A little Christmas love in the country

Anastacia Harper is at the top of her modelling career - famous simply for being beautiful. But as Christmas approaches Ana can’t face another holiday alone in the fake celebrity world she inhabits. She’s desperate for a change of scenery and desperate to find the girl she once used to be…

Brooding and gorgeous, all Matt Darling wants to do this Christmas is lock the doors of Melville House and keep the world at bay. The last thing he needs is a model flouncing about in sequins pretending to be a country girl, but it looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

When the snow falls suddenly Ana and Matt find themselves trapped at Melville House with only each other for company. But there is magic in the air at Christmas that might just help Ana and Matt find exactly what they are looking for under the tree…

Forever His Darling

Sarah Randall

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Sarah Randall 2014

Sarah Randall asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781474007740

Version date: 2018-07-23

SARAH RANDALL

lives with her family in Lancashire and firmly believes that woman can survive on a diet of hot bubble baths, chocolate, red wine and a good romance book; preferable all at the same time.

To myparents, Norman and Pauline and in-laws, Margaret and Brian; with over 90 years of marriage between them they are the true romantics and all the inspiration I ever needed. (So Dad, does this guilt you into reading on…?)

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“You’ve done what!? Tell me you’re joking!” Matt yelled, spinning around to face his younger sister., burning his tongue and dropping the spoon on the floor.

Pip glanced up at him from her laptop as she sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen. Her eyes were wide with innocence behind the modern thick framed glasses but that old trick wasn’t going to work on him this time. She’d gone too far and he was angry; Tired and angry.

“Here,” Mrs Henderson thrust a glass of water into his hands; expertly maneuvering him away from the Aga and her bubbling stew. “I agreed to let them use Melville House to do a fashion shoot. It’s for Alix Anderson, the famous designer. He’s launching his new country wear range and using Anastacia as the model. It’s a no brainer Matt, it’s so exciting, I thought you’d be really pleased. I know I am!”

He bit on his lip hard, putting a halt to his planned volatile response as he watched Pip do a little jig in her chair. It had been a long time since his little sister had seemed happy and excited about anything. Since the summer, she’d agreed to take on more responsibility and assist Henry with the stud farm and house management. In reality Matt was still making all of the important day to day decisions, but he felt that Pip needed something to fill her time until she decided whether or not she was going back to university in Leeds to finish her business course. Which of course she was, she just needed to come to that conclusion on her own..

Clearly, he’d missed out on making this decision. It would certainly have been a “no brainer” to him…"No way in hell" would’ve been his standard reply to such an enquiry to use the house. Peace and tranquility were all he was interested in nowadays. He wasn’t about to let himself or his family become the focus of village tittle-tattle ever again.

Such requests weren’t unique. He’d frequently received pleas from film companies and the like to use the house and its grounds for film sets depicting a romantic, bygone era… films which were utter twaddle.Their mother had always put them off with one excuse or another, fearing upheaval to the house and village, and he’d simply followed her sensible stance. Generous financial enticement didn’t sway Matt; he didn’t need the money.

“Why the hell would you agree to it?” Matt held his arms out wide in question, accidentally spilling some of the water on the floor in the process and muttering a curse.

“Well duh, it’s Anastacia for goodness sake. And I did try to speak to you about it.” Pip rolled her eyes at him as she reached for a tube of Smarties next to her computer. “And I told them that they’d have to make a huge donation to your charity, so you see, you can’t possibly object, can you Matt?” she said, a pleading look on her face.

He narrowed his eyes; bemused as she tipped the Smarties out on the table and proceeded to pick out all the orange ones and pop them one by one into her mouth.

He shook his head at her weirdness before continuing. “But it’s our home, Pip, and when the hell did you try to tell me about it—wait, just wait,” he added with his hand in the air, “who’s coming?” He moved towards Pip and tried to dislodge George from beneath his feet. “George, bed,” he demanded, pleased that at least someone was listening to what he had to say as George trotted off to his bed obediently.

“Anastacia Harper, the top model,” both women giddily exclaimed in unison and laughed at each other.

Matt turned to Mrs Henderson. The woman had been the housekeeper at Melville since before he was born and liked to think of herself as his second mother. She was just as important to him.

“You know who this woman is?” raising his eyebrow at her.

“Of course sweetie, who doesn’t?” she responded, before turning back to the Aga and busying herself seasoning her stew. “Well, apart from you,” she called back over her shoulder.

Pip mumbled around the rest of the Smarties she was munching her way through, “Honestly Matt, you need to get your head out from those horses’ butts and keep up to date with what’s going on in the world. Here, catch.” Pip threw him the fashion magazine perched on the kitchen table. “I tried to talk to you about it a couple of weeks ago but you and Henry were in with the horses so I made an executive decision.”

“Pip, I hardly think that keeping up with fashion and the celebrity gossip can be classed as—”

Matt caught sight of a tumbling waterfall of vibrant red wavy hair framing a stunning pale oval face with a smattering of cute freckles on a pert nose,, vivid eyes as green as the fir trees in the forest surrounding Melville staring straight at him from the page of the magazine. A detached but beautifully refined look on the temptress’s face. It was a heady combination. He swallowed and paused for breath, acknowledging that perhaps he should pay more attention to the celebrity news.

