disappearing into what Arabella assumed must be the kitchen.
Merlin’s irritation had deepened to a scowl. ‘I think I’ve allowed him too much familiarity over the years,’ he muttered with a shake of his head.
Familiarity breeding contempt? Somehow she didn’t think so. The two men obviously liked and respected each other very much; an easy affection existed between the two.
‘A cup of tea would be very welcome, thank you,’ she said, smoothly changing the subject. And it wasn’t a lie either; she had been driving for several hours and a cup of tea certainly wouldn’t come amiss.
He frowned across at her and then reached down to the ground to pick up a pale blue denim shirt, pulling it on over the wide width of his shoulders before buttoning it up the front.
Arabella’s breath left her in a gentle sigh. She hadn’t even been aware she was actually holding it until that moment, able to breathe a little easier now that Merlin was more formally attired. Although she was still stunned at his physical likeness to his character. She was always advising would-be authors to write about what they knew, but it was the first time she had actually found that the author and the hero of his books were one and the same person!
‘I told your husband the other day that we have nothing to talk about,’ he bit out coldly.
It took Arabella a couple of seconds to realise exactly whom he was referring to. ‘Stephen is my brother,’ she corrected him, smiling at the thought of someone like Stephen being her husband; there were only two years’ difference in their ages, but to her Stephen had always been a child. He had done nothing since joining the company to make her think any differently of him.
Merlin regarded her thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. ‘There’s no family resemblance,’ he finally murmured ruefully.
She knew that, had always been aware of the fact that Stephen had inherited their father’s undoubted good looks, whereas she—well, she wasn’t sure who she resembled! She wasn’t like her tiny, beautiful mother. She wasn’t exactly plain, but she certainly wasn’t a beauty either. She seemed to fall short, somewhere in the middle of the two, not ugly, but having nothing remarkable about her features.
More than one man in the past had assumed that, as in the movies, if her hair were loosened and her glasses removed she would suddenly be transformed into a beauty. Those men had been bitterly disappointed! Her red hair was indeed a beautiful colour, but released about her shoulders it took on a will of its own, becoming completely unmanageable. And without her glasses her eyes ceased to be big, blue and intelligent, surrounded by dark lashes, and simply became myopic; it was obvious at a glance that she was as blind as a bat. So much for the transformation!
‘I can assure you, he is my brother,’ she replied without rancour. After all, she was what she was. ‘I can only apologise for the way he just turned up here unannounced a couple of days ago,’ she added with a frown. ‘I wasn’t aware he had done so until he arrived back at the office.’
‘Spitting fire at my rough handling of him, no doubt,’ Merlin guessed—accurately!—a wry twist to his lips.
Arabella smiled in return. ‘To put it mildly,’ she acknowledged.
The dark blue eyes narrowed. ‘And now you’ve been sent to calm the troubled waters,’ he derided mockingly.
‘I haven’t been “sent” anywhere.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I’m hoping that the only troubled waters we have are those back at the office; I left my father and brother in no doubt as to how I felt about their interference in our relationship,’ she explained grimly, having assured her father before she left this morning that if she couldn’t straighten this situation out he was going to hear more on the subject.
‘“Our relationship”?’ Merlin echoed softly.
She could feel the heat in her cheeks at the obvious mockery in his tone. ‘That of author and editor,’ she clarified sharply. ‘I—’
‘Tea’s ready, boy,’ Andrew called from the house.
‘Perhaps Miss Atherton has decided not to stop for tea,’ Merlin returned dryly, although his gaze remained firmly fixed on Arabella.
‘Of course she wants tea, boy,’ the gardener admonished tauntingly. ‘Do you think she’s driven all the way down here to be sent away without even a cup of tea?’
Arabella knew that her father would agree with Merlin’s earlier remarks about Andrew’s familiarity; the servants at their family home were rarely seen, never heard, and the household ran like clockwork. But it was obvious that these two were more than employer/employee, that they had a friendship that seemed to go back years. Merlin should consider himself blessed, not cursed, she thought.
‘Tea would be lovely,’ she accepted lightly; at least she was going to get inside the house! ‘Although perhaps I should go and get my bag and lock the car up before I do that,’ she added thoughtfully.
This might not be London, but she still didn’t want to leave her bag in an unlocked car some distance from the house. When she’d arrived earlier she had thought it best not to have anything in her hands that might look in the least threatening. But she had some paperwork in the car that she would need if she were to talk to Merlin.
‘Will the dogs be OK now?’ She still hesitated about making any sudden moves in their presence.
Merlin eyed her with a scowl. ‘You took a risk earlier, just getting out of your car like that.’
It had either been that or turn tail and run, as her brother had done. After her contemptuous anger towards the two male members of her family, she’d had no intention of doing that. Although she had a feeling that might have been the reason Merlin had left them loose in the first place...!
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she assured him lightly.
‘No hurry,’ he dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. ‘Just make your way back to the house when you’re ready.’ He turned towards the house, the two dogs trailing obediently at his heels.
Arabella gave a rueful smile to herself as she walked back to her car. Although things had certainly changed since her father had first taken over Atherton Publishing twenty years ago, a time when the publisher had wielded the power, most of their authors were nevertheless still thrilled at a visit from their editor. Merlin had made it obvious her being here was just an inconvenience to him. But then, he was one of the best-selling authors of today and would immediately be snapped up by another publishing company if he were to find they were invading his privacy.
After collecting her bag, she made her way into the house by the same way the gardener and Merlin had, finding herself walking straight into the kitchen. The two men were seated at a solid oak table that dominated the centre of the spacious room, while a lady in her sixties provided them with tea, cakes and scones. The latter looked mouth-wateringly home-made, but after her long drive Arabella had to admit it was the tea she was most interested in.
‘My wife, Stella.’ Andrew introduced her as Arabella came hesitantly into the room. ‘This is Rob’s publisher, Stella,’ he explained with relish, obviously still greatly amused that his employer’s editor had turned out to be a woman.
Arabella had hoped to discover what Merlin’s first name was; after all, not everyone could call him ‘boy’. Especially as he must
