like a drink, or some tea?’
‘Tea would be good.’
Harriet washed her hands and filled the kettle, wishing that her shorts were longer and less encrusted with mud and sweat. ‘Do sit down,’ she told him as she hunted out teapot and cups.
James took one of the rush-seated chairs at the table, watching her objectively as she laid a tray and put tea bags in the pot. ‘You were the same height at thirteen. I remember those long legs of yours.’
She glanced up in astonishment as she filled the teapot and splashed boiling water on her wrist in the process.
James leapt from his chair at her anguished gasp. ‘Did you scald yourself?’ he demanded, seizing her hand.
‘Not much,’ she said faintly. ‘It’s just a drop or two.’
James turned the cold tap on in the sink and held her wrist under the water. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said gently, and put his arm round her. ‘Shock, probably.’
If so he was making it a whole lot worse. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin shirt, a faint aura of citrus and spice mingled with the scent of warm male skin—and he’s Tim’s brother, she reminded herself in horror, limp with relief when James released her and turned off the tap.
‘That’s better. Sit down, Harriet.’ He put the lid on the pot, poured tea, passed a cup to her, and sat down at the table. ‘Why didn’t Tim come down with you for the weekend before going off to Paris?’
‘I needed time on my own to make my mind up about the house,’ she told him gruffly, utterly floored by the discovery that James Devereux was a man she was attracted to. At least, her body was. Her brain flatly refused to believe it.
James eyed her downcast face thoughtfully. ‘If you change your mind and sell the house to me, Harriet, you could buy a flat of your own. Tim tells me you’re tired of sharing with your friend.’
Tim, she thought irritably, should keep his big mouth shut. ‘It’s a tempting prospect,’ she agreed.
James leaned forward. ‘But frankly it astonishes me that you and Tim haven’t set up house together long before this. Are you waiting to get married first?’
Harriet paused for a heartbeat, and then raised dark, demure eyes to his. ‘I’m old-fashioned that way.’
James sat back again, frowning. ‘And how does Tim feel about that?’
‘He agrees with me.’
‘This time you really do amaze me! No wonder he’s talking about a wedding soon.’
She looked him in the eye. ‘Frankly I’m surprised you’re such a keen advocate of marriage.’
‘Don’t be put off by my example.’ His face shadowed. ‘You and Tim are soul mates. Madeleine and I were not. But I apologise for snapping at you on the subject yesterday, Harriet. Tim would create hell if he knew I’d upset you in any way.’
‘You didn’t,’ she assured him. ‘Have some more tea.’
James shook his head and got up. ‘I must go. How is your hand now?’
‘Fine.’
‘Good. Be more careful in future.’
And to Harriet’s surprise he took himself off, leaving her mystified as to why he’d come to see her again. Surely not just to apologise for a remark he’d had every right to make! He’d made no further attempt to persuade her into selling, and if his aim was to sound her out about wedding plans he was out of luck. She smoothed her reddened wrist, reliving her physical reaction to James Devereux’s touch. At the mere thought of it a shiver ran through her entire body, right down to her toes, but she shook it off angrily. He was Tim’s brother, for heaven’s sake.
During the evening Tim rang up for a chat before his departure for Paris on business, astonished when she told him she’d seen his brother on three occasions so far, one of which had entailed a picnic lunch in the Edenhurst folly.
‘Which reminds me,’ she said, militant because she felt guilty for a sin not even committed, ‘in future don’t discuss my personal affairs with all and sundry.’
‘I do nothing of the kind,’ he said indignantly. ‘But if you mean End House, Jed asked about it so I told him.’
‘He wants it as staff accommodation for Edenhurst.’
‘Pretty urgently if he’s popping in on you all the time.’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘You know what I mean, Harry.’
‘I do know. By the way, dearest, he asked why you and I aren’t living together right now.’
He whistled. ‘And what did you say to to that?’
‘I made it clear I disapprove of cohabiting before marriage,’ she said primly.
‘You’re kidding me!’ Tim gave the uproarious laugh that always had Harriet joining in. ‘I do love you, Harry.’
‘I love you, too. Enjoy yourself.’
Harriet put down the phone, unsurprised that Tim had no idea how miserable she felt under all the banter. Their relationship was unique and very special to them both, but secretly it was very different from the one they made it out to be. Usually she had no problem with this, but today she had experienced James Devereux’s touch for the first time. And found it was a dangerously inflammable sensation never experienced before with any man, including Tim. Especially Tim. Yet in the circumstances she had to try and forget it had ever happened. If she could.
Stacy Dyer arrived at nine on the dot the following morning, complete with black eye and a baby boy fast asleep in a pushchair.
‘I had to bring Robert with me today,’ she said anxiously. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Of course I don’t mind!’ Harriet smiled down at the sleeping child. ‘He’s gorgeous, Stacy. Have some coffee before you start. How did you get the shiner?’
Stacy wheeled the pushchair inside and sat down at the kitchen table. ‘His dad did it,’ she said, flushing.
Appalled, Harriet added a dollop of cream to a mug of strong coffee and passed it to Stacy.
‘Thanks.’ The girl stirred sugar into the steaming liquid and sipped it gratefully. ‘Yummy! I love real coffee.’
Harriet gave her a searching look. ‘What happened, Stacy?’
‘Greg came round last night when Mum was out, wanting to see Robert. He’d had a drink, so I wouldn’t let him. We had a bit of a struggle when he tried to get past me and he caught me on the cheek with his elbow. So I told him to get lost.’
‘I’m not surprised!’
‘He didn’t mean to hit me. He’s not like that.’ Stacy sighed, depressed. ‘But I won’t let him come near Robert if
