The Unexpected Pregnancy. Catherine George

      ‘All right, a bit, maybe. When I was young.’

      ‘You’re young now, Harriet.’

      ‘Older than I was. You don’t scare me any more.’

      He frowned. ‘Did I scare you in the past, then?’

      ‘Of course you did!’ She drained her glass. ‘You blamed me every time Tim disobeyed your orders.’

      ‘Because I knew he was obeying yours instead.’

      ‘Mine were always suggestions, not orders.’ Harriet gave him a straight look. ‘And Tim only fell in with them when they appealed to him. You must surely know by now that he goes his own sweet way.’

      ‘I do.’ He got up. ‘But in spite of that, or maybe because of it, I still feel protective towards him.’

      ‘And you’re convinced I’m going to hurt him in some way.’ She looked at him challengingly. ‘Do you really believe I’m sneaking into other men’s beds behind Tim’s back?’

      His eyes flared dangerously for an instant. ‘Are you?’

      They stared at each other in taut silence for a moment.

      ‘I don’t have to answer to you, James,’ she said hoarsely, and turned away.

      He moved round the table and turned her face up to his. ‘Tears, Harriet?’

      She jerked her head away, blinking hard. ‘Would you go now, please?’

      ‘Harriet, I’m sorry. I’ve no right to question your private life,’ he said wearily.

      ‘No, you haven’t.’ Harriet reached blindly for a sheet of kitchen paper to mop herself up, and James caught her in his arms, pressing her face against his chest as he smoothed her hair.

      ‘Don’t cry, little one,’ he said, in a tone that brought the tears on thick and fast. For a few blind, uncaring moments Harriet sobbed with abandon, but as she calmed down she grew aware of James’ heart thudding against her own, and pulled away in panic.

      ‘It’s just reaction to all the drama,’ she said thickly, knuckling the tears away. ‘Go away. I’d rather cry in private.’

      ‘I’d rather you didn’t cry at all,’ he said huskily. ‘Particularly when I’m to blame.’

      She turned to face him, careless of tousled hair and swollen eyes. ‘The man you saw with me at the theatre is an old college friend, and Tim was perfectly happy about it. It’s absolutely none of your business, James Devereux, but just for the record I don’t sleep around. Now let’s drop the subject.’

      For once James looked at a complete loss. ‘Harriet—’

      She held up an imperious hand. ‘Look, I’m tired. Could you just go now?’

      On his way to the door he paused, and turned to look at her. ‘On an entirely different subject, Harriet, I need an assistant gardener to help Frank Watts. If I offered the job to his son, my bar manager could move here to End House and young Greg could take Stacy and the boy to the garage flat,’ he added. ‘Think about it. I’ll be in touch.’

      She stood utterly still for a while after he’d gone, staring at the door James had closed so gently behind him. Clever devil, she thought resentfully, then gave a wry little laugh. He might think he was persuading her in the one way certain of success, but he’d actually given her the perfect, face-saving way out of a dilemma. She could now sell End House at a very good price without revealing her change of heart. And no one need know that living alone there on a permanent basis had lost its appeal after only a day or two.