Emerald Mistress Page 10

  For some reason that request turned Fergal the colour of a beetroot. At the same time the noisy rise and fall of conversation in the busy room suddenly died. ‘Ma…’

  Marvelling that his mother’s friendly welcome should have reduced Fergal to the level of an inarticulate schoolboy, and awakened so much apparent interest from the locals, Harriet stepped into the awkward silence. ‘Mrs Gibson…I’m Harriet Carmichael.’

  ‘Very pleased to meet you, I’m sure. Fergal…don’t keep the lady waiting!’ the older woman urged her son. ‘Now, where would you like to sit?’

  ‘Thanks, but we’ll head over to the café!’ Fergal pulled open the door for Harriet with alacrity.

  ‘If I’d known you were working I’d never have come in,’ Harriet was dismayed by the embarrassment she appeared to have caused him. ‘Is the bar a family business?’

  ‘Dooleys belongs to my uncle. After my father died we moved in with him. But I’d give anything to train horses full time.’ Fergal pulled out a chair for her occupation in the cosy café across the street. ‘But helping Ma run the bar is my bread and butter.’

  Harriet unbuttoned her fleece jacket. ‘I want to keep you informed about what’s happening at the yard.’ She gave him a brief rundown on what he needed to know. ‘From here on in Rafael Flynn will be my partner.’

  ‘I’m thinking it’ll be a challenge for him to share anything, for he’s always the big boss. But he was born knowing more about horseflesh than some learn in a lifetime. He picks winners time and time again,’ Fergal volunteered with honest admiration. ‘Do you reckon he’ll want me out of the stables?’

  ‘That’s what I don’t know as yet.’ Distracted by the sound of a car braking hard on the street outside, Harriet glanced out of the window.

  Across the street a big black Range Rover had come to a halt. Her attention sharpened as Rafael Flynn sprang out in an apparent attempt to intercept the girl hurrying with her head down in the opposite direction. His lean, strong face was hard as granite as he blocked her path.

  ‘My goodness, that’s Una!’ Harriet exclaimed in astonishment. ‘What on earth is he doing?’

  When the teenager visibly broke down into tears of distress, Fergal looked miserably uncomfortable and averted his eyes. ‘Well, her half-brother was certain to find out eventually that she wasn’t safe in school, like he thought,’ he sighed. ‘She’s been running round trying to avoid him. I felt guilty for not telling him. A few other people did too, but you don’t like to get her in trouble.’

  On the brink of racing outside to intercede on Una’s behalf, Harriet froze halfway out of her chair. ‘Her…half-brother? Una is Rafael Flynn’s half-sister?’

  ‘Sorry, I should’ve realised you wouldn’t know. But it’s an open secret round here because it was such a scandal when it happened. Her mother and his father—well…’ Fergal frowned. ‘Rafael’s father didn’t take responsibility, but when he found out about her Rafael did. Fair play to him, he’s done his best for Una, but she fights him every step of the way.’

  ‘She said her brother was scarier than scary,’ Harriet groaned, watching the teenager slink into Rafael’s car with the defeated aspect of a prisoner being taken into custody. ‘I wish she’d confided in me.’

  ‘He’s only trying to keep her in school and out of trouble.’

  ‘Does she live with her mother during the holidays?’

  ‘With her married sister. But Philomena is too laid back to keep Una on a tight leash.’

  Harriet called in to the newspaper shop to buy her favourite horse magazine. The owner chatted to her with the easy friendliness and unapologetic curiosity that was so characteristic of Ballyflynn. Although Harriet was worried about Una, she attempted to put what she had seen out of her mind. After all, Fergal had made it clear that Rafael had the teenager’s best interests at heart, and it was not her place to interfere. But all she could think about was what a disaster Rafael and Una could easily be as siblings—for both of them were equally proud and stubborn and strong willed.