He allowed his eyes to trace further down the page and acknowledge the rest of the photograph. It was obvious that this woman was not the traditional stick thin model usually favoured. No, this photograph showed off an hourglass figure through the black evening dress. She definitely had curves in all the right places, reminiscent of a Hollywood starlet from the 1950’s. Curves a man could no doubt spend hours worshipping and wow, that hair. He tentatively touched the page, running his fingers over her shoulders, imagining what it would feel like to run his hands through that hair and then grab a fist-full at the nape of her neck, forcing her to look up into his eyes, before seeking the comfort of her lips. He would later try to convince himself that the action had been entirely subconscious, but it was an argument even he wasn’t claiming to win. What it would feel like to make this woman lose control and scream out in ecstasy? He felt a long-forgotten stirring in his groin and quickly slammed the door to that emotional rollercoaster firmly shut. Getting involved or even interested in another woman was so not in his plan, but perhaps he did need to start thinking about satisfying his more basic needs, which had apparently decided to come out of hibernation, stretch languidly, and show interest in a certain Jessica Rabbit like redhead.

He suddenly became conscious of the fact he’d been staring at the page for a while and quickly cleared his throat and nonchalantly dropped the magazine back on the kitchen table. Christ, he hoped neither of them had seen him trailing his finger over the magazine. He hadn’t had such a reaction to a woman in a magazine since his father had given him some interesting reading in his mid-teens…and he was embarrassed now by his reaction. In his defence, he decided that the photo was most likely cleverly edited as was the norm nowadays. No-one would look that good in real life.

“Besides,” Pip continued, seemingly unaware of his peculiar interest in the magazine, “it will be exciting for the village and excellent PR for the Stud and your children’s charity. Things could do with being shaken up around here, don’t you agree Mrs H? You need to come out of that hibernation or whatever it is you’ve been in since what happened with Emily I—”

Matt’s head shot up and Pip cut herself off at the no doubt thunderous scowl on his face. “Don’t ever mention her name in this house again Pip,” he growled at her, but he winced inwardly as he saw his sister flinch and it angered him even more that that woman still had the power over him to warrant that reaction.

Thankfully Mrs Henderson swept away the lingering tension.

“Oh yes dear. I was telling Beatrice and Phyllis at the shops the other day all about it and you know how they like to spread the news. The whole village knows about it by now. Maybe that designer chap would donate something for us to raffle off at the charity ball on Saturday night.”

Matt choked, spitting out the last gulp of water he had just taken to quell his burning tongue. “What do you mean? How long are they going to be here!?” he gasped, still coughing up his lungs.

Mrs Henderson slapped him on the back and mopped at him with a towel whilst tutting something about his manners. He wasn’t listening.

“Erm well,” Pip stuttered, casting her eyes down to her computer. “They said that they needed to stay for a couple of days, you know to, erm, make sure that they get all the photos they need and go out on location around the grounds, and it was all dependent on the light and weather and what not, I wasn’t really listening, so I, you know, said that they could all stay at the house overnight. It’s not as though we haven’t got the rooms,” she rushed nervously.

“Here, taste again,” said Mrs Henderson, bringing a spoon filled with her stew up to his mouth. “Better?”

Matt sipped at the spoon. “Hmm, yeah, that’s delicious.” he agreed, handing the spoon back and turning his attention to Pip, crossing his arms over his chest, but bringing one to rub at sore eyes; gritty from lack of sleep.

“You do remember that Jumal will be here any day. His foal is due in the next couple of days’. What the hell is he going to think is going on with a fashion designer and his posse running wild at the house?” He dropped his hand back to his chest and let out a sharp breath before continuing. “We’re the most prestigious Stud farm in England and he’s going to think he’s landed at some sort of celebrity house party. I know he’s a mate but he’s still a bloody Sheik, Pip. I just can’t believe—!” He shook his head and rubbed at his temples to try to stave off the headache which was developing at a fast pace.

“Jumal is coming? When? Why didn’t you say?” Pip asked anxiously.’

Matt smirked at her. “Oops, I must have forgotten to mention it. Not nice, is it?” he tormented, raising a brow.

“Ha bloody ha. Anyway, stop stressing Matt, Alix and Anastacia will have left before Jumal arrives to view his baby horse.”

“Foal, Pip, it’s called a foal, not a baby horse,” he said, shaking his head again in exasperation.

“Anyway, you need to get her from the airport because she lands in just under an hour, and take that picture with you so you recognise her”.

Matt didn’t think he could forget that face. She’d be the one surrounded by a group of suck-ups dangling on her every word while she pouted and posed for pictures, no doubt flicking that wild hair around her shoulders as she soaked up all the adoration. He briefly pondered whether this model would be the stereotypical spirited redhead with fire in her belly…? His brain finally decided to re-engage and take control over his wandering thoughts.

“What? Why?” His attempt to grab a freshly baked shortbread biscuit from the table was foiled by Mrs Henderson as she smacked his hand away.

“You’ll spoil your tea.” The woman was as swift as a ninja, quicker than his judo instructor!

He pointed at Pip. “But she’s just worked her way through a whole tube of sweets!”

She tutted at him. “Now, now Matt, you’re not a child, although you are as grumpy as a teething toddler at the moment.”

He scowled at Pip as she stuck her tongue at him ’before she continued. “Well I told them that we’d collect her from the airport and as head of our family it should be you. Besides, do you really trust me to drive your Range Rover after what I did to your Porsche?” She tilted her head to the side. Good point.

“Anastacia is flying in directly from Rome due to some mix up or another, er, the bad weather actually I think, and the rest will arrive later today from London. I’ve arranged for an executive mini bus to collect them.” She waved her hand at him urgently. “So you’d better get a wiggle on brother, before this bad weather sets in.”

Matt sighed heavily. He was so damn tired and just wanted to fall into his bed…not that he would actually get any sleep.

“Pippa, this conversation is not over,” Matt grumbled as he grabbed his battered but favourite Barbour coat and car keys.

“Oh and you need to pop into a supermarket and grab some sparkling Perrier water on your way,” she shouted over her shoulder.

