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As Harry helped Magenta to her feet, she saw the look of shame on Rachel’s face. It helped soften the animosity Magenta held.
“I think,” Rachel said to Harry, but her eyes were on Magenta, “I should go back to London and head up the office there. You need to stay here.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Harry told her as he grabbed Magenta’s hand and hauled her towards the door. “We’re still going to talk, though. I’m not sure I trust you the way I used to, and that will affect business.”
Rachel’s cheeks turned red. As they reached the door, Magenta pulled out of Harry’s grip. “I need to get my bag,” she said. “Wait outside.”
He looked over her head towards Rachel. “Don’t start the fight again.”
“Just getting my bag.” She hoped she pulled off an innocent look, but Harry didn’t seem convinced.
Magenta ducked away from him and trotted to the back of the shop, where she’d stowed her messenger bag. As she came back, she passed Rachel picking up sodden lingerie. She leaned in to the woman.
“You come between Harry and me again and I will drop you down a mine shaft where no one will ever find you. That’s a promise.”
The colour drained from Rachel’s skin, but she didn’t reply. With a smile, Magenta headed for Harry.
He clasped her hand in his and didn’t mention that he’d seen her speak to Rachel. Together, they walked up the high street towards the house she shared with the twins. She knew she looked a sight in her sodden and ripped clothes. She didn’t care. She wanted to shout from the rooftops that she wasn’t stupid. Tell the world she was normal after all. She was giddy with her newfound knowledge.
In front of the grey stone wall of the old Presbyterian church, Magenta turned to Harry. Her smile was wide as she looked up at him.
“I love you, Harry Boyle.”
His silver eyes grew dark as he grinned that slow, sexy grin of his.
“I knew you could say it without insulting me at the same time.”
Magenta rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”
“With pleasure.” And then he did just that.
Epilogue—three months later
“I’m ready.” Harry walked into the living room of the house he shared with Magenta.
It’d taken quite a bit of cajoling to get her to move in with him. She kept telling him that their relationship was too new, that it was too early to take such a big step. He pointed out that it couldn’t be new when he’d known her since he was eight. In the end, he was pretty sure she only gave in to stop the nagging. He grinned. It was a technique he’d use again. But only for important things. Like convincing her to marry him as soon as possible.
“You’re seriously going to wear that?” Magenta’s voice distracted him from his self-congratulatory thoughts.
He looked down at himself. “I don’t see the problem.”
Magenta started laughing. “You have duct tape around your legs.”
“To keep the rats out of my trousers.” He wasn’t stupid. He also wasn’t taking any chances.
She leaned forward and sniffed. “Damn, you’ve sprayed yourself with pine oil, haven’t you?”
Another sensible measure. He pointed to his backpack. “I’ve packed some yummy rat-treat poison as well. You can never be too prepared.”
Magenta eyed his pack, which was double the size of hers. “This is only a day trip, Harry—we aren’t spending the night in the mine.”
Thank you, Lord. Harry glanced towards heaven. He really wasn’t ready for another night in the mine. He’d probably never be ready.
“Did you pack your tent too?” The sparkle of amusement in her eyes made his knees weak.
“Of course I did. The caving website said that you should be prepared for anything.”
“Did the website also say that you should listen to your qualified and experienced instructor?”
