His Defiant Mistress: The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress / The Venetian's Midnight Mistress / The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress

CHAPTER EIGHT

NEXT DAY Sarah had nothing to do except think far too much about Alex Merrick’s kisses. Until she heard from the building inspector there could be no progress at Westhope Farm. But in the meantime she would stop daydreaming and pass the time by dealing with laundry, spring-cleaning her flat, and even, horror of horrors, washing her mammoth windows.

She rang Harry after working on her laptop for a while, and told him she could top up Ian’s present wage a little. ‘Once I get the official report and make Mr Groves a firm offer, you can sound Ian out. If he’s keen tell him to come round here to the flat one evening and we’ll sort it.’

‘He’ll jump at it,’ Harry assured her. ‘So, what are you doing today, then?’

‘Housework I haven’t had time for lately,’ said Sarah gloomily. ‘Including the windows, heaven help me.’

‘I’d better do that for you,’ said Harry, to her astonishment. ‘You’d be up and down a ladder like a monkey on a stick with the size windows you’ve got. Probably break a leg or something.’

‘Harry, I can’t ask you to clean my windows!’

‘You didn’t ask, I offered. I’ll see you in half an hour,’ he said firmly.

Only too happy to be relieved of the task she disliked most, Sarah loaded her washing machine and then got on with her cleaning, her mind on her evening with Alex. It was strange that dinner at the Pheasant with Dan Mason had merely been a way of killing time, whereas with Alex it had been pure pleasure from start to finish. Something she’d never felt with anyone before. Probably because he was nothing like the spoilt rich kid of her first impression. He’d worked hard to earn his crown. And he was no slouch in the kissing department either.

Sarah stood still in the middle of the room, her heart thumping again at the thought of Alex’s kisses, until the doorbell brought her back to earth with a bump and she ran to open the door to Harry, who’d come armed with a telescopic ladder.

‘Right then, boss, I’ll get started.’

‘This is very kind of you, Harry,’ she said gratefully.

‘I had nothing better to do. But not a word in the pub, mind,’ he warned.

Sarah grinned. ‘My lips are sealed. How about a cup of coffee before you start?’

‘No thanks, I’ll wait till I’ve finished. I’d better clean these shutters first,’ he said, eyeing them. ‘Might as well do the job properly. Got a bucket and some cloths?’

While Harry worked Sarah carried on with her own chores, and at intervals wrung out cloths for him and supplied fresh water. At last he stood back, eyeing pristine white shutters and gleaming glass with a grunt of satisfaction.

‘All right if I go out through the long window?’ he asked. ‘Might as well do the outside and finish the job.’

‘You’re such a star, Harry,’ Sarah said fervently.

‘You’d best close the shutters a bit; I’ll see better,’ he said, and went out, pulling the window ajar behind him.

Sarah closed the shutters to halfway, then went up the steps to put fresh covers on her bed. She straightened in surprise at a knock on her door instead of the sound of the bell. She ran down, expecting one of her neighbours, and opened her door to find Dan Mason grinning down at her, so irritatingly sure of his welcome Sarah found it hard to summon a smile.

‘Someone was delivering a parcel as I arrived so I sneaked in at the same time,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

Sarah nodded reluctantly, wishing she could say no.

Dan walked past her, looking impressed as he took in the proportions of the room. ‘God, Sarah, what a place!’

‘It was a music room originally, but I made some modifications.’ Which was an understatement for a work programme which had started with tearing up lino and treating floorboards, progressed to building the windowseat and sleeping platform, and finished with the installation of her double row of shutters.

‘But where do you sleep?’

‘Up there,’ Sarah said, waving a hand at the platform.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Romantic, but not much room for overnight guests.’

‘None at all,’ she said shortly. ‘Why are you here, Dan?’

He smiled, moving closer. ‘To get my request in early for your company at dinner tonight. Not the Pheasant again,’ he added quickly. ‘The weather’s good, so we could drive to a place I know near Ross.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s very kind of you, Dan, but I’ve got something on tonight.’

‘Two nights running with Alex Merrick?’ he demanded, his bonhomie suddenly gone.

‘As it happens, no.’ Her chin lifted. ‘But even if it were it’s my business, Dan, no one else’s.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Oh, I get the message. The Crown Prince of Merrick strikes again. Alex always had the girls running after him. That smell of family money on him attracts them like flies. But he’s a slippery customer; never gets hooked.’ He caught her hands, sudden malevolence in his eyes. ‘Did he score any better with you than I did?’

