looked up, her eyes wide and watchful.
‘Won’t you be living here all the time, then?’
He grimaced as if he’d rather find a convenient cave in the Himalayas.
‘No.’
‘You don’t like it, do you?’
‘Not much.’
Presumably the wife had bought the house without his knowledge. What an odd thing to do. Unless his wife was the one with the money.
‘Poor Edith,’ she said quietly. ‘She often said she had great plans for this place when she’d gone. But she’d never tell me what she meant. I didn’t even know it was on the market.’
‘It wasn’t. She left it to me in her will.’
Catherine’s mouth fell open in amazement. ‘You?’ she gasped. ‘I don’t believe it! You weren’t even at her funeral—’
‘I don’t go to them,’ he said, with an odd tightening of his mouth.
There had been an ostentatious wreath, Catherine remembered, a sharp contrast to the country flowers she and her boating friends had placed on the coffin. The florist’s card bore just one word. ‘Farewell.’ Not the most heartfelt message she’d ever seen, but typical of someone like Zach. And now she was intrigued.
‘You were the lilies,’ she said.
‘I was the lilies,’ he confirmed.
Catherine’s eyes widened. Knowing Edith as she did, it seemed inconceivable that Zach and the old lady could have any point of contact!
‘How would Edith ever know someone like you?’ she wondered aloud.
‘I run an investment company. I was her financial adviser and I managed her money.’
She nodded. That made sense. But Edith wouldn’t have liked him enough to entrust her precious island to his smooth, City hands!
‘Why would she give the island to you?’ she asked in confusion. ‘You’re the last person on earth—’
She clamped her lips together. She’d said too much.
‘You’re right,’ he said, his mouth curling in wry amusement. ‘I don’t understand either. For some wacky reason known only to Edith, she wanted me to live here.’
‘But you must already have a house!’ she declared, visualising an opulent mansion with four swimming pools and obsequious servants tugging their forelocks like crazy.
‘No. A flat in London.’
And that, she thought, would suit him perfectly. Something in stainless steel with furniture that looked stylish but was hell to use, something in a smart and expensive district.
‘Well, you can’t want this island!’ she argued.
‘You’re right. I don’t.’
For a moment, Catherine felt a glimmer of hope. He’d off-load it on to someone else—someone more empathetic—and she’d have a better chance of persuading the next owner to let her stay.
‘I see,’ she said, perking up considerably. ‘You’ll put it on the market, then.’
‘I don’t discuss my business,’ he replied cuttingly.
Suitably rebuked, Catherine nodded, still delighted that their acquaintance would probably be short and sour.
‘I don’t blame you,’ she confided. ‘The path gets horribly muddy in the winter. You can see what it’s like now, even with the few showers we’ve had recently. And of course you’re very isolated here.’ She remembered the wheat grass. ‘No city amenities. A distinct lack of exotic food.’
He gave her a thoughtful and searing look which suggested he knew exactly what she was up to.
‘But despite all these problems, you…love it all,’ he observed in a low tone.
Her eyes rounded. ‘How do you know that?’
There was a pause, during which she noticed the increased rise and fall of his chest.
‘The way you looked at the bluebells.’ Apparently about to say something else, he cleared his throat instead.
‘You noticed them, then?’ she said drily.
‘In passing.’ Zach tilted his head to one side and gave her another speculative look. ‘If you were as close to Edith as you claim,’ he mused, ‘why didn’t she leave you the house and land?’
Catherine smiled, thinking of her conversation with the old lady.
‘Oh, she said she was planning to do that. But I told her I didn’t want it,’ she answered solemnly.
He gave a snort of disbelief. ‘I find that hard to accept,’ he said scathingly.
‘It was a practical decision. How would I afford to run it?’ she argued.
‘With her money, of course.’
‘But I didn’t know she had any!’ Catherine protested.
‘Odd that she didn’t tell you,’ he mused.
‘I didn’t give her a chance. I told her that I’d rattle around in Tresanton Manor on my own and feel lonely. And my friends might not come and visit me any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’re ordinary people and they’d feel intimidated,’ she said simply.
‘You could have sold it.’
She stared, uncomprehending. ‘What would be the point in being given a house and then immediately offloading it?’
‘Are you deliberately being provocative, or are you financially naïve?’ he marvelled sarcastically. ‘The point is that you would have made a lot of money.’
Money. It obviously ruled his life. Acquisitions, material possessions, they were all he saw, all he knew. Odd that she was so attracted to him. Perhaps it was the magnetism of opposites. Even now, alienated by his cold obsession with wealth, she felt an undeniable feral thrill from his extreme masculinity.
But where to start, to explain her philosophy of life? He wouldn’t understand it for a moment. His eyebrow hooked up cynically as though she must be lying because she hadn’t come up with an explanation. That galvanised her to give him one.
‘Edith knew my views on living simply,’ she said with quiet passion. ‘I wouldn’t want more money than I knew what to do with. Besides, I’d worry like mad if I had money invested in the stock market.’
‘Think of all the new clothes you could have had,’ he suggested.
‘I
