the momentary look of surprise on the woman’s face. It was as if she’d done a double take on her appearance.
‘We were very sorry to hear about your uncle’s death.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said politely, then felt impelled to explain, ‘I didn’t really know him very well.’
‘Not a lot of people did. He withdrew into himself after his daughter’s death. Became a near recluse.’
There was a feeling of awkwardness for a moment. Then Angela said in a bright, businesslike tone, ‘Well, Frazer, what can I do for you?’
‘Better see to Mrs Sinclair first,’ Frazer replied. ‘She wants to book some rooms.’
‘No, it’s OK. You go ahead.’ Emma was happy to put off the moment. She was starting to think she should ring Jon and tell him there was no accommodation available. ‘I’m not in a hurry. I don’t particularly want to go back outside until it stops raining anyway.’
Frazer shrugged. ‘Fair enough. It’s just that Mark’s decided we should have the meal earlier, Angela, and there are a few extra guests now.’
As Emma listened idly her eyes moved over Frazer’s long, lean form. She wasn’t surprised to learn he was a member of the mountain rescue team. He was the epitome of the outdoor athletic type, ruggedly masculine, laden with sex appeal, yet so casually natural that he seemed totally unaware of it.
Emma’s attention wandered. Her eyes moved over the reception area—a red tartan carpet and walls panelled with dark wood. The building was obviously hundreds of years old; the floors seemed to be uneven and the doorways through to the bar were low, the ceiling beamed with black oak. Through the open door she could see there was only one old man in the bar lounge. He was sitting by a large inglenook fireplace which held the remaining glimmer of a dying fire, a pint in front of him. He looked as if he was asleep.
She wondered what Jon would think of this place. His world was cocooned in absolute luxury; he only stayed in top-class hotels. She pulled herself up sharply. She didn’t care what Jon thought. All she wanted was the opportunity to start her life afresh here.
‘How many rooms did you want to book, Mrs Sinclair?’ Angela finished dealing with Frazer and turned to her.
‘Two singles for tomorrow night.’ Emma was very conscious of the fact that even though Frazer’s business was concluded he continued to stand next to her.
Angela turned on a computer screen next to her. ‘Was it just for one night?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ She hoped so.
‘And what name is the booking to be made in?’
‘Lesley May and Jonathan Sinclair.’ Emma felt very uncomfortable now. The woman keyed in the names and smiled at her.
‘They’re flying up from London to Edinburgh in the morning, then driving here. They should arrive late in the afternoon.’
‘That’s fine,’ Angela said easily.
‘Thank you.’ Emma swallowed hard. There, she’d done it.
She’d face Jon tomorrow and pretend to herself that he was just a stranger.
She turned and looked up at Frazer. For a fleeting second he noticed the haunting sadness in her eyes. Then she smiled, and the shadows were banished, making him wonder if he had imagined them.
‘It’s still raining,’ he remarked, looking towards the doors. ‘I’m going to have a coffee in the lounge. Would you care to join me?’
Emma hesitated, then nodded. Company was just what she needed to take her mind off what she had just done. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
‘I’ll get Sandra to bring them through for you,’ Angela said as they made their way into the other room.
She noticed how Frazer had to bend his head to get into the bar. The man by the fire looked up, then seemed to fall back to sleep again.
‘Lively place, isn’t it?’ Frazer remarked with a grin as he led the way up to the sofas in the window. Emma sat opposite to him.
There was a feeling of tension as she met his eyes. It was strange, but he made her very aware of herself as a woman. She wondered if her hair was a mess after that rain, and wished now she had excused herself and gone to the ladies’ before following him in here. The opportunity to refresh her lipstick and tidy her hair would have been most welcome. She moistened her lips nervously. His eyes rested for a moment on the softness of her mouth. There was something blatantly sensual about that look, something that made Emma’s pulses quicken.
She searched for something to say, something to break the bizarre intimacy of the moment. ‘When does your friend get married?’ It was the best subject she could come up with.
‘Saturday week.’
‘It’s to be hoped the weather picks up,’ she said idly, looking past him at the rain which pounded against the windows, obscuring the view of the harbour in a watery haze.
‘Yes, I hope so. Especially as they’ve hired a marquee for the occasion.’
‘Apparently they come with heating installed, and it doesn’t really matter if the weather isn’t good,’ she continued lightly.
‘As long as it isn’t blowing a gale,’ Frazer said with a grin, ‘they should be all right.’
When he smiled it lit his eyes. They were wonderfully warm and dark. With difficulty she turned her attention away from his good looks.
‘Are you the best man?’
Frazer nodded. ‘I’ve known Mark and Ruth for years.’
A young woman brought a tray of coffee and put it down on the table. She smiled at Frazer shyly, and blushed when he smiled back at her.
‘Thanks, Sandra.’
She nodded and left them.
‘That’s Angela’s young sister. She’s seventeen.’ Frazer reached to pour their drinks. ‘Do you take cream and sugar?’ He glanced up at her.
‘No, I take it black, thanks.’
‘So where do you hail from, Emma? May I call you Emma?’ he asked casually.
‘Please do.’ She noticed how small the delicate cup and saucer looked in his hand. She took the drink from him, being careful not to brush against his skin. Why, she couldn’t have said.
This man was having a very curious effect on her.
Emma leaned back in the sofa and crossed her long legs, trying her best to appear relaxed. ‘I was brought up in Kent, but I’ve lived most of my life in London.’
‘So you’re a country girl at heart?’
She smiled. ‘I like to think so, but I’ve still got a lot to learn.’
‘You’re
