should bring it to mind.
‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Sara murmured, no doubt for her own reasons, he thought savagely. He didn’t need her endorsement. In fact, he needed nothing from her, he thought irritably. She bent to pat the two retrievers, exposing the dusky hollow of her cleavage. ‘You probably couldn’t keep these two rascals if you lived in a town.’
‘Do you live in a town?’ asked Rosie. Then, without pausing, ‘Would you like to live at the coast?’
Matt stiffened. ‘Rosie!’ he said warningly, half afraid he knew what was coming. But he couldn’t stop her. It was too late.
‘’Cos Daddy’s looking for someone to come and look after me,’ she explained eagerly. ‘You wouldn’t have to do much. Just take me to school and stuff. You wouldn’t really be a nanny,’ she ran on, ‘’cos I’m too old for that. But you could live here—couldn’t she, Daddy? And then I wouldn’t be always getting in your way when you’re working, like you said.’
Chapter Four
SARA didn’t want to feel any sympathy for Matt Seton, but she couldn’t help it. She saw the look of anguish that crossed his lean tanned features at the child’s careless words. He obviously cared deeply about his daughter, and it hurt him to hear her describe the way she thought he thought about her. She sensed he was fostering all the remorse of a single father who was obliged to employ strangers to care for his child while he earned them both a living.
But she also glimpsed a thread of anger in the gaze he directed towards her, and she wondered if he thought she had engineered Rosie’s innocent invitation.
‘I—’ She strove to find an explanation for not accepting the position that wouldn’t offend the little girl. ‘It’s very kind of you, Rosie—’
‘But Miss Victor is heading off tomorrow,’ put in the child’s father harshly, before Sara could finish, and, despite the fact that she’d been about to say something similar, Sara felt her hackles rise at his callous dismissal. ‘Besides,’ he went on, rather maliciously, she thought, ‘I’m sure our visitor would find our way of life very dull.’
Rosie looked crestfallen now. ‘Would you?’ she asked, her dark eyes, so like her father’s, gazing up at Sara in mute appeal. Sara thought it would have taken a harder heart than hers to resist her, but once again Matt Seton saved her the trouble.
‘Of course she would,’ he essayed flatly. ‘Now—shall we get these animals out of here before they shed any more hair?’
Rosie’s lip jutted. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so,’ declared her father inflexibly, ushering the two retrievers into the hall. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Miss Victor?’
It was a perfunctory enquiry at best, and Sara expelled a breath before lifting her shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked, deciding there was no point in pretending that she could go against his wishes, however enthusiastic Rosie might be.
Matt Seton paused in the doorway. ‘You’re a guest,’ he said simply. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see what my housekeeper has left for our evening meal.’
Sara took a couple of steps after him. ‘It’s early yet,’ she protested. Then, with inspiration, ‘Don’t these dogs need exercising or something? I—Rosie and I could take them for a walk.’
‘I don’t think so.’
His cold denial came only seconds before Rosie’s, ‘Oh, why not, Daddy? We often take the dogs out after I get home from school.’
‘We do,’ he said, emphasising the personal pronoun. ‘Besides—’ he gave Sara another impatient look ‘—Miss Victor doesn’t have any suitable footwear.’
‘I don’t need shoes on the beach,’ she exclaimed, the idea growing on her. She found the prospect of running along the shoreline, paddling in the cool waters of this northerly sea, more and more appealing. She couldn’t run away from her troubles. She knew that. But perhaps this was a way to escape from them for a while. ‘We wouldn’t go far. I promise.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He was adamant, and her spirits plummeted. But how could she blame him really? She hadn’t exactly behaved responsibly this far.
‘You could come with us, Daddy.’
Clearly Rosie wasn’t prepared to accept his refusal without an attempt to change his mind, and Sara sensed he was torn by the knowledge that he was on the point of disappointing her once again.
‘Rosie,’ he began, a little wearily, but she evidently sensed he was weakening.
‘Please, Daddy,’ she begged, clutching his hand. ‘You need the exercise, too. You’re always saying so. Come on. It’ll be fun.’
Matt looked as if that was the last word he’d have used to describe the proposed outing, and, judging by the look he cast in her direction, Sara guessed he blamed her entirely.
But this time he wasn’t prepared to risk another rift with his daughter. ‘Well,’ he began slowly, ‘perhaps for half an hour—’
He wasn’t allowed to finish. Rosie squealed with delight, throwing her arms around his hips and hugging him tightly. Matt’s hands were gentle on her shoulders, but over his daughter’s head his eyes told Sara a different story. However, she wasn’t prepared to deal with his resentment; not now. Glancing out of the window again, she saw that although the sun was still fighting with the clouds a stiff breeze was flattening the grass on the cliff top. She would wear her jacket, she thought, concentrating on the needs of the moment. There was no point in risking a chill, however bleak her future looked at present.
They left the house through the kitchen, but this time they turned away from the front of the house. Instead, they followed a grassy path through a walled plot where wallflowers grew in wild profusion and rambling roses covered a latticed trellis, their scent evocative on the afternoon air.
The dogs bounded ahead, their flowing tails wagging excitedly as they led the way across the cliffs to where a rocky path meandered down to the beach. They were obviously used to this walk, and although they occasionally turned back to ensure that their human companions were following they needed no encouragement.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it, Daddy?’ exclaimed Rosie, who had thrown off her school blazer and was jumping up and down beside the adults. ‘Aren’t you glad you came now?’
Matt’s mouth compressed for a moment, before the smile he reserved for his daughter appeared again. ‘I guess,’ he said drily. Then, with a disturbing look at Sara’s feet, ‘Are you sure you want to go down here without shoes?’
Sara had been wondering the same thing, but his sardonic words hardened her resolve. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, going ahead as if she was used to negotiating rocky paths in her bare feet every day. She started down with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘No problem.’
In fact, her feet felt as if they’d encountered every sharp stone on the path by the time she reached the bottom. It was only by a supreme effort of will that she stopped herself from crying out at times. Still, the soft sand was balm to her bruised
