The End of her Innocence. Sara Craven

      Chloe bit her lip. ‘Yes—yes, of course.’ She paused. ‘I was—very sorry to hear about Andrew. I hadn’t realised.’ She took a breath. ‘It was terribly sad.’

      His face hardened. ‘Not just sad but bloody stupid and totally unnecessary.’

      She gasped. ‘You don’t feel, perhaps, that’s too harsh a judgment? Whatever may have happened, he was still your brother.’

      ‘Harsh, perhaps,’ Darius returned coolly. ‘Yet entirely accurate. However, this is not the time to debate Andrew’s motives for risking his life by pushing himself to ridiculous and dangerous limits.

      ‘And my proposition over Orion still stands,’ he added. ‘I’d like you to think it over, instead of just dismissing it out of hand because I’m doing the asking. You don’t even have to give me a personal reply. Just ring the Hall at any time, and Arthur will have him tacked up and ready for you.’

      He smiled faintly. ‘And Orion would be grateful too, don’t forget.’

      He touched the horse with his heels, and they moved off.

      Chloe stared after them, her mind a welter of mixed emotions. It was still impossible, of course—what he’d asked—but Orion was an absolute beauty, and the thought of cantering him along those flat stretches by the river in the Willow valley was a genuine temptation.

      But one she had to resist.

      She’d told herself the same thing at intervals during the day, and she was still saying it now as she stepped out of the bath and dried herself, and applied some of the body lotion from the satin-lined gift basket of Hermes’ Caleche that the Armstrongs had given her for Christmas.

      She repeated it as she put on her prettiest lace briefs and sprayed her arms and breasts lightly with matching scent. As she applied her make-up and combed her hair into glossy waves around her face. And as she finally slipped on the knee-skimming cream georgette dress with the deep-V neckline, which discreetly signalled that she was wearing no bra.

      Too obvious? she worried in front of the mirror. Or simply a means to an end? A message to Ian that at last she was his for the taking.

      Absurd to feel even remotely jittery about something that was so natural and would be so right, she thought sliding her feet into low-heeled sandals that echoed the colour of the lapis lazuli drops in her ears. Yet for some reason, she did.

      Ian was in the sitting room talking to her aunt and uncle when she arrived downstairs. When he turned in response to her quiet, ‘Good evening,’ and saw her standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped.

      ‘God, Clo, you look amazing—like someone from a magazine cover.’

      ‘You look pretty good yourself.’ And it wasn’t just his looks, she thought as she went to him smiling, appraising his black-and-white houndstooth tweed jacket, worn with dark trousers and the ruby silk tie which set off his crisp white shirt. He’d dressed to kill too, for this important night in their lives.

      It’s going to be all right, she thought. It’s going to be wonderful.

      She lifted her face, offering him her lips, but he reddened slightly and deposited a kiss on her cheek instead.

      ‘Have a wonderful time,’ Aunt Libby whispered with a hug, as Ian paused to have a final word with Uncle Hal on their way out. ‘I won’t wait up.’

      Chloe detected a hint of apprehension in her smile and hugged her back. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now. I know what I’m doing.’

      When Chloe was growing up, the Willowford Arms had been just a village pub offering good beer, a dartboard and a skittle alley.

      Over the years, under successive landlords, however, it had changed completely. The saloon bar still offered tradition, but the lounge had morphed into a reception area and smart cocktail bar for the restaurant, now housed in a striking conservatory extension.

      There were no great surprises on the menu, but the freshness of the ingredients and excellent cooking had earned the pub favourable mentions in the county magazine and various food guides and, even early in the week as this was, there were few empty tables to be seen.

      The staff were mainly locals, and they all seemed genuinely pleased to see Chloe, if a little surprised. Ian, she noted with some surprise of her own, was treated as a regular.

      ‘That pork afelia you liked last week is on the specials board tonight,’ their waitress told him as she showed them to their table, where Chloe was thrilled to find champagne on ice waiting along with the menus.

      ‘Now there’s a bit of forward planning,’ she teased as their glasses were filled. ‘What a terrific thought.’

      ‘Well, I felt something special was called for to celebrate the return of the native.’ Ian touched his glass to hers. ‘It’s great to see you, Clo. It’s been a hell of a long time.’

      ‘I know.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘But now, I promise you, I’m home for good.’

      She paused. ‘Unlike, I’ve discovered, my aunt and uncle, busily transforming the Grange for the market and a major move. Rather a shock to the system, I have to say.’

      ‘It was a surprise to me too,’ he admitted. ‘But—things change. People move on. It’s the way of the world, and Hal’s put his heart and soul into the practice for a long time, so he deserves to enjoy his retirement.’

      She toyed with the idea of some jokey comment on the lines of, however it means I’m going to be homeless. Any suggestions? but decided it was too early in the evening, confining herself to a neutral, ‘I’m happy for them too.’

      Besides, the lead should definitely come from him, she thought as she sipped her champagne.

      She’d played the scene so often in her imagination—hearing him murmur, ‘It’s so wonderful to have you back with me, darling. Stay for ever,’ as he produced the little velvet jeweller’s box—that she felt as if she’d somehow missed a cue.

      ‘I think I might try this pork afelia you’re so keen on,’ she said as she scanned the menu. ‘With the vegetable terrine to start with.’

      ‘It’s a good choice,’ he said. ‘I had it when I brought Lloyd Hampton, our new partner-to-be here. Wanted to convince him that he wasn’t altogether moving away from civilisation as he knows it.’

      ‘It’s clearly done the trick.’

      ‘I hope so. He’s a really good bloke, and his wife’s a doll.’

      He’s married then? was also going to sound like a sharp elbow in the ribs, thought Chloe.

      ‘I shall look forward to meeting her,’ was her chosen alternative.

      ‘You’re bound to,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure that Lloyd is interested in buying the Grange. He and Viv have two children, and the third’s on the way, so they need the space.’

      ‘Well, yes. It sounds ideal,’ said Chloe, resolutely ignoring the pang of disappointment in the far corner of her mind which had visualised a very different future for her old home when she and Ian would also need more space than the cottage. Hopefully for the same reason.

      When they took their seats at the corner, candlelit table waiting for them, Ian drank another half glass of champagne, then announced he was switching to mineral water.

      ‘Because you’re driving?’ Chloe, settling for a glass of house red, gave him a rueful look. ‘What a shame, because it’s a lovely evening, and we could easily have walked.’ And the cottage is even nearer than the Grange when it’s time for home …

      ‘Past all those twitching curtains?’ He pulled a face. ‘I’d really rather not. A vehicle at least gives an illusion of privacy.’

      ‘Talking of which,’ she said. ‘I