on top of them. Any moment now he’d see them together and she needed to be alone for this.
‘I don’t think so,’ Timothy responded, moving forward. ‘Now, I’m going to apologise in advance for what I’m about to do, and though you probably won’t realise it now, though you’re probably going to hate me for it, I’m about to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’
‘What on earth—?’
She didn’t get to finish, didn’t get to say another word. Suddenly a hot wedge of flesh was pressing against her, pinning her up against the barn wall as she struggled furiously, her automatic scream hushed by the weight of his lips, her arms clamped against his chest with absolutely no room for manoeuvre.
Yet for all the shock, for all the adrenaline pumping through her veins, fear didn’t enter into it. She knew Timothy’s infuriating intentions, knew the sight of her stockinged legs hadn’t catapulted him into a sexual frenzy. This was a duty kiss, she realised as she wrestled to get away, a duty kiss of the worst possible magnitude. And worse, far worse, despite struggling like a cat being dipped in water, despite her internal fury at her misdirected assailant, for the tiniest second, for a smidgen of time so small it was barely there, the fighting stopped, the resistance in her slipping away as other, rather more disturbing thoughts flitted into her mind.
Irrational thoughts that really shouldn’t be given any credence…
The tangy aftershave that had assailed her on the dance floor, stronger now at such close proximity, his heavy ragged breathing as his chest moved against hers, the feel of her breasts pushed against the cool cotton of his shirt, and the faint tang of whisky as his lips moved against hers.
‘Clara?’ She could hear Kell’s voice in the darkness, hear him closing in on them, and she made a last agonised struggle to escape. But Timothy was having none of it, his grip tightening on her more, if that was possible, as Kell approached.
‘Oh!’ She heard the surprise in Kell’s voice, the muffled cough as he backed away. ‘Sorry, guys.’
Only when Kell had gone, only when he was sure they were alone did Timothy pull away, his arms on the wall either side of her now like a temporary cage as he met her furious, glittering eyes.
‘How dare you?’ she started, her voice breathless, legs trembling with fury and something else that she would have died before admitting to. A great kisser he might be but she certainly wasn’t going to let this over-inflated, pompous Englishman know that two minutes up close and personal with him had had the slightest effect in the romance stakes. She was furious.
That was all.
‘How dare you?’ she repeated, her voice a touch stronger now but no match for Timothy who broke in before she could even get started.
‘Tonight’s not the night, Clara. It’s better coming from Ross.’
She shook her head incredulously, straightening up but still no match for his height even in her stilettos. ‘How would you know? You haven’t even been here a full day and you think you know what Kell needs. What, is it better coming from a guy? Better that a doctor breaks the news?’
Timothy shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing was stopping Clara now. Her voice finally found, she let it rip.
‘Ross has only been here a year. I’ve known Kell all my life, so I don’t need Ross to tell me when I can and can’t talk to a friend, and I most certainly don’t need to hear it from you. He has every right to know, every right to hear it—’
‘I agree.’
‘You do?’ Confused, her voice stalled momentarily, the fire dying in her voice as she turned her questioning eyes to him.
‘Of course he should know about Abby, but that’s all. You can deny it all you like, but I’m sure there was more you were going to tell him and kissing you was the only thing I could think of to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’ Her burning anger was replaced with scorching shame, the glittering, defiant eyes sparkling with embarrassed tears as Timothy carried on gently, even smoothing a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear as she stood there, mortified.
‘And if you told Kell you loved him, that’s exactly what it would have been.’
‘Hey, Clara, is everything all right?’
Hamo’s none-too-dulcet tones made them both jump, Clara because she wasn’t expecting it and Timothy because from the look on Hamo’s face anything other than a positive reply wasn’t going to be pretty.
She could have said no, could have burst into tears and landed Timothy right in it, but instead she forced a bright voice as the heavy weight approached. ‘Everything’s fine, Hamo.’
‘You’re sure?’ he checked, eyeing Timothy in anything other than a friendly fashion. ‘Because if you need anything you only have to give us a call.’
‘I’m fine, Hamo, really.’
They both stood in strained silence as Hamo shrugged and wandered back to the barn.
‘Thanks.’ Timothy’s smile was one of pure relief, but it changed midway when he caught sight of Clara’s face.
If she’d been angry before she was furious now, the brief pause enough to reinflate her sails. Pushing his arms away, she faced him angrily.
‘I didn’t do it to save your skin,’ she snapped. ‘The fact is I hate violence or perhaps more to the point no doubt I’d have been the one who ended up suturing you and stuck in the obs ward for the next forty-eight hours feeding you through a straw.’
‘So we both got lucky.’ Timothy grinned, totally unfazed by her anger. ‘Can we go back to being friends now?’
‘We never were friends,’ Clara retorted. ‘I’d hardly even class you as a brief acquaintance.’
‘Oh, and I suppose you go around kissing all your brief acquaintances like that?’
His humour, if you could call it that, was so appalling Clara could scarcely believe the tiny laugh that escaped her lips, but somewhere in mid-laugh it changed to a sob, and as a tell-tale tear worked its way out Timothy politely pretended not to notice.
‘Is there somewhere we can sit down? Preferably on something that isn’t made of hay, or I’ll be sneezing all night.’ She was in no position to answer, tears were choking her now, and when Timothy took her by the hand and led her to a wooden bench she followed him without resistance, sitting on the edge and digging in her bag for a tissue.
‘You’re supposed to have a silk handkerchief,’ Clara sniffed, producing a huge ream of toilet paper.
‘I dropped it when I heard Hamo coming.’
They sat in silence for a moment or two, Timothy looking up at the endless stars, one hand loosely over the back of the bench behind her as Clara wept quietly on, blowing her nose and wishing he’d just go away then changing her mind when his hand reached for her shoulder and pulled her in. He let her cry without words, just patting her shoulder and waiting patiently till she’d reached the gulping stage before finally she spoke.
‘How did you know I liked him in that way? Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me.’ She felt him shrug beneath her cheek. ‘I know I’m good-looking and everything, I know women swoon whenever I approach.’ He laughed and caught her wrist when she playfully thumped his chest. ‘But when you dropped those notes I knew it wasn’t because of my devilish charm. I figured Shelly had said something to upset you, and when I heard about Kell and Abby getting engaged, well, it seemed to fit.
‘I know you don’t believe me, I know you think I’m interfering, but it really would have been a bad move to tell him.’
‘Maybe not,’ she argued. ‘Maybe if he—’
‘Clara.’ Timothy pulled her face