“What?” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in defeat, no longer able to gather the energy to get angry.

“Anastacia’s agent emailed a rider list and the only thing we couldn’t get in the village was Perrier, so you need to grab some. Oh and don’t forget your phone.”

Matt caught his phone and pocketed it.

“I updated it for you. You’re welcome.”

He stared coldly at his sister, mentally counting to ten before he dropped the keys to his Range Rover back on the table and grabbed the keys to the Stud’s twenty year old land rover, used to ferry around bedding hay and feed and other necessities. It was most certainly not what the haughty America’s Top Model or whatever she was, would be expecting. He gritted his teeth at the thought of his quiet life being invaded by a woman who was no doubt a shallow, fame-obsessed wannabe accompanied by her equally annoying sycophantic entourage.

“George, come.” Matt patted the side of his leg and whistled.

He cursed to himself and absently raked his fingers through his hair; crossing the snow covered driveway towards the truck wondering how his day could go any further downhill and deciding that he’d simply stay out of the way—out of the house if necessary. Pip’s timing couldn’t be any worse: one of his ’mares was showing signs of an imminent delivery and his experience told him that she faced a potentially difficult time. The last thing he needed was a group of pompous big city dwellers who’d create nothing but upheaval and shine an unwanted spotlight upon his home.

***

Mrs Henderson and Pip stared at the snow cloud formed on the drive as Matt accelerated away from the house, and looked at each other.

“There’s going to be fireworks,” Mrs Henderson chuckled, crossing her flour covered hands over her apron.

Pip smiled mischievously. “Well someone needs to rattle his feathers and shake him up. Let’s hope he’s thinking ’Emily who?’ after the next couple of days, hey.”

The co-conspirators clinked their tea cups together in celebration of a job well done.

***

Anastacia couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she tried repeatedly to put the plane’s phone back in its holder following the most important phone call of her life.

“Oh God, oh God, breathe girl just breathe.” She repeated the mantra to calm her racing heart, breathing in and out slowly and trying to remember her yoga techniques; her hands moving up and down in sync…well, that was useless.

She yanked out the phone again and dialed. He answered after a couple of rings.

“It’s me. Guess what?”

“Erm, I’ll go with… you’ve decided to become a nun and you want me to design a totally bodacious habit for you?”

“Alix honey, people don’t say bodacious anymore. You’re showing your age.”

She heard him suck in a breath in disgust. “You take that back or else I’ll make you look like Miss Bloody Piggy, or worse.”

“Amanda just called.” She let the statement just hang in the air teasingly until she heard his sharp intake of breath as he connected the dots.

“You got it didn’t you, you bloody well got it. I knew it, tell me you got it.”

“I got it.” She held the phone away from her ear as he screamed and eventually decided to join in, tapping her feet on the floor in delight.

Eventually they ran out of air.

“Oh pumpkin, I am so proud of you. God I can’t believe my girl is going to be the face of Passion. Wow, just…ha, do you remember when we used to flick through all those fashion magazines at school. You always loved those moody arty black and white Passion adverts and look at you now. Well done babe, I’m so proud.”

She swallowed the lump which had formed in her throat at his praise. He was genuinely proud of her achievement. She could always count on Alix. She could only count on Alix, she quickly amended. “We’ve done all right haven’t we. It’s everything, all my dreams come true, but now I’m scared Alix. What if I mess it all up? Three years is a long time and they’ll have huge expectations. They’ll want their pound of flesh. Skinny flesh,” she emphasised.

“Nonsense, you won’t mess it up, you’ve got me. I won’t let you. New York baby!!” Alix went off screaming again and muttering about all the plans he had for them in New York while she half listened, knowing Alix could entertain himself for quite a while without needing her input or encouragement. Talking with Alix always soothed her. She reclined her chair on the private Gulf Stream jet, closing her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last few nights and spent most of the time tossing and turning waiting to hear from her agent. She’d taken a sleeping pill earlier in the day in the hope that it would help her get some sleep on the plane, then the call had come through.

“So did you manage to pack some clothes for me?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Yep, got ’em. So what exactly happened in Italy? You sound like you’ve been partying too hard babe.”

She decided to ignore his quip about partying. Telling Alix she wasn’t sleeping would only lead to an inquisition and she wasn’t ready for that. “A complete nightmare. Take one over-emotional photographer and an equally stroppy designer having artistic differences into the mix and what do you get? Both of them storming off the shoot in different directions leaving me shivering in the middle of a bloody fountain in a bikini wondering what the hell just happened, and having to wait around ’till they kissed and made up. Honestly these dramatics are turning into an occupational hazard in Italy. So what time’s your flight?”

She could hear the background commotion and sounds of his fellow disgruntled passengers. “Er, well, it’s saying on the board that it’s delayed at the moment. It’s a good thing you could arrange to fly straight there from Rome rather than trying to come back to London first. I don’t think anything is landing or taking off from Heathrow at the moment.”

“Hmm, well, okay. Will you let me know when you know more?”

“Will do. So, have you spoken to her yet?”

She let out a long breath before responding. “What’s the point? I’ll just get Angela. I speak more to my mother’s assistant than I do her. Anyway she’ll be out at some LA premier and then I’d be sat waiting for her call; which we both know won’t come so…” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare let her spoil this for you.’ She’s not worth it. But I know you’ll call her anyway, won’t you?”

“Probably.” She could see him rolling his eyes at her and shaking his head.

He groaned out loud before continuing sheepishly. “It goes without saying that I’ll owe you big time for doing this for me, I—”

“Alix, you’re my rock. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve been there for me so don’t you dare say thank you to me for spending a weekend in Yorkshire modeling your creations. It’s the least I can do for you, okay?” She owed him more than he would ever know.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “So what’s involved with Passion from now?” he asked, cleverly changing the topic.

