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‘Of course not,’ he said stoutly. ‘I told you, it’s bought and paid for. It can just sit there and we’ll roust Jeff out to do your driving for you, if that’s how you want to go on.’
She sighed and he pinched off a triumphant smile. ‘I don’t know what Ethan’s going to say,’ she murmured, touching the pristine paintwork.
‘What can he say? He’s got two cars, a four-wheel drive and a helicopter. He can’t begrudge me a second string to my bow.’
Oh, yes, he could. She hesitated. ‘I hope this isn’t just because of—you know, because you hope I might be your granddaughter—’ she began awkwardly.
‘It’s because I’m a rich man and I can afford to indulge my own whims,’ he said firmly.
‘Well…all right, then.’ Her objections to his happy fiction wilted in the face of her dawning excitement. She had never driven a brand-new car before. And it would mean she could get a lot more done with regard to her house. ‘But it’s just a loan,’ she reminded them both as she got in and started the engine.
By the time she turned back into the drive it was late afternoon and she was very pleased to have lined up a firm of commercial cleaners who would move in to the salvageable part of the house as soon as her funding came through. She had also been to the supermarket and chemist, and bought herself a few intimate essentials and extra studio supplies. Having full room and board meant she was able to eke out her small store of savings, which would have otherwise been swallowed up by now in living expenses and the myriad costs involved in pursuing her claim. It had been also essential for her to buy a new mobile phone to re-establish Quest Restorations with a working number, and although she had bought the cheapest on the market it had still made a dent in her limited budget.
As she passed the mirror in the hallway she noticed that she was also well overdue for a haircut, but as a non-essential that would have to wait, unless she decided to get creative herself with the scissors.
After dropping her purchases off in her room she saw the door to the room where Rose’s collection was displayed was ajar and, thinking Peter might be in there communing with his memories, she slipped inside only to see Ethan in shirt-sleeves and work boots, standing looking into one of the open-fronted cabinets.
She thought she had been silent, but Ethan said without looking around: ‘This is it, isn’t it?’
Mastering her skittering heart, she moved up to his shoulder and found herself looking at a very familiar object.
‘Yes, that’s the pilgrim flask.’
‘Pretty. Can I pick it up, or do I need gloves?’
She shuddered. ‘No gloves—too much chance of it slipping through your fingers. Bare hands are fine—as long as they’re clean.’
‘Yes, Nanny.’ He flipped his hands over for her inspection and picked up the porcelain, handling it with a confident delicacy that sent a tingle down her spine.
‘What incredibly detailed decoration—what is this, a dragon?’
‘A water dragon—there’s one on both sides,’ she pointed out, showing him the blue painting on the reverse, ‘and this pattern represents breaking waves and rocks—and here’s the clouds and flowering shrubs.’
‘They pack a lot of story into a small space.’
‘That shows the talent of the artist, one of the reasons it’s so valuable. It’s not only history, it’s great art.’ She watched him carefully set the flask back on the shelf, her voice filled with self-castigation. ‘Looking back, I can’t believe what I dared to do. Anything could have happened—’
‘Anything did,’ said Ethan, turning around. ‘You took a risk and it paid off.’
‘I’m not generally a risk-taker,’ she protested.
His pale eyes glinted. ‘I don’t think you know yourself half as well as you think you do,’ he murmured.
If only he knew how truly he spoke! Swallowing down a little hiccup of hysteria, Emily quickly focused her attention back on the shelves of porcelain and gave Ethan a sketchy tour of the contents. Then they looked at the pieces the appraiser had singled out for his thumbs-down, and Ethan studied some of the Meissen dinnerware she had formerly repaired, looking in vain for the evidence of restoration.
‘Usually if you can’t see any surface defect and you want to know if there’s a break you can find out with a flick test,’ said Emily, setting a dish down on a display table and tapping it with her fingernail. ‘If there’s no crack it should resonate with a “ting”, otherwise you’ll get a dull sound.’
They listened to the pure sing of the ceramic.
‘Hence the origin of the phrase to “ring true”,’ said Ethan, his eyes moving speculatively over her face. He tapped her lightly on the jaw and cocked his head at the soft thud of his finger on the bone. ‘Does that mean you’re cracked?’
She was certainly crazy, she thought as she looked up into his brutally attractive face. Crazy for him. And her heart would be in serious danger of cracking if she couldn’t work out some way to be with him in spite of the swirl of secrets that had engendered his wary mistrust. ‘It doesn’t work with people,’ she said huskily.
‘More’s the pity. I guess that means I have to find another way to tap your hidden depths…’ His arms slid around her pliant waist and he began to lower his head when a delicious buzz shot into her groin from his pressing hip. He groaned, reaching into his jeans pocket. ‘Sorry, my phone…I’ve been waiting for this call…’ And she had to settle for a quick tousle of her curls rather than the long, lush kiss of her desires.
His voice dropped into brisk and urgent technical jargon as he strode out of the room and not long after she heard a car leave, presuming that he had been called back to the office.
Hunger pangs reminded her that lunch had been an apple a