Sarah glared in disgust and tried to wrench free, but Dan jerked her into his arms and crushed his mouth down on hers. In furious, knee-jerk reaction she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, and he pushed her away with a howl of pain, a hand clapped to his mouth.

‘Something wrong, Sarah?’ said Harry, stepping through the window with his ladder. ‘I thought I heard voices. Oh, it’s you, Daniel.’

Dan was too taken aback at the sight of him to reply, his face like thunder as blood dripped down his chin.

Sarah fished a crumpled tissue from the pocket of her jeans. ‘You’d better have this. You’re bleeding.’ She looked Harry in the eye. ‘Dan tripped and caught his lip in his teeth.’

‘Better get off home, then, Daniel,’ advised Harry grimly. ‘I’ll see you to your car.’

‘No need, Harry,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll do that.’ She opened her door and waved Dan through, then marched across the hall to the main door. ‘Is that why you came here, Dan? Because you heard I had dinner with Alex Merrick last night?’

He shrugged, his eyes like hard blue pebbles as he dabbed, wincing, at his lip. ‘By the law of averages it might have been my turn to get lucky tonight.’

Sarah clenched her fists, itching to hit him. ‘Not tonight, not ever, Dan Mason. Just go, please.’

‘In my own good time,’ he snarled.

‘Right now, please, or I’ll get Harry to speed you on your way.’

‘What the hell’s he doing here, anyway? Another of your conquests?’

‘Oh, grow up, Dan,’ she said wearily, and moved to close the main door, but he held up a hand.

‘Be very careful where Alex Merrick’s concerned, Sarah. At a stretch you could say you’re both in the same line of business. But there’s just one of you, while he’s got his entire bloody group behind him.’ He swore under his breath as Harry came out with his ladder.

‘I’ll just stow this in the pick-up before I have that coffee, boss.’ Harry gave Dan a straight look. ‘On your way now, are you, lad?’

Dan shot a venomous look at him as he stalked away to his car, then with a growl of the powerful engine he drove off, barely stopping to check for traffic as he shot out into the road.

‘Ed Mason spared the rod too much with that boy,’ said Harry, walking back to Sarah. ‘I was ready to haul him off you by the scruff of his neck, but you sorted him yourself. Good girl.’

‘I try to be,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Let’s have that coffee. I could even rise to a sandwich or two if you’ve got time to stay for a bit.’

After Harry left Sarah locked up her gleaming flat and went out. The incident with Dan had left a nasty taste in her mouth which would be best cured, she decided, by a trip into Hereford to buy herself something new to wear on Sunday. While she’d been working on the cottages an hour or two on a Saturday afternoon was the only time off she’d allowed herself, and she felt like a child let out of school as she drove into town on a week day.

After a tour of the chainstores in High Town, and diversions along narrow side streets to pricier shops, Sarah bought some delicacies from a food hall to add to her collection of carrier bags, found a couple of paperbacks after a browse in a bookshop, and finally drove out of the city just as rush hour was getting underway. When she got home she put the food away, and then climbed up the steps to put the rest of her shopping on the bed. It was at this point, she thought with a sigh, that she missed having a girlfriend on hand to give an opinion on the clothes she’d bought, or to try out the new lipstick.

Sarah shook off the mood. She had been the one desperate to work in a man’s world, so she had no one to blame but herself. She had quite literally made her bed, so now she just had to lie on it. Alone, unfortunately. Unfortunately? She frowned as she hung up her new clothes. When she was building the platform had she deliberately given herself space for only a single bed, like a nun in a convent? Sarah snorted with laughter and went down to make supper.

Later, after Caesar salad and cherry tart bought earlier, Sarah took a stroll in the gardens before tackling a small mountain of ironing. At last, feeling pleasantly tired, she had just stretched out on the sofa to watch television when Alex rang.

‘Hi,’ she said, quite shaken by her delight at the sound of his voice. ‘How’s life in the big city?’

‘Noisy. I miss the green and pleasant land of Herefordshire. What have you been doing today?’

‘Cleaning, shopping—nothing much. How about you?’

‘Meetings and more meetings.’ Alex yawned. ‘Sorry. Any progress on the barns?’

‘The survey is booked for first thing in the morning, and the inspector promised to ring me with the result before sending me a written report.’ She sighed. ‘I’m an impatient soul. I couldn’t bear the thought of a whole weekend without any news.’

Alex chuckled. ‘So what will you do the moment you hear? Rush over to Westhope and press a cheque into Bob Grover’s hand?’

‘I shall conduct the sale in my usual businesslike manner.’

‘Of which I have experience. You drove a hard bargain over the cottages.’

‘Oh, come on, admit it. You got a really good deal there.’

