Quiet as the Grave. Kathleen O'Brien

affectionately and then stepped through and on to the grassy path. Kate hesitated and he looked back.

      ‘“Enter these enchanted woods, you who dare.” Do you dare, Kate?’

      She regarded him levelly. ‘What could there possibly be to fear, Mr Warwick?’

      In answer, he took her arm and led her along a narrow path knee-deep in bluebells. ‘It’s the possibility of danger that makes life interesting, Kate.’ There was a resolute intensity about the man. ‘We all need to take risks, or how will we know we are alive?’

      He stopped and glanced down at her and frowned slightly. His arm was still linked in hers, holding her close on the narrow path, and above the heady scent of the flowers she could smell the warmth of his body, good cloth, leather. Every nerve-end was tingling, polarised by his presence, drawing her under his spell. Each moment this close to him was a risk and he was right. She could never remember feeling quite so vividly alive.

      He continued to regard her for a moment with a slightly puzzled expression, then abruptly glanced at his watch. ‘It’s time to start work, Kate. You can begin by cooking me some breakfast.’

      ‘You’d better take me back, then, Mr Warwick. I can’t have you passing out from hunger in “these enchanted woods”. It would be too bad if you were spirited away by a passing fairy.’

      ‘There are things far more dangerous than fairies in the woods, Miss Thornley. Innocent-looking young women who look as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, for one.’

      Kate felt the hot colour burning her cheekbones. ‘How do you like your eggs?’ she demanded, finally managing to wrench her arm from his. Presumably because he was no longer interested in holding it.

      ‘Cooked,’ he said, and smiled slightly. ‘And on a plate, in case you had any more unconventional plans for them.’ He opened the door for her and followed her into the kitchen. ‘I’ll eat in here. With you.’

      Kate wrapped herself in an apron and went into the pantry for a bowl of eggs. ‘Cooked on a plate,’ she muttered angrily to herself. Kate put some bacon in a pan and placed it on the Aga rather firmly. Damn Jay Warwick, she thought angrily to herself, then applied herself to the task of providing the wretched man with breakfast. She added a couple of rashers of bacon to the pan. The early morning walk had sharpened her appetite and she smiled ruefully.

      At least if she was eating it would give her something to do with her hands. Strangling the world’s favourite bachelor wouldn’t win her any friends on a jury. The door opened behind her but she made no indication that she heard, instead giving her total attention to the perfect execution of her eggs.

      ‘That smells good.’

      ‘I’m a very good cook.’ She dished up the food and placed it on the table, marvelling at the steadiness of her hand. She met his eyes.

      ‘I know. Sit down and eat your breakfast.’ He pulled out a chair for her. He had capitulated so suddenly that she didn’t quite believe it, and she hesitated. He regarded her steadily for a moment, then shrugged. ‘If Tisha wants a teashop in the conservatory, Kate, she shall have it, but you’re up against a deadline and you don’t know your way about. It will take our combined efforts to make it work.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have thought you have much time to spare for such minor details.’

      ‘In this case, I shall have to make the time. As soon as we’ve had breakfast we’ll look at the conservatory and work out exactly what has to be done.’

      They spent an hour in the conservatory and the time flew by as Jay listened intently to her ideas, his lateral manner of thinking offering solutions that might never have occurred to her.

      ‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked, as they made their way back to the kitchen in search of coffee.

      ‘Write a shopping list and then let my fingers do the walking.’

      ‘Don’t you think you should consider a little market research?’

      ‘Market research?’

      ‘I normally employ a company to do it for me, but in this case I’m sure we could manage it between us.’

      ‘And what will it entail?’

      ‘A look at the opposition. There are a couple of tearooms in Oulton Market. I have to go out but I’ll pick you up here at about a quarter to four.’

      ‘But…’ He had already moved on. She hurried after him. ‘Why don’t you take your aunt?’

      ‘My aunt employed you to advise her and, since you are being paid handsomely for your expertise, I intend to take full advantage of your knowledge. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some phone calls to make. I won’t be in for lunch.’ He didn’t wait for her reply and she was left standing open-mouthed in the hall.

      Catching sight of herself in a mirror, she shut her mouth quickly. ‘Watch it, Kate,’ she warned her reflection, and pulled a face at herself.

      But in the event it hadn’t been quite as bad as she had expected. Jay Warwick had a first-class business brain. His meteoric success in the cut-throat world of television was testament to that. And having made his decision to let her stay—and she was in no doubt that if he had wanted her to go he would have found a way to get rid of her—he had obviously decided to establish a reasonable working relationship. In the interests of keeping Tisha happy. She took herself off to the pantry to make an inventory of baking tins. It was a soothing, monotonous job, requiring total concentration.

      ‘You’re very quiet, Miss Thornley.’ Jay Warwick changed gear as the road straightened and glanced across at her.

      ‘I didn’t realise I was expected to provide witty conversation as well as cook.’

      ‘Only if you feel up to it.’ He approached a tricky stretch of road and gave it his full attention and so missed the infuriated glance she threw at him. The road narrowed as it approached the small town of Oulton Market and Jay was forced to wait for a slow-moving tractor before he could park in the market square. Before she could release her seatbelt he was round the car and opening the door for her.

      ‘Now,’ he said, briskly, ‘We have the Copper Kettle and Martha’s Kitchen to choose from.’ He indicated two tearooms that gleamed at one another across the square. ‘Or should we try both?’

      ‘Oh, in the interests of market research I’m sure we should. Although it might look a little odd.’

      ‘And since presumably we’ll have to eat something, it could also prove rather fattening.’

      She allowed her eyes to drift down his lean figure. ‘I don’t think so. Unless you’re trying to tell me that you run five miles a day and play squash three times a week?’

      ‘I get the feeling you would relish the idea of my suffering, Kate. But you’re quite right, I’m naturally skinny.’

      ‘Fishing for compliments won’t work with me, Mr Warwick. You already know what a very attractive man you are.’

      ‘You’re getting careless. That was almost a compliment.’

      ‘Was it? I can assure you it wasn’t meant to be.’

      He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I begin to see why Tisha was impressed so with you. Which reminds me that she asked me to pick up a prescription for her.’

      As they walked across the square to the chemist, Kate became increasingly aware that they were the centre of attention.

      ‘You’re attracting rather a lot of interest,’ she said, finally.

      ‘Not me. These people have known me all my life. You’re the one arousing local curiosity. You’re not quite my usual style, you see, so I’m afraid you’ll be the subject of ill-informed speculation over dinner-tables throughout the parish tonight.’ The idea did not appear to amuse him.

      ‘I