Could he really have had an attack of conscience and let them go on their way without printing anything salacious about them? It had been a week since their outing to see La Bohème and…nothing. No story, no incriminating photograph of the writer Alexander Jacobsen and the woman who apparently bore a close resemblance to his dead fiancée. A week—and six days, nine hours and forty-five minutes to be exact since she’d walked out on Adrian.
Replacing the newspaper in the stand, Liadan went to the cluttered little counter, purchased some mints and a small packet of tissues, paid, then left the shop with the jangle of the doorbell sounding like the tinkling of a wind chime in her ears. Walking up the hill to meet the narrow lane where her cottage was situated, she dug her hands deep into her coat pockets and told herself she was pleased that Adrian would have one less thing to worry about since the press hadn’t printed the story of their outing to the opera. He’d be able to get on with his work free from the strain of media intrusion, even if he had to fend for himself until he could get another housekeeper in place.
Unable to hold back the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes at the thought, Liadan hurried on up the hill, welcoming the extra effort required in her legs and telling herself she was doing the right thing putting Drowsy Haunt up for sale. It would be far easier to find work in London than locally and, if she found a job in one of the big chain hotels, she might even be able to cut her costs by living in.
‘But you love this place, Liadan! Surely you don’t really want to sell it?’ Callum Willow, her tall, blond, handsome Adonis of a brother paced her diminutive front room and finally came to a restless standstill beside the fireplace. Somehow, Liadan found a smile. She’d been on her own for a fortnight now since leaving Adrian’s employ and, apart from her neighbour Jack, she’d spoken to no one. Not even Mel or Jennie. Both girls were on a winter skiing break in Italy—a holiday that Liadan had been adamant she couldn’t afford because she’d needed to find work instead. Jennie had urged her to come anyway—she had lost her business but she badly needed a break, she’d told Liadan. But the younger girl had declined. Her determination to hold onto her home come what may had been her prime motivation for staying put. Now, ironically, she was going to lose it anyway.
‘I can’t afford to keep it on any more, Cal. And I can’t get work around here, either. Believe me, I’ve tried.’ She’d briefly explained to her brother that she’d worked for a while as housekeeper to a writer, but that in the end things hadn’t worked out between them. Knowing her well and guessing there was a hell of a lot more that she wasn’t telling him, Callum had declined to press her for more details. When Liadan was ready she would tell him the full story, he was sure.
‘But London? It’s going to be a hell of a shock after this one-horse town.’
‘I’ll soon get used to it. Besides, you know what they say, a change is as good as a rest.’ If she said it often enough, she might convince herself. Except that she didn’t really want to go at all. Anywhere further than her little cottage was too far away from Adrian to bear thinking about…What was he doing right now? she speculated, chewing on her nails. Was he happy? Was his work going well? Did he ever think about her at all?
‘You look miles away,’ Callum chided, his blue eyes that were a shade darker than Liadan’s growing concerned. ‘What’s up, Liadan? We don’t have any secrets from each other, do we?’
He was right. She’d always been able to confide in her brother. Only now, she wouldn’t really know where to start. After the debacle that was her relationship with Michael, how could she tell him that she’d fallen for a taciturn famous writer whose heart was given to a woman no longer on this earth?
At the unexpected sound of the knocker on the door, she almost leapt out of her seat. His eyes narrowing, Callum registered surprise. ‘Expecting someone, sis? Want me to go?’
‘I’m not expecting anyone, unless it’s Jack next door.’
As she pulled the door wide Liadan’s knees went helplessly weak at the sight of Adrian’s broad shoulders dominating her doorway. He was wearing his long black coat over a black shirt and jeans, his mouth unsmiling and his gaze about as foreboding as a locked door to a shivering, hungry orphan. Her glance drank in the sight of him with a frantically beating heart.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Can I come in?’
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder into the room behind her. Following her anxious gaze and discovering to his dismay that she had company—good-looking male company—Adrian fought down the violent antagonism that rose immediately inside his chest and glared back at her. ‘I want to talk to you and what I have to say won’t wait.’
Liadan knew the dictatorial tone of that voice and resented it mightily. No matter how glad she was to see him, to know that he was alive and hadn’t moved on, he had no right to just show up at her home and speak to her like that. Especially after not hearing a word from him for almost two weeks.
‘I’ve—I’ve got visitors.’
‘Get rid of him,’ Adrian muttered through his teeth.
‘I will not!’
‘Who is he?’
‘Liadan…aren’t you going to invite your friend in?’ Callum loomed up behind her, unable to hide the interest in his eyes. Desperately glancing from her brother back to Adrian, Liadan hooked her fingers into the belt buckle of her jeans and shook her head.
‘Now isn’t a good time. Come back later if you insist you must talk to me.’
Biting her lip, she waited for the explosion. When it didn’t come, and to her alarm she saw a secret little smile curving that rather serious mouth of his instead, she felt as light-headed as if she’d just been whisked up to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
‘No, Liadan. I can’t come back later. Like I told you, I have something to say to you that just won’t wait.’
‘If you’ve waited nearly two weeks without saying it so far, surely a little longer won’t make much difference?’
How could Adrian have told her what was in his heart a fortnight ago when he’d practically convinced himself Liadan wouldn’t want to set eyes on him again—never mind listen to anything he had to say?
‘I don’t want to say what I’ve come to say standing out here on your doorstep,’ he said evenly, his tone resolute.
‘You’d better come in, then.’ Taking hold of Liadan’s slender shoulders and deliberately moving her out of the way, Callum grinned. ‘Want me to take a walk up the road for a little while? I’m Callum, by the way. Liadan’s brother, in case you were wondering.’ He stuck out his hand and he and Adrian shook hands like long-lost friends. Dumbstruck, Liadan stared at them both, unable just then to summon up one coherent word to indicate her disapproval and dismay. What was wrong with Callum for goodness’ sake? Why was he acting so strangely?
‘Callum, I don’t want you to go anywhere. I have nothing to say to Mr Jacobs! Absolutely nothing!’ When she finally did find her voice, Liadan couldn’t hold back her temper. How dared he just show up on her doorstep, after the agony he’d put her through! For all she knew, there might be more of the same to come and, the way she was feeling, Liadan had a right to wonder if she could bear it.
‘Fiery, isn’t she?’ Adrian remarked, his dark brows briefly coming together.
Reaching
