His Bid For A Bride. Carole Mortimer

for the next couple of days. In fact, if you just show me to a bedroom, I can stay there until—until after Friday,’ she continued determinedly. ‘No one need even know I’m staying with you. You—’

      ‘Skye—shut up,’ he cut in harshly, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. ‘I don’t care who knows you’re there. I don’t care if you choose to walk around the house stark naked!’ he added grimly. ‘Am I making myself clear?’

      ‘Very.’ Her mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile at his obvious anger at her suggestion it might be better for him if he just hid her away somewhere. ‘But I think I’ll forgo the “walking around the house stark naked” bit, if you don’t mind!’

      ‘Pity.’ He shrugged. ‘It might have been—diverting,’ he drawled. ‘Although perhaps impractical with my housekeeper living in the house,’ he dismissed briskly, turning the car down the long gravel driveway that led to his house.

      His housekeeper…

      Skye gave him a searching glance, her confusion such that she didn’t know how to reply to his first statement. No doubt Falkner was just trying to divert her attention onto something less traumatic than the next couple of days—and no doubt he had succeeded.

      The thought of her ever feeling confident enough around Falkner to stroll around his home naked was enough to confuse anyone!

      ‘You were saying something about when we arrive?’ she reminded him stiltedly.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he dismissed tersely as he parked the car outside the house. ‘We can talk about that later too.’

      There seemed to be an awful lot of things they were going to talk about later…?

      But Skye put all that from her mind as Falkner got out of the car to come round and open her door for her, supporting her arm as she stepped down, nevertheless the movement causing pain to her ribs.

      Falkner looked at her ruefully as she finally stood on the gravel driveway beside him. ‘You look as if you’ve gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis,’ he drawled in answer to her questioning look.

      She grimaced. ‘Believe me, parts of me feel as if I’ve gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis!’

      Falkner laughed softly, his hand on her elbow as they walked up the stone steps to the front door.

      Skye had noticed that the driveway and grounds looked cared for as they drove up, and the house no longer had that run-down look of six years ago, either; obviously stocks and shares had proved more lucrative for Falkner than showjumping!

      She drew in a deep breath now as she prepared to face what lay in store for her behind the huge oak door, friend or foe, she had no idea.

      ‘It will be all right, Skye,’ Falkner told her firmly as he seemed to read her uncertainty. ‘I’m here, remember,’ he added determinedly.

      Yes, he was. And she still had no real idea why he should be. But he had promised to be ‘here’ for as long as she needed him.

      As long as it took her to get through this nightmare?

      If she ever did!

      

      ‘Feel like going for a walk outside?’ Falkner prompted once they had finished with the delicious afternoon tea brought in by his bustlingly friendly Scottish housekeeper.

      Within seconds of meeting the middle-aged woman Skye had known she had nothing to fear where the other woman was concerned; Annie Graham treated Falkner like a rather naughty child, and within minutes of their meeting had treated Skye in the same affectionately friendly way, urging her to eat some of the sandwiches and scones with the words ‘you need some skin on those bones’.

      No doubt the older woman would have something to say when she realized that neither of them had done justice to the delicious tea, Skye acknowledged ruefully.

      Maybe that was the reason for Falkner’s suggestion the two of them go for a walk? A walk that would cause him more than a little discomfort.

      ‘Or perhaps you would rather go upstairs and rest for a while?’ Falkner realized lightly. ‘You’ve had a busy afternoon so far.’

      Skye shook her head. ‘I think I’ve rested enough this last week. But if you have something else you should be doing…?’ After all, he had already spent enough of his day with her.

      He stood up. ‘Take a walk with me.’ He held out his hand to help her stand up.

      Skye shied away, from that hand, and the idea of going outside. Annie Graham had proved warm and welcoming, but that didn’t mean she would get the same reception from other members of Falkner’s household staff.

      Falkner frowned darkly, still holding out his hand to her. ‘Skye, no matter how much you might feel like doing so just now, you really can’t just sit in here and hide from the world,’ he rasped.

      She glared up at him. ‘Who says I can’t?’ she challenged resentfully.

      ‘I do,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘You know as well as I do, Skye, that when you’ve been thrown from a horse, you have to get straight back up into the saddle.’

      ‘Is that what you did—?’ She broke off with a gasp as she realized how insensitive she was being; of course that wasn’t what he had done, his injuries had been such that he probably couldn’t ride at all any more. ‘This isn’t the same,’ she muttered awkwardly.

      ‘It is.’ Falkner nodded abruptly. ‘And your father would tell you exactly the same—’

      ‘Don’t presume to tell me what my father would or wouldn’t say!’ Her eyes glittered furiously.

      He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Skye, you’re only angry because you know I’m right,’ he rasped.

      Yes, she was; her father had always been a pragmatic man. His philosophy had always been, if you fell or received a knock of some kind, then you picked yourself up and carried on. It was what he had done after Skye’s mother died. During the last difficult six months, too. It was what he would want Skye to do now…

      She knew that as well as Falkner obviously did.

      But none of that changed the fact that just the thought of going with Falkner, of walking outside with him, where someone might recognize her, made Skye squirm with discomfort.

      ‘I’m feeling rather tired, Falkner—’

      ‘Coward,’ he murmured softly.

      But not so softly that Skye couldn’t hear him. Or resent him for being right.

      She was behaving like a coward, and her father would have been disappointed in her, would have launched into some lengthy Irish parable that made a mockery of her fear.

      But, she realized impatiently, Falkner’s method of making her angry had exactly the same effect.

      ‘Okay!’ she agreed forcefully, ignoring the hand he held out to her, ignoring the pain in her ribs as she struggled to her feet without help. ‘Satisfied?’ she added challengingly, blue eyes sparkling with resentment.

      ‘Perfectly,’ Falkner answered lightly, opening the door for her to precede him.

      Skye did so stiffly. And not just because of her painful ribs; she really didn’t want to do this.

      ‘Okay?’ Falkner prompted softly a few minutes later as they approached the stables. It was curiously quiet, none of the bustle of activity here today that there had been six years ago.

      ‘Okay,’ she echoed tensely.

      ‘This way.’ He turned to the left, leading her down the long row of closed individual stables, his limp more noticeable now.

      ‘I don’t understand, Falkner; where are we going?’ Skye frowned her puzzlement as she followed reluctantly.

      Why