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As if it was going to be difficult to concentrate, he concluded, feeling his groin tighten as Lucia continued to stare at him. This was not the girl from the beach, or from the wedding. This was a woman who had been through a lot since he’d last really known her, and who had gained in strength because of it. It made Lucia a better fit with the job, and made his life a lot more interesting.
‘Can you cope with my being your boss?’
Her eyes flared and then she relaxed, seeing his eyes smiling into hers. ‘So long as I don’t have to bow and scrape,’ she said.
‘I’ll put a clause in your contract to that effect,’ he offered dryly. ‘So …?’
‘So Margaret is thrilled by your investment,’ she said carefully. ‘Just so long as you understand that my life isn’t on the agenda, Luke. I refuse to live my life by committee a moment longer.’
‘I think I’ve gathered that.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if that’s it …? I hope you like the changes I’m making.’
‘Why don’t I take a look?’ he said.
It soon became apparent that Lucia had touched things with fairy dust. Even on Margaret’s limited budget the old house was already being brought up to scratch, with hours of work having been put in—by Lucia, he imagined. There were quirky touches only she could have dreamed up—driftwood from the beach arranged to look like a piece of art on a high ledge, where it cast intriguing shadows on the pale chalky walls, and bleached wooden chairs upholstered in faded blue ticking inviting relaxation in a tranquil reading room, where the only ornament was a bowl of fresh flowers set in the centre of a vast refectory table on which newspapers could be laid out flat, or books studied in the natural light of the panoramic window framing the shore.
He paused at the window to stare out at a sky rapidly changing from daytime shades of smoky-blue to a cloak of night, streaked with red-gold.
‘Luke?’
He turned to see Lucia standing waiting for him in the doorway. ‘You’re a real homemaker, Lucia.’
‘There’s no need to sound so surprised,’ she said, smiling. ‘Anyway, if you want to linger and soak up the view I just thought I should let you know I’m going out.’
‘Okay.’ He ground his jaw as he listened to her footsteps fading. She couldn’t spare five more minutes to talk to him? And where was she going? he wondered as the front door opened.
To the beach.
He might have known. He watched until her shadow had disappeared down the cliff path and then pulled away from the window.
She was endlessly fascinated by the busy little creatures darting about the rock pool so purposefully in their unknowable lives. Hugging herself, she leaned her chin on her knees to watch them.
‘Lucia …’
She glanced around, even though she knew her mother couldn’t be calling her. Demelza Acosta was long dead, so she could hardly be running across the beach towards Lucia, trailing one of those big stra
w hats she’d used to love, her long red hair blowing wild and free in the fickle Cornish breeze. But if Lucia closed her eyes she could almost see her mother—barefoot and laughing, calling out as she came closer for Lucia to run with her. She’d be wearing one of those dresses that were totally unsuitable for the beach. It would be long and flowing, with a dainty flower print, and would keep catching round her mother’s legs. Her mother would laugh all the more as she struggled to free herself, and when she finally made it to the rock pool she would grab hold of Lucia’s hand and take her running, which often meant dodging the boys on their horses. Her mother had loved that game. She’d said tempting fate was exciting.
The dream ended abruptly, because Lucia hated giving in to weakness. She preferred to laugh and make jokes.
‘Lucia?’
She glanced up in surprise to find Luke watching her. ‘I didn’t hear you. The wind,’ she explained briskly, knuckling her eyes.
‘Sorry if I’m intruding,’ he said, shifting position. ‘I just wanted to find you and say what a wonderful job you’ve been doing at the guest house.’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ she said, putting on her flippant voice. She felt vulnerable and exposed after her emotional workout. She braced herself and stood to face Luke.
‘You’re not going yet, are you?’ he said as she glanced at the cliff path.
‘It’s getting cold.’
‘Have I done something to upset you?’ Luke probed.
‘Oh, you know,’ she said, reverting to the old mocking tone.
‘No, I don’t know,’ Luke said, frowning. ‘I’d like you to explain. What are you running away from, Lucia?’
