stop me from getting involved and being helpful and caring. Saying you’re an outsider is an excuse for do-ing nothing.’
‘Is it your duty as a butler to hand out homilies with coffee?’ she asked dryly as he put down the coffeepot.
He flashed her a smile. ‘I’m a man with a mission. You can’t expect me not to argue my case.’
‘You do it very well.’
His eyes held hers. ‘I think you could make a place for yourself anywhere, Ashley. Given the desire to.’
Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I think you could, too.’
The zest of contest rippled through Harry again. A defiant pride and a will of steel had overlaid the vulnerability that had so touched him when he had entered her bedroom. The simmering challenge in her eyes put him and his beliefs and his heritage on notice that she was not about to be bowled over by any of them. Anything he won from her would be hard earned. But worthwhile.
Harry’s blood stirred. ‘You’ll join me for bacon and eggs?’ he asked, pressing for a crack of compliance.
‘I’ll dance with you, Harry, but don’t assume I’ll accompany you home,’ she answered.
He grinned. ‘Then let’s make the dance a merry one.’
His feet were light as he exited from her room. Ashley had accepted the game, come what may, and it was fun again. Apart from which, playing the butler wasn’t so deceptive because she would have all that he represented if she came with him in the end.
And more.
ASHLEY PONDERED HER position as she dressed for the day. Harry had reaffirmed his mission, leaving little room for the pipedream that she might be able to keep him in Australia with her. He would go back to England. That was the inevitable reality, and it ill behove her to let it slip from her mind and think other foolish thoughts.
England represented Roger’s side of the family. It also represented closer memories of Harry’s beloved Penelope. The prospect of taking up residence in Springfield Manor held no attraction for Ashley. Unless Harry overcame all her objections to it.
He had openly declared that he would test her resistance to the limits and he was not inclined to take no for an answer. Ashley wondered how far he would use the tug of attraction to get his own way. He found her desirable. She no longer had any doubt about that.
For several electric moments, when he had first entered her bedroom, she had felt the strong swirl of wanting from him like a physical touch on her skin, a clamp on her heart. He had tried to hide it, tried to ignore it, but it had been still pulsing from him as he poured her coffee. All her senses had been alive to it, treacherously responding to it even as she struggled for the same self-control he imposed upon himself.
But desire wasn’t love, Ashley cautioned herself. Desire could be manipulated for purposes that had nothing to do with love. Men and women had been doing that to each other since Adam and Eve. Desire could be a trap that would cost her dear in the end if she succumbed to it. Ashley had been the victim of one man’s ego. She didn’t intend to ever let that happen again.
Was winning uppermost in Harry’s mind?
Did he want to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him?
The wise thing to do, Ashley decided, was wait, watch and listen while keeping a good sparring distance from Harry Cliffton. Having settled on this sensible course of action, she headed downstairs for breakfast, confident of holding true to herself despite all the persuasive tactics Harry could come up with.
William was discussing the merits of spin bowling with Harry, swapping reminiscences of the great masters of the art. There was not the slightest hint of being patronising from Harry. They chatted away as equals, and William was very much enjoying the company.
Ashley suddenly felt inadequate as a single parent. It was impossible to be both mother and father to a child, to be the full complementary mixture that answered all needs. Not many people achieved that ideal, she assured herself, dismissing a twinge of guilt at her emotional rejection of her dead husband and her indifference about actively looking for another.
‘Hi, Mum!’ William greeted her cheerfully. ‘I’m going to have bacon and eggs, too.’
Ashley’s guilt returned and persisted when the three of them sat down to the cooked breakfast. Like a proper family, she thought, beginning the day together, sharing amiable conversation. Usually William had his cereal and was about his business before she got up in the morning. Her routine was to read the newspaper as she ate her muesli. They only really shared the evening meal, and more times than not the television was on so conversation was mainly limited to ad breaks.
She remembered Harry saying that although there were television sets at Springfield Manor, interesting conversation always took priority over watching programmes. Ashley decided to revise the habits she and William had fallen into. Good communication was important and time should be made for more of it. Families that talk together, stay together. Harry was right about that.
‘Do you have a busy day ahead of you, Ashley?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She explained what had led up to Gordon Payne’s visit yesterday and Cheryn Kimball’s present predicament. ‘Cheryn thought she had a good, secure job and was counting on the income. Given the circumstances, I doubt he’ll even pay her what he owes for the week’s work. I must try to place her again as quickly as I can. The poor girl was completely distraught yesterday.’
‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘No. It’s kind of you to offer but this is my job and I know how to handle it.’
‘You can help me paint my soldiers,’ William chimed in, eager to fill in any gap in Harry’s time.
‘This afternoon,’ he agreed. ‘Since your mother doesn’t need me here, there’s a few other things I’d like to do this morning. Reprovision the fridge and pantry, for one. I can’t be eating all your mother’s food without contributing something.’
‘There’s no need…’ she started.
He smiled, melting the protest on her tongue. ‘I want to. Let me surprise you. It will give me great pleasure to provide a few special meals for you.’
‘The kind of meals you have at Springfield Manor?’ she asked sharply.
He tilted an eyebrow. ‘Is that forbidden?’
It probably made her a closed-minded bigot if she said it was, yet she resented the subtle pressures Harry was applying to undermine her negative attitude to his mission. She forced a smile. ‘Please feel free to provide whatever you like. As I understand it, you take full responsibility for the money you spend on us.’
‘You do?’ William’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. ‘Can I come shopping with you, Mr. Cliffton?’
‘You might find it boring, William,’ Harry warned.
‘Are