  Just before she got back into the pick-up she noticed a display of handcrafted jewellery in the window of the exclusive gift shop and art gallery at the top of the street. A pair of flamboyant beaded drop earrings caught her eye; it would be Nicola’s birthday in a couple of weeks. The shop was packed, though, and she decided she didn’t have the time to queue. Before she could get back into her car, Fergal’s mother came out to invite her over to supper on Sunday evening. Harriet was surprised, but accepted with a smile and rushed off. In a couple of hours she had her meeting with Rafael Flynn, and she wanted the yard to be spick and span for his visit.

  At five minutes to two that afternoon Harriet was flat on the floor of her bedroom, trying to get the zip up on her favourite jeans. It was at the precise moment when success was within a half-inch of achievement that she heard a large vehicle pull up outside. In dismay, she released her breath, and the zip slid straight down again. While she was struggling to regain lost ground, a knock sounded on the front door. With an anguished moan, she tore off the jeans in a feverish surge of activity. As she had neglected to close the curtains, she scurried on her knees over to the chest of drawers to yank out a pair of mercifully stretchy riding breeches. Shimmying frantically into them, she scrambled upright, saw the glossy black Range Rover parked outside, and raced for the front door.

  ‘Sorry—was I too punctual?’ Rafael asked, wicked dark eyes glittering over her decidedly tousled appearance.

  He looked effortlessly, classily stupendous, in a brown waxed jacket, breeches and leather riding boots. With the greatest difficulty Harriet fought the urge to smooth a tidying hand through her tumbled copper hair. ‘No, I’ve been cleaning out the tack room,’ she told him with studied casualness, reasoning that that was what she had been doing before she’d realised that she was running late and hurried indoors to wash and change. ‘I lost track of the time. What would you like to look at first?’

  ‘Been there, done that…Unless you’ve made sweeping changes?’ A questioning ebony brow inclined. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

  Momentarily thrown by what she suspected had been an opening designed to deflate any pretensions she might have, Harriet decided to take the hint and get straight down to business. ‘OK. Let’s move on,’ she suggested, pulling shut the door behind her to prevent Peanut and Samson galloping out and destroying her business credibility.

  ‘Item one on our agenda,’ Rafael drawled before she even got the chance to speak again, ‘has to be this cottage. I want it restored.’

  ‘I understand that, but—’

  ‘Naturally I would cover all costs.’

  Her pale smooth brow furrowed, her surprise patent. ‘But this is where I live—’

  ‘I now own half of it,’ Rafael pointed out smoothly. ‘At this point I’ll settle for having the exterior restored. I’ll bring in an architectural historian to do an appraisal, but I should imagine that one of the first steps will be re-thatching the roof.’

  As the cottage was an historic building, his concern was reasonable, Harriet conceded reluctantly. Nor did she feel that she could raise an objection when he was offering to foot the bill. Yet by making so immediate a claim to his right to repair the very roof over her head he was striking right at the heart of her security. The reminder that he owned half her home could only be unwelcome.

  ‘I’m making a logical request,’ Rafael remarked.

  ‘In theory I have no objection, as long as I don’t find changes being imposed without my agreement. You have to respect the fact that this is my home. I’d also have to run this by a solicitor, to check that you couldn’t later claim to have a right to a bigger share of the property because you covered the restoration costs.’

  Dark eyes shaded by lush black lashes gleamed. ‘Either you’re my partner or you’re not. Distrust will render any agreement between us unworkable.’

  Harriet stiffened as if he had cracked a warning whip round her flanks—and in a sense
he had, she reflected resentfully. If she did not meet his demands, he could quite easily make it impossible for her to get the yard up and running. ‘Trust is a tall order.’

  ‘One thing you should learn about me,’ Rafael imparted in a light, conversational tone. ‘I don’t lie and I don’t cheat. When I want something I’ll tell you. When I don’t like something you will find me equally to the point.’

  It was an unnecessary admonition, for Harriet could not begin to imagine Rafael Cavaliere Flynn suffering annoyance in silence. His every move and his every word resonated with the unequivocal authority of someone accustomed to always getting their own way. Determined to seize back the initiative, Harriet said briskly, ‘Now, with regard to the sheds that you believe spoil your outlook—’

  Rafael spread lean brown hands in an elegant gesture of finality. ‘They must be demolished. There is no other option.’

