style="font-size:15px;"> ‘The county is Wiltshire,’ Jarret amended, realising he might as well tell her the whole tale. ‘Margot Urquart told me about it. It belongs to an old school friend of hers.’
Vivien evidently suppressed the retort that sprang to her lips, and asked about the house with as much detachment as she could muster. But later that night, when they were alone in her apartment, she could not deny the need for reassurance that only he could give.
‘You—er—you wouldn’t consider marrying Margot Urquart, would you, Jarret?’ she probed, caressing his ear with mildly anxious lips, and Jarret’s laughter came from deep down in his throat.
‘No,’ he agreed, turning his mouth into her nape, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he kissed her.
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