The Millionaire's Chosen Bride

For once, Melody felt lost for words. She could see the point he was making—in no uncertain terms! But she could see her own, too. It had seemed so right that the place was for sale at the very time she was in the area on holiday. Was fate trying to tell her something, giving her the chance to find out what she’d always wanted to know? A chance to unwrap something of herself that had lain hidden for so long?

Neither spoke for the next few moments as they trod easily over the soft, dry grass of the meadow. Then Melody said, ‘I’m amazed that I was invited to share that fantastic meal…to be their guest. They must hate me—or at least bitterly resent me,’ she added.

‘Oh, Callum and Fee aren’t like that,’ Adam said at once. ‘They don’t bear grudges.’ He shrugged. ‘They knew all along that it was more than probable that someone else would beat them. They’ve accepted it gracefully.’

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, nor mention the fact that it had been his suggestion that she should be included in their supper arrangements. For one thing, he’d thought it would be useful to have some idea what this woman’s plans were for when she came to the village, and for another—and a more pressing one—he wanted to know what she was really like. He readily admitted that she fascinated him, and not only because of her outward appearance. There was something about her, some inner thing that intrigued him. And if he wanted to get to know her, there was no time like the present!

‘Callum and Fee…they don’t have children?’ she asked—and the question made Melody think briefly of her own life plan. She and Crispin had met at work, and both had been equally ambitious. She’d had vague notions of motherhood, maybe in ten years’ time, but their careers had always taken first place. A family had definitely been a back burner issue.

‘No,’ Adam replied shortly, in answer to her question. ‘They don’t.’

They walked on slowly, neither wanting the evening to end, because it was one of those rare warm summer nights with hardly any breeze, and a pale moon to give them just enough light to see their way.

‘This is so heavenly,’ Melody murmured. ‘Like a dream.’

‘What happened to your marriage?’ Adam said suddenly, without the slightest embarrassment at asking the question.

‘My husband—Crispin—was killed in a climbing accident last year in the Himalayas,’ Melody said quietly.

Adam looked at her sharply. ‘Oh—I’m sorry—really. I shouldn’t have asked,’ he said.

‘We’d been married for just a few months.’

‘That was bad. I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

She looked so small and defenceless as he glanced down at her that for a mad moment he wanted to pull her towards him and hold her tightly. But he resisted the temptation.

‘And you?’ she enquired. ‘You’re not married?’

‘No, thanks,’ he said cheerfully.

Well, Melody thought, that was a fairly unequivocal reply! Anyway, something about this man told her he wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d be the sort who enjoyed women’s company for the obvious reason, but would never be happy to settle down, commit to one person. She frowned to herself, not knowing what had given her that impression. But something about his attitude made her think that he was of a restless nature.

Suddenly she said, ‘I did get lost this afternoon—trying to find my way to the Red House—as Fee informed everyone.’

He smiled faintly in the darkness. ‘We all get lost sometimes,’ he said.

‘You knew I’d have difficulty, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Especially as you roared off in the wrong direction,’ he replied. ‘But I knew you’d succeed eventually. And everyone speaks English here!’

Their walk came to an end, and they let themselves in quietly.

‘For your future reference,’ Adam said softly, ‘they lock up at midnight.’

‘I’ll remember,’ Melody said. She turned to go towards the stairs. ‘Thanks for the stroll, Adam. I’m sure I’ll be repeating that many times.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured. Then, ‘D’you think you can find your way to your room?’ he enquired innocently.

Melody smiled ruefully. ‘I deserved that,’ she said. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Mel.’

Melody undressed quickly, washing and cleaning her teeth rapidly, before pulling back the duvet and collapsing into the feather-soft bed. It was heaven to lie down, and she was exhausted. What a day! Her head was so packed with thoughts and emotions that it felt as if thousands of insects were racing around, trying to find space. Almost at once her eyelids began to droop, and in her semi-doze Adam’s handsome features, with the stern, uncompromising mouth, loomed large. She didn’t know what to make of him, she thought. He didn’t like her much; she was certain of that. Although he was perfectly polite—even charming at certain moments—there was a coolness between them which she’d felt from the first moment.

Of course he was cross that she’d upset his friends’ plans…but what about her plans? This village was where she’d started life, and Poplars had been her mother Frances’s sole means of employment until she’d had Melody at the age of forty, when she’d promptly moved with her newborn child to the east end of London to live with a cousin. Melody had been twenty-two, in the middle of her Finals at university, when Frances had died suddenly. And in all those years Frances had never revealed who the father of her child was—had been so secretive about that part of her life that discussion on the matter had become almost a taboo subject. All she would ever tell her daughter was that she had loved deeply, only the once, and that certain things could not be spoken of, that some words were better left unsaid.

Melody had had to be content with that. But somewhere in this village there was a living part of her, part of her mother and the father she would never know, and somehow she knew that just by being here, breathing this air, she was completing her family circle so that she almost felt as if she was being embraced. So didn’t she, Melody, have her own very personal reasons for wanting to live here again, even on a part-time basis? Wasn’t she entitled to return to the family nest, to the village where her mother, too, had been born? How much more right did anyone need to belong here?

She turned over, flinging her arm across the pillow.

She opened her eyes and stared around the room for a moment. Her mother must have cleaned this place hundreds of times when she was housekeeper here, she thought. Servicing all these rooms and cooking for the Carlisle family, who’d owned Poplars for three generations, must have been desperately hard work. Melody’s eyes misted for a moment, thinking of Frances’s determination that her daughter should be qualified and independent. That education was the way up and the way out. So whatever life threw at her, her girl would always be able to stand on her own feet and follow her dreams. And that was what she was doing now!

In his own room on the ground floor, Adam slumped in an armchair by the window, feeling wide awake and knowing that he wasn’t likely to get to sleep easily. He knew he was still upset at letting the cottage slip through his fingers—and especially upset to lose it to a woman—a stranger to the village—who’d bought the place on a whim.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance at the thought that if he’d bid just once more he’d have won. But he’d already exceeded the stake he’d put in of his own money, to help his friends out, and hadn’t wanted to undermine Callum’s confidence by upping and upping the price unreasonably. Callum was such a straightforward, honest man, and he and Fee had already repaid every penny that Adam had lent them way back, when they’d first purchased Poplars. They’d worked so incredibly hard to be able to do that. Now this woman had sauntered in and stolen the cottage from under their noses.

After a few moments, his mind took another turn. He had to admit that Mel seemed much nicer than she’d appeared at first…not so damned sure of herself. His lip curled faintly. She’d jumped nearly a foot into the air when Tam had licked her leg, and he’d sensed her edginess a mile off! He paused in his thoughts. It must have been a terrible blow to be widowed so soon after her marriage—though she obviously had no financial worries, he mused. His eyes narrowed briefly. Maybe all was not lost, after all…

Was it just possible that he might be able to change the course of things, make her change her mind and sell it to his friends after all? It was a long shot—he knew that—but it was worth a try. Another place would come up sooner or later, if buying a country retreat was really what she wanted. He stood up restlessly. She was going to be here for a few weeks yet, so she’d said. That should be long enough for him, Adam Carlisle, to demonstrate his masculine powers of persuasion. But he’d have to be clever about it. This woman was worldly-wise, unlikely to be a push-over, in any circumstances—and she was intelligent and perceptive. She’d spot his motives a mile off if he went blundering in. No—softly, softly, with a dose of gentle cunning, might work. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off. Something told him he was going to enjoy this!

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