Husband-To-Be. Linda Miles

no?

      She realised, suddenly, that The Suit was coming towards them. Mallett—who needed a secretary, and didn’t realize that one was standing in that very room—was examining a rather moth-eaten tapestry on the far wall.

      ‘I’m interested in the dining-room chairs,’ said Olivia. ‘Isn’t there some sort of reduction for the set?’

      Rachel tactfully withdrew. Time to approach her new employer.

      ‘Excuse me...’ she began.

      ‘Yes?’ He turned to look down her; one preposterous eyebrow shot up at the T-shirt; a smile lurked on his mouth. He wasn’t her type, of course, but she had to admit that he was an eyeful.

      ‘I was wondering—’

      And suddenly, with dreadful clarity, she heard a sentence from across the room.

      ‘What’s in the box? Is it a kitten?’

      Rachel turned just in time to see Olivia take the box from Joyce and hold it up playfully. Suddenly, chillingly, it occurred to her that Olivia might be the kind of woman who thought it was engaging to take a small, fluffy animal and put it on her shoulder or in her hair. Something in the charming way she had just tossed back her blonde hair suggested the worst.

      Olivia had stopped trying to see through the tiny holes; she was now tugging at the lid of the box.

      ‘Please leave him alone,’ said Rachel hastily.

      ‘Don’t be silly. I love animals,’ Olivia said sharply. The lid came suddenly off the box.

      With almost comical haste Olivia’s head shot back as she recoiled instinctively with an exclamation of disgust. One of the preposterous heels skidded on the polished floor, then caught in a knot in the wood; the hand holding the box jerked, and the hapless William shot into the air, then fell to cling precariously to the lovely suit.

      ‘A-a-agh!’ A terrible shriek split the air. Olivia was brushing frantically downwards with the box.

      ‘Oh, do be careful!’ cried Rachel, rushing forward. But before she had come to the rescue the woman had at last knocked William to the ground. He slid smartly across the waxed boards, straight past Rachel, to bounce back against the wall at Mallett’s feet. He lay there for a moment or two, dazed but apparently uninjured, then began to hop clumsily away.

      ‘Kill it, Grant!’ shouted Olivia. ‘Kill it! Kill it!’

      And to Rachel’s horror Mallett automatically turned, looked round for some sort of weapon, found none, and raised a foot.

      There was only one thing to be done.

      Rachel hurled herself at him in a tackle.

      In the ordinary way, of course, there was no way that Rachel could have brought down a man a good six inches taller and fifty pounds or so heavier than herself; but he was off balance, one leg raised, the better to stomp on William. They toppled to the ground with a momentum that made the floor shake.

      There was a moment’s dead silence.

      Out of the corner of her eye Rachel saw Joyce take back the box and scoop William into it.

      One worry taken care of. Well, at least she had his attention.

      ‘I understand you’re looking for a secretary,’ said Rachel.

      The man beneath her, who seemed to be a mass of solid muscle, shifted slightly, so that Rachel slid from his muscular back to the floor. It occurred to her, belatedly, that it might not have been the best moment to bring up possible employment.

      In a sudden, swift movement, he sat up and fixed her with an impossibly blue gaze. ‘A simple secretary by day... What’s your name?’

      ‘Rachel.’

      ‘A simple secretary by day, the scourge of criminals by night, Rachel, the Girl Spider, was to outward appearances like any other girl,’ he told her solemnly. ‘Little did her unsuspecting colleagues suspect that that demure exterior concealed a relentless crusader against all tramplers of the innocent and defenceless... I think I was thinking of someone with more conventional qualifications. Ever thought of working as a bodyguard?’

      He wasn’t her type, but Rachel couldn’t help but be warmed by the laughter in the blue eyes. He was laughing at her, but he could have taken it worse. And he hadn’t said no—at least, he hadn’t said anything that she had to take as no for an answer.

      ‘I’d rather be a secretary,’ she said eagerly. ‘And I’ve got lots of qualifications. I’m sorry I jumped on you, but I was afraid you’d kill William.’

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ The scornful voice was Olivia’s. ‘What the blazes were you doing carrying something like that around in a box? I could have been killed!’

      Rachel jumped to her feet, followed, with lazy grace, by her victim. ‘No, you couldn’t,’ she said crossly. Not even from The Glorious Suit would she take that kind of nonsense.

      ‘He’s a Mexican tarantula,’ she explained patiently. ‘So even if he did bite you it wouldn’t be dangerous, and he wasn’t going to bite you because he’d just been fed and was sleepy. You might have killed him, dropping him so carelessly. They’re very fragile, you know. Their bodies are just a brittle shell, so if you drop one it can crack and die.’

      Rachel scowled. ‘I think it’s a bit much to kill an innocent spider that wasn’t doing anyone any harm,’ she added irritably. ‘You wouldn’t kill a dog for being in the same room with you, even if it could bite. Why should William be any different?’

      Olivia came to take Mallett’s arm. He put it round her, and she nestled inside—rather implausibly, Rachel thought. ‘That’s nonsense,’ she said faintly. ‘I was terrified. Thank God you were here, Grant.’

      This touching scene was interrupted by Joyce, who said practically, ‘But Rachel’s perfectly right, you know. He’s not at all aggressive—a perfect lamb, really.’ By way of demonstration she took William carefully from the box and placed him coolly on the flat of her hand.

      Even now—jobless, and with a home still to find for William—Rachel could not help watching with a thrill of pride.

      She’d trained as a zoologist, then specialised for years in ecology. When she’d tried to leave the field the feed and supply shop hadn’t been her first, or her second, or even her fifth choice job. When Mr Morrison had had to go to Spain unexpectedly, however, she’d been staying with her aunt and had agreed to help out.

      In the owner’s absence Rachel had begun a sideline dealing in unwanted pets—creatures people had impulsively acquired and lost interest in, and which might otherwise have been abandoned. These had included several tarantulas, whose owners had got bored, and gradually Rachel had built up a small insect zoo.

      She’d discovered that nine out of ten people seemed to dislike spiders in degrees ranging from mild distaste to severe phobia—and this in a country where all spiders were harmless and only a few were even capable of piercing human skin.

      By her third week in the shop Rachel had been giving classes to people who wanted to overcome this, on the principle that anyone who could get used to a tarantula was unlikely to be worried by the odd spider in the bath. She’d even taken William to classes in local schools. The result was that the population of Blandings Magna was probably the freest of prejudice against spiders of any in the kingdom.

      Joyce had been so nervous of spiders that she’d sworn it was wrecking her marriage—she’d had Jack inspect every room before she went in, to make sure the coast was clear, had been paralysed with fear if a spider appeared in the bath, had hardly been able to go into the cobwebby attics and cellars where some of the best antiques turned up. And now look at her! No, come what might, Rachel knew she’d used her time well.

      Olivia did not reply. She was still cowering against Mallett’s muscular chest. Rachel was capable of being endlessly patient with people