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Ella nodded. She had long ago abandoned the umbrella and raindrops flew from her wet hair, which was curling wildly round her face.
She really was a good-looking girl, Oliver acknowledged. He was still holding her, but his hands had slipped to her waist, so narrow that he suspected he might be able to span it with his hands. She was deliciously curvy, with the kind of body that a man just couldn’t help but want to hold. A sharp stab of desire kicked through him. He moved closer to her, tightening his grasp on her, and his gaze fixed on her mouth. Her lips were soft and invitingly pink.
What was Oliver doing? Ella looked up at him, her eyes widening as her heart somersaulted in disbelief. Oliver Charters was going to kiss her. No, that wasn’t possible; she must be imagining it. She tried to escape his grip but it was too late. His lips felt warm and firm against her own. He was cupping her face with the free hand that wasn’t securing her to him.
Ella opened her mouth to object, but her objection turned into an indrawn sigh, which was silenced and then somehow transformed into a helpless appreciation of pleasure beneath the expertise of his kiss.
She could feel the heat of his body warming her own. She felt as though she might almost melt right into him; she felt…Abruptly Ella realised what was happening.
She closed her lips together very firmly and pushed Oliver away. Her face was burning as she sidestepped him and started to walk very fast towards the hotel.
‘There’s no need to make such a big deal about it,’ Oliver told her after he had caught up with her. ‘It was only a kiss.’
Ella ignored him. She didn’t trust herself enough to speak. How could she have let him kiss her like that? She knew what kind of man he was, after all: the kind who went around making love to as many girls as he could–and even now he was probably laughing at her, comparing her with the pretty sophisticated models on the shoot. Not that she cared if he did. Not one little bit.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Oh, John, I didn’t see you there.’ Rose hoped that she didn’t sound as breathless and self-conscious as she felt, having cycled over, as she stepped into Fitton’s Great Hall. She blinked against the bright shafts of sunlight coming in through the high, narrow late-medieval windows and piercing the shadows thrown by the thick stone walls.
‘I’m just on my way to the stables. I’ve got to go and see one of my tenant farmers and I thought I’d ride over instead of driving the Land Rover. Why don’t you come with me?’
He hadn’t said anything about her hair, but then perhaps he hadn’t noticed yet. The Great Hall was deeply shadowed, after all.
‘I’d love to say yes, but you know me and horses,’ she answered him ruefully. If only he would say that he wouldn’t bother riding over to see his tenant farmer but would take the Land Rover instead so that she could go with him, but to her disappointment he simply agreed.
‘No, you never really took to riding, did you? In fact, if I remember correctly, of the four of you, Janey was the one who rode best.’
John was looking at the door, no doubt keen to be on his way, and not, like her, cherishing every single second they could be together.
‘The reason I came over,’ she told him quickly, ‘is because my aunt wondered if you and Lady Fitton Legh would like to come over for dinner tonight. She would have telephoned but it’s such a lovely day that I said I’d walk over. You’ll have heard, I expect, that we’ve got the new duke staying with us at Denham?’
‘An Australian chap, isn’t he?’ John asked. ‘I heard that he owns a sheep station, and I certainly wouldn’t mind picking his brains about what kind of breeding programme they run out there. I’ve got sheep on the Fitton land in Wales, but we can’t compete with the quality of the fleeces the Australians are managing to produce. Please tell your aunt that I’d be delighted to accept. I can’t speak for my stepmother, though. You’ll probably find her in the yellow drawing room. I’d better go…’
A smile and a brief nod of his head and he was striding towards the door.
Rose waited until it had closed behind him before rushing to the window that overlooked the drive and kneeling up on the window seat–its now faded covering of silk designed by her aunt’s Russian father and woven at Denby Mill especially for the Fitton family–the better to watch John for as long as she could.
He hadn’t noticed her hair, she acknowledged sadly as she watched his departing back with yearning devotion.
‘Rose, this is a surprise. Why, I wonder, hasn’t anyone announced you?’
The sharp cold sound of Lady Fitton Legh’s voice had Rose scrambling off the window seat to face her, feeling more like a wary child than a young woman. There was something about Cassandra Fitton Legh that made Rose shiver, as though somehow her presence chilled the air around her. Where Jay was handsome and kind, his cousin Cassandra, with her once red hair now streaked with grey, was plain and harsh-natured. Just because she was in her presence, Rose immediately felt guilty and uncomfortable.
‘My aunt asked me to come over to pass on to you her invitation for dinner this evening.’
How long had John’s stepmother been there? Had she seen her looking yearningly through the window? The thought increased Rose’s discomfort. She knew that Cassandra disliked and despised her, though she had never said so. The way she looked at her told Rose as much.
Now she arched a thin eyebrow, saying coolly, ‘Did she? Amber is fortunate in having the number of staff she does at Denham. If I had a young relative staying with me with time on her hands, I’m sure I’d be able to find her plenty of things to do without sending her on an errand that could quite easily have been accomplished in much less time via a telephone call. You were lucky to catch John in–but then I’m sure that somehow or other you would have found him anyway and delivered your message.’
Rose could feel her face burning. ‘John has said that he is free to accept my aunt’s invitation.’
‘Then of course I must do so as well.’
There was no offer of a cup of tea, no suggestion that Rose might sit down and provide Lady Fitton Legh with an update of her life in London or those of her two nieces, nothing other than that iciness that made Rose very relieved to say goodbye and escape from her chilling presence.
‘Emerald, it was awfully rude of you to turn your back on Dougie like that.’
Amber and Emerald were in Emerald’s bedroom at Denham. The windows were open to