“Well, Amanda is going to email me the papers which I’ll have a look at once I get to Melville later. She said they’ve already found me an apartment on the upper-east side near their offices and they want everything in place and ready to go after London Fashion Week. So it all fits together nicely. By the way, do you have any idea where this Melville house actually is?”

“Not a clue, I just Googled it and fell in love with the house and grounds, it’s a farm or something somewhere in the North Yorkshire Moors. There’re picking you up so you’ll be fine. Anyway, I’m just glad I got you to model for me before you become even more famous and your head won’t fit through my clothes.”

“Ha de ha ha. I know I can always rely on you to keep me grounded.” After a short pause they both laughed.

“There’s no hope for you then pumpkin!”

She smiled to herself and she recalled that it was she who comforted Alix as he passionately jumped from one disastrous relationship to another and had his heart broken over and over, yet she admired his tenacity and zest for life. She was the constant in his life and vice versa and she’d recently made a pledge to herself to help him find the love of his life…at least that stopped her examining her own disastrous love life too closely. Her last boyfriend had sold all the juicy details of their six month relationship to the press. At least what they had fabricated had been juicy—the reality had been that they’d barely dated due to work pressures—but hey, at least he’d got his profile heightened and no doubt made a few quid out of it..

She mouthed her thanks to Heidi for the tea she’d just placed on her tray table and tentatively sipped at it.

“But what if they change their mind when I get there? I’m not exactly the body type they’ve gone for traditionally am I?” she said, now biting her lower lip.

“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, if I could get my hands on your mother I swear—”

“Okay, Okay. Calm down Mike Tyson.” She chuckled as she heard him mutter “Who?”. “It’s just that we both know that this is it for me. At twenty-six, I’m not going to get a chance like this again and I’m just doing my usual doubting routine. Sorry.”

““Okay, well there’s an official-looking airline chap wandering around in an ill-fitting uniform just begging for a make-over so I better get off and see what’s happening with our flight. I’ll see you soon and we can celebrate properly.”

“Okay, see ya, mwah.”

She managed to get the phone back in the holder without too many problems this time and sipped again at her drink, trying to forget the fact that it was Christmas in a few days and she hadn’t done any shopping so it was likely to be another mad rush around on Christmas Eve. It saddened her to think that she and her mother were basically strangers now and would be spending yet another Christmas apart. Not that she’d ever had a normal Christmas with her family. Her very early Christmas memories with her mother usually meant party after party with the Hollywood types whilst she was left at home being cared for by Angela. That was a ’good Christmas’. A normal one meant that she didn’t even get to go home for Christmas; she stayed boarding at school in England and got to watch all the other children being collected by their parents or at least their parents’ chauffeurs. She remembered how she hated those children, but it wasn’t their fault they had parents who actually gave a damn.

“Miss Harper, sorry, but would you like anything else to drink? The captain says we’ll be hitting some turbulence as we descend through some bad weather so he’s about to put on the seatbelt sign.”

She dragged her thoughts from her troubled reverie “Oh, no thank you Heidi, I’m fine, you go and buckle up. And I’ve told you, please call me Anastacia. You’ve flown with me all around the world and you’ve even done a fifty yard dash down a runway to retrieve my fly-away knickers to save my dignity, so I’d say we’re on first name terms, wouldn’t you? She raised her eyebrow and smiled.

Heidi nodded and returned her smile as she retreated towards the back of the jet.

Ana returned her stare out of the small window to look at the darkening sky, not that she could see much. It was quite a change from the weather in Rome.

***

After a few hair-raising moments of bad turbulence the plane finally landed and taxied to its stand.

She gathered her belongings and wrapped her new cashmere wrap around her shoulders, thankful for the gift from Alix. As she approached the doorway she was hit by a blast of frigid Yorkshire air and falling snow which was starting to stick to the ground. She snuggled into her wrap and stepped out, hoping to God that Alix had chosen warm, practical clothes for her. She laughed to herself; if you couldn’t trust a fashion designer to pick clothes for you, who could you trust!? Despite her fierce independence, even she wouldn’t have turned down a chivalrous offer of a coat from a gentleman round about now. If only.

“Welcome to Yorkshire Anastacia, have a lovely stay and thank you again for the tickets to London Fashion Week. My daughter will love it. We’ll wave to you.”

“No worries and you’re very welcome. I’ll see you soon Heidi. Safe flying.” She said, giving a quick hug.

It had been lovely and warm in Rome, even in December. She didn’t like cold weather and neither did her favourite Jimmy Choo’s.

***

“Stay, George.”

Matt recklessly abandoned the heap of metal affectionately known by all at the stud farm as ’the hummer’ and rushed into the arrivals hall. He was late. He hated being late for anything; the upshot of being rapped over the knuckles with a ruler by the nuns at his strict Catholic school. Being late was a sign of tardiness. Still, on the plus side, he had to smile at the thought of keeping Miss Tall and Snooty waiting around the arrivals hall and having to mill about with the locals. Ah well, every cloud…

The airport was packed with people arriving home. But then what did you expect a few days before Christmas?

He stood back and held open the doors for an elderly couple struggling to push their heavy cases on a trolley and he felt compelled to help them into a waiting taxi. He didn’t even mutter a curse when one of the heavy cases dropped onto his foot and instead smiled through gritted teeth and wished them a Merry Christmas as they went on their way. At least Mrs Henderson would be proud.