  Exasperation gripped Harriet. ‘Tell me, have you any plans to let me have my say?’

  ‘But I don’t want to talk business with you, Harriet,’ Rafael confided huskily. ‘I did have a much more entertaining agenda in mind for us. Unfortunately another obligation has to take precedence.’

  Harriet dragged her sparkling blue gaze from him like a woman on a diet being taunted with a box of chocolates. ‘That’s irrelevant,’ she said firmly. ‘This is a business meeting because we have a partnership in this yard.’

  ‘The concept of partnership is a learning experience for me.’ Rafael was sending up her stern attitude like mad with his wickedly amused dark eyes.

  Frustration and unwilling appreciation of his charisma warring within her, Harriet breathed in very deep and stared fixedly at the sheds. ‘I’ll let you demolish them if you build me a new set of eight stables in the rear yard.’

  ‘Harriet…’ Rafael sighed. ‘That is out of the question—’

  ‘Then you’re stuck with the ugly view!’ Harriet told him curtly. ‘I can’t have a viable livery yard without adequate stabling. I have to make a living here!’

  ‘Naturally I will oppose any further development on this site—’

  ‘In other words, you have a conflict of interest.’

  ‘But you were well aware of that reality when you decided to go for the partnership rather than repayment,’ Rafael reminded her levelly.

  Harriet felt quite dizzy with anger, and she studied the ground while she endeavoured to suppress it. Her temper was in volcanic mode, and she was not accustomed to that. As a rule she was the most equable and tolerant of personalities, who could handle difficult people and situations with patience and commonsense. Yet Rafael could rouse her to wrath with a gesture as minimal as raising an aristocratic ebony brow.

  ‘There is another possibility.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what that would be,’ Harriet responded, in a tone of waspish discouragement.

  Rafael shifted a broad shoulder with graceful calm. ‘I would have discussed this option immediately, but you preferred to state your case first.’

  Her cheeks rosily flushed, Harriet stared woodenly into space. She was vaguely surprised that she did not levitate with rage.

  ‘Come on. Get in the car and I’ll show you the alternative.’ Rafael made the suggestion with colossal cool.

  Harriet breathed in slow and deep and climbed into the leather passenger seat of the Range Rover. She suspected that she was about to be ceremoniously upstaged, and that he would prove to have enormous aptitude for that tactic. At the same time, however, it gave her the opportunity to say, as casually as she could manage, ‘I saw you with Una in the village this morning.’

  ‘And this afternoon I am personally escorting her back to her boarding school. I had no idea she had been suspended,’ Rafael pronounced with grim clarity of diction, resting back in his seat to survey her. ‘Various people, who should have known better, conspired to keep that information from me. Had her headmistress not sent me a second letter I would still be in the dark.’

  ‘What’s her mother’s opinion of all this?’

  ‘Her mother is an alcoholic who has repeatedly failed to complete rehab. I’m Una’s legal guardian. I placed her in boarding school because her home environment was unacceptable. She spends the holidays with her sister.’

  Harriet was shaken. ‘I had no idea…she comes to the yard. She’s mad about horses and really good with them. Why was she suspended?’

  ‘Temper tantrums, impertinence, refusal to turn in the required work. In the past three years she has attended four different schools.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s fallen behind and she’s finding the work too hard?’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘Even so, it mightn’t do any harm to have her tested.’ Harriet was thinking uneasily about that ill-spelt note.

  Rafael laughed out loud as he turned the Range Rover on to the road. ‘What for? Being a teenager?’

  Harriet went pink and scolded herself for suspecting that he might not be aware of his sister’s difficulties with the written word. It was hardly surprising that he should prefer to keep that issue confidential. Having rustled frantically through her pockets, Harriet managed to print her phone numbers on to a scrap of paper. She set the note on the dash. ‘Tell her the horses will really miss her attention, and that if she gets the time I’d love to hear from her.’

