow and caught a muscle tick in his jaw.

“Just to be clear,” he started as he glanced over briefly, “I don’t want you or your fashion crew here.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, I’m smart like that.” She shrugged. “Guess it just goes to prove that they don’t let just anyone into Mensa.” She tapped her chin with her index finger as if in thought. “Of course that does lead one to question your intelligence for letting us let us rent the house if we offend your delicate sensitivities so. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He seemed briefly dazed by her curt words. Most likely about her Mensa gem—she hated the stereotype that all models were only interested in their hair and make-up. Of course he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t actually a member of Mensa… What was a tiny white lie to a man she was never going to see again.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t my idea. It was my sister’s.” He glared over at her again and then narrowed his eyes accusatorily. “I despise everything that you and your kind crave, Miss Harper.”

Ana was so shocked by the vicious words, spat out with such disdain, that it took a moment for her to recover and close her mouth which had dropped open at his terse remark. “W-wow. Just say what you think.” She held her hands up in mock surrender before dropping them back in her lap. “Am I allowed to ask just what it is that you think I crave so much? Oh, and I assume you’re not thinking it’s chocolate.”

Annoyingly, the tick in his jaw only added to his attractiveness.

“Attention. Fame.”

“That’s it?” She gasped outraged. “You’re offended by my choice of occupation?” She let out a humourless laugh and shook her head. He made no sense to her. “Well, I’m offended by your rudeness Mr Darling, but still, I’m here to do a job which I will do to the best of my ability whilst trying my hardest to keep out of your way so as not to offend you.” She titled her head and smiled sardonically at him. “But seeing as though we have a signed contract to be at Melville and I understand that a generous donation has been made to a local charity at your request…” she paused for effect, raising her brow, “I suggest that you keep your thoughts about ’my kind’ to yourself and concentrate on driving.”

Her heart was pounding so much she could feel it in her throat. She was riled yet strangely exhilarated as nervous energy swamped her body. She saw his grip on the wheel tighten further. He looked pissed off, but arguing with him was… fun.

Until reality set in. God, had she really just said all that? Crap she shouldn’t have let loose. She should have just sucked it up and bottled it all in like usual. What if he did in fact go to the press with a story about what a demanding diva she was? What if Passion decided she was just too opinionated; too out of control; just too much trouble? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to make a quick fortune out of an ’Exclusive tell-all’ article about her. Would she ever learn?

She let out a sigh. It was too late now. He just brought that response forth from her and she was still surprised; surprised at how good it felt! She had lost count of the times she’d held back from telling some idiot what she really felt. Her life was monitored 24/7. Privacy was non-existent, especially with the advent of the mobile phone with their built in cameras and video’s. Oh well, Amanda would have to scream at her again and deal with any fall out, no doubt, after she’d received a call from her mother’s publicist complaining about how her behaviour impacted her mother’s precious career.

While Matt was concentrating on the road and the increasingly difficult conditions, she took advantage to steal a glance at him from the corner of her eye, hoping she wouldn’t be caught ogling him. Again.

She’d noticed him at the airport before he’d apparently seen her.

The furor caused by his attempts to help an older couple with their suitcases had made her chuckle, especially when the heavy bag had fallen on his foot. Not that she hoped he was hurt, well, not then, before she knew what he was like, but it was clear that he’d been in a rush to meet someone but his manners had clearly won. She’d liked that, but it was at odds with the man sitting next to her. What the hell had she done to this man in such a short period of time to warrant such a reaction? And for that matter, what was so wrong with having attention?!

She’d already clocked that he was tall, maybe a couple of inches over six foot with broad, athletic shoulders and dark hair which was cut short, and he sported a couple of days’ dark growth which suited his chiselled jawline perfectly. She’d also noted his strong bone structure and symmetrical facial features, a habit from her line of work. She noticed beauty. From a distance she had daydreamed that his padded winter coat hid a muscular body. She didn’t have to imagine for long… until he opened that perfect jaw and spoke and ruined the illusion.