He dodged around groups of festive travellers and flinched at the sight of what looked like a young father abandoning his travel bag as he dropped to his knees, his welcoming arms sweeping up two young children in a hearty embrace that made them giggle in delight before returning them to their feet to take their smiling mother’s face in both of his hands to kiss her. Matt forced his eyes away from the newly reunited family and absently rubbed at his chest to try to ease the now familiar ache that witnessing such tender scenes still caused, muttering apologies as he bumped into yet another embracing couple. While scanning faces in the crowd a flash of red caught his eye.

He approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, this way.”

She spun around and Matt momentarily forgot his own name.

The picture he’d drooled over earlier did not do her justice. No clever photo editing would ever be needed.

At her blank look he finally recovered and added, “Quickly, I’m double-parked.”

“Oh, hi there. Can I help you? Did you want an autograph?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor and holding out her hand to him.

She was English, not American as he’d mistakenly assumed, although he could detect a hint of an American influence on her accent.

Matt was vaguely aware that she’d asked him a question and was still waiting for a reply, holding her hand out and narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot and finally dropped her hand back to her side. Her smile dropped.

Say something you idiot, he berated himself. “This way.” He motioned randomly with his hand somewhere directly behind his shoulder before bending to pick up her bag so they could get moving.

“Sorry, who are you?” she enquired, bending with him to take a surprisingly strong grip on her bag handle.

“Matt Darling,” he told her brusquely before continuing at her quizzical look and the on-going tug-of-war between them over her bag. “The owner of Melville ’whose peaceful life you and your magazine friends are about to disrupt and no,” he bent his head slightly and she took a small step back at his invasion, her eyes widening, “I don’t want your autograph Miss Harper. Shall we go or would you prefer to waste some more of my time?”

He groaned inwardly at his terse dialogue and at her equally shaken expression. The truth was that she’d momentarily shocked him; rather, his gut reaction to her had shocked him and his survival technique, honed to perfection since Emily’s departure, had kicked in automatically.

Thankfully she let go of the bag, probably in surprise at his rudeness. “Okkkkayy…” she glanced nervously around the other passengers in the arrivals hall before quickly recovering her composure to fix a smile on her lips before continuing. “Well, I’m Anastacia, pleased to meet you. Thanks for coming out in this horrid weather to get me,” she said cheerily, holding out her hand again.

Goddamn it. Now she was deliberately highlighting his rudeness. What a cow…

He stared at her outstretched hand, unable to compute that she wasn’t offended by him and yelling him to sod off and come back when he’d found some manners. He held out his hand but then quickly ran it over his jean-covered thigh, acutely aware that he was about to touch her. Matt never second guessed himself… what the hell was the matter with him? He was a successful businessman who negotiated multi-million pound contracts on a daily basis.

She placed her hand in his and his body reacted at the warmth of her skin; he had a sudden desire to place his hand on her cheek. What the hell?

He also felt a strange need to apologise for his tardiness but what actually came out of his mouth was, “My car’s this way,” before he turned on his heel and set off in the direction of the main doors like a man on a mission.

***

Spotting a newsagent Matt excused himself for a moment and Anastacia was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath.

Hellllo. Not since her first crush on James Newman aged eleven had her stomach had butterflies like this upon meeting a man. Matt Darling was a hunk! The rudest she’d ever met, and she’d met a fair few snakes in her life to date, but still. At least he’d be something nice to look at until Alix could get his butt here, wherever “here” actually was. She’d just have to gag the obnoxious twerp.

Too swiftly he returned and once again set off towards the car park, leaving her scurrying behind him in her heels. God she felt like an idiot. She was supposed to be in a taxi on her way home to her flat in Chelsea to pack for this trip, before the unpredicted bad weather had changed all the best made plans.

Matt opened the front door of an old-style land rover, the kind used around farms and the countryside. It was a battered heap covered in mud. Authentic.

“George, down!”

Anastacia was shocked to find a chocolate labrador bounding towards her and jumping up at her, trying desperately to lick her face. “Hello there boy,” she greeted in that dopey voice people always seemed to use around animals.

George finally decided to acknowledge his master but not before getting a good lick of his new friend.

“Er, sorry. He’s clearly a sucker for a redhead too.”

She risked a quick glance at her chauffeur and thought she caught a puzzled look on his face before he recovered. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed a clean handkerchief to her..

Patting George and rubbing his ears, she looked up at Matt. “Yes, yes I’m fine… he’s very friendly. I’ve never had a dog but I’ve always loved labs. Such a gorgeous man, you’re a beauty aren’t you,” she said, ruffling his ear’s and planting a kiss on George’s powerful head.

“Okay George that’s enough,” Matt said, intervening. “In the back,” he ordered.

She wasn’t about to argue. The man was clearly pissed at something or other. She moved to open the rear door—

“Not you.”

She heard him sigh wearily, like she was living up to his belief that she was a buffoon.

Matt guided her out of the way and opened up the back of the truck, placing her carry case on the floor as George jumped up and eventually settled down with his head between his paws.

As she stood back to watch the pair, a cold shiver went up her spine and she hugged her wrap closer. She’d actually lost all feeling in her exposed toes and dropped her head to check her polish hadn’t turned blue!

She saw him shake his head and thought she heard him mutter something about her being stupid. “You’re freezing. Why the hell wouldn’t you pack a coat?” He chastised her like a child. “Never mind. Here.” Matt started to shrug out of his jacket.

“Oh no really, I’m—" She tried to hide her gasp at a shiver as he held it out to her.

“Take it. It’s a long drive.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, as if thinking about something important before quickly dismissing it, as he opened the front passenger door for her and stood back. Anastacia took the coat and offered a smile as she wrestled with the sleeves and hopped up into the front seat.

Despite her best attempt, Matt noticed the expression on her face which she’d tried to hide.

