this room nice again … The whole house is in need of some major attention to make it fit to live in. I’m only grateful that your uncle David was able to take some time off to get a couple of the rooms ready for us before we moved in—otherwise we would have had to camp out in the garden in a tent!’
Charlie was already losing interest in the dramatic incident that had caused him to rush in from the kitchen. Instead he was staring down at the colourful toy he’d carried into the room with him, restlessly turning it over and over between his fingers, as if itching to employ it in some way.
‘Can I go out to the garden to play? I want to make a fort. I promise I won’t go near the pond.’
‘All right, then. As long as you keep in full view of these windows so that I can see you. Promise?’
He grinned, showing a couple of gaps where he’d lost his baby teeth.
Sophia’s heart squeezed. ‘Give me a hug and a kiss first.’
‘You’re always hugging and kissing me.’
‘I know, but I can’t help it!’ Seizing her young son by the waist, she whirled him round and round until he shrieked with laughter.
‘Let me go!’ he begged. ‘You’re making me dizzy!’
When he’d got his bearings again, he threw his mother a disarming grin and rushed out of the house into the wild forest of a garden—the garden that was already keeping Sophia awake at night, as she planned how she was going to make it beautiful again and restore it to the fairytale garden of her childhood.
As she bent down to retrieve the curtains and the rail, out of the blue an image stole into her mind of the physically arresting man who had stopped to say hello the other day while she’d been taking photographs of wildflowers for her portfolio. His eyes had been electrifyingly blue, yet his hair was a thick, curling cap of ebony silk. A small flare of heat imploded inside her. Despite her attraction to him Sophia had been nervous. What if her father-in-law had sent him to find her … to force her to return to the neighbourhood where she had lived with her late husband?
God knew the man had the kind of strong, intimidating physique that could easily overwhelm her if he tried. She inhaled a long steadying breath. Her worst fears thankfully hadn’t come true, but she was still uneasy.
Jarrett Gaskill … what kind of a name was that?
Even if the man had never heard of her illustrious father-in-law, his name sounded a little too highbrow and pompous for her taste. No doubt he was some ambitious city type who kept a second home here in the country for weekends where he could entertain his London friends and play Lord of the Manor.
The thought brought a briefly cynical smile to her lips, before making her frown. Remembering his mellifluous tones, she’d thought he’d sounded sincere enough. Perhaps it was wrong of her to so judge him so quickly. But what did she know of sincere men when she’d been married to the biggest liar and cheat in the country? Tom Abingdon—the man she’d so stupidly rushed headlong into marriage with at eighteen against all advice—had been cruel, possessive, and self-indulgent to excess, as well as vain and self-obsessed, and the signs had been there right from the beginning.
How incredible, how naive, that Sophia had once believed she could turn him away from his destructive tendencies and show him that life together could be good. It hadn’t taken her long to find out how contemptuous he was of her sincere and innocent impulses. The dark road she’d been travelling with him had grown darker and more twisted day by day, and somehow, because her spirits had sunk so low, she’d been unable to find any means of breaking free.
Towards the end of his life he’d been intent on dragging her and their small son down to even more despicable lows, until one day, in the midst of her growing despair, it had suddenly become clear to her that she had to abandon her youthful dreams of ‘happy-ever-after’—she couldn’t fix her self-destructive husband’s life and she should walk away … right now. For Charlie’s sake, if not her own.
It was that thought that had rejuvenated hope in her—had spurred her on to make plans to leave him. But fate had had other more finite plans for Tom Abingdon. One night, after a heavy bout of drinking, he’d died in his sleep.
For a few unsteadying moments the sickening hurt and fury at the pain he had caused deluged Sophia’s heart and made her suck in her breath. Perhaps it was an apt reminder of the supreme idiocy of her getting involved with anyone ever again. If Tom was anything to go by, it was all too easy to be mesmerised and trapped by a man. Even the liars and cheats of this world could present a normal façade in order to get what they wanted, and it made her vow to be extra careful and much more vigilant.
If she ever saw him again, she promised herself she would give Jarrett Gaskill a wide berth. There was no way she would give any man the opportunity to get to know her … to discover the shameful truth of her marriage to a man who had frequently mistreated and degraded her. A new beginning was what she wanted for her and her son. One that didn’t include strangers—however friendly—who wanted to pry into her business. Not that she kidded herself for an instant that Jarrett Gaskill would even remember bumping into her and Charlie down by that idyllic little brook.
For the past three weeks Sophia had visited the weekly farmers’ market in the town centre. There was nothing like buying fruit and vegetables straight from the source, rather than from a soulless and anodyne supermarket, she thought. It was fresher, smelled better, and the taste far surpassed anything you could buy packaged and wrapped up in plastic.
Drawing her son closer to her side, she accepted the sturdy brown paper bag of apples she’d just bought from a friendly female stallholder and deposited it into her hessian shopping bag, on top of the other fresh produce she’d purchased. Glancing down at the cherubic little face that gazed up at her, she smiled brightly in anticipation of her plans for the afternoon. It was still such a treat to bake pies and cakes without fear of Tom coming home drunk, mocking her efforts and then throwing them against the wall.
‘We’ll make an apple pie to have with our tea tonight, Charlie,’ she promised cheerfully.
‘You don’t want an extra guest, do you? I’m quite partial to home-made apple pie.’
The arresting male voice was so richly resonant and well-spoken that Sophia glanced up in surprise at the man who had stepped up beside her. Her startled gaze was instantly magnetised by a pair of twinkling blue eyes so rivetingly intense that for a moment she couldn’t speak. It was him … Jarrett Gaskill. The name that had been warily filed away inside her brain presented itself with worrying ease.
‘No … I don’t. I’ve not long moved into my house and it’s taking me longer than I expected to get settled. Besides, it’s not likely I’d invite someone into my home that I don’t even know,’ she replied, quickly averting her gaze.
‘I told you my name the first time we met, remember?’
Sophia’s cheeks burned with heat, because she wasn’t able to pretend that she couldn’t recall it. ‘That’s neither here nor there. Knowing a person’s name hardly means that you know them.’
‘True … but an introduction at least creates the opportunity to get to know someone.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Gaskill, but I really must get on.’
‘You see?’ Something akin to delight was mirrored in the
