A Wicked Persuasion (13 page)

M
OIRA
G
RAVENEY
rang her brother that night, at a late enough hour to put him on the alert.

‘Something wrong, love?’ he asked.

‘Afraid so, but I don’t know exactly what, yet. Marcus had to rush off to London tonight to deal with a family crisis. He’ll ring me later, when he finds out what’s wrong.’

‘Claudia, as usual?’

‘No, it’s Lily for once. Marcus wasn’t given details; her mother just requested some immediate family support, and as this is pretty rare he took off right away.’

‘Try not to worry—and let me know when you have more news.’

‘I’ll ring you tomorrow. By the way, I drove round to see Harriet today.’

‘How is she?’

‘She’s better. Still a bit fragile, but the migraine had just about gone. She asked me to pass on a message of thanks for your flowers, by the way.’

James’s lips tightened. Couldn’t she have rung him herself?

‘Did you hear what I said?’ demanded Moira.

‘Harriet said thanks for the flowers,’ he repeated bleakly.

‘No, the next bit,’ she said impatiently. ‘I suggested she
could do with a break and gave her the key to the cottage. She’s driving down there tomorrow for the weekend.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You do surprise me. If by some miracle Harriet took time off from her beloved work I thought she’d be back at her sister’s, looking after her niece.’

‘A paediatric nurse has been hired for that. Though, reading between the lines, it’s obvious that Harriet is the go-to girl for any emergency in the Wilde family.’

‘But she’s actually going to please herself for once. Amazing.’

‘Don’t be cynical, James. I don’t know what happened between you two in the past, but I like Harriet very much.’

You’re not the only one, thought James bitterly as he closed his phone. Though ‘like’ seemed hardly the right word. Whatever he had once felt for Harriet Wilde was still alive and well, even though she’d once broken his life in pieces by dumping him. And soon, he promised himself grimly, he would find out exactly what had made her do it.

Harriet was packed and ready the next day for her getaway when her father, rather to her surprise, came to load her bags into the car along with a box of supplies Margaret had put together. He hesitated as she got in the car, and then patted her hand. ‘Come back with some colour in your cheeks. Have you packed medication in case your headache comes back?’

Harriet assured him that she had, and drove off feeling like a child let out of school as she waved him goodbye.

The day was cool and cloudy for the majority of the journey, but after she left the motorway at Carmarthen the sun came out in such blinding glory she snapped her visor down and donned dark glasses. West Wales was giving her a warm welcome. After negotiating the steep market
town of Haverfordwest, Harriet headed towards the sun and eventually turned down a narrow winding road which gave exciting glimpses of sea at every hairpin bend and brought her at last to a small foursquare house sitting on a ledge carved out of the cliff, with a steep path leading from it to the private cove below. She backed into the small parking area beside the house, then got out of the car, shading her eyes to look with pleasure at the panorama below. She unlocked the door in the small porch and after a quick survey of the small kitchen took everything from the car and virtuously put the food away before taking a trip down to the beach. At last she crammed a sunhat on her head, put the house key in her pocket and went exploring.

Harriet hurried down the steep path past tufts of grass and sea drift which brushed against her jeans as the siren song of breaking waves lured her down at speed to the crescent of pebbles edging the sand. Breathless after her headlong descent, she drew in a deep breath of pure delight at the sight of sunlight reflected on rippling waves. Her previous holidays by the sea had been very different from this secluded Welsh cove. When the Wilde girls were small, holidays had been spent in Torquay or Bournemouth, in the large comfortable hotels her parents had preferred. And after the trauma with James she’d done some determined partying with student friends in Ibiza.

After a while her rumbling stomach reminded her that she was hungry, and Harriet went back up to explore the rest of the house before making herself some lunch. Comfortable furniture and cheerful chintz suited the character of the solid old cottage, and the small guest room had an inviting brass bed and a deep window embrasure with a view of the beach.

Unpacking done, Harriet went down the steep stairs later looking forward to a meal for the first time in ages.
She made a salad to eat with Margaret’s roast ham and enjoyed it at a small table in the sitting room window. With a concert on the radio for background and a view of the beach to look at, for the first time in what seemed forever Harriet began to feel relaxed. She left a message on her father’s phone to say she’d arrived, and then went down to the beach to take advantage of the sunshine. Later on, after she’d showered and dressed, she thought about going out for supper at the pub Moira had recommended, but by that time she was feeling the effects of her journey and opted for a lazy evening in front of the television.

