She said it too quickly. ‘Just… One of my colleagues said something. Nothing.’
‘Hardly nothing if it had you racing up here to check up on him.’
She pulled a face. ‘Just a stupid throwaway remark.’ He waited. ‘It involved the phrase “cats’ meat.”’
He would have been affronted if she hadn’t been so obviously embarrassed. If she hadn’t been so desperately concerned.
‘I suppose I should be grateful that you bothered to check rather just starting a hue and cry with a story about a missing donkey.’
‘We’re not so short of stories at the Observer that we’re reduced to manufacturing them. I’ve been remarkably restrained.’
‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
‘I haven’t written a word about being attacked by livestock running wild on a public footpath, my trashed bicycle, the cuts and bruises I sustained without so much as a penny-piece in compensation from the landowner. On the contrary, it was the landowner who demanded—’
‘Why not?’ he asked, cutting short her list of complaints.
Claire looked at the cloth, rubbed at a stubborn grease spot, grateful for the interruption. If she reminded Hal about the on-the-spot fine he’d levied, he might also recall how enthusiastically she’d paid up.
‘You know why not,’ she said. ‘He’s had enough bad press.’
‘That doesn’t explain why you’re going easy on me. Isn’t it your public duty to warn your fellow citizens about my wicked past?’
He was closer. Too close…
‘You haven’t mentioned the poaching,’ he pointed out. ‘Or the graffiti on Cranbrook’s factory walls, or the time I rode a motorcycle up the venerated steps of Cranbrook Hall and in through the front door. Why is that, Claire?’
‘You were a kid. I’m more interested in what you’re doing now.’ Which was the truth. This was a different world, they were different people… ‘Were you?’ she asked. ‘Wicked?’
His smile took her unawares and, as he caught her hand, the heat of it went straight to her knees, burning up her lips, firing the same melting ache between her thighs as his kiss…
‘Do you want to come inside and repeat that question?’ he offered.
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ she managed, her voice remarkably steady considering the fact that the rest of her appeared to be slowly melting.
‘Good decision,’ he said.
Was it? Right now melting was deeply appealing. The thought of being touched by those oil-stained hands, being kissed, being wicked…
‘Did you really ride your motorbike through the front door of Cranbrook Hall?’ she asked.
‘You hadn’t heard about that?’ He seemed surprised.
‘No one ever talked to me.’ Oh, good grief, that sounded so pathetic. ‘Was that why Sir Robert banned you from the estate?’
‘It wasn’t Sir Robert who did that, Claire, it was your father.’ And his hand slid from hers, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.
‘My dad?’
‘Acting on Robert Cranbrook’s instructions I have no doubt, but he enjoyed delivering the message.’
‘I didn’t know.’ She swallowed. ‘Not that it matters,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m far more interested in how you progressed from estate tearaway to millionaire businessman.’
‘Are you?’ His doubt suggested, worryingly, that he knew exactly the effect he had on her. ‘Well, you’re the journalist, if a somewhat ineffectual one judging by your performance so far. You won’t get far in your chosen profession unless you toughen up, learn to be ruthless.’
‘Is that how you succeeded?’
‘There is no other way. The difference between us is that in your business it doesn’t matter who you hurt so long as you sell newspapers.’
She opened her mouth to protest. Closed it. Took a breath. ‘I told you, this has nothing to do with my job.’
‘A real journalist is never off duty, Claire.’
‘Then I guess I’m not a real journalist…’
There was moment of shocked silence as the reality of what she’d just said sank in.
‘So, what? You’re just playing at it?’
She shook her head, as if to deny it but her mouth was clamped tight and Hal felt a moment of pity for her. What the hell was she doing in a job she clearly wasn’t cut out for?
‘Would it reassure you if I told you that I was the one who used apples to train Archie to be my wing man?’ he said.
He saw the ripple in her neck as she swallowed hard, taking a mental step back from what she’d just said.
‘Wing man?’
‘Once he got the hang of being bribed to be quiet, he kicked up a fuss whenever anyone came near.’
‘Giving you time to disappear.’ A smile broke through, lighting up her eyes. ‘That would be the same apples,’ she said. ‘From the tree in my garden?’
‘It would.’
She shook her head. ‘Now I feel really stupid.’
‘You look it. Here…’ He took her chin in her hand, lifted her face and taking the cloth she was holding, wiped at the smear of grease.
Her skin was warm against his fingers and her soft pink lips, parted as if to ask a question she’d thought better of, invited a kiss. Not the harsh, punishing kiss he’d inflicted on her that day on the path, that she’d subverted into something else, but the kind that could only ever have one conclusion.
‘Has it gone?’ she asked.
‘No, I’ve just made it worse,’ he said, dropping his hand, turning away.
Not in this lifetime.
‘You’d better come inside and clean up. You don’t want to be on the street looking like that.’ Gary was in the kitchen, emptying the biscuit tin. ‘Lunch break’s over,’ he said. The lad looked startled and Hal being aware that he’d been abrupt said, ‘We’ll finish your bike tomorrow.’
‘Really? Gosh, thanks, Mr North… Hal. Actually…’ He waited. ‘Would you mind if I brought a mate with me to watch? We’re hoping to start a scramble team and—’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Now get back to work.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ she said, when Gary had gone.
‘It’s nothing. Pure self-indulgence.’
‘Helping Gary isn’t nothing. Recapturing your boyhood isn’t nothing.’
‘I don’t have time for that.’
‘No?’ She gave a little sigh. ‘Growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it? I’d better go and wash my hands.’
‘I’ll be in the morning room.’
* * *
Claire used the staff cloakroom to clean up, splashing cold water onto her face and neck to cool herself down.
Standing out there in the courtyard she’d been sure that Hal was going to kiss her again and not to punish her this time, even if she deserved it.
For one reckless, forget-the-world moment, she’d wanted him to. She scooped up more water, splashed herself again. Gathered the ends of her hair and re-fastened the clip. Tidying everything up. Restoring