up.’
Juliet chose her words with care. ‘He probably only does these things to help your grandmother. I mean, it isn’t always easy to find a plumber or an electrician when you need one.’
‘Yeah, well, he needn’t think that doing all these things gives him some claim on the estate when the old lady snuffs it. As soon as the will’s read, I’m going to tell him I don’t want him trespassing on the place in future. Tregellin’s mine. I’m the only legitimate heir and he knows it. But that doesn’t stop him from hanging around, pretending he’s helping her out.’
Juliet shook her head. ‘You’re so bitter!’
‘No.’ Cary wouldn’t have that. ‘Just practical. Anyway, we’re almost there. That’s the chimneys of the house you can see over the treetops. It’s set on a promontory overlooking the Eden estuary. The River Eden, I mean.’ He grimaced. ‘It may be a beautiful spot, but it’s no Garden of Eden.’
They approached the house down a winding track between hedges of rhododendron and acacia. Juliet guessed that in late spring and early summer these same hedges would be a riot of colour. Right now, the glossy leaves hid the buds of any blossoms, and because there were lowering clouds overhead it was rather gloomy.
The grounds of the house seemed quite extensive. A tennis court and a croquet lawn, a vegetable garden behind a lichen-covered stone wall. They circled the building and Juliet saw that it was the back of the house that faced the road. The front looked out across the river estuary, the water shallow now as the tide receded.
There was a big SUV already parked on the forecourt and as Juliet thrust open her door and got out she heard Cary give a grunt of irritation. Turning to see what had caused his annoyance, she saw that a man had just appeared from around the side of the house. He was a big man, tall and powerfully built, wearing a worn leather jacket and jeans that clung to lean muscular thighs. Scuffed boots completed his attire and Juliet didn’t need a sixth sense to know that this must be the infamous Rafe Marchese.
He looked across the width of the courtyard towards her and she felt a disturbing flutter of awareness in the pit of her stomach. But goodness, he was attractive, she thought, realising that Cary’s scornful description hadn’t done the man justice.
His hair was dark, yes, and needed cutting, but it wasn’t greasy. His skin was darkly tanned and there was the stubble of a beard on his jawline, but she wouldn’t have called him swarthy either. He wasn’t handsome. His features were too hard, too masculine for that. And she’d bet her last penny that it wasn’t only for his technical skills that Lady Elinor liked having him around.
‘Cary,’ he said evenly, as the other man got out of the car, and Cary was obliged to acknowledge him in return.
‘Rafe.’ His voice was tight and he turned at once to take their luggage from the back of the car, making no attempt to introduce Juliet.
Which really annoyed her. More than it should, probably, she admitted, but dammit, she was supposed to be his fiancée. Deciding she didn’t care what Cary thought, she walked around the bonnet of the car and held out her hand.
‘Hi,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m Juliet. Cary’s—girlfriend.’
THE lunch had been cold, but Juliet knew they couldn’t blame the housekeeper for that. They’d been expected at one; they’d actually arrived at a quarter-past two. However expert the cook, no one could have kept a mushroom risotto hot indefinitely.
Not that she’d been particularly hungry. The encounter between Cary and Rafe Marchese had robbed her of her appetite somewhat. The two men obviously disliked one another, but Cary had behaved like a boor and she’d been sucked into his game.
Perhaps some of the blame was hers. She’d initiated his anger when she’d introduced herself to his cousin. But, dammit, she’d been angry with Cary for ignoring her and she hadn’t thought about the possible consequences of her actions when she’d approached the other man.
The truth, however unpalatable, was that she’d wanted Rafe Marchese to notice her. Which was weird, considering that since David had walked out on their marriage over a year ago she’d had no interest in other men.
Not that she flattered herself that Marchese had felt the same way. He’d been polite, but distant, his first words succinctly delineating her reason for being there. ‘Ah, yes,’ he’d said. ‘Cary’s fiancée.’ He’d paused. ‘Lady Elinor was beginning to think you’d changed your minds.’
All the same, when he’d touched her hand she’d reacted as if she’d accidentally touched a hot wire. The heat that passed from his hand into hers shocked her to the core. Then she’d looked up into eyes that were as dark and brooding as the storm clouds massing over Tregellin and known that, whatever happened, she was already out of her depth.
Of course, she’d snatched her hand away, rather rudely, and Cary had come charging over, like some mad bull defending his mate. ‘What’s going on?’ he’d demanded, laying a possessive hand on Juliet’s shoulder. ‘What have you been saying to my fiancée? As you apparently knew we were coming, I thought you’d have had the decency to stay away.’
Rafe Marchese didn’t seem at all perturbed by Cary’s bluster. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Cary,’ he’d said, as faultlessly polite as before.
‘Well…’ Cary had been indignant. ‘Grandmama told me how you’re too busy for her these days. Spending time with your artsy-craftsy friends, was how she put it. But I might have known you’d be around when I was here.’
Rafe’s lips had tilted humorously. ‘I shouldn’t take what the old lady says too seriously,’ he’d remarked, his eyes lingering on Juliet’s now burning face. ‘You know she likes to play us off against each other. If you weren’t such an easy mark, she’d never get away with it.’
‘Oh, and you know her so well,’ Cary had sneered, but Rafe had only lifted his shoulders in a self-deprecatory shrug.
‘I’d say I see more of her,’ he’d declared mildly. ‘Whether that constitutes knowing her better remains to be seen.’
‘Well, don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do,’ Cary had continued. ‘You think that, because I live in London and you live here, you’ve got the advantage.’ His hand had squeezed Juliet’s shoulder. ‘Once we’re married, I think you can kiss any chance of changing her mind goodbye.’
Dear God, Juliet had wanted to die, she thought now as she unpacked her suitcase. For heaven’s sake, it was bad enough pretending to be Cary’s fiancée without him talking about them getting married as if it were going to happen in the next few weeks. She had no idea what Rafe Marchese had thought. If his mocking smile was anything to go by, he was used to Cary’s bombastic behaviour and he didn’t take offence from it. But she wished she hadn’t been a part of it all the same.
The altercation had been thankfully brought to an end by the advent of a small dog. It was a little yapping Pekinese that had made straight for Cary and dug its teeth into his trouser leg. ‘Damn stupid mutt!’ Cary had exclaimed, kicking out angrily, sending the dog scuttling across the yard.
‘He’s actually quite intelligent,’ Rafe had remarked coolly,