Harriet slept better that night than she’d done in weeks. She woke early to the raucous cries of seagulls and ran to the window to check on the weather, delighted to find sunshine again. After breakfast she rang for news of Annabel and was told that she was improving rapidly, but Sophie couldn’t see why Harriet had driven all the way to West Wales for a break when she could have come back to Pennington. Harriet promised to do so soon, sent her love to Annabel, and then rang Moira.

‘I arrived safely, the sun is shining, and this is such a charming cottage, Moira. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here.’

‘You’re very welcome. Get out in that sunshine and enjoy yourself. It’s good to hear that someone’s happy.’

Was something wrong with James? ‘You sound a bit down, Moira.’

‘I am. Marcus had to take off to London to sort out a family problem and came back with a desperately unhappy Lily.’

‘Oh, poor Lily. I don’t want to pry, but do you know what’s wrong?’

‘She won’t say, exactly. Marcus is at his wit’s end, poor darling. He’s unmoved by Claudia’s dramas, but Lily’s tears
are cutting him to pieces. As far as we can tell, it’s to do with Dominic, so we’ll just give her support and sympathy until she tells us what we can do to help. But that’s enough of my woes—I want you to enjoy your holiday.’

‘I will. I’ll ring you when I get back.’

Harriet put her phone on charge, and then drove off to stock up at the village stores before she went on with her sea, sun and sand programme. By the time she got back the sun was hot. She changed into a bikini, slathered herself with sunscreen and took a packed tote bag down to the beach to sunbathe.

Hunger, plus respect for the sun, drove Harriet back up to the house after only a short spell of sunbathing. After lunch, mindful that she was here for a rest, she lay propped up on her bed with the window open to the sea breezes while she left a message on Julia’s phone in case her sister needed to be in touch over the forthcoming photo shoot. Duty done, Harriet put her phone with the rest of her belongings and went down to the beach again. She found a new spot to take advantage of the hot afternoon sun, but when sunbathing palled after a while she went for a swim. She waded until she could dive into the waves and struck out with a workmanlike crawl across the small cove. On the way back she coughed, swallowed a mouthful of water and sputtered irritably, wishing she’d kept to paddling. And screamed her head off when a hard arm came round her chest and an inexorable hand held her chin up as her rescuer began to tow her back to shore.

‘Quiet! Keep still, for God’s sake,’ grated a breathless, furious voice as her legs kicked out. ‘You’re out of danger, so relax and let me do the work.’

When her panting rescuer finally stood up in the shallows, Harriet slid to her feet and backed away, glaring at him without gratitude.

‘What the blazes are
you
doing here, James Crawford?’ she panted, the breath whistling through her chest.

Good question, he thought grimly. Behaving like an utter fool by the look of it.

‘I was enjoying a peaceful swim out there until you arrived,’ she informed him.

Breathing hard, James thrust a hand through his streaming hair. ‘Peaceful!’ He took her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. ‘I thought you were drowning, woman. There’s a hell of an undertow here further out. I thought you were caught in it.’

‘I wasn’t idiot enough to go out that far! The only danger was cardiac arrest when you grabbed me!’ Harriet hurried across the sand, coughing up water as she bent to pick up her towel.

James eyed her grimly as he gathered up the sweater and shoes he’d discarded. His wet jeans moulded every muscular inch of him so faithfully that after one look Harriet buried her hot face in the towel. ‘It’s stupidity to swim here alone.’

Harriet ground her teeth, anger boiling about in a stew of several other emotions. She took in a few careful breaths, and emerged from her towel to face him. ‘You’d better come up to the cottage to get dry.’ She tugged on her espadrilles and climbed up to the house, leaving James to follow behind on bare wet feet, cursing at loose pebbles as he went.

James took a suitcase from the boot of his car as she unlocked the door.

‘Don’t worry; I just want some dry clothes,’ he said, smiling sardonically at the look she threw at him. ‘I’m booked in at the hotel on the Point.’

