this? What was he hoping to gain?
‘Is there any rush, Miss Carlton?’ Cool eyes never wavered; they pierced her with an intentness that was extremely disconcerting. She had never felt more at a disadvantage.
But her chin was high as she answered. ‘As far as I’m concerned, there is. I’d like to settle this matter as soon as possible. I don’t like being kept dangling like a fish on a hook.’ He was probably expecting her to complain about the lack of amenities in the cottage, but she was damned if she would. There was no way she was going to let this man get the better of her.
He smiled suddenly, surprisingly, a wide smile that softened the harsh lines on his face. ‘A very beautiful fish.’ But his narrowed eyes were unreadable. ‘I’ll do my best, that’s all I can say.’
Saira dismissed his flattery out of hand. ‘This doesn’t mean a thing to you, does it?’ she flared. ‘You don’t understand or care that to me it is very important. A cottage is a cottage as far as you’re concerned, bricks and mortar with no sentimental value. You’ll do whatever you want without a thought that it was my aunt’s home for most of her life, tended lovingly, and then left to me so that I could give it the same thoughtful care.’
‘As I said before, your aunt never mentioned you,’ he reminded her.
Saira lifted her shoulders. ‘That doesn’t mean a thing. There was no reason for her to. And it’s my aunt’s property we’re discussing, not my aunt or my relationship with her.
‘My property,’ he amended, and the smile was gone as swiftly as it had appeared.
‘If you bought it, then you some way swindled her out of it,’ she cried recklessly. ‘I shall get to the bottom of this, Mr Brent, you can be sure. I shall expect proof from you tomorrow; I want you to bring the deeds to me and show me that the cottage is really yours, and if I don’t get proof then I shall go and see Mr Kirby.’
‘You’re a hell of a fiery lady, Miss Carlton.’ There was once more grudging admiration in his voice.
‘I guess I have to be with someone like you,’ she riposted. There was no way she could meekly accept his word. She was fighting as much for Aunt Lizzie’s sake as her own.
‘Someone like me?’ he pondered, an eyebrow quirking. ‘I’d be interested to hear exactly what you do think of me.’
‘Oh, I don’t think you would,’ retorted Saira with a half-laugh. ‘It wouldn’t be fit language for a lady.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘That bad,’ she agreed. ‘You’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.’
‘And all because your aunt sold me the cottage?’ Brows rose, blue eyes challenged and Saira felt a strong, deliberate, sexual challenge as well. It was nothing she could put her finger on, it was just there, hanging in the air between them.
Nor could she deny it. Her heart hammered and she licked suddenly dry lips; her heart went boom and her skin grew warm. ‘All because you say Aunt Lizzie sold it,’ she retorted. ‘Personally, I do not believe you, and the fact that you haven’t produced any proof is surely evidence enough? What reason would you have for holding back on it?’
‘I never do anything without a reason, Miss Carlton.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘But you’re not going to tell me what it is? You’re playing some sort of game that only you understand?’
‘You could be right,’ he answered easily.
‘Of course I’m damn well right,’ she snapped. ‘Lord, you take some understanding. It’s no wonder you’ve never married; no woman would ever put up with you.’
His smile faded. ‘My bachelor state is of my own choice,’ he told her coldly. ‘How about you, Miss Carlton? No ring on your finger either, I see. Am I right in suspecting that it’s your prickly nature that puts men off?’
Saira drew in a deeply aggrieved breath. ‘For your information, Mr Brent, I’m not usually so abrasive.’
‘So it’s me who rubs you up the wrong way?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It need not be,’ he told her calmly. ‘If you’d only accept that your aunt——‘
‘Never!’ cut in Saira fiercely. ‘A legal document is surely more binding than your word?’
He laughed. ‘But you’re forgetting, I haven’t seen a legal document, just some letter, not your aunt’s will. Anyone could have written that. You could have done it yourself for all I know.’
‘Then I suggest you ring Mr Kirby and verify it,’ she blazed.
‘Maybe I will on Monday,’ he agreed, much to her surprise. ‘Meantime, enjoy your stay in the cottage.’
‘Meantime, I want your proof tomorrow,’ she slammed back, and then turned and marched out of the house.
As she walked back down the drive she felt as limp and washed out as if she had been put through an old-fashioned mangle. It was difficult to believe how arguing with this man could drain her so much. God, he was detestable. He was virtually laughing in her face and she was expected to sit back and take it. Not on her life. This would probably be the strongest battle she would ever fight—but she was determined to win.
The day dragged interminably slowly. There was not much she could do without a car. Trust her old Fiesta to break down at a time like this—not that she would have trusted it to make the journey here. She really ought to invest in a new car. And if she had still been going out with Tony he would have brought her. Everything, but everything, was conspiring against her.
Tony had been her boyfriend for two years and she really had thought they would get married as soon as he’d finished law school and found himself a job. Originally he had trained in the police force but had then decided it was not for him, so even though he was twentyseven he was a student and not earning any money.
When he had declared only two weeks ago that he thought their relationship was getting nowhere and they ought to part, she hadn’t been able to believe it. She had never minded that they couldn’t very often afford to go out. It wasn’t until one of her friends told her that she had seen him with another girl that it all became clear. The break-up had left her very bitter. If he’d had the guts to tell her that there was someone else she would have thought more of him.
He wasn’t the only man to two-time his girlfriend, either. She’d had friends who’d been let down in a similar manner and it left her with a very bad taste in her mouth as far as the whole male race was concerned.
She ate again at the Challoner’s Arms, took a stroll through the lanes, and went to bed early. How long Jarrett Brent was going to keep her waiting, she didn’t know. Would he come tomorrow with proof or would it be up to her to go and see Mr Kirby?
On Sunday morning the church bells were ringing and Saira decided to go to morning service. She had always attended with her aunt and it felt only right that she should do so now.
The small church, its pews each with their own individual doors, was almost full, and many eyes turned
