for the Edenhurst bar manager.’
‘Has he really?’ said Tim slowly. ‘At one time you clammed up and went all hoity-toity if I even mentioned big brother’s name, but if you’ve let him have the house you’ve obviously thawed towards him quite a bit.’
‘He thought you’d be pleased.’
‘I am, in a way.’ There was a pause. ‘But for obvious reasons don’t get too chummy with Jed.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ she said scornfully. ‘You have nothing to fear, Timothy Devereux.’
‘Good.’ He sighed. ‘I miss you, Harry.’
‘I miss you, too. Have fun, I’ll see you soon—must go, there’s someone at the door. Bye.’
Her visitors were Stacy and Greg, their faces incandescent with excitement as they gave her their news.
‘We just had to come and tell you, Harriet,’ said Stacy breathlessly.
‘The garage flat goes with the job!’ Greg added. ‘We’re going to live together at last, and be a proper family for Robert.’
Harriet congratulated the jubilant young pair and saw them off, glad that something rather wonderful had come from her decision to sell End House.
It was after nine by the time James arrived, looking a lot more approachable in thin cotton trousers and rolled-up shirtsleeves.
‘Sorry I’m late. I got held up.’ He handed her a chilled bottle. ‘I brought some champagne to celebrate our deal. Or have you changed your mind since I saw you last?’
‘Of course not. Stacy and Greg came round earlier.’ Harriet smiled as she produced glasses. ‘They were so happy, it scotched any doubts I had about parting with End House.’
James chuckled as he eased the cork from the bottle of champagne. ‘I thought young Greg was going to pass out from excitement when I told him a flat went with the job.’
‘You must have felt like God!’
‘Not quite.’ He shot her a look. ‘If I had even a trace of that kind of power I’d have organised some things in my life very differently, my marriage included.’
Harriet pulled a face as she accepted a glass of champagne. ‘The last time that subject was mentioned you changed it pretty sharply.’
‘And spoilt our surprisingly amicable lunch,’ he agreed. ‘But as you know, Harriet, my wife left me for the all-too-common reason that she met someone else.’
‘Tim was delighted about that. He didn’t care for her at all.’
‘Poor Madeleine. She believed that her looks were all she had to offer. When new young faces began to replace hers on magazine covers the punishing diet and constant beauty treatments weren’t enough any more. When she started on cosmetic surgery I blew the whistle, so she left me.’ James drank his champagne down and refilled both glasses.
‘That’s my limit,’ warned Harriet. ‘Any more and I’ll be telling you the story of my life.’
‘That’s only fair in return for mine.’ His lips twitched. ‘Although I know most of yours already.’
Not everything, thought Harriet thankfully. ‘Is Madeleine happy with the new husband?’
‘No idea. After she walked out all communications were made through lawyers.’
‘Talking of lawyers, what happens next about the house?’
James spent a few minutes discussing the opening moves in the transaction, and then asked to see over the house to assess any work needed.
‘I’m not quite sure what I should do about the furniture,’ Harriet told him when they went into the sitting room. ‘I want things like the porcelain for keepsakes, obviously, but I can’t see the furniture fitting in anywhere I’m likely to live.’
‘No,’ James agreed. ‘Tim’s taste runs to the strictly contemporary. I suggest you make a list of the things you really like, and I’ll send the rest to Dysart’s Auction House in Pennington.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Harriet, wincing when lightning flashed as she went ahead of him up the narrow stairs.
‘I can be kind,’ he said dryly.
‘Greg and Stacy can testify to that.’
‘I meant to you, Harriet.’
She turned away to show him the smaller bedroom, which had been furnished specifically for her when she was thirteen. The only thing missing was the battered teddy bear she’d left behind in London.
‘I decided to sleep in my grandmother’s bed this time in case I never had the chance again,’ Harriet told James as she took him into the main bedroom. ‘The armoire would be a bit overpowering in a flat, but I’ll keep the brass bed and the Georgian chest. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she added wistfully.
‘This must be very painful for you, Harriet,’ said James with sympathy.
‘A bit, but it has to be done.’ She blinked hard. ‘Sorry. Champagne makes me emotional. And I’m not terribly keen on storms, either.’
Harriet gave a stifled little squeak as thunder cracked overhead, and James took her in his arms. ‘Nothing to be afraid of,’ he said soothingly.
He was wrong. Just to be held close to him like this was terrifying because she liked it so much. Hardly daring to breathe, Harriet stood utterly still as his arms tightened round her. Her palms grew damp and her breath caught in her throat when she looked up to meet shock in James’ eyes. He stared down at her for a breathless interval, as though he’d never seen her before, and Harriet stared back, mesmerised, as he slowly bent his head to kiss her. When their lips met, hers parted in a gasp, his arms tightened, his tongue slid into her mouth and he held her hard against him, kissing her with such sudden, explicit hunger her knees buckled and she collapsed on the bed. James followed her down, his mouth and hands undermining her resistance so completely it took a crack of thunder to bring Harriet down to earth. She gave a smothered choke of disbelief and tore herself from his arms to stand at the far side of the bed, head averted, clutching at the carved brass finial of the bed as she tried to get her breath back.
Eyes tight shut, Harriet willed James to go away, but he moved round the foot of the bed to raise her face to his.
‘Open your eyes! I’m not going to attack you again.’
She raised her lids to half-mast and heaved in a deep breath. ‘It was just a kiss.’
‘It felt like a hell of a lot more than that to me.’ He stared down at her in dazed disbelief.
‘It was just a kiss,’ she insisted.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Like this?’ he said through his teeth, and caught her in his arms again. Harriet struggled for an instant, but he held her still and the fight went out of her, replaced by something that surged through her entire body, and frightened her to death. Pure, unadulterated lust was something new in her life, but in response to James Devereux’s relentless hands and mouth she shook and burned with it, and felt answering heat scorch from his body into hers before he thrust her away with a groan of self-loathing.
‘What the hell am I doing?’
‘Conducting an experiment, maybe?’ Harriet spat at him, shaking her hair back.
The heat faded from his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
She heaved in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘I told you I didn’t sleep around. Maybe you were putting me to the test.’
All expression drained from James Devereux’s face. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Tests imply conscious thought. I just wanted you, Harriet. God help me, I still do.’
She rubbed a hand across