‘You’re on holiday here?’ Harriet said incredulously, and took two towels from the rack by the sink. She handed
him one and used the other to rub vainly at the salty wet tangle of her hair. ‘Not that it matters. I won’t be staying long. I’m sure we can keep out of each other’s hair until I leave.’

‘That’s a cold reception for a man who’s just driven all the way across England and Wales in time to save you from drowning,’ he retorted.

‘I was not
drowning
,’ she said through her teeth. ‘Does Moira know you’re here?’

‘I told her I might call in while I was in the area.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘But if you object to my presence I’ll take myself off.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t object, James. Have you eaten?’

‘No. I came here first before checking in. Which is a damn good thing. It took years off my life when I saw you flailing about in the sea.’

‘I was not flailing,’ she said, dangerously quiet. ‘And now we both need to get dry—’

‘You first,’ he said instantly. ‘Get in a really hot shower. I’ll have one after you, and then I’ll take you out to dinner.’

‘Yes to the shower, no to dinner,’ she said flatly, and took off up the stairs, leaving him scowling after her.

Instead of the bath she longed for, Harriet stood under blessedly hot water in the shower for a short time, then pulled on her hooded towelling robe and went to the head of the stairs. ‘All yours,’ she yelled, and shut herself in her bedroom to work on her hair. When she finally emerged in jeans and white shirt, her damp curls tied up on top of her head, the bathroom was empty. Bracing herself for another confrontation, she went down to the sitting room.

James looked at her in silence for a moment. Dressed like that, without a scrap of make-up, she looked so much like the girl he’d once been crazy about he felt a sudden
urge to tear her clothes off. With his teeth. He took in a deep, unsteady breath and waved a hand at his own choice of clothes. ‘Snap!’

Harriet forced a smile. The man had driven a long way. His life-saving act had been annoying and unnecessary but the fact remained that he’d charged straight into the sea to her rescue. ‘I’ve got some wine, if you’d care for a drink, or I could make you some tea. I need something to warm me up.’

‘I’m not surprised. That sea may look beautiful in the sun, but it’s really cold when you get in it! Tea would be good, Harriet. Then I’ll take you out for a meal.’ He ran his eyes over her. ‘You look as though you could do with one.’

‘I don’t want to go out.’

His grin vanished. ‘You mean not with me.’

‘I mean I’m a bit tired after all the drama,’ she said impatiently.

Her tone killed his sudden blaze of lust stone dead. ‘Don’t bother about the tea,’ James said crisply. ‘I’ll take myself off and go alone in search of dinner.’

‘I
meant
I can cook for us here—if you like.’

‘You said you were tired,’ he pointed out.

‘Not too tired to cook something simple. Give me twenty minutes or so and I’ll have a meal on the table,’ said Harriet. After all he had come a long way.

‘Then I accept. Give me something to do.’

It felt odd to be scrubbing potatoes while James shelled broad beans, so much so that when he’d finished Harriet suggested he caught up with the television news in the other room while she got on with the meal. To offset the illicit feeling of intimacy, she busied herself with laying the table, cutting bread and hulling strawberries, then snipped rashers of locally cured bacon and put them under the grill.

James joined her, sniffing hungrily. ‘Something smells good.’

Harriet served the food straight on to warm plates and took them into the sitting room. ‘How are things with Live Wires?’ she asked politely as James drew out a chair for her.

‘Going from strength to strength now the new companies are incorporated.’ He sat down, eyeing the food in anticipation. ‘This looks delicious. I eat so much fancy stuff at dinners a simple meal like this is a treat.’

‘First of the Pembroke new potatoes, broad beans picked this morning, and locally reared bacon, all from the village shop up on the main road,’ she informed him.

There was silence between them as they enjoyed the food. When James pushed his empty plate away he sat back, watching Harriet finish her meal. ‘I’ve never told Moira,’ he said abruptly.

She looked up, startled. ‘Told her what, exactly? She knows we once knew each other.’

‘But not that you were the one who murdered my boyish illusions,’ he said, taking her breath away. ‘Not that I’m ungrateful; far from it. Your rejection spurred me on to make a success of my life.’