“Yeah. It’s a working farm vehicle. Cold and smelly. We use it to ferry things around. Hummer by name, hummer by nature, and our limousine is booked in for its service.” He smirked at her mockingly before he looked down towards his feet and uttered something that she couldn’t quite make out and slammed the door.

What the hell had she done to offend this man? She’d only just met him… but this was a record, even for her!

Still, she conceded, the man smelt divine as she caught the faint smell of his cologne and him as she discreetly snuggled her face into his coat for a deeper sniff…purely to escape the offensive pong of the Hummer. The cologne was a favourite of hers and she basked in the residual warmth from his body and started to defrost; wiggling her toes. She thought about his name and decided it didn’t suit him. Matt made her think of a relaxed, friendly type of man who’d go out of his way to do anything for anyone. Most certainly not this grumpy farmer, even with his perfectly tight arse which, in her defence, she couldn’t help but notice as he’d stormed on ahead in the arrivals hall, expertly dodging passengers and trailing suitcases like he was a contestant on ’It’s a Knockout’.

“So how long will it take us to get there?” she said, rubbing her hands together before bending to take off her impractical but heavenly shoes and curl her legs up underneath her body on the car seat. At his curious expression she added, “Years and years of Yoga.”

He nodded in understanding before explaining. “Usually about an hour or so, but I think this weather might slow us down a bit.”

She’d noticed that the snowfall was much heavier now and it was sticking to the roads with menace.

“If they close the pass to the village then we’ll be staying somewhere else for the night.” He glanced over at her and she saw a flash of concern on his face which he didn’t bother to hide. “Ever sleep in anything other than a six star hotel?” He raised another mocking brow at her.

All right buster, she thought, I’ve played nice so far but now we’re alone with no camera phones to record me and upload it all online.

“Have I done something to offend you Mr Darling? Am I getting special attention or did the hens just refuse to lay today? Or perhaps you think this,” she waved her arm at him, “grumpy farmer routine or whatever it is you’ve got going on is just what the tourists want?” She raised her brow and caught a muscle tick in his jaw.

“Just to be clear,” he started as he glanced over briefly, “I don’t want you or your fashion crew here.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, I’m smart like that.” She shrugged. “Guess it just goes to prove that they don’t let just anyone into Mensa.” She tapped her chin with her index finger as if in thought. “Of course that does lead one to question your intelligence for letting us let us rent the house if we offend your delicate sensitivities so. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He seemed briefly dazed by her curt words. Most likely about her Mensa gem—she hated the stereotype that all models were only interested in their hair and make-up. Of course he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t actually a member of Mensa… What was a tiny white lie to a man she was never going to see again.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t my idea. It was my sister’s.” He glared over at her again and then narrowed his eyes accusatorily. “I despise everything that you and your kind crave, Miss Harper.”

Ana was so shocked by the vicious words, spat out with such disdain, that it took a moment for her to recover and close her mouth which had dropped open at his terse remark. “W-wow. Just say what you think.” She held her hands up in mock surrender before dropping them back in her lap. “Am I allowed to ask just what it is that you think I crave so much? Oh, and I assume you’re not thinking it’s chocolate.”

Annoyingly, the tick in his jaw only added to his attractiveness.

“Attention. Fame.”

“That’s it?” She gasped outraged. “You’re offended by my choice of occupation?” She let out a humourless laugh and shook her head. He made no sense to her. “Well, I’m offended by your rudeness Mr Darling, but still, I’m here to do a job which I will do to the best of my ability whilst trying my hardest to keep out of your way so as not to offend you.” She titled her head and smiled sardonically at him. “But seeing as though we have a signed contract to be at Melville and I understand that a generous donation has been made to a local charity at your request…” she paused for effect, raising her brow, “I suggest that you keep your thoughts about ’my kind’ to yourself and concentrate on driving.”

Her heart was pounding so much she could feel it in her throat. She was riled yet strangely exhilarated as nervous energy swamped her body. She saw his grip on the wheel tighten further. He looked pissed off, but arguing with him was… fun.

Until reality set in. God, had she really just said all that? Crap she shouldn’t have let loose. She should have just sucked it up and bottled it all in like usual. What if he did in fact go to the press with a story about what a demanding diva she was? What if Passion decided she was just too opinionated; too out of control; just too much trouble? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to make a quick fortune out of an ’Exclusive tell-all’ article about her. Would she ever learn?

She let out a sigh. It was too late now. He just brought that response forth from her and she was still surprised; surprised at how good it felt! She had lost count of the times she’d held back from telling some idiot what she really felt. Her life was monitored 24/7. Privacy was non-existent, especially with the advent of the mobile phone with their built in cameras and video’s. Oh well, Amanda would have to scream at her again and deal with any fall out, no doubt, after she’d received a call from her mother’s publicist complaining about how her behaviour impacted her mother’s precious career.

While Matt was concentrating on the road and the increasingly difficult conditions, she took advantage to steal a glance at him from the corner of her eye, hoping she wouldn’t be caught ogling him. Again.

She’d noticed him at the airport before he’d apparently seen her.

The furor caused by his attempts to help an older couple with their suitcases had made her chuckle, especially when the heavy bag had fallen on his foot. Not that she hoped he was hurt, well, not then, before she knew what he was like, but it was clear that he’d been in a rush to meet someone but his manners had clearly won. She’d liked that, but it was at odds with the man sitting next to her. What the hell had she done to this man in such a short period of time to warrant such a reaction? And for that matter, what was so wrong with having attention?!

