His Defiant Mistress. Кэрол Мортимер

shot a venomous look at him as he stalked away to his car, then with a growl of the powerful engine he drove off, barely stopping to check for traffic as he shot out into the road.

      ‘Ed Mason spared the rod too much with that boy,’ said Harry, walking back to Sarah. ‘I was ready to haul him off you by the scruff of his neck, but you sorted him yourself. Good girl.’

      ‘I try to be,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Let’s have that coffee. I could even rise to a sandwich or two if you’ve got time to stay for a bit.’

      After Harry left Sarah locked up her gleaming flat and went out. The incident with Dan had left a nasty taste in her mouth which would be best cured, she decided, by a trip into Hereford to buy herself something new to wear on Sunday. While she’d been working on the cottages an hour or two on a Saturday afternoon was the only time off she’d allowed herself, and she felt like a child let out of school as she drove into town on a week day.

      After a tour of the chainstores in High Town, and diversions along narrow side streets to pricier shops, Sarah bought some delicacies from a food hall to add to her collection of carrier bags, found a couple of paperbacks after a browse in a bookshop, and finally drove out of the city just as rush hour was getting underway. When she got home she put the food away, and then climbed up the steps to put the rest of her shopping on the bed. It was at this point, she thought with a sigh, that she missed having a girlfriend on hand to give an opinion on the clothes she’d bought, or to try out the new lipstick.

      Sarah shook off the mood. She had been the one desperate to work in a man’s world, so she had no one to blame but herself. She had quite literally made her bed, so now she just had to lie on it. Alone, unfortunately. Unfortunately? She frowned as she hung up her new clothes. When she was building the platform had she deliberately given herself space for only a single bed, like a nun in a convent? Sarah snorted with laughter and went down to make supper.

      Later, after Caesar salad and cherry tart bought earlier, Sarah took a stroll in the gardens before tackling a small mountain of ironing. At last, feeling pleasantly tired, she had just stretched out on the sofa to watch television when Alex rang.

      ‘Hi,’ she said, quite shaken by her delight at the sound of his voice. ‘How’s life in the big city?’

      ‘Noisy. I miss the green and pleasant land of Herefordshire. What have you been doing today?’

      ‘Cleaning, shopping—nothing much. How about you?’

      ‘Meetings and more meetings.’ Alex yawned. ‘Sorry. Any progress on the barns?’

      ‘The survey is booked for first thing in the morning, and the inspector promised to ring me with the result before sending me a written report.’ She sighed. ‘I’m an impatient soul. I couldn’t bear the thought of a whole weekend without any news.’

      Alex chuckled. ‘So what will you do the moment you hear? Rush over to Westhope and press a cheque into Bob Grover’s hand?’

      ‘I shall conduct the sale in my usual businesslike manner.’

      ‘Of which I have experience. You drove a hard bargain over the cottages.’

      ‘Oh, come on, admit it. You got a really good deal there.’

      ‘Fair, maybe, but I draw the line at really good! Now let’s change the subject. Things have gone better today than expected, which means I’ll be back on Saturday morning. Can you make it over to my place in time for dinner?’

      ‘Instead of lunch on Sunday?’

      ‘As well as, not instead of. Don’t worry,’ he added. ‘I’ll let you go home in between.’

      ‘An offer I can’t refuse.’

      ‘I hope so.’

      ‘Then I won’t.’

      ‘Won’t come?’

      ‘Won’t refuse.’

      ‘Seven sharp, then,’ he said after a pause. ‘Don’t be late.’

      Sarah went for a long walk next morning, while the inspection was taking place at Westhope Farm. But the phone in her pocket remained obstinately silent as she strolled through intersecting lanes she’d never had the time—or energy—to explore when she was working on the cottages. Eventually her route brought her back past the Post Office Stores. She bought a newspaper and bread and milk, chatted for a while with the owners, then started back at a leisurely pace. She was at home before her phone finally rang.

      ‘Mark Prentiss here, Miss Carver.’

      Her heart leapt. ‘Hi, Mr Prentiss. Thank you so much for ringing. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the verdict?’

      ‘Good. I did an inspection for Mr Grover in the first place,’ he explained, ‘so it was merely a case of checking my own work, with a few extras from your point of view. I’ll get an official report sent off to you this afternoon.’

      Sarah thanked him profusely, then rang Harry. ‘We’re on,’ she said jubilantly. ‘Once I get the written report I’ll get my solicitor on board, then apply for the usual permits and it’s all systems go. When can we pop over to see Mr Grover?’

      ‘Now, if you like,’ said Harry, and chuckled. ‘Might as well give Bob and Mavis a happy weekend. I’ll give them a ring, then come round to get you.’

      After her long walk in the morning, topped by her euphoria over the inspection, and then Mavis Grover’s vast high tea washed down with parsnip wine, Sarah fell asleep on the drive back, and came to with a start when Harry turned into the courtyard of Medlar House.

      ‘Sorry, Harry,’ she said with contrition.

      ‘Too much excitement,’ he said, helping her down. ‘Watch your step. Mavis’s wine is powerful stuff.’

      ‘Tell me about it!’ Sarah swayed on her feet as the cool evening air hit her. ‘Wow. I couldn’t refuse it because you were driving, but I hope I don’t have a hangover tomorrow.’

      ‘Drink a lot of water and a few cups of tea and you’ll be fine,’ he told her. ‘Best get to bed early.’

      Sarah nodded, then clutched her head, wishing she hadn’t. ‘Thank you, Harry. Talking of tea, can I make you some before you go?’

      ‘No, thanks. I’m off down the pub for a game of cribbage with Fred.’

      ‘You can mention the barns to him on the quiet, if you like. And bring Ian round for a chat about the job as soon as Mr Selby has everything legally sorted. I think your sister was very pleased,’ she added, smiling.

      ‘Pleased?’ Harry gave a snort of laughter. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she’s taking a glass or two more of her parsnip wine right now. Bob, sensible chap, sticks to beer.’

      ‘You think they were satisfied with my offer?’

      ‘More than satisfied,’ he assured her, and jingled his car keys. ‘It was a really nice thought to buy that teddy bear for the baby, boss.’

      ‘I had fun choosing it, Harry. Enjoy your game.’

      Her house phone was ringing when Sarah let herself into the flat.

      ‘Hi,’ said Alex.

      ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said in relief.

      ‘Yes, me. Disappointed?’

      ‘Quite the reverse.’ She’d been afraid it was Dan Mason. ‘But normally you ring me on my mobile.’

      ‘I tried. No luck.’

      ‘I left my phone behind when I went to Westhope. Wish me luck, Alex. I just climbed on the second rung of the property ladder.’

      ‘Congratulations! We’ll celebrate tomorrow night.’ He sighed. ‘I would have come back tonight and called in on you, but I’m dining—reluctantly—in