rare and valuable.’
‘Like this pretty bauble, for instance?’ He touched the bracelet she wore, an intricate gold hoop set with deep red stones.
Her heart beating faster, she looked down at his hand, a strong, well-shaped hand with long lean fingers and neatly trimmed nails.
‘How did you come by it?’ There was a strange note in his voice, an undercurrent of…what? Anger? Condemnation?
But when she looked up the only emotion his face was showing was polite interest, and she knew she must have imagined it.
‘Someone brought it into the shop. Though I originally intended it for my collection I loved it on sight, so I decided to keep it.’
‘I’m a complete ignoramus when it comes to things like this,’ he remarked, turning it round on her wrist. ‘I’ve no real idea how old it is—my guess would be Victorian?’
Only too aware of his touch, she strove to sound cool and unmoved as she told him, ‘It dates from the early eighteen hundreds.’
A shade breathlessly, she added, ‘Often that kind of bracelet was accompanied by a matching necklace and earrings, which would have made it a lot more valuable. I would have loved a set, but unfortunately it was sold as a single item.’
‘May I ask what kind of price a thing like this would fetch?’
She told him what she’d paid for it.
A muscle jumped in his jaw as if he’d clenched his teeth, but his voice was even as he remarked, ‘I would have thought—as it’s gold and rubies—that it was worth a great deal more than that.’
She shook her head. ‘Had it been gold and rubies it would have been, but the stones are garnets.’
‘They look like rubies. I always understood that garnets were transparent?’ he pursued.
‘They are. It’s the way these stones are set that makes them look like rubies. Even the seller thought they were.’
‘I see.’ His expression relaxed.
There was a short silence before he changed the subject by saying, ‘I suppose you must meet some interesting people in your line of business?’
Noting how his thick, healthy-looking hair had now dried to its natural ripe-corn colour and longing to touch it, she answered distractedly, ‘Yes, you could say that.’
When he waited expectantly, she added, ‘The old lady I went to see this morning looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of some period novel.
‘She was dressed all in black, with jet earrings, and was still talking to her husband, who’d been dead for over five years.’
Joel smiled, then, his voice casual, queried, ‘She had some antiques she wanted to sell?’
‘An attic full,’ Bethany said drily.
‘Did you find anything worth having?’
She shook her head. She had been hoping to discover something rare and valuable, both for the old lady’s sake and—needing to appease Tony’s anger—her own. But the ‘antiques’ had turned out to be, at the best, collectibles, at the worst, junk.
‘No valuable silver or porcelain?’
Wondering why he was displaying such interest, she answered, ‘The only thing we might have considered buying was a Hochst group of porcelain figures. But unfortunately it had been damaged and mended so badly that it’s virtually worthless.’
Leaving his chair to pile more logs on the fire, he remarked, ‘So it was a fruitless journey.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
In reality it had been anything but. She was with Joel at last and they had the whole of the night in which to get to know one another.
Watching his broad back, noticing how the fine material of his dark sweater stretched across the mature width of his shoulders, she felt a fluttery excitement in her stomach.
The fire blazing to his satisfaction, he gathered up the crockery and put it on the draining board before washing his hands.
While they talked, almost imperceptibly the light from the lamp had got dimmer, and beyond the glow from the fire shadows were gathering.
Picking up the lamp, Joel moved it from side to side gently. ‘I’m afraid we’re almost out of oil.’
After a quick search through the cupboards he said, ‘There doesn’t appear to be any more, so it’s a good thing it’s almost bedtime.’
He filled the kettle and put it on the stove, remarking, ‘It might not be a bad idea to get the bed made up while we can still see what we’re doing.’
Recognizing the truth of that, she went to the cupboard and took out bed linen, pillows and a duvet.
Instead of presuming it was woman’s work and leaving her to it, as some men would have done, Joel came to help.
The moment she moved away from the fire the cold air had wrapped around her, and she began to feel thoroughly chilled.
As they made the bed together, seeing her shiver, he remarked, ‘The duvet appears to be a reasonable weight, so it should be warm enough in bed.’
Suddenly focusing on the fact that there was only the one bed, she felt her stomach start to churn.
Picking up her excitement and apparently interpreting it as alarm, he said, ‘Don’t worry, the bed’s all yours.’
In a strangled voice, she queried, ‘Well, if I have the bed, where will you sleep?’
‘I’ll make do with the armchair and a blanket.’
‘There aren’t any blankets, and only one duvet.’
Sounding anything but worried, he said, ‘In that case I’ll have to keep the fire well stoked…
‘Now, as I estimate that the lamp has only a few minutes’ burning time if we’re lucky, you’d better have the bathroom first.’ Tongue-in-cheek, he added, ‘There’s soap and towels, but I suppose you don’t fancy a cold shower?’
‘You suppose right,’ she said with feeling.
He grinned. ‘A kettle of hot water?’
‘Absolute luxury.’
‘Not a difficult woman to please.’
‘The only thing I mind is not being able to clean my teeth,’ she admitted.
Opening the nearest cupboard, he produced two cellophane-wrapped courtesy packs each containing a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste. ‘As to all intents and purposes we’re hotel guests, I suggest we borrow a couple of these.’
‘Wonderful.’
He