She’d already clocked that he was tall, maybe a couple of inches over six foot with broad, athletic shoulders and dark hair which was cut short, and he sported a couple of days’ dark growth which suited his chiselled jawline perfectly. She’d also noted his strong bone structure and symmetrical facial features, a habit from her line of work. She noticed beauty. From a distance she had daydreamed that his padded winter coat hid a muscular body. She didn’t have to imagine for long… until he opened that perfect jaw and spoke and ruined the illusion.

Talk about living up to stereotypes. This guy was the ultimate Grumpy Farmer.

But when he’d shrugged off his coat… WOW. If Alix had been with her, he’d have shouted “hubba hubba” before passing out on the floor, not caring that the man was insolent!

Putting his bad mannered attitude to one side, Matt was stacked! His muscular body was probably acquired and honed to perfection through his active lifestyle of lugging hay bales around the farm and sheering sheep or whatever it was that farmers did all day. His black T-shirt pulled slightly over his pectoral muscles and was teamed with snug, worn light blue jeans. Apair of well-used working boots finished the ensemble. As he drove on in silence she continued to take advantage and gaze at his forearms, momentarily fascinated as the corded muscle tensed and then relaxed as he made minor adjustments to the steering wheel. They were mesmerising. Forearms were sexy…who knew?

She’d already spied the beautiful, vintage Omega watch he sported and that the ring finger on his left hand was bare… Why had she even been looking? Did a girlfriend buy him the watch?

His eyes? She was acutely aware that she hadn’t yet had the chance to fully appreciate her grumpy farmer’s eyes. She guessed they were blue to complement his skin and hair colouring… She gave herself a mental slap. She wasn’t interested in such things. Her career was her priority, not her love life.

Her musings were interrupted by music coming from his mobile phone..

“Is that - Dirty Dancing?” she queried.

Okay, that was not the ringtone she’d have guessed would be on a farmer’s phone, she thought, as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He answered his phone and spoke with someone confirming that he had collected her and they were on the way back. He finished the call and they were once again under way. Was that his wife or girlfriend?

Before she could stop her runaway mouth she teased, “What, no ’Old Macdonald had a farm’ on iTunes?”

She started to hum the children’s nursery tune to herself and glanced over at Matt. He looked uncomfortably embarrassed.

Clearly he wasn’t going to bite this time. “That was Pip, my sister,” he clarified, after a short pause. “She said the snow is getting really heavy and wanted to know where we were. She also likes to steal my phone and change the personal ring tones.” She caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She was right—brilliant blue eyes—but yet something in them made her pause. Something she recognised from seeing her reflection too many times, as an occupational hazard. He looked… shattered, and not through lack of sleep, although she’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes. More like he was emotionally drained. Now that she really thought about it as she watched him rub at his jaw, the stubble on his face was less likely to be a fashion statement and more like he’d simply forgotten to shave or simply couldn’t be bothered, and the nail on his right thumb was bitten… all seemed to point in the direction that all was not rosy in this man’s life. Well, whatever. It wasn’t any of her business and she was out of here in a couple of days.

He reached between the front seats and thrust a bag from the newsagent at the airport into her hands. “Here.”

Anastacia peered into the heavy bag which contained several small bottles of chilled Perrier water. Bemused, she looked over at him. “Er, thanks.”

“My sister said you needed them. Your agent apparently told her to get them for you. I’ll order more for you to be delivered at the house, but that’s all they had in the shop. You should give our Yorkshire water a try.” He looked over her pointedly. “Surprisingly it tastes just like water.”

She offered a “Humph” in response. Great, she thought, letting his sarcasm wash over her this time. She mulled over the fact that it was just more fuel for the fire that all models are completely demanding bitches. Amanda just sent out those lists automatically, she didn’t even know what was on it. She’d asked her to stop sending them but it appeared her request had been ignored—yet again.

Anastacia reached into her handbag, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had chance to switch her phone on since landing. She opened the bottle of water and took a few sips whilst waiting for it to catch a signal. After travelling for about forty minutes or so she guessed they were almost there. A few miles back Matt had appeared anxious and rubbed at his temples and back of his neck, but they’d driven on mostly in silence until she interjected with questions about the village and local area, just to annoy him and to see how many one word responses she could elicit. Seven.

Her phone suddenly burst to life showing she had missed several calls and text messages, mainly from Alix and Amanda. Her phone had only been turned off for a couple of hours.

She peered over at Matt’s profile. “You mind if I make some calls?”

She decided to interpret his dismissive shrug of his shoulders as code for “Go ahead.”

Chapter Two

“So, do I assume from your conversation that you won’t be joined by your friends?” Matt looked over at her, massaging the back of his neck again with his right hand. “And I make no apology for listening,” he added with a smirk.

“No. I didn’t think you would,” she replied, shaking her head and rolling the phone in her hand. “There’s still no flights leaving, at least not until the weather clears and the backlog eases up at Heathrow. Apparently the snow fall is a lot heavier in the South. It’s pandemonium at the airport with everyone desperate to get home for Christmas. Alix said that they’ll try again in a couple of days. Until then… erm, do you think you could drop me at a hotel in the village? A meagre five star one will do,” she teased playfully.

“What? No.” Matt turned his head to her suddenly. “I mean, er, there are no hotels. You’ll stay with us as planned. As per the contract.”

She caught the authority mixed with a hint of sarcasm in his voice and her hackles were once again up. He was clearly a man used to being in charge and used to people and animals doing what he told them. That was so not her, but in light of her current predicament perhaps she should just go with the flow… easy girl.

“You sure I won’t be an imposition? I mean, I wouldn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”

“No. I won’t be in the house much. Besides, I doubt the residents of our little village would have a clue who you are Miss Harper.”

Okkkay…

Matt reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a packet of headache tablets; attempting to remove the white pills from the foil one handed.

