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She had stood on her feet for so long, had been independent and self-sufficient for so long that this inner weakness was something she didn’t know how to cope with.
Why on earth this particular man should be affecting her like this she had no idea.
‘I don’t want to go with you,’ she told him almost childishly, unaware that she had spoken out loud until he said drily,
‘Yes, I know. You don’t want anything to do with me, do you, Charlotte? In fact, you don’t want anything to do with my sex at all, do you?’
Somehow or other they were both inside his car, and he was fastening her seatbelt while he waited for her answer. She felt shock-waves of sensation burst through her, washing over her body in ever-increasing heat.
‘Or is it me personally?’ he pressed.
Him personally? For a moment she thought he must have registered her reaction to him, and she gave him a guarded, almost frightened look that made his frown deepen. The shock of what he had said to her was slowly fading, the lump had disappeared from her throat, and when she blinked she discovered that the tears had gone too.
He had caught her off guard, that was all. There had been no real reason for her to get in such a panic…to feel so vulnerable.
He was still waiting for a response, and, even though he had now set the car in motion, she knew instinctively that he would continue to press her until he got one.
After the way she had just behaved, she suspected that the last thing he would want to do now was to share her roof, and so there was nothing to be gained from concealing the truth.
‘I just don’t like being pushed into corners,’ she told him restlessly. ‘Everyone seems to think I should be pleased to have you lodging with me…’
‘When in reality it’s the last thing you want. Why did you agree, then? Is it just the money?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘It was Vanessa. I didn’t want her to think that I was influenced by what she said.’
‘Ah, Vanessa. A most unpleasant woman, although I suppose I shouldn’t say so.’ As though he felt her surprise, he grimaced. ‘I feel very sorry for her husband, because, no matter how much he does for her, it will never be enough. I must admit I’m looking forward to moving
into my new quarters.’
‘To moving in? Oh, but surely—?’
‘Surely what I’ll do now is the gentlemanly thing and let you off the hook, now that I know you don’t want me. I’m afraid not,’ he told her calmly. ‘I’ve already wasted far too much time looking for somewhere suitable, and besides, like you, I feel that the kind of comments that Vanessa was making are best refuted by being totally ignored. Which way?’ he asked her.
Automatically she told him, and then lapsed into a numb silence as they covered the miles in easy comfort. He was a good driver; the Jaguar was bliss to ride in. It smelled of leather, and the passenger seat seemed to curve itself around her body. Within twenty minutes they were turning into the drive. She saw Oliver frown as he noted the rickety gates and unkempt drive, although all he said when he eventually stopped the car in front of the house was, ‘Excellent situation…for a family. Do you have much land?’
‘An acre of garden and a good-sized paddock,’ Charlotte responded automatically.
She never used the front door, keeping it bolted and barred at all times, but now she reflected that perhaps she ought to have new locks put on it so that Oliver could use it. That way she would be decreasing the risks of their paths crossing too frequently. The risks…what risks, for heaven’s sake?
She saw the way he studied the house as she opened the porch door. When he followed her into the kitchen, she found herself gabbling that she was waiting for the joiner to start work on the new units, and quickly stopped herself. Why on earth was she apologising to him? What did it matter to her what he thought of her home?
But to her surprise he said easily, ‘My mother died last year. It was months before I could bring myself to do anything about her house. There’s always such a feeling of betrayal and guilt involved in the death of a parent, isn’t there? A feeling of reluctance to change anything. I suppose it’s all part of the natural healing process. The trouble is that nowadays we’re all too geared to the media vision of instant everything to accept that some things take time. Do you miss him?’
‘Not really,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘He wasn’t easy to get on with and we weren’t really close. I suppose it was guilt that brought me home in the first place, and guilt that kept me here.’
She was surprised to discover how easy it was to admit it to him.
‘I’d better show you the rooms,’ she said awkwardly, opening the kitchen door and waiting for him to follow her.
In the end she showed him all through the house, and then the garden. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the latter for a man who lived in London, and when he said quietly, ‘Would you mind if I tried my hand at resuscitating your vegetable plot?’ Charlotte said the first thing that came into her head.
‘But you won’t be here long enough. You said six months.’
‘Yes, I know. So the garden is out of bounds to me, is it?’
‘No…no… Of course not.’
What had she said? She had no intention of sharing her garden with him as well as her home. The trouble with Oliver Tennant was that he never reacted in the way she expected, and so he was constantly catching her off guard. She had no idea why he would want to bother himself with her neglected vegetable garden, but now it seemed she had given him permission to do so, just as she had tacitly agreed to accept him as her lodger.