‘Fair, maybe, but I draw the line at really good! Now let’s change the subject. Things have gone better today than expected, which means I’ll be back on Saturday morning. Can you make it over to my place in time for dinner?’

‘Instead of lunch on Sunday?’

‘As well as, not instead of. Don’t worry,’ he added. ‘I’ll let you go home in between.’

‘An offer I can’t refuse.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Then I won’t.’

‘Won’t come?’

‘Won’t refuse.’

‘Seven sharp, then,’ he said after a pause. ‘Don’t be late.’

Sarah went for a long walk next morning, while the inspection was taking place at Westhope Farm. But the phone in her pocket remained obstinately silent as she strolled through intersecting lanes she’d never had the time—or energy—to explore when she was working on the cottages. Eventually her route brought her back past the Post Office Stores. She bought a newspaper and bread and milk, chatted for a while with the owners, then started back at a leisurely pace. She was at home before her phone finally rang.

‘Mark Prentiss here, Miss Carver.’

Her heart leapt. ‘Hi, Mr Prentiss. Thank you so much for ringing. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the verdict?’

‘Good. I did an inspection for Mr Grover in the first place,’ he explained, ‘so it was merely a case of checking my own work, with a few extras from your point of view. I’ll get an official report sent off to you this afternoon.’

Sarah thanked him profusely, then rang Harry. ‘We’re on,’ she said jubilantly. ‘Once I get the written report I’ll get my solicitor on board, then apply for the usual permits and it’s all systems go. When can we pop over to see Mr Grover?’

‘Now, if you like,’ said Harry, and chuckled. ‘Might as well give Bob and Mavis a happy weekend. I’ll give them a ring, then come round to get you.’

After her long walk in the morning, topped by her euphoria over the inspection, and then Mavis Grover’s vast high tea washed down with parsnip wine, Sarah fell asleep on the drive back, and came to with a start when Harry turned into the courtyard of Medlar House.

‘Sorry, Harry,’ she said with contrition.

‘Too much excitement,’ he said, helping her down. ‘Watch your step. Mavis’s wine is powerful stuff.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Sarah swayed on her feet as the cool evening air hit her. ‘Wow. I couldn’t refuse it because you were driving, but I hope I don’t have a hangover tomorrow.’

‘Drink a lot of water and a few cups of tea and you’ll be fine,’ he told her. ‘Best get to bed early.’

Sarah nodded, then clutched her head, wishing she hadn’t. ‘Thank you, Harry. Talking of tea, can I make you some before you go?’

‘No, thanks. I’m off down the pub for a game of cribbage with Fred.’

‘You can mention the barns to him on the quiet, if you like. And bring Ian round for a chat about the job as soon as Mr Selby has everything legally sorted. I think your sister was very pleased,’ she added, smiling.

‘Pleased?’ Harry gave a snort of laughter. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she’s taking a glass or two more of her parsnip wine right now. Bob, sensible chap, sticks to beer.’

‘You think they were satisfied with my offer?’

‘More than satisfied,’ he assured her, and jingled his car keys. ‘It was a really nice thought to buy that teddy bear for the baby, boss.’

‘I had fun choosing it, Harry. Enjoy your game.’

Her house phone was ringing when Sarah let herself into the flat.

‘Hi,’ said Alex.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said in relief.

‘Yes, me. Disappointed?’

‘Quite the reverse.’ She’d been afraid it was Dan Mason. ‘But normally you ring me on my mobile.’

‘I tried. No luck.’

‘I left my phone behind when I went to Westhope. Wish me luck, Alex. I just climbed on the second rung of the property ladder.’

‘Congratulations! We’ll celebrate tomorrow night.’ He sighed. ‘I would have come back tonight and called in on you, but I’m dining—reluctantly—in the bosom of my family. My father was so insistent I gave in for once.’

‘Think of the filial glow you’ll bask in!’

‘I’d rather think of tomorrow evening with my new best friend.’

‘I thought Stephen Hicks was your best friend.’

‘He is. But you have a big advantage over him.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You’re a girl.’

‘Tut-tut, you can’t say that these days, Mr Merrick. I’m a woman,’ Sarah chastised.

‘That too. Though it’s hard to believe when you’re wearing those overalls.’

‘How you do harp on about them. Anyway, I bought some new ones yesterday. I went shopping in Hereford.’

‘Not just for work clothes, surely. What else did you buy?’

‘A teddy bear with a blue bow tie.’

‘Original—dinner guests normally bring wine!’

‘It’s for the Grovers’ brand-new grandson,’ she said, laughing.