She let out a sharp breath at his stubbornness before reaching over to take them from his hand and press out a couple of the pills before handing them back to him together with the bottle of Perrier. “Here, they’ll be easier to swallow with water.”

Matt thanked her begrudgingly and she took another opportunity to watch him as he swallowed the pills with her water. Holy moly, just watching this throat was a sensual act. Crikey, she thought, how long had it been since she’d been with a man? She started to count the months off in her head and then decided that it wasn’t something she wanted to examine too closely.

Focus, Anastacia… and not on his throat action!

It was her turn to blush now as Matt caught her staring this time as he handed the bottle back to her. Maybe staying in a house with this man wasn’t such a brilliant idea…then again, he’d said he didn’t plan on being there much and that was probably a good thing. His grumpiness grated on her. What the hell did he have to be grumpy about?

Again, she reminded herself that she wasn’t interested.

Despite the thick snow now lying on the ground, she could see the natural raw beauty of the countryside. It had a wild, untamed quality about it and she could easily imagine why such scenery had been the inspiration for Miss Bronte and the like. It was a complete contrast to urban jungles she occupied in American and more latterly, London. She opened the window slightly to breath in the cold air and rid her melancholy thoughts at her lifestyle. Instead of questioning what her chauffeur had to be cranky about, maybe she should focus that question nearer to home.

Eventually they passed a sign indicating that they’d arrived in the village of Waddington, North York Moors; Gold award winners for Britain in Bloom 2012 and 2013. It had been a long time since they had passed through any other villages or signs of civilisation. She really was in the middle of nowhere. The village itself was exactly as she’d imagined a Dickensian village would look. Quaint. A main high street with a medley of shops on each side, butcher, baker, candle stick maker, with quite a few shoppers mulling around, most of whom waved or acknowledged Matt in some way. Matt simply nodded his head or raised his index finger from the wheel in greeting. She also spotted a dress shop, all tastefully decorated for the season with cream twinkle lights and small Christmas trees above each shop building. The local pub was set back at the end of the high street with the main village Christmas tree; a huge star on the top with a wide white banner around the base attached to the railings advertised an event of some sort, but Matt had driven past before she’d had a chance to read the details.

“How far is it to the farm now?”

Matt glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not a farm, and you’re dangerously close to sounding like a two year old.”

“So I guess now isn’t a good time to say that I really need a wee?” she threw back at him, only partly teasing. She actually needed to visit the ladies since the arrivals hall but had got distracted by Mr Gallant, Gorgeous and Grumpy.

“I can pull over. There’s plenty of bushes,” he threatened, and she wondered whether Mr Dark and Broody did actually have a sense of humour.

At least she hoped he was kidding.

“Only a few more minutes,” he continued. “The house is only a mile or so from the village, closer if you walk straight over that hill”. He bobbed his head slightly and pointed past her shoulder.

She smiled back lightly in concession. “I’ll hold it. I was never very patient and as for that…” pointing in the same direction as Matt, “I’d say it’s a mountain not a hill!”

As promised, they soon approached a large wrought iron gate featuring two prancing stallions, which formed a complete design when the gates met. Matt punched a code into a security pad at the side of the road to open the automatic gates. They entered a pebbled driveway flanked either side by large evergreen trees. A brass sign at the side of the drive announced that they’d just entered the private grounds of “Melville House and Stud”.

Ah okay, so definitely not a farm. No sheep would warrant this much security!

“So, how big is this place?”

“Eight hundred acres or so. We have thirty stallions at the moment and ten visiting mares.”

She raised an eyebrow at that and smirked. “Visiting mares?” she repeated, slowly.

They continued to drive slowly down the winding driveway and caught sight of a couple of horses with their riders in the distance and circular arenas where it looked as though the horses might be exercised by some sort of machine that walked them around.

The grounds were extensive and spectacularly maintained. This was no simple horse farm!

A majestic three story Jacobean manor house came into view through the tree line as Matt steered the car around the final bend. Its traditional symmetrical style and intricate stone masonry with mullioned windows and numerous tall chimney stacks were set off magnificently against the vivid green ivy growing on one gable end of the house, now wearing a blanket of newly fallen snow. The main door was set back into an impressive archway flanked on either side with stone columns and urns, but the main focus was directly in front of the main door where a fountain with six bubbling jets shot water at least five meters into the sky. Numerous old fashioned brass street lamps were scattered around the property and would no doubt create a spectacular illumination in the evenings. The driveway continued around to the side of the house where a detached three car garage was situated, its doors open showing a black Range Rover and Silver Aston Martin parked inside. She’d already noted a scattering of other out outbuildings throughout the manicured gardens and shrubs. It was a winter wonderland and the child in her itched to play out in the snow.

“It’s amazing,” she beamed, but he seemed deep in thought, a ticking nerve in his jaw the only give away that he was annoyed at something. She left him to his grumpiness and continued to admire the view as he parked.

***

He had to get a grip—fix the emotional walls which somehow this woman had managed to crack with her quips and teasing. He had strangely enjoyed it but he needed to fix it and quick before the bloody dam broke. He wasn’t ready to have such feelings again yet… if ever. He would be polite but, for the sake of his sanity, that would have to be it. Nothing more. Miss Darling, and the rest of them when they arrived, would be well looked after by Pip and Mrs Henderson. He needed to focus and ensure the forthcoming visit from Jumal went as planned. It hadn’t helped that as yet, this woman had not been the obnoxious, haughty woman that he’d discriminately thought she would be. Instead she had been friendly and outgoing despite his rudeness… and she’d called him on it and made him feel embarrassed and guilty at his behaviour, like a naughty child. Something only Mrs