You see—–’ He broke off as a strange noise sounded through the house. ‘What the hell—–!’ He strode off through the open patio doors to the back of the house where the noise appeared to be coming from.
Ryan followed more slowly. She already knew what the strange noise was. Ragtag howling. …
HE was still howling when the three of them reached the back of the house, sitting in the cobbled yard with his head raised to the clear blue sky, howling soulfully, as if his very life depended on it.
Grant Montgomery came to an abrupt halt, staring incredulously at the scruffy dog. ‘Good grief,’ he blinked, as if his eyes had to be deceiving him. ‘What on earth is that?’
Ryan bridled at his scornful tone, and Ragtag stopped his howling long enough to growl at the tall imposing man who looked down at him so disdainfully.
‘It looks like a dog,’ said Mandy in amusement.
‘It is a dog!’ Ryan moved to Ragtag’s side, going down on her haunches to have her face licked ecstatically by her new canine friend. She glared up at the brother and sister. ‘My dog,’ she told them angrily.
Grant’s brows rose arrogantly. ‘You’re expecting him to stay here too?’
‘You said I couldn’t use the cottage,’ she reminded him, standing up, but keeping the now quiet Ragtag at her side.
‘At this moment, unfortunately not. Some of the roof tiles have come loose during the winter storms, something that wasn’t discovered until yesterday when the cottage was opened up for you. I have a man working on it now, but until such time as the repairs are completed and the cottage is aired for you you’re welcome to stay in the house.’ He looked down at Ragtag. ‘The dog is not.’
She looked down at Ragtag too, seeing what Grant Montgomery must see, a dirty unbrushed mutt, desperately in need of a good cleaning. But she also saw the trust in his deep brown eyes as he watched her, the almost stupidly loving expression on his face, his tail wagging goodnaturedly. If what Peter Thornby said was truth, that Ragtag was probably a stray, then there was no reason why he shouldn’t become her dog.
‘I have two dogs of my own,’ Grant Montgomery added before she could make any comment. ‘Two Golden Labradors. I doubt they would welcome—–’ he paused pointedly.
‘Ragtag,’ she mumbled at his prompting.
‘How appropriate,’ Mandy taunted.
Ryan flashed her a look of dislike. ‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Yes, well,’ Grant Montgomery’s mouth showed signs of a smile, although it never materialised, ‘Rex and Riba don’t like strange dogs in their home. But that isn’t to say your dog isn’t welcome to stay, as you are,’ this last seemed to come out rather grudgingly. ‘Would you mind if he slept in the stable until the cottage is ready? It will only be for a couple of nights.’
Considering Ragtag was probably used to sleeping under the stars, a stable would probably be a luxury to him. And yet Ryan was aware that Grant Montgomery was only making a token show of seeking her approval, that it was the stable or nothing. Her mutt mustn’t be allowed to mix with his purebred Labradors!
‘I realise he needs a bath—–’
‘That’s an understatement,’ Mandy mocked.
Again Ryan looked at her with dislike. Snobbish little cat! ‘We happen to have travelled a long way,’ she flashed. ‘Both of us got rather dusty on the walk from the station.’
‘You walked?’ the other girl gasped.
She stiffened. ‘Of course.’
Grant Montgomery was frowning, the problem of Ragtag forgotten. ‘You came by train?’
‘Why else would I be at the station?’
His eyes hardened as he met the anger in hers. ‘Mark didn’t tell us you would be coming by train.’
‘Does it matter?’ she dismissed, becoming more and more disenchanted with this situation.
‘Not at all,’ he answered coldly. ‘Except there was no need for you to have walked all that way. A telephone call and one of us would have come and got you.’
She shrugged. ‘I managed to get a lift in the end.’
‘Oh yes?’
Ryan sensed his disapproval. However, she was twenty-one, not twelve, and she certainly didn’t have to ask this man’s permission to accept the offer of a lift! She didn’t relish the thought of being a guest in his home for the next few days either. Staying in a cottage on the estate was one thing, living in the house, if only for a couple of days, was something else completely. It meant she would be thrown into close daily contact with both Grant and Mandy Montgomery. And what she had seen of them so far didn’t endear them to her.
‘With the vet,’ she told them casually. ‘A very nice man. He sent his regards.’
‘So you’ve met Peter,’ Mandy said slowly.
Ryan looked at her curiously, sensing a deep interest behind the casual question. The other girl had a delicate flush to her cheeks, a glow to her eyes. Could it be that she was more than a little interested in the local vet? If she were it was obvious from Grant Montgomery’s haughty expression that he knew nothing about it. Would he approve or not? Peter Thornby was a lot older than Mandy, but then the girl was headstrong, maybe maturity was what she needed.
She firmly dismissed the other girl’s interest from her mind. It was none of her business who Mandy—or Grant, for that matter—fell in love with. She was just here to paint, and the sooner she could move into that cottage the better it would be as far as she was concerned.
‘Yes, I met him,’ she nodded. ‘He was in a hurry, though, so he couldn’t stop.’
Mandy’s mouth tightened angrily. ‘He never can!’ She turned on her heel and walked back into the house.
More than interested, Ryan would say. An unreturned interest, by the look of it.
Grant Montgomery looked taken aback by his sister’s behaviour, an emotion he quickly masked as he turned back to Ryan. ‘I’ll show you where the dog can sleep,’ he said abruptly, leading the way over to the stables.
She slowly followed him, aware of the power he exuded, his strides long and purposeful, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he swung the door open.
‘One of the stalls should be all right,’ he told her.
Ryan had the feeling he would like to allocate her to one of the stalls too! It really hadn’t been a good idea to come here, it wasn’t working out at all as she had expected. So far there had been none of the peace and quiet she wanted.
‘Yes, fine,’ she agreed dully, the stable pristine clean.
Grant Montgomery looked down at her. ‘If you would rather he came up to the house—–’
‘No, it doesn’t matter,’ she dismissed curtly. ‘I think he needs a bath first—like me,’ she added ruefully, blatantly aware that even though Grant Montgomery had supposedly been working on the estate all day he was much tidier than she was, and the heated smell of his body was rather pleasant to the senses. Potent, was a much more appropriate word.
He really was an attractive man, magnetically so, somewhere in his mid-thirties, she would have guessed. Mark had told her that his brother wasn’t married, and now, having met him, she found that surprising. Some lucky woman should have snapped him up long ago, maybe then he wouldn’t have adopted this arrogant air of condescension. Although she wouldn’t have counted on it! He had the look of a man who had always had supreme self-confidence.