  Without comment, Rafael turned into the Flynn Court estate by the entrance at the gate lodge where Tolly lived. Harriet liked Una? He was really surprised. Was Una good with horses? He had no idea. Getting even basic dialogue out of his half-sister was more pain than gain. He would demand an explanation of her latest offence, she would sulk or sob and refuse to speak, and he would pronounce judgement. He had given up talking about the value of education and the rewards of good behaviour in terms of privilege and respect. He ruled now by force of personality and threat. But that was not how he had intended it to be.

  ‘Where on earth are you taking me?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Have patience.’

  The long drive looped round through a glorious avenue of vast spreading cedar trees and then back again before leading down a gentle sloping gradient to a vast walled building that was tucked completely out of view of the cottage.

  ‘I didn’t even know this existed,’ Harriet admitted as Rafael drove below an ancient stone archway.

  ‘It’s only visible from the sea.’

  As the car came to a halt on the cobbles in the vast enclosed space, Harriet’s eyes were huge. ‘Oh, my word…’ she breathed in wonderment, levering the door open with an eager hand to spring out and take a closer look.

  It was a magnificent stable yard in which time appeared to have stood miraculously still, for the ancient stonework and the stable doors were in immaculate order. There was not a weed to be seen, not so much as a cobblestone out of alignment. Fascinated, she wandered round below the classic arches lining three sides of the yard. The loose boxes had been renovated to modern standards, with water and drainage and smoke alarms. Of equal interest was the spacious room that lay behind the imposing Doric pillars at the furthest end. What a tack shop it would make, she thought instantly, peering through the windows.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Snatched from her reverie, Harriet whirled round. Rafael was lounging up against the bonnet of his four-wheel-drive, the beginnings of a smile playing over his devastatingly handsome mouth.

  ‘What do I think?’ Harriet was so knocked out by the sheer possibilities of the place that she was excited to death. ‘How come it’s in such incredibly good condition?’

  ‘Unlike the Court?’ Rafael followed her reasoning with ease. ‘This place has belonged to me for a long time. About fifteen years ago I began buying back parts of the original estate whenever they came on the market. But the house belonged to my father until he died.’

  Harriet was puzzled. ‘Then why didn’t he maintain it?’

  ‘It was my mother’s family home, and because she loved it he hated it. Valente always
went with his gut reactions, and none of them were charitable.’

  Harriet was taken aback by the complete casualness with which he implied that such unreasoning malice could only have been expected. ‘I gather your parents didn’t get on?’

  ‘They were divorced.’

  Surely only the most malign influence could have deliberately sentenced that exquisite house on the hill to neglect and ruin? Now Harriet could see the superb stable yard in another light. Rafael might betray little emotion, but the strength of his attachment to his mother’s home, and possibly even her memory, was patent in the beautifully maintained buildings around her.

  ‘Why did you bring me here to see this?’

  ‘I thought you would already have worked that out. I get my view back, and in return you get an embarrassment of purpose built stables in which to operate. You also gain the services of a full-time groom. I only keep a couple of horses here, and Davis could do with more work.’

  Harriet surveyed Rafael with dazed blue eyes. ‘I can’t believe you’re serious. You’re offering me the use of this huge, amazing yard in place of some tumbledown sheds? What’s the catch?’

  ‘There is no catch.’ Strong dark features impassive, his lean powerful physique relaxed, he studied her with unruffled composure. ‘Don’t bite every hand that seeks to feed you.’

  Yet his indolent calm unnerved her, for natural instinct warned that there had to be a lot more happening below that deceptively cool surface than he ever showed.

  ‘But there has to be…I mean, for a start, basing the business here would be impractical.’ Harriet attempted to voice the more obvious objections to such a proposal. ‘I can’t take care of horses that are stabled a couple of miles away by road!’

  ‘That’s not a problem. I’ll reopen the lane that once linked with the one behind the cottage. You and your clientele can use it as a shortcut onto the estate. It’ll also keep the traffic well away from the Court. The groom already lives in an apartment above the stables, which means he’ll be on site to provide emergency cover.’