Talk about living up to stereotypes. This guy was the ultimate Grumpy Farmer.

But when he’d shrugged off his coat… WOW. If Alix had been with her, he’d have shouted “hubba hubba” before passing out on the floor, not caring that the man was insolent!

Putting his bad mannered attitude to one side, Matt was stacked! His muscular body was probably acquired and honed to perfection through his active lifestyle of lugging hay bales around the farm and sheering sheep or whatever it was that farmers did all day. His black T-shirt pulled slightly over his pectoral muscles and was teamed with snug, worn light blue jeans. Apair of well-used working boots finished the ensemble. As he drove on in silence she continued to take advantage and gaze at his forearms, momentarily fascinated as the corded muscle tensed and then relaxed as he made minor adjustments to the steering wheel. They were mesmerising. Forearms were sexy…who knew?

She’d already spied the beautiful, vintage Omega watch he sported and that the ring finger on his left hand was bare… Why had she even been looking? Did a girlfriend buy him the watch?

His eyes? She was acutely aware that she hadn’t yet had the chance to fully appreciate her grumpy farmer’s eyes. She guessed they were blue to complement his skin and hair colouring… She gave herself a mental slap. She wasn’t interested in such things. Her career was her priority, not her love life.

Her musings were interrupted by music coming from his mobile phone..

“Is that - Dirty Dancing?” she queried.

Okay, that was not the ringtone she’d have guessed would be on a farmer’s phone, she thought, as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He answered his phone and spoke with someone confirming that he had collected her and they were on the way back. He finished the call and they were once again under way. Was that his wife or girlfriend?

Before she could stop her runaway mouth she teased, “What, no ’Old Macdonald had a farm’ on iTunes?”

She started to hum the children’s nursery tune to herself and glanced over at Matt. He looked uncomfortably embarrassed.

Clearly he wasn’t going to bite this time. “That was Pip, my sister,” he clarified, after a short pause. “She said the snow is getting really heavy and wanted to know where we were. She also likes to steal my phone and change the personal ring tones.” She caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She was right—brilliant blue eyes—but yet something in them made her pause. Something she recognised from seeing her reflection too many times, as an occupational hazard. He looked… shattered, and not through lack of sleep, although she’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes. More like he was emotionally drained. Now that she really thought about it as she watched him rub at his jaw, the stubble on his face was less likely to be a fashion statement and more like he’d simply forgotten to shave or simply couldn’t be bothered, and the nail on his right thumb was bitten… all seemed to point in the direction that all was not rosy in this man’s life. Well, whatever. It wasn’t any of her business and she was out of here in a couple of days.

He reached between the front seats and thrust a bag from the newsagent at the airport into her hands. “Here.”

Anastacia peered into the heavy bag which contained several small bottles of chilled Perrier water. Bemused, she looked over at him. “Er, thanks.”

“My sister said you needed them. Your agent apparently told her to get them for you. I’ll order more for you to be delivered at the house, but that’s all they had in the shop. You should give our Yorkshire water a try.” He looked over her pointedly. “Surprisingly it tastes just like water.”

She offered a “Humph” in response. Great, she thought, letting his sarcasm wash over her this time. She mulled over the fact that it was just more fuel for the fire that all models are completely demanding bitches. Amanda just sent out those lists automatically, she didn’t even know what was on it. She’d asked her to stop sending them but it appeared her request had been ignored—yet again.

Anastacia reached into her handbag, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had chance to switch her phone on since landing. She opened the bottle of water and took a few sips whilst waiting for it to catch a signal. After travelling for about forty minutes or so she guessed they were almost there. A few miles back Matt had appeared anxious and rubbed at his temples and back of his neck, but they’d driven on mostly in silence until she interjected with questions about the village and local area, just to annoy him and to see how many one word responses she could elicit. Seven.