Heaven Here On Earth

Heaven Here On Earth Carole Mortimer Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…Enticed by the brooding Lord of the Manor…The loan of her friend's studio should mean three blissful weeks of peace for artist Ryan to sketch and paint. But arriving at Montgomery Hall, she finds she’ll be sharing her stay with her friend’s arrogant and uncompromising brother, Grant!Everything about Grant sends shivers of excitement through Ryan. But his misunderstanding of her situation evokes a response too powerful to ignore. Nothing she can say can convince Grant of her integrity. And resisting the Lord of the manor is more difficult than she thought! Heaven Here on Earth Carole Mortimer www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Table of Contents Cover (#ucce4e0b9-548f-53cc-8598-3bda8d220621) Title Page (#u84d822e5-73f7-5f9f-a0f9-7ee2541f5dee) CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE (#u027ca364-ac56-5f7e-9de8-f4eb00f364f8) “YOU’LL love it there,’ Mark assured her. ‘I have the most fantastic studio.’ ‘Yes, but Yorkshire!’ Ryan grimaced. He frowned at her, a very good-looking man of twenty-four, with the overlong hair of their contemporaries, clear hazel-coloured eyes, dressed as casually as Ryan in denims and a loose-fitting shirt. ‘I’ll have you know Yorkshire is very beautiful at this time of year.’ ‘Beautiful Yorkshire in April!’ she scorned, sitting opposite him in her flat while her flatmate Diana was in the bedroom preparing for her date with him. ‘You just want to get rid of me for a few weeks so that you can pursue Diana without me in the way!’ Mark began to smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his teeth very white against his dark skin. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘It wasn’t hard!’ She made a face. He sat forward in his seat. ‘Maybe my reasoning is partly selfish—–’ ‘Mainly,’ she substituted firmly. ‘All right, mainly,’ he sighed. ‘But I really do have a great studio. My brother had the whole of the top floor of the house converted for me.’ ‘That’s another thing—your family. How will they feel about having a complete stranger foisted on them?’ Ryan frowned, looking younger than her twenty-one years with her long blonde hair and big blue eyes, her face small and heart-shaped. The deceptively youthful appearance hid a strong determination, a determination that had got her through art college against all the odds—that, as much as her talent, had won her a scholarship. It was at college that she had met Mark Montgomery, and while she had no romantic interest in him herself, he had been instantly attracted to her secretary friend and flatmate, Diana. The attraction was reluctantly reciprocated, as Diana doubted Mark’s sincerity. Ryan and Diana had been brought up in the children’s home together, and both of them were a little wary of romantic relationships, although Diana more so, remembering her own parents and the bitter break-up of their marriage. In a way Ryan was a little luckier, she remembered nothing of her parents—if that could be called lucky! Mark shrugged dismissively. ‘They won’t think anything of it, I often let friends use the studio. Besides, there’s only Grant and Mandy, my brother and sister. Grant’s always busy on the estate, and Mandy’s only eighteen, so you’d be company for each other. And you don’t have to stay in the main house, there’s a cottage you can use on the estate.’ Ryan knew that Mark came from a wealthy family, that far from having to struggle through like a lot of their fellow-students, he always had plenty of money. The existence of the family estate in Yorkshire had come to light since he had been dating Diana, an incentive for her to trust him, Ryan believed. It had been wasted on Diana, just making her more wary. ‘Besides,’ he added enticingly, ‘you don’t want to pass up the opportunity of seeing a whole room full of Paul Gilbert paintings.’ Her eyes widened, the deep blue of violets, her lashes thick and silky, naturally dark. ‘Your family have a Paul Gilbert collection?’ she gasped; Gilbert was one of her favourite artists, and had been popular for the last fifty years since his death. ‘Better than that,’ Mark said with satisfaction. ‘He was my great-grandfather. Encouragement enough?’ ‘If it’s the truth,’ Ryan said sceptically. ‘Oh, it is,’ he told her seriously. She frowned. ‘Then why haven’t you mentioned him before?’ He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. ‘One doesn’t like to boast.’ ‘Doesn’t one?’ she taunted. ‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘Especially when “one” doesn’t have even a tenth of his talent,’ he added seriously. She raised dark blonde brows. ‘Fishing for compliments, Mark?’ It was an accepted fact that Mark had been the most talented one in the class through the previous college year. ‘No,’ he laughed, dispelling the mood of seriousness. ‘Oh, be a love, Ryan! Three weeks, three lovely weeks, when you can have a studio all to yourself. You’re looking a little pale, the fresh air would put colour in your cheeks—–’ ‘All right, all right,’ she interrupted laughingly, ‘I’ll spend the Easter holidays in Yorkshire. But if you do anything to hurt Diana while I’m away,’ she sobered, ‘I’ll have you hanged, drawn, and quartered! Understood?’ ‘Understood,’ he nodded happily. And so it was that two weeks later Ryan found herself on a train bound for Yorkshire, her case in one hand, her empty canvases in the other. As the train neared the station for Sleaton her trepidation grew. Mark swore he had made all the arrangements, that he had told his family she would be arriving today, that his brother and sister didn’t mind her visit in the least. But Mark wasn’t known for his reliability. What if she should arrive at Montgomery Hall only to be turned away? Montgomery Hall—just the name of it was enough to make her feel nervous, and it wasn’t an emotion she usually admitted to. But Mark’s family sounded a little out of her league, despite Mark’s claim of how hard his brother worked on the estate, and how glad of her company Mandy would be. Yes, Montgomery Hall sounded very daunting. And what would the Montgomerys make of Ryan Shelton? She was wearing her newest denims, the ones with no paint splashed over them, and a light blue fluffy jumper that hugged her body and just touched the top of her denims, riding up a little if she should raise her arms. Despite it being April, and the sun shining brightly in a blue sky, there was a nip in the air, and although the jumper had shrunk a little in the wash, it was a pretty colour, and made her hair look like gold. It also emphasised the dark blue of her eyes. The train drew slowly into the station of Sleaton, and she stepped down on to the platform, dragging her case off behind her, scratching it in the process. Not that it mattered, the case was battered enough already. A couple of other people got off the train too, although they seemed surer of their destination, hurrying from the platform to disappear from the station building. After dragging her case and canvases through the busy London station, with no chance of getting a porter, and Mark conveniently unavailable until the last minute, she had had no choice. But as the only person on this tiny station platform she should have been able to get help with her luggage now. An old man leant on a broom a short distance away, bent over with age, looking as if he would fall down if someone were to remove the broom. Ryan staggered over to him. ‘Is there a porter?’ she enquired politely. ‘Yes,’ he nodded, looking at her over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses, his hair and moustache a light grey colour. She bit her tongue to stop her sharp retort. ‘Could you tell me where he is, please?’ She kept her voice light. ‘I’m the porter, miss,’ he told her in an important voice, as if daring her to challenge his claim. She wouldn’t dare! ‘Would you mind carrying my case?’ she persisted brightly. He looked down at the battered brown case at her feet. ‘It looks on the heavy side.’ ‘It is,’ she nodded. ‘I’ve got a bad back, you know,’ he began to shake his head. ‘The doctor told me to lay off heavy lifting.’ Again Ryan bit her tongue, deciding silence would be better than any criticism she would care to make about a porter who couldn’t lift heavy objects. By the look of Sleaton it was a small community, and this man could be related to half the population! Upsetting the village people would be a great start with the Montgomery family. She gave a resigned shrug and moved to the lady taking the tickets. She looked as if she could be the porter’s wife! ‘You mustn’t mind Jack,’ the woman confided. ‘He retires next month.’ Not before time, by the look of him! And that didn’t exactly help her now. She could see she would have to become used to a slower and less efficient way of life the next few weeks. Still, as Mark had claimed, Yorkshire was looking very beautiful; the gorse was in full bloom, everywhere a deep rich green after the early April showers. Flowers were in bloom along the neat garden at the side of the station—although Ryan doubted if Jack kept it in that neat state. Too much bending! She thought of the next three weeks, three weeks of peace and quiet, three weeks of sketching and painting as much as she wanted to. Heaven on earth! Once she got outside the station she looked around for possible transport to Montgomery Hall. There wasn’t any! She doubted this sleepy little village, with its homes all grey-brick thatched cottages, sported a local taxi. And Mark didn’t seem to have taken into account the fact that she had to get from the station to the house. The idea of a holiday in this remote part of Yorkshire suddenly began to lose its magic, the white-painted cottage that had the look of a picture-postcard beauty seeming perhaps too much of a drastic change from London. Well, it was too late to change her mind now! She went back to the ticket-collector, who also seemed to double as the ticket-seller! ‘Going straight back, are you, love?’ she quipped. ‘The shortest stay on record,’ she smiled at her own joke. ‘We usually keep our visitors a little longer.’ Ryan smiled back, beginning to feel weary now. ‘I was wondering if there’s a local taxi …?’ She hardly dared voice the question. The woman frowned. ‘Bert Jenkins from the village used to do a bit of driving, but he’s got a funny leg.’ ‘Funny leg …?’ Ryan returned resignedly, beginning to think the whole village had one medical complaint or another. ‘Arthritis, I think,’ the woman nodded. ‘So there’s no taxi?’ ‘Not any more.’ The woman shook her head. Ryan pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘In that case, could you direct me to Montgomery Hall?’ The woman’s interest deepened. ‘Friend of the family, are you?’ ‘Er—yes.’ She was taken aback at this open questioning, being used to the surliness of London transport workers. ‘Would you be the friend of Mr Mark’s they’re expecting?’ Her eyes widened even more. ‘Er—yes, I would. How did you know?’ The woman laughed. ‘Not much is a secret in Sleaton! Besides, my sister-in-law helps out in the house.’ ‘I see,’ Ryan nodded. ‘The directions?’ she prompted. ‘Oh—of course.’ The woman looked disappointed that she didn’t want to stay and chat. ‘Turn right out of the station, it’s about three miles down that road—–’ ‘Three miles?’ ‘Mm,’ the woman nodded. ‘You can’t miss it. A big old manor house on the right-hand side of the road, set behind high iron gates.’ Ryan thanked the woman and moved off a little way down the road. Three miles! She couldn’t remember the last time she had walked that far—and certainly not with a heavy case and half a dozen canvases. It looked a very long winding road, with a stone wall either side, the same grey stone the cottages and farmhouses were built from, and she began to see several of the latter as she walked along, the occasional dog barking in the distance, lambs bleating to their mothers in the fields. Ryan had never seen so many sheep in her life, they seemed to be everywhere, and most of the ewes were accompanied by one or two young frisky lambs. Spring was a beautiful time, a time of new beginnings, when all the world seemed fresh and new. Maybe it would be a new beginning for her too? It was over a month since she and Alan had decided they weren’t suited, and yet she still hadn’t been able to accept the fact that he was gone from her life. Her break-up with him was partly the reason she had been so easy to persuade to come here, although after the first mile or so she was beginning to more than regret the decision. With no obvious public transport and no car of her own, she was going to be very tied to Montgomery Hall for the duration of her stay here. In that moment she forgot all about how tired she was, and how much her legs ached, as a huge dog suddenly bounded down the road towards her! It looked enormous, a dirty grey and white colour, and Ryan looked around desperately for somewhere to hide. There wasn’t anywhere, and she held her case and canvases protectively in front of her. So much for the pleasure of the countryside; she was going to be attacked by a wild dog now! But instead of attacking her the dog put its front paws on her thighs, looking up at her expectantly, its tongue hanging out, its stumpy tail wagging in a friendly manner. ‘Why, you’re just a big softie!’ Ryan went down on her haunches beside the dog, roughly patting its neck. He didn’t have a collar on, she ascertained that much. She also realised that his fur was all matted, besides being dirty, as if he hadn’t had a good brush in weeks. In fact he looked neglected altogether. ‘Where’s your owner, boy?’ She looked about them for an angry farmer demanding she leave his dog alone, but all she saw were the inevitable sheep in the neighbouring fields. ‘Are you lost then, hmm?’ she allowed the dog to jump over her excitedly. ‘I think you are,’ she nodded, standing up to brush down her denims, the dog’s dirty paws having put dusty marks all over them. ‘Maybe we’ll find him on the way,’ she reassured the bright-eyed animal as he gazed up at her adoringly. ‘You walk along with me. I could do with the company anyway,’ she added ruefully. The dog needed no second bidding, but trotted along happily at her heels. Just having him along with her lightened her own mood, the sun suddenly seemed brighter, the birds sang happily in the trees. She glanced down at the dog occasionally, realising that underneath all that dust he was probably an Old English Sheepdog. It seemed a shame that someone had let him get into this state. A good wash and brush-up and he would be a beautiful dog. And he had a lovely friendly nature, occasionally running off to chase an unsuspecting butterfly, coming back to her side quite happily once the creature flew out of his reach. He was still at her side when a Land Rover appeared on the road behind her, the first vehicle to pass down the road either way. ‘Careful, Ragtag,’ she soothed as the dog began to growl at the approaching vehicle. ‘Mm, it suits you,’ she said ruefully as she realised the name she had unwittingly given him. ‘Now behave,’ she warned. ‘And if we’re lucky we may get a lift the rest of the way. I’m already beginning to fear for my sanity—this is the first time I’ve had a conversation with a dog!’ The Land Rover went straight past her, giving her a brief glimpse of the man behind the wheel, the peaked cap he wore concealing his face. The vehicle suddenly came to a halt a few yards past her. She ran eagerly to the passenger side, and the man in the driving-seat leaned over to wind down the window. ‘Like a lift?’ he offered; he was a man probably in his early thirties, with hair as blond as her own, with warm blue eyes, very attractive in an outdoor sort of way. ‘Don’t worry,’ he smiled at her hesitation, ‘I’m the local vet, so if I attacked you the whole area would know about it in ten minutes!’ She laughed, instantly liking him. ‘I’m going to Montgomery Hall—–’ ‘Mark’s friend,’ he nodded, already climbing out from behind the wheel. Ryan followed him to the back of the vehicle, watching as he opened the double doors. ‘Does everyone in Sleaton know I’m coming here?’ she asked with a sigh, handing him her suitcase. ‘No, I’ll keep the canvases,’ she clung to them. He smiled. ‘Okay. And the answer to your question is yes. There isn’t much that’s a secret in a place this size. I’m surprised Grant didn’t send someone to pick you up,’ he frowned. Ryan grimaced. ‘Well, I thought that was because Mark had forgotten to tell them that I was coming, but that’s been firmly ruled out.’ ‘Not necessarily,’ he shook his head. ‘He could have forgotten to tell them when you were arriving.’ ‘That sounds like Mark,’ she nodded. ‘Yes,’ the young vet laughed. ‘My name’s Peter Thornby, by the way.’ ‘Ryan Shelton,’ she introduced herself. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he shook her hand. ‘Where’s your dog gone? I thought he could go in the back with your suitcase, I have a wire mesh up.’ Ryan looked down in surprise. Ragtag seemed to have disappeared! She frowned, looking up and down the road. He had gone. She felt strangely alone again. ‘He wasn’t my dog actually,’ she explained huskily, already missing him. She had never had a dog make friends with her before, and the liking had been mutual. ‘He just followed me. You haven’t seen him before?’ As the local vet he might have come across Ragtag in his work. Peter Thornby shook his head. ‘I didn’t get a good look at him, but I don’t think I’ve had him as a patient. Still, that isn’t surprising, he could be living wild. He didn’t look very old.’ Ryan climbed into the Land Rover beside him, still looking out of the side-window for Ragtag. He couldn’t have disappeared so completely. It was pretty open countryside, with a few odd trees, masses and masses of gorse bushes, an occasional wall to divide the fields, certainly nowhere a dog of Ragtag’s size could really hide. And yet he had gone. Peter Thornby started up the engine. ‘I shouldn’t worry about it, Ryan. He could turn up again, but then again, he’s survived this long on his own, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t continue to do so.’ She knew he was right, and yet she couldn’t help missing the friendly dog. She hoped that, as Peter Thornby said, he would continue to be able to take care of himself. She shook off her despondency with effort and turned to look at the man at her side. He was dressed in a dark green anorak and old brown corduroys, his feet thrust into Wellington boots, the bottoms of his trousers tucked inside them. ‘Do you live locally?’ Ryan asked conversationally. ‘About five miles away.’ He drove the large vehicle confidently down the narrow lane. ‘I have a large area to cover,’ he smiled. ‘Is it far to Montgomery Hall?’ ‘About another half mile. Why didn’t you call Grant from the station?’ he frowned. ‘I’m sure he would have sent a car for you.’ Ryan grimaced. ‘I don’t even know him, I thought it seemed a bit of a cheek. I tried to get a taxi, but—–’ ‘Bert’s leg is playing him up.’ Her eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’ Peter spluttered with laughter. ‘He’s used the same excuse for the last twenty years.’ She smiled too. ‘How does he make a living?’ Peter shrugged. ‘I have no idea, but he manages somehow. And if he gets a bit short of cash his leg is miraculously better for a couple of weeks. Once you’ve been in Sleaton a few days you’ll realise it’s full of characters like Bert Jenkins.’ ‘And Jack the porter,’ she joined in his teasing. ‘Right,’ he nodded with a grin. ‘He’s got a bad back, you know,’ he told her in a derisive voice. ‘So have I now!’ ‘How do you like Sleaton so far?’ he quirked a mocking eyebrow. Ryan gave a laugh of enjoyment. ‘Strangely enough, very much.’ ‘Me too. I even came back here after completing my training.’ He brought the Land Rover to a halt and turned with his arm along the back of her seat. ‘Well, here we are.’ ‘We are?’ She looked over to the right-hand side of the road. Montgomery Hall was indeed behind ‘huge iron gates’, as the woman at the station had told her; it was also surrounded by a ten-foot wall! She couldn’t help her gasp of surprise, as her gaze passed on to the house itself, a big Georgian manor house about half a mile from the gate down a gravel driveway, neatly laid lawns and trees fronting the house, with a gardener busy working on the numerous flower-beds. Peter was watching her reaction. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ What an understatement! ‘Very,’ she gulped. ‘It’s just as beautiful inside,’ he told her. ‘I wish I had the time to drive you down to the house, but I was called out to a sick cow over half an hour ago …’ ‘You’ve been very kind already.’ Ryan got down from the Land Rover and came round to get her case from the back. ‘Thank you,’ she smiled up at him. He nodded. ‘My pleasure. No doubt I’ll see you again soon. And if you do happen to see that dog again perhaps you could bring him to my surgery? I usually call in at Sleaton Monday and Friday evenings.’ She frowned. ‘You don’t think there’s anything wrong with him?’ ‘Not at all,’ he answered instantly. ‘But I doubt if it would do any harm to have him examined.’ ‘I’ll bring him if I see him.’ She somehow felt a responsibility to the stray dog. ‘Fine,’ he smiled. ‘Give my regards to Grant and Mandy.’ Ryan turned to look at the house once again when Peter had driven off. She had been right to suppose it was a big house, only it was all more, much more, than she had imagined. She only hoped Mandy and Grant Montgomery proved to be as nice as Mark. She felt something wet nuzzling her hand, and looked down to see Ragtag. Her face lit up with pleasure, and she bent down to him. ‘Where did you go?’ She cuddled him, regardless of his dirty coat. ‘I thought you’d gone for good! But I’m glad you haven’t—I was beginning to feel like Maria in The Sound of Music, standing out here looking up at the house. Still,’ she stood up, ‘at least there aren’t seven children in there—I hope!’ she grimaced. It took all her strength to open the gate, and she made no objection when the dog followed her. She liked his company. Besides, he gave her confidence. The gardener gave her a curious look as she walked down the driveway, and she suddenly realised what a mess she must look. She was covered in dust from cuddling Ragtag, her hair was windswept, and her case even more disreputable after being in the back of Peter Thornby’s Land Rover. It looked as if he often carried animals in there. She shrugged resignedly; there was nothing she could do about her appearance now. ‘You’ll have to stay outside,’ she instructed the dog as she rang the doorbell. ‘I just have to pick up the key to the cottage. I think one Ragtag going inside is enough,’ she added ruefully. The butler didn’t even blink an eyelid when she told him who she was. ‘Miss Amanda is in the drawing-room,’ he told her stiffly. Thank goodness she was staying in a cottage on the estate—far away from the main house, she hoped. She was used to doing what she wanted, when she wanted. It must be strange having a houseful of servants. ‘Stay, Ragtag,’ she instructed as he sat down on the top step. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ she added hopefully, leaving her luggage in the hallway before following the butler through to the drawing-room. At least she was going to meet the Montgomerys one at a time! It was a very long room, almost running the entire length of the house, and the whole room had an air of comfortable elegance; one end was obviously the sitting area, the suite having an unobtrusive floral pattern, the curtains at the long windows matching the pattern exactly. Huge double doors were opened into the garden at the other end of the informal room, and it was the girl seated behind the piano who held Ryan’s attention. She couldn’t be any other than Mark’s sister; she had his rich dark hair, kept short and boyish, her eyes, as she stared sightlessly into the garden, were the same hazel colour. She was a pretty girl, extremely so, and her pale lilac dress suited her dark colouring. The butler coughed rather pointedly, and although the girl’s shoulders stiffened slightly she made no effort to stop playing, her fingers flowing fluidly over the piano keys. Ryan had no sense of music, modern or old, but she thought this playing was probably good. Suddenly the girl crashed all ten fingers down on to the keys and turned to face them, her eyes flashing. ‘What is it, Shelley?’ she snapped in a haughty voice, totally ignoring Ryan as she stood beside him. The butler appeared unperturbed by her abruptness. ‘Miss Ryan Shelton,’ he announced. Cool hazel eyes were turned on Ryan, who withstood the appraisal very well in the circumstances. This girl was very insolent, nothing at all like the easygoing Mark. ‘Thank you, Shelley,’ she said dismissively, not even looking at him. ‘You may go.’ She stood up, a tall girl; her lilac dress was very elegantly styled, her legs long and shapely, the heels high on her matching sandals. ‘So you’re Ryan Shelton,’ she mused slowly. ‘My brother’s little friend from college.’ Ryan bit her lip, not taking to Amanda Montgomery at all. She only hoped first impressions were wrong! ‘Mark and I are at college together, yes,’ she answered calmly, feeling her untidiness more against this young girl’s sophistication. She looked much older than the eighteen Mark had said she was! As for the two of them being company for each other—the only thing they had in common was their youth! ‘My name’s Mandy.’ The other girl began to thaw a little, humour lightening her eyes. ‘You aren’t what Grant was expecting at all,’ she commented. ‘No?’ Ryan frowned. ‘No. You see, he—–’ Mandy broke off as a man strode into the room, a man who instantly held Ryan’s attention. He had to be Grant Montgomery, that much was obvious once again by his dark colouring, but that was where all similarity to Mark ended! This man was incredibly tall, well over six feet, with the powerful physique of an athlete, his shoulders wide, a flat hardened stomach, muscular thighs and long legs all shown to advantage in the checked working shirt and close-fitting faded denims. But it was his face that held her attention. It wasn’t just that he was so much older than she had expected, at least ten years Mark’s senior, it was also that he was so incredibly good-looking, in a harsh way. His hair grew long and dark over his ears and collar, his face was tanned a dark teak colour from the wind and sunshine he worked in, his eyes were the colour of emeralds, the nose long and hawkish, the top lip of the firmly compressed mouth thin and uncompromising, the lower lip fuller, sensually so. His jaw was firm and strong, the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned to reveal an equally tanned chest. Those green eyes flickered over her with a keen intelligence, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you had a friend coming over this afternoon, Mandy.’ His voice was deep and gravelly, sending shivers of awareness down Ryan’s spine. His sister’s mouth twisted. ‘I haven’t.’ The green eyes narrowed now. ‘Then who—–’ ‘Ryan Shelton,’ Mandy supplied with obvious relish. He drew in an angry breath. ‘Another of Mark’s little jokes, I take it?’ he rasped, his voice no longer pleasurable to listen to in his displeasure. Ryan listened to the exchange between brother and sister with a sinking heart. It didn’t sound as if she was exactly welcome here! And Mark had sworn he had arranged everything! She should have known. She would kill him when she got back to—– ‘Please excuse us, Miss Shelton,’ Grant Montgomery spoke to her directly now. ‘When Mark informed us of your visit he omitted one thing.’ At least it was only one! ‘The fact that you’re a girl,’ Grant finished in a derisive voice. Ryan swallowed hard, as the sinking feeling returned. ‘He did?’ she grimaced. What did it mean? Wasn’t she welcome if she was a girl? ‘Yes,’ Grant Montgomery bit out, his eyes icy now, derogative as he looked her up and down. ‘He merely said it would be a friend called Ryan.’ ‘Does it make a difference?’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘To your visit here? No,’ he shrugged dismissively. ‘Although I’m a little surprised at your interest in art.’ ‘Interest?’ she echoed sharply. ‘It’s more than an interest, it’s my career,’ she defended, sensing his criticism. ‘Oh yes?’ he scorned. ‘And what do you intend doing with it?’ ‘Well, I—–’ ‘Because unless you have an exceptional talent,’ which his tone seemed to imply he doubted, ‘or intend going into advertising or teaching, art is a complete waste of time, especially for a woman.’ Ryan flushed. ‘Maybe I have an exceptional talent,’ she snapped, her chin at a challenging angle. ‘Maybe,’ Grant Montgomery drawled. ‘And now you have the use of an exceptional studio. But not of the cottage, I’m afraid,’ he added with a frown. ‘No?’ She tried to remain calm in the face of what looked like being a wasted journey. Even supposing Grant Montgomery did let her have the use of the studio, she doubted if the village had a hotel. If it didn’t have a taxi it was highly unlikely to have a hotel! ‘No. 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. … CHAPTER TWO (#u027ca364-ac56-5f7e-9de8-f4eb00f364f8) 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. He nodded now, not disclaiming her comment. ‘I’ll get Shelley to show you to your room. You can get some food for your dog in the kitchen once you’ve freshened up.’ Ryan was relieved he had mentioned that. She had been wondering what to do about feeding Ragtag, especially as it already seemed she had to accept the Montgomerys’ hospitality for herself for several days. ‘Thank you,’ she accepted. ‘Perhaps you would like to settle the dog and then come up to the house,’ Grant suggested distantly. ‘I have to get back to work, but Shelley will be only too happy to help you should you run into any difficulties.’ ‘Er—–fine,’ she said. ‘I-I’ll see you later, then.’ ‘At dinner,’ he nodded tersely. Ryan’s last view of him was as he strode off to climb in behind the wheel of his Land Rover, a grey one this time, as opposed to Peter Thornby’s green one, then Grant Montgomery drove off towards the fields at the back of the house. Considering the amount of sheep she had seen on her way here it was natural to assume the estate farmed them. Mark hadn’t really told her much about his family, least of all their complexities. Mandy was a strange girl, old beyond her years in some ways, still very young in others, and Grant Montgomery was too full of complexities to even begin to fathom him. And she would bet that a lot of women had tried. ‘Interesting man,’ she told Ragtag as she looked for a comfortable spot for him in one of the stalls. ‘Oh, I know you didn’t like him,’ she smiled, ‘but then he didn’t seem too keen on you either. Ah, here we are,’ she had found a stall full of fresh-smelling hay. ‘Now you settle down here,’ she instructed. ‘And I’ll bring you some food down soon. And just between you and me, Ragtag,’ she said in a whisper, ‘I don’t think the haughty Mr Grant Montgomery liked me either!’ It had been there from the beginning, an antagonism that was not of her making, almost as if he suspected her motives for being here. Oh, how she wished that cottage had been ready for her when she arrived, or that she had known of the delay and could have come a couple of days later. In the meantime she would have to make the best of it. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she absently assured the dog, and went back into the house to seek out the butler. The bedroom they had given her was as elegantly furnished as the rest of the house, the carpet cream and fluffy, the deep pink bedspread and velvet curtains at the windows matching perfectly, the furniture a light pine. Her suitcase had already been placed on the ottoman at the bottom of the double bed, with her canvases propped against it, reminding her of her reason for being here. Tomorrow she would be able to start work, that would compensate for all the difficulties she had so far encountered. She was just putting on her clean clothing after her bath when Mandy Montgomery walked into the room unnanounced. Ryan hastily straightened her tee-shirt over her breasts, smoothing it over her denims. If Mandy had hoped to unnerve her she had failed. After sharing a dormitory with five other girls, Diana being one of them, she had become used to a lack of privacy, and was completely lacking in inhibitions about her body. Nevertheless, she faced the other girl challengingly, knowing the intrusion had been a deliberately rude one. ‘Yes?’ she enquired coolly. ‘You’re wanted on the telephone—–’ ‘Mark?’ Her expression brightened, and she forgot her antagonism. ‘Of course,’ Mandy taunted. ‘You can use the telephone in the drawing-room.’ Ryan didn’t wait to hear any more, but ran down the stairs to pick up the telephone. ‘Mark!’ she greeted him with breathless relief. ‘Who else?’ he said cheerfully. ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Well, I had to walk from the station, the house is enormous, my cottage isn’t ready, I have—–’ ‘Hey, slow down, slow down!’ he laughed. ‘I heard all about that from Mandy. I also heard you had some strange-looking animal with you. I’m sure you were alone when Diana and I saw you off this morning,’ he teased. Mandy hadn’t wasted much time relating her unusual arrival. ‘You almost saw me off,’ she reminded him. ‘You arrived just as the train was pulling out of the station. As for the dog, he’s adopted me,’ she dismissed. ‘Mark, your brother has very kindly invited me to stay in the house until the cottage is ready, but—–’ ‘Have you seen the studio yet?’ he interrupted. She frowned. ‘No.’ ‘Get Mandy to show it to you. I guarantee you won’t want to leave then.’ ‘I don’t want to leave now. I just feel—uncomfortable, with your family.’ That was the understatement of the year! ‘What did you think of Grant?’ ‘Think of him?’ she returned guardedly. Mark chuckled softly. ‘Handsome devil, isn’t he?’ ‘Very handsome,’ she acknowledged stiffly. ‘I thought you’d like him,’ he mocked. ‘Who said anything about liking him?’ she snapped, knowing that she was, foolishly, blushing. ‘I just admitted he was handsome, that doesn’t mean I like him.’ ‘Of course not,’ Mark replied blandly. ‘And how about Mandy, what do you think of her?’ ‘She’s very pretty.’ ‘Isn’t she?’ The smile could be heard in his voice as he guessed at her evasion. ‘She’s also very sweet under the bitchiness.’ ‘I’m not sure I’ll get that far,’ Ryan said dryly. ‘You will,’ he laughed. ‘Could you put her on for a few minutes? I want to talk to her.’ Much to Ryan’s embarrassment she found Mandy Montgomery standing in the open doorway when she turned, giving every impression of having been there for some time. How much of the conversation had she listened to? She hoped not the part where she had admitted that Grant was handsome! ‘He wants to talk to you,’ she held out the receiver to the other girl. Mandy strolled over, in no hurry. ‘Thanks,’ and she instantly turned her back on Ryan. So much for getting past the bitchiness! She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. ‘I’m not your servant!’ Mandy was telling her brother angrily. ‘All right,’ she agreed finally. ‘But Grant isn’t too happy about the way you deceived him. You know exactly what I mean. It isn’t funny, Mark, Grant is furious about it.’ It didn’t need two guesses what Grant Montgomery was ‘furious’ about. He had been expecting a man, and instead she had turned up. She was always having the same trouble with her name, although this time she was inclined to believe, as Grant did, that Mark had done it on purpose. It was the sort of thing he would find funny. Obviously his brother didn’t share his sense of humour. She wasn’t sure she did in this case either. It had certainly got her off to a bad start with the other two members of the Montgomery family. Mandy had rung off now, and turned to her with that insolent stare. ‘Mark wants me to show you the studio.’ She blushed. ‘If you’d rather not, I’m sure I could find it on my own.’ Dark eyebrows rose in a facsimile of her eldest brother. ‘I doubt if Grant would welcome you wandering about the house on your own,’ she drawled. Ryan’s mouth tightened at the other girl’s insulting tone. ‘I don’t think your family silver would look right in my flat,’ she snapped. Mandy smiled, at once looking younger. ‘So you can stand up for yourself if you have to. That could come in useful in this house.’ She led the way up the stairs, with Ryan walking at her side. ‘Don’t be fooled by Grant’s mild manner of earlier, he can be a swine at times.’ If his rudeness to her and condescension to Ragtag had been his mild manner, then he must indeed be a swine at his worst! ‘I’ll remember that,’ she said coolly. ‘I should,’ Mandy advised softly. ‘When Grant has one of his boils the whole household knows about it.’ ‘Then let’s hope that he doesn’t “boil” while I’m in the house!’ ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ the other girl said dryly. ‘It happens pretty regularly. Here’s the studio,’ she flung open double doors at the top of the last flight of stairs, standing aside for Ryan to enter. As Ryan walked inside she forgot all about Mandy’s snobbishness, Grant’s arrogance, Mark’s disregard for anything but his own plans, and her face lit up as she took in the perfection of the studio. Mark certainly hadn’t exaggerated. The studio covered most of the loft space, huge windows having been put in as skylights each side of the sloping roof, giving the room a very light and airy feeling. Several easels stood about the room, empty of canvases, in fact, the whole room had an unused look. ‘Mark doesn’t use it very often,’ Mandy stated the obvious. ‘He doesn’t come home very often either,’ she added in a resentful voice. ‘He prefers his London friends.’ ‘Really?’ Ryan was only half listening, her excitement increasing as she looked around the room. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. She could spend the rest of her life working in here. Although three weeks would have to do! ‘Are you a—special friend of his?’ Mandy probed. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know about special, but I’ve known him a long time.’ She was already planning where she would put her easel for the best light. How her fellow students would envy her this opportunity, most of them having to make do, as she usually did. She had a feeling she was going to do some of her best work here. ‘If you’ve quite finished looking round,’ Mandy said tightly. ‘Mm? Oh—oh yes,’ Ryan blushed. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said inadequately. The other girl nodded. ‘Mark often lets his friends use it, but you’re the first female.’ This fact really seemed to bother the Montgomery family, although Ryan couldn’t for the life of her think why. Didn’t they have friends of both sexes? ‘Perhaps you would like to join me for tea in the lounge?’ Mandy asked grudgingly. ‘I’d like that,’ she accepted. ‘But I have to feed my dog first.’ The other girl’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’ So dismissed, Ryan made her way down to the kitchen, finding that Grant had already told the cook she would be requiring the food. Ragtag sat outside the stable rather than inside it, basking in the sunshine, although he got up and trotted to her side as soon as he saw her, his nose going into the food-bowl as if he hadn’t eaten for a month. ‘Take it easy!’ she laughed, as more food seemed to come over the side of the bowl rather than into his mouth, the water slopping out of the other bowl as he almost leapt inside it. Ragtag carried on eating until all the food had gone, looking up at her expectantly once the bowl was empty. ‘More!’ Ryan chided, standing up. ‘I bet Grant will be glad to get rid of us, Ragtag.’ She frowned down at him. ‘Maybe once you’ve had a bath you won’t look so ragtaggled.’ ‘Talking to yourself could become a dangerous habit,’ a familiar gravelly voice taunted her. She blushed, looking up at Grant Montgomery, finding it impossible to read his expression, as the sun was directly behind him. For such a big man he moved very quietly, she hadn’t even been aware of his presence in the cobbled yard until he spoke. ‘Talking to a dog could be an even more dangerous one,’ she returned softly, shushing the ungrateful Ragtag as he began to growl at the intruder. ‘You think so?’ Grant mocked. ‘I’m hoping not,’ she said ruefully. ‘I seem to be doing it all the time.’ ‘I believe when the dog answers you is the time to begin worrying,’ he drawled dryly. ‘Are you joining us for tea?’ he briskly changed the subject. It was as well that he had; Ryan was open-mouthed about his show of humour. It came as something of a surprise after his earlier rudeness, and was totally in opposition to his harsh expression as he moved out of the sun. ‘I—I’ll just go and wash first,’ she mumbled. ‘Very well,’ he nodded abruptly, as if regretting the softening of his mood, striding off into the house. Ryan went up to her room to wash, then hurried down to the drawing-room to join the brother and sister for tea. She was beginning to feel rather hungry, a sandwich or two would see her through until it was time for dinner. ‘It’s all right for you,’ Mandy was complaining when Ryan reached the drawing-room door. ‘You’re out at work most of the day, but how am I supposed to entertain this friend of Mark’s?’ Ryan’s hand froze in the action of opening the door. They were talking about her! ‘She doesn’t need entertaining,’ Grant dismissed. ‘Just leave her to her scribbles up in the studio.’ Scribbles! Ryan could feel her temper beginning to rise. How dared he call her work ‘scribbles’! ‘After all, it is partly Mark’s home too—even if he does rarely use it,’ Grant added hardly. ‘If he wants this girl to stay here as his guest then he has a perfect right to expect us to let her. It’s only for three weeks, Mandy,’ he consoled. ‘Then we’ll probably never see her again.’ ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’ The scowl could be heard in his sister’s voice. ‘Mark called her earlier, and they seemed very friendly.’ ‘If it lasts as long as Mark’s other “friendships” I won’t worry too much,’ Grant derided. ‘She also thinks you’re handsome,’ Mandy mused. ‘I wonder what Valerie would think of that.’ ‘She wouldn’t think anything,’ Grant snapped. ‘The opinion of one of Mark’s Bohemian girl-friends is not in the least important to either Valerie or myself.’ Ryan didn’t want to listen to any more; she ran back to her bedroom before her presence outside the door was detected, leaning back against the door once she was safely inside her room. How dared he! Bohemian girl-friend, indeed! No wonder Mark rarely came here if that was the sort of opinion he had to put up with. And Mandy—how could she have repeated that remark she had made about Grant being handsome! How was she supposed to face him again after that? And who was Valerie? Mark hadn’t mentioned his brother having a girl-friend, but in the circumstances she could not think who else Valerie could be. She couldn’t go down there now, not after what she had just heard, it would be too embarrassing. ‘Miss Shelton?’ A knock sounded on the door to accompany the butler’s query. She swallowed hard, straightening her hair before opening the door to him. ‘Yes?’ She sounded cool enough. ‘Mr Montgomery asked me to enquire if you had changed your mind about joining them for tea?’ ‘Er—yes,’ she said jerkily. ‘I—I have a bit of a headache, I thought I’d go for a walk instead.’ Her voice gained confidence as her excuse took shape. ‘Please give them my apologies.’ ‘Of course, miss,’ the middle-aged man nodded. ‘Is there anything I can get you? Aspirin?’ ‘The fresh air is all I need,’ she smiled brightly. ‘Thank you.’ She picked up her jacket once he had gone, then hurried from the house, collecting Ragtag to set off across the fields at the back of the house. There were sheep everywhere, most of the ewes having a young lamb gambolling at their side. It was the latter that finally calmed her, and she sat on a wall to watch their antics, finding the little twins the funniest, each trying for a place next to their mother, pushing each other out of the way in their hurry. There was something very soothing about watching this fight for survival at such an early age. Ryan had had to fight to survive in the same way in the children’s home, and she had no intention of letting the Montgomerys get to her. Nothing and no one was going to stop her using that beautiful studio. She dressed with care for dinner, having brought a couple of long skirts and contrasting tops with her, just in case she was invited up to the house while she was here. She was glad she had now that she was actually living in it! She wore a long black woodgrain skirt, the pale blue of her silky blouse deepening the colour of her eyes, making her hair appear more golden than usual; her make-up was light, her lip-gloss the palest plum-colour. She looked quite respectable as she gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, not at all like a Bohemian! Oh, how that rankled, the sheer arrogance and bias used in the judgment angering her. To Grant Montgomery she was an artist, and it naturally followed that she was untidy and without morals too. Only Mandy was in the lounge when she entered the room several minutes later, and she offered no explanation for Grant’s absence. But it soon became obvious where he had been; a car sounded in the driveway, and then footsteps out in the hallway. But she needn’t have worried about facing him again, because accompanying Grant when he opened the double doors was a tall raven-haired woman of about his own age, an exquisitely beautiful woman, even if her brown eyes were a little hard as they flickered over Ryan. Probably pricing her skirt and blouse to the last penny, she thought bitchily. The woman’s own clinging black dress looked like a couture model, the sort where you never looked at the price tag—because it didn’t have one! Grant looked very impressive in a black evening suit, the snowy white of his shirt emphasising his rugged tan, his eyes appearing greener than ever. He really was a magnificent specimen of manhood, and in his dinner suit he took Ryan’s breath away. How much more lethal he would be if he were actually charming too! The woman at his side seemed to read her thoughts; her hand was possessive on his arm, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Introduce us, darling,’ she said throatily. He did so smoothly. ‘Valerie Chatham, Ryan Shelton.’ ‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’ Valerie’s voice lacked sincerity, and she made no effort to offer her hand. ‘You didn’t bring Mark with you?’ Her arched eyebrows rose censoriously. ‘He’s busy. In London,’ Ryan replied abruptly. ‘Isn’t he always?’ the other woman taunted. ‘Shall we go in to dinner now, Grant darling? I’m sure that, like most young people, Miss Shelton is starving.’ Ryan bit her tongue to stop the caustic comment she had been going to make back, and looked up to meet Mandy’s amused hazel eyes, a certain sympathy for her in their depths. Maybe against the beautiful Valerie they could be allies? The older woman certainly went out of her way to be condescending during dinner. And she made sure that Ryan was no longer under any misapprehension as to who she was; her claim on Grant was made time and time again, both physically and verbally. Grant’s expression remained bland as he smoothly played the part of perfect host, and Ryan used the word ‘played’ in her mind deliberately. Grant gave every impression of being lazily relaxed, and yet his gaze, whenever she happened to encounter it, was rapier-sharp. Nothing escaped his attention, not even her nervousness when she dropped her napkin, nor the way her hand on her wineglass shook slightly as his gaze lingered on her longer than usual. She blushed as that same enigmatic gaze lingered on her once they all returned to the drawing-room, and she wondered at his thoughts behind those shuttered green eyes. Valerie’s expression hardened as she intercepted that look. ‘Shouldn’t we be going now, darling?’ she prompted Grant. ‘We did tell Giles and Anna we’d put in an appearance after their dinner party.’ He looked away from Ryan with effort. ‘Of course.’ He rose slowly to his feet. ‘Perhaps Ryan and Mandy would like to come too?’ he looked at them both enquiringly. She liked the way he said her name; she had been startled the first time he had called her it during dinner, but somehow it sounded right in his deep gravelly voice. Somehow she found it hard to use the same informality with him, and did not call him anything. ‘I doubt it.’ Valerie’s harsh voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘The company would be a little—old for their tastes, darling.’ ‘Of course,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘If you’ll excuse us, girls?’ Mandy managed to keep a straight face for as long as it took the other couple to leave the room, then she burst out laughing. ‘Poor Grant,’ she giggled. ‘Valerie likes to give him the impression he’s as old as Methuselah,’ she explained, suddenly sobering. ‘The only trouble is, he’s beginning to fall for it!’ The air of sophistication was gone from the other girl now, and Ryan found she liked her better without it. Mandy grimaced. ‘She’s trying to convince him that he should get married, before he’s too old.’ ‘But he isn’t old,’ Ryan frowned. ‘I keep telling him that, but he won’t listen. I can’t imagine anything worse than having Valerie as a sister-in-law—unless it’s having you as one!’ she added insultingly before leaving the room. Ryan’s gasp was for her own benefit only, as she was suddenly left alone. That last shot had been totally unexpected, and it had had all the more effect because of it. Mandy knew exactly when and where to throw her little poison arrows. So much for liking her! With a shrug of resignation Ryan made her way to her bedroom, feeling suddenly weary. And yet so much had happened, her mind was still so active, that she was still awake when Grant returned shortly after twelve. What a strange man he was, enigmatic and remote, a very deep man indeed. Although he made no effort to hide his opinion of artists! She could hear him walking up the stairs now, a door opening some distance away, and then the sound of a shower being run. Did he and the beautiful Valerie sleep together? She wouldn’t be surprised, Valerie’s possessiveness seemed to stem from experience of an intimate relationship. And yet she hadn’t persuaded him into marriage yet. Ryan wondered why she hadn’t. Suddenly a soulful noise broke the stillness of the night, a sound she had already heard once today. It was Ragtag howling again! Oh dear, he was going to wake the whole household if she didn’t stop him! CHAPTER THREE (#u027ca364-ac56-5f7e-9de8-f4eb00f364f8) Ryan thrust her feet into her slippers and ran down the stairs in an effort to get down quickly and stop Ragtag making that terrible noise. What on earth had upset him now? He had seemed all right when she had taken out his second bowl of food earlier, had been settling down for a sleep when she had left him. There was more to being a dog-owner than she had realised! There was a bright moon tonight, and once her eyes became accustomed to the light she could see clearly. Ragtag sat in the open stable doorway, stopping his howling to give her a sorrowful look as she reached his side. ‘It’s no good looking at me like that,’ she scolded. ‘You’re disturbing everyone!’ Including the horses, by the sound of it, she could hear them snorting and shuffling about in their stalls. ‘Now what’s the matter?’ she pretended anger, although really her heart had softened as soon as he licked her hand. ‘Why don’t you go to sleep?’ she added pleadingly. ‘I’m feeling tired, even if you aren’t.’ He seemed calm enough now that she was down here with him. But as soon as she turned to leave he set up the howling again. She hurried back to his side. ‘Stop it, Ragtag!’ she instructed crossly. ‘I can’t stay down here with you all night,’ she murmured into his fur as she bent down to cuddle him after her show of anger. He had looked so hurt! ‘Unless you would like me to sleep in the stable too?’ she sighed. ‘It might keep the dog quiet,’ drawled the familiar voice of Grant Montgomery, ‘but I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ Ryan spun round, almost falling over in her haste. And it was embarrassing enough already without that! She hadn’t thought she would see anyone, had thought everyone else was in bed, and her cotton nightgown was hardly adequate clothing to be wearing in front of a man she had only met this afternoon. Not that he could see through the white material, and the style was very demure, it just put her at a complete disadvantage—besides making her feel utterly ridiculous! She stood up slowly, quietening Ragtag as he began to growl. Whenever Grant put in an appearance he began to growl, and although she might feel like doing the same herself on occasion, it was still embarrassing that he only did it to this man. She gave Grant a nervy smile. ‘I was only joking.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I should hope so!’ He might have gone to his room several minutes ago, but he was still wearing the black trousers to his dinner suit, the jacket had been discarded, his tie had gone too, and several buttons on his shirt were undone. He had probably been undressing for his shower when he heard Ragtag. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ He looked down at the now quiet dog. ‘I—He doesn’t seem to like sleeping on his own.’ ‘Do any of us?’ he drawled huskily. Ryan blushed deeply red. It was as if Grant had picked up the intimacy of the situation from her; his whole manner was different from the way he had behaved earlier today, reminding her of those probing glances he had been giving her all through dinner. She had later dismissed those looks as just her imagination, now she wasn’t so sure. But surely Valerie Chatham could more than satisfy him physically. He had taken the other woman out over two hours ago, but that didn’t mean they had been at the party all that time. His remark about not sleeping alone seemed to confirm her belief that he and Valerie were lovers. Then why was he looking at her like this? ‘Ryan?’ he prompted softly at her lengthy silence. ‘I—I don’t know what to do with him,’ she stumbled over her words, feelings decidedly uncomfortable now. The nightgown might be a modest one, but she, at least, was aware that she was naked beneath it. She had a feeling Grant knew she was too. ‘He won’t sleep down here?’ She grimaced. ‘It doesn’t look like it.’ ‘Then take him to your room,’ he shrugged. Her eyes widened. ‘Rex and Riba,’ she reminded him. Having met the two dogs earlier, a beautiful pair of Golden Labradors, she could quite understand their disgust with the disreputable Ragtag. ‘They won’t even know he’s in the house if you keep him in your room,’ Grant answered. ‘But he’s dirty—–’ ‘Do you want to take him into the house or don’t you?’ he snapped his impatience. ‘I do—of course I do,’ she blushed. ‘Then do so.’ He turned on his heel and walked off. Ryan watched him go in dismay. He had been attempting to be friendly, and she had bungled it. ‘Come on, Ragtag,’ she said dejectedly, ‘let’s get to bed.’ He seemed quite happy now he was to come into the house, making her wonder at the ease with which he had got his own way. He might be scruffy to look at, but it didn’t prevent him achieving his objective. Although she had to admit to being slightly surprised at the way Grant Montgomery had given in. After his earlier attitude she had thought he wished both Ragtag and herself far away from here. She was even more surprised when she went into the kitchen to find him in there. ‘Coffee,’ he explained as he turned from the percolator, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her in the full light. ‘I think you could do with some too,’ he derided her chattering teeth. ‘It might be April, Ryan, but it’s hardly warm enough at night to walk about like that.’ She had realised that as soon as she entered the warm kitchen; the cold seemed to have entered her bones. ‘I was in a hurry to stop Ragtag,’ she blushed. ‘Well, now you can relax. Sit down.’ ‘Oh no! I—I’m not dressed.’ Mockery deepened the deep green of his eyes. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t,’ he drawled, putting the two cups of coffee on the kitchen table. It smelt delicious, and she did need warming up. But she couldn’t sit down with him like this. What if someone should come in? Mandy, for example. What construction would she put on the situation? ‘I’ll go and put my housecoat on,’ she decided firmly. ‘Please yourself,’ Grant shrugged, sitting down to drink his own coffee. ‘Or take it with you if you want to.’ She didn’t particularly want to. Her tiredness of earlier had passed, and besides, it seemed churlish of her after he had allowed Ragtag in the house. ‘I’ll only be a moment,’ she said softly. He seemed not to hear her, his hands cupping the mug as he slowly sipped the hot drink, his thoughts inwards. Ryan had an impression of loneliness in that moment, which was ridiculous in the circumstances. Grant had numerous servants, a brother and sister who loved him, and Valerie, who certainly wanted to marry him. He didn’t need her sympathy! Ragtag lost no time in jumping on to the bottom of her bed once they reached her room, resisting all her efforts to push him off. ‘That bedspread is pink, you silly dog!’ she groaned, knowing that it wouldn’t be pink much longer. ‘Get off,’ she ordered firmly, having to witness the indignity of the dog falling asleep even as she spoke to him. ‘Having Grant Montgomery see me like this was all your fault, and you have the nerve to go to sleep!’ She might as well have saved her breath, for the dog didn’t even twitch an ear. ‘I’ll remember this next feeding time!’ she warned him as she left, adequately covered by her housecoat now. Grant had moved to pour himself another cup of coffee, the mockery still in his eyes as he took in the navy blue robe. ‘Feel better?’ he taunted. ‘Yes, thank you.’ She avoided his gaze, stirring sugar into her cooling coffee. ‘Where’s the dog?’ He sat down opposite her. ‘Asleep upstairs,’ she grimaced. ‘He likes his creature comforts.’ His mouth quirked. ‘Yes.’ ‘So, how long have you known Mark?’ The question was casually put, and yet the green eyes had norrowed intently. ‘About eighteen months,’ she replied as casually. ‘Strange, he’s never mentioned you before.’ Ryan withstood his steely look with a calm that was only a veneer. Grant’s politeness was only as skin-deep as Mandy’s had been, he liked her no better than his sister did. ‘Maybe I wasn’t important enough,’ she shrugged. ‘Perhaps,’ he nodded. ‘Although that doesn’t appear to be the case now.’ She put her cup down, sighing. ‘Look, maybe I should tell you, Mark is—–’ ‘You don’t owe me any explanations, Ryan,’ he interrupted. ‘If there are any to be made Mark will make them.’ His tone was inflexible, there was a hard anger in his face. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carole-mortimer/heaven-here-on-earth/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.