‘Pity. I quite fancy the teddy—hell, I just noticed the time. Got to go, Sarah. Be punctual tomorrow.’

‘I will be, if your directions are accurate.’

‘Of course they are. You can’t miss it. Turn left past the church, follow the signs for Glebe Farm, and my place is the first turning on the right.’

‘I’ll ring if I get lost.’

‘Why not just let me come and fetch you?’

‘I’d rather come under my own steam.’

‘So you’ve got a getaway car if you need to escape?’

‘Of course not,’ she lied. ‘See you tomorrow.’

CHAPTER NINE

BY THE time she was ready the following evening Sarah was running late. Far too much time had been wasted in trying to tame her hair, also dithering about whether to wear the new stretch sequin mini-dress on its own. In the end she lost her nerve, wore it over slim white jeans and locked up the flat. She tossed a long cardigan and a rain jacket in the back of her car, propped Alex’s directions on the dashboard and set off.

The journey was more complicated than it looked on his diagram, but eventually she came to the church he’d marked and turned down a lane with a sign for Glebe Farm. She took the first turning on the right, as instructed, her eyes like saucers when she spotted Alex leaning against a gate in front of a large and very beautiful barn conversion. The sleeves of his blue chambray shirt were rolled up, his faded old jeans fitted him very exactly, and his eyes danced as he waved her through. He shut the gate and sprinted after her as she drove on to park in the forecourt between two mushroom-shaped stones in front of the building.

Alex opened her door and gave her a quick kiss as he helped her out. ‘You’re late, but welcome anyway.’

‘You never thought to mention you lived in a barn conversion?’ she demanded hotly.

‘Of course I did, but I decided to spring it on you as a surprise instead.’

‘Is this the only one on the farm?’

‘The only conversion, anyway. Matt Hargreaves uses the other barns for their original purpose, and sold me this one years ago. His farm is half a mile down the road, so I buy milk and eggs from him, but otherwise I don’t get in his way much.’

Sarah leaned against the car, taking in every detail of his home’s beautifully maintained exterior. Glass panels had replaced the wood in the original barn doors, and a flight of worn stone steps led up alongside the entrance porch to a window set in the former entrance to the old hayloft.

‘It’s just wonderful, Alex,’ she said with a sigh, and smiled at him. ‘Come on, then. Give me the guided tour.’

He opened the porch door into a small entrance hall with a small shower room to one side of it, and mouth-watering dinner smells coming from a kitchen on the other. ‘The rest is through here.’ He ushered her into a vast, open-plan space with a vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. Light poured through the tall glass doors and from the windows at the rear, highlighting the treads of a spiral stair which wound up in shallow, leisurely curves to a galleried landing. To one side of the staircase on the ground floor a handsome stone fireplace had been built into the end wall. In front of it a Persian rug in glowing colours warmed the stone floor between a pair of sofas with end-tables and lamps, and a carved cupboard against the outer wall. In the other half of the room the wall backed a long credenza table, and solid oak chairs were grouped round a long refectory table already laid for dinner, with an open bottle of wine and a board with a rustic looking loaf and a hunk of cheese already in place.

The first, overwhelming impression was of space and light. Sarah gazed up in rapture at the vaulted ceiling. ‘I’m so impressed by the way you’ve done the beams, Alex.’

‘They were too dark as they were, so I had them stripped and treated, then lime-washed to get this bleached effect. The idea was to look almost like a ghost of the original structure. Would you like to see the bedrooms?’ added Alex, watching her face.

Sarah nodded eagerly, and started up the stairs. Along with his enjoyment of her trim back view, Alex felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he followed her. Unless he was much mistaken, Sarah Carver lusted after his house. Just as he’d hoped. The next step was to get her to lust after its owner. No, he thought, frowning. Not lust. That was too raw and basic for the feelings he wanted to arouse in her. Not that thinking of arousal of any kind was a good idea right now, when he was about to show her his bedroom.

Sarah stood at the gallery rail, admiration in her eyes as she gazed down at the floor below. ‘Did you do all this yourself?’

‘I was involved at every stage, certainly,’ he said, leaning beside her. ‘The interior design is mine, the staircase and so on. And the extra windows. Like you, I’m hooked on light and space.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘My room can hardly compare with this.’

‘But you worked on it yourself, so it’s your baby as much as this place is mine. I used to slog away here every weekend I could, and the occasional evening when the job allowed. Some weekends Kate Hargreaves took pity on me, and sent a hot meal over from the farm.’ Alex shrugged. ‘My father left to oversee the manufacturing side from the London office soon after I acquired this place, so I didn’t have too much time to spare for building work.’