women reached the door.
Kate told her he was a writer. A very successful author of crime thrillers, writing under the pen name of Alexander Jacobsen. Once a highly successful journalist reporting on international conflicts all around the globe, he’d had the respect of his peers and the public alike during his career in news. Liadan experienced a shock wave of recognition at the news. Somewhere in the misty annals of her mind, she’d vaguely heard of Adrian Jacobs, but Alexander Jacobsen was the name that resonated. His hard-hitting crime novels always got to number one on the bestseller lists. Although that particular genre definitely did not appeal to her taste, her brother Callum had lent her a couple one Christmas and she had been unable to put them down, they were so gripping. If rather dark. Was that a legacy from some of the terrible atrocities he must have witnessed in his previous career? The thought made her shudder.
‘Occasionally we get the odd reporter or two trying to infiltrate their way into the house,’ Kate continued, ‘but one thing you should be aware of is that Adrian absolutely never, under no circumstances, gives interviews. I would ask that you respect his privacy and don’t divulge any personal information to anyone, and certainly nobody from the village. He’s been gossiped about enough in the past and he doesn’t need the heartache. Do a good job and obey those rules and you two will get on like a house on fire.’
That was the point where Liadan parted company with Kate’s views. One only had to spend a couple of minutes in the same room with the man to realise he was not exactly brimming over with the warmth of human kindness. Instinctively Liadan knew their relationship would be a challenging one. Still, that didn’t bother her too much. She was here to do a job, a job that would pay her more than enough money to live on and maintain her beloved little cottage in the village. More than that, she dared not hope for.
Once upon a time she had longed to meet a wonderful man and have children, but now that longing had been undeniably tarnished. Having spent an intense eighteen months in a relationship with a man whose spiritual conflicts had precluded him from having an intimate relationship with his fiancée, and who’d viewed her work in an esoteric bookshop as close to ‘communing with the devil’, she was in no hurry to repeat the exercise. Being with Michael had all but sucked Liadan dry emotionally. She had mistaken initially strong feelings of friendship for love, and no sacrifice she’d made had been enough as far as Michael had been concerned.
But that was then. Right now all she wanted to do was put the past firmly behind her and carve out a new destiny for herself.
The following morning as she unpacked and hung her clothes in the big oak wardrobe in her room, she paused to glance out of the window at the picturesque winter scene before her. The snow had completely passed Christmas by but now, in early January, the heavens had suddenly opened and covered everything in a perfect coating of white frosting. Briefly wondering how her new employer had spent the holiday season—had he celebrated at home with friends and family?—Liadan reflected on her own solitary Christmas, just herself and Izzy. Granted, it had been by choice. She hadn’t felt like flying out to Spain to join her mother and her new man, and after the traumatic break-up with Michael had not wanted to inflict her less-than-cheerful mood on her brother or her friends. No. She had definitely done the right thing spending the season on her own.
‘Liadan, can you come down to the kitchen as soon as you’ve finished unpacking?’
Opening the door, she found Kate Broomfield on the other side of it, her cheeks pink as if she’d been rushing. ‘Of course.’
‘I want to go over everything with you. I’ve made lists but you might want to make some notes of your own as back-up. We’ll have a cup of tea and a chat and I’ll fill you in on anything you want to know. Ten minutes’ time okay with you?’ Peering over Liadan’s shoulder, she noted the neatly folded clothing on the big brass bed and the opened doors of the large oak wardrobe.
Liadan nodded. ‘I’ve nearly finished.’
‘Good. Sorry everything’s such a mad rush but I’m due to catch a train in just under two hours. I’ve been telling Adrian he needed to interview people for the past three months but would he listen? That’s Adrian for you! Once he’s in work mode he’s on another planet. Anyway, you’re here now, and, if you ask me, he’s definitely made the right choice. Somebody young like you will be a breath of fresh air for him. See you in a tick, then.’ And with that, she turned and hurried down the corridor.
Watching Kate depart just a short while later, Liadan felt as nervous as a new mother bringing her baby home from the hospital for the first time. From now on the welfare of this amazing house and its master was her responsibility. The thought made her stomach plummet and for a long moment she seriously pondered if she’d taken on much more than she was capable of handling. She hadn’t set eyes on Adrian Jacobs since her interview yesterday and, as much as she’d like to, couldn’t put off seeing him any longer. He and Kate had presumably said their goodbyes privately before Kate had come to find Liadan to tell her she was going. Now, standing alone in the huge entrance hall, the house suddenly covered in a blanket of silence since the other woman’s cheery goodbye, Liadan glanced down at her watch and psyched herself up to take her new employer a cup of coffee. At least it would give her an excuse to break the ice a little with him since her abrupt interview yesterday. Making up her mind to do just that, she went to the kitchen, thankful for the warmth that greeted her as she entered, and, placing the kettle on the Aga, sought out a matching cup and saucer.
Minutes later, cup of coffee and a plate of digestive biscuits arranged on a tray, Liadan took a deep breath outside the doors of Adrian’s study and knocked twice, smartly. At the terse, ‘Come!’ she pushed open the door and went inside.
Paper was strewn all around the floor at his feet. His black hair looked as if he had been dragging his fingers through it for the past half an hour at least, and her new employer’s darkening expression leached every ounce of confidence from Liadan’s bones and left her legs feeling as weak as a newborn lamb’s.
‘What is it?’
Trying to ignore the thumping of her heart, Liadan made herself smile and walk towards him. ‘I thought you might like some coffee,’ she said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t register the slight quaver in her voice.
‘Put the tray down on top of the piano and for God’s sake don’t put your feet anywhere near my papers!’
Adrian watched his new housekeeper do as he commanded. The rather old-fashioned long tweed skirt that adorned her slim figure was surprisingly complimentary to the thick wool orange, red and brown cowl-necked sweater she’d matched it with. Now she was free of the encumbrance of her winter coat and thick scarf, he registered that her hair was the same fiery red-gold as autumn leaves and it rippled down past her shoulders to her waist in eye-catching waves. Somewhere in Adrian’s subconscious a deliberately buried memory tugged, and his stomach clenched tight in reflex as pain washed over him.
‘Do you always wear your hair loose like that?’ he asked gruffly.
Her hands gripping the edges of the tray as she settled it carefully on top of the gleaming ebony surface of the beautiful grand piano, Liadan turned her head in surprise. ‘Mostly’ she admitted, with a little shrug. ‘Except when I’m working, of course.’
‘Aren’t you working now, Miss Willow? Or has that particular little fact somehow escaped you?’
Seeing the faint flush beneath her pale cheeks, Adrian felt equal measures of frustration and annoyance that the girl was so pretty. With her big blue eyes and china doll face she was a heartbreaker, all right. What had he been thinking of, offering this fragile-looking beauty the job that
