that was about to be dropped on her.
‘Kit!’ her mother cried out excitedly, absolutely thrilled to see her getting out of the taxi, running over to hug her, and then promptly bursting into tears.
‘Hey…’ Kit said gently once she had paid off the taxi, looking affectionately at her tall, slender, still-beautiful mother.
Heather McGuire had been a noted beauty in her youth, with her long auburn hair and classical features. She was still a very striking woman.
She linked her arm with Kit’s as the two of them strolled over to the cottage. ‘I’m just so pleased to see you.’ She beamed. ‘Your father will be too,’ she added with certainty.
And he was, taking Kit up in his arms and hugging her.
He was tall and handsome, his hair and beard snowy white now; his blue eyes twinkled at her merrily as he said, ‘You’re looking lovelier than ever, Kit; new boyfriend?’
‘No,’ she laughingly denied.
He arched white brows. ‘Still hankering after that handsome boss of yours?’
‘For all the good it’s doing me,’ she confessed, knowing she never had been able to keep secrets from her father.
‘Come along in and let’s all have a glass of wine before dinner,’ her mother suggested happily, her tears dried now.
Kit hung back as her mother went off to get the glasses for their wine, looking concernedly at her father. ‘What’s wrong with Mummy?’
‘Wrong?’
‘Wrong,’ Kit insisted, very aware of the fact that her father’s voice sounded forced, that his eyes weren’t quite meeting hers, or in fact twinkling any more.
‘Why, nothing, darling—’
‘Daddy,’ she rebuked gently. ‘I’m not a child any more, you know.’
‘I do know.’ He sighed wistfully. ‘Long gone are the days when I could—’
‘Daddy, please,’ she encouraged, definitely knowing there was something wrong now from the way he was prevaricating.
Not that her mother wasn’t always overjoyed to see her; she just didn’t usually cry over it, had accepted long ago that Kit worked and lived in London, that she would come down every four to six weeks to see them. It had, in fact, only been three weeks since she’d last visited, so her mother’s emotional outburst just now seemed totally out of character.
Her father hugged her to his side. ‘We’ll discuss it over dinner, all right, Pumpkin?’ he told her gruffly.
No, it wasn’t all right, but she knew her father too well to try and push him; he would explain when he was ready and not before.
And he had explained, both he and her mother…
But it wasn’t an explanation she intended sharing with Marcus now, here in his office.
His anger this morning was one thing, something, she could deal with; his sympathy would be something else entirely!
‘Which painting is it?’ she asked, recovering her composure.
‘“Tempest”,’ Marcus revealed. ‘The young girl on the rocks? It’s you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed, knowing exactly which painting he was referring to, of a young girl, red hair swirling behind her, as she sat on the rocks looking out at a storm-tossed sea.
Kit had been thirteen when her father had painted her, no longer a child, but not quite a woman yet, either. That winter, some days she had been so angry with herself, the world, everything, that her only escape had been to go to the beach near their cottage, sit on the rocks, uncaring of how wet she became, and just allow herself to become a part of the stormy sea.
Her father had seen her there one day and captured her on canvas.
And it was incredible to think that Marcus had owned that particular painting for all this time…!
She gave a warm smile. ‘It’s probably now worth a hundred times what you paid for it.’
Intensity flared in the dark depths of Marcus’s eyes. ‘I have no intention of selling it.’
‘It’s a very sound investment.’
‘I told you, I didn’t buy it as an investment!’ he came back impatiently.
‘I was only—’
‘Kit, I know what you were “only”,’ he cut in forcefully. ‘And I don’t appreciate it!’
Kit could see that he didn’t. But if she were to have any pride left at all she had to try and keep up the barriers between them. And if that meant alienating Marcus, then that was what she would have to do.
Besides, she had other, much more pressing things to think about at the moment…
She met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘I’m not sure this is the right moment to ask this—but do you think I could have a little longer for lunch today?’
‘A little longer—!’ Marcus looked momentarily nonplussed by this sudden change of subject, and then his gaze narrowed speculatively. ‘Why?’
Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t think that is any of your business,’ she told him stiffly. ‘Of course, if it’s going to interfere with anything here, then I—’
‘It isn’t,’ he responded flatly. ‘As it happens Lewis and I have to go to a meeting early this afternoon. I merely wondered if you were seeing someone for lunch.’
Kit felt perplexed now. This was the first she’d heard of any meeting arranged for this afternoon. ‘Again, I don’t really think that is any of your business…’
‘You’re asking me for extra time off—’
‘I’ll work later this evening to make up for it!’ she came back heatedly, hands clenched at her sides. The extended lunch break she was requesting really wasn’t up for negotiation—it was too important for that!
Besides, in the last six months she hadn’t been off sick once, had never asked for any time off other than her allowed holiday. As far as she was concerned Marcus was being totally unreasonable.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he told her icily.
It might not be necessary, but she was going to do it anyway. No matter what the outcome of her lunchtime appointment…
It wasn’t a meeting she was looking forward to, and that was without Marcus being so difficult about it.
‘Kit?’ Marcus’s voice softened slightly, his gaze searching now on the paleness of her face.
She swallowed hard, straightening defensively. ‘Will that be all, Mr Maitland?’
‘No,
