His Live-In Mistress. Maggie Cox

here with her, curled up on her lap, her soft, mesmerising purr the only sound to distract her racing thoughts, instead of the unfamiliar creaks and groans of a venerable old house settling down for the night.

      In the gentle glow of the lamplight, Liadan guided her gaze to systematically check every dark corner of the bedroom, which was too large and impersonal for her taste and reminded her of a room in a museum. Satisfied that there was nothing to spook her save her own too wild imagination, she promised herself that when next she got home she would fetch some things to make it more homely. There was a charming picture of a cottage garden that hung in her bedroom that always gave her comfort. Perhaps if she brought it back with her it might act as some kind of lucky charm? Right now she could do with some positive influences. She wasn’t the sort who gave up easily but, if she should lose this job, such an opportunity to work so close to home and make some decent money to live on wasn’t likely to show up again soon, no matter how optimistic she was.

      There were two viable options as far as she could see. One was to make the best of a difficult situation, sit it out and pray that Adrian Jacobs had a more agreeable side than he had displayed so far, which would reveal itself to her in the fullness of time. The second was to try and make herself as indispensable as she could to her new employer—as indispensable as Kate had been, if that was even remotely possible.

      Her eyes gritty with lack of sleep, Liadan was on her knees in the study making up the fire in the impressive marble grate when Adrian came into the room. His appearance disturbed her more than she cared to admit, and not just because she was unsure that she was up to the job of being his housekeeper. With that thick black hair streaked with grey touching his collar, broadly muscular shoulders and a visage that was far more sexy than handsome, he had an aura of power and authority about him that would make a person sit up and take notice, whether they wanted to or not. No doubt it had come in very handy in all those threatening terrains he had reported from, back when he was a journalist, Liadan mused. But such authority first thing in the morning made her feel at a distinct disadvantage. She knew she wasn’t at her best after an almost completely sleepless night and she had only herself to blame. She’d let her anxiety about the job, about Adrian and about being attracted to emotionally unavailable men like Michael nearly drive her crazy.

      ‘Good morning.’

      Her heart almost stopped at his greeting, her thoughts reflecting how good he looked in black, how imposing and how…ticked off.

      ‘Mr Jacobs, I was just about to—’

      ‘The fire should have been lit in here at least half an hour ago, Miss Willow. I thought Kate made my routine clear? And where is my coffee? I went into the kitchen but unless my eyesight is failing me I saw no evidence of any being made, not a drop. Care to explain why?’

      Hearing the unsettled throb of her own heartbeat in her ears, Liadan sat back on her haunches and nervously pushed her fringe from her eyes.

      ‘Kate told me she usually gets up around five-thirty, Mr Jacobs, which I did. If it’s taking me a little longer to build up the fire it’s just that I’m a bit out of practice. Bear with me and you’ll have your fire and your coffee in just a few more minutes’ time.’

      Amazed at her own ability to appear outwardly calm when inside she was seething at his criticism, Liadan turned her back on him once more to continue with the task in hand. She leant forward to set a match to the tinder, her hand shaking, her face growing hotter by the second at the idea that Adrian’s eyes were burning into the back of her head. She knew she was a good and reliable worker but somehow, from the minute she’d started to work for this man, she had managed to appear anything but. Still, she was resolved to see it through no matter how tough it got, and she vowed to talk to him just as soon as she got the chance to try and set a few things straight before the situation went from bad to worse. It wasn’t unreasonable of him to expect certain standards, but, in Liadan’s book, it was unreasonable to speak to an employee in such an arrogant, rude and high-handed way that it made them feel like leaving. What was wrong with the man, for goodness’ sake? Was he this hostile to everyone or had something about her personally rubbed him up the wrong way?

      ‘I’ll put the coffee on myself while you see to the fire,’ he said from behind her. ‘But don’t take too long. I’d like my breakfast before I start work and I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.’

      As he went out of the door Adrian could have sworn he heard Liadan mutter something heartfelt beneath her breath and he knew he probably deserved whatever insult she was currently castigating him with. If Kate knew how he was behaving towards his new housekeeper she’d read him the Riot Act, but didn’t he have a right to expect good service when he’d made it perfectly clear that that was what he was looking for? As he walked back along the corridor to the kitchen he fought down a fresh resurgence of annoyance at Kate’s desertion and told himself it was her fault entirely if his manner wasn’t all that it should be. As for Liadan Willow—he’d better learn to keep his temper under strict control where she was concerned or he would quickly find himself without a housekeeper. It was that soft silken mass of red-gold hair of hers that was causing all the trouble. It reminded him of the one woman he had truly loved, stirring desperately agonising feelings of recrimination and regret about what had happened that dreadful day that would be with him for the rest of his life…

      But his book was nearly finished. He couldn’t risk being abandoned by his housekeeper now when he was at such a crucial point, so he would endeavour to be more civil towards her. Just two more weeks, he estimated, and the thing would be done. Perhaps then his mind would allow him a brief period of peace from the demons of creativity that drove him and he could think about something else besides work. But as he stood spooning dark roast coffee grounds into the percolator Adrian wondered with pain what else he had worth thinking about in his life besides work.

      ‘Thanks for breakfast. I’m going to my study now, so please take any calls, would you? Just take messages for now and tell them I’ll get back to them later.’

      Pausing from stacking a newly washed plate on the drainer, Liadan turned to acknowledge him. Had she really heard him say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in one breath? At least she hadn’t messed up the breakfast. She’d served him up eggs and bacon and tomatoes done to perfection, she’d kept the toast hot and the coffee strong as he liked it and the food had certainly seemed to lighten his mood.

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘Oh, and Liadan?’

      She went still as a statue at his unexpected use of her name. ‘Yes?’

      ‘I need you to go and find George Ferrers, my head gardener. Tell him I’d like a meeting at nine sharp.’

      ‘But where will I…?’

      He’d gone from the room before she had a chance to finish her question. Throwing the dishcloth back into the sink full of hot, sudsy water, Liadan took a moment to gather her thoughts. She gazed out of the window, and experienced a sudden deep longing for the camaraderie and warmth of Moonbeams, the charmingly pretty little shop where she had worked for the past three years with two of the nicest workmates you could wish to find. It was evident so far that working for Adrian Jacobs would not be such a joy.

      Wrapped up warm in her long tweed coat, her orange mohair scarf looped snugly round her neck, Liadan filled her lungs joyfully with deep breaths of crisp morning air as she strode out purposefully in search of George Ferrers. Instinctively she headed towards two large greenhouses she’d glimpsed yesterday on her brief tour of the gardens with Adrian. There was too much snow for anyone to do much in the garden, she decided, so it stood to reason if there were greenhouses, that was where she’d find the man she was looking for.

      She put her head round the door of the first building, and her spirits lifted when she saw a tall, older man garbed in old trousers, wellingtons, a thick Arran sweater and a sheepskin jacket patting earth down into a huge earthenware pot. He tipped his cap back on his head when Liadan called out, ‘Hello,’ waiting silently for her to join him.

      ‘You must be George,’ she said smilingly, holding out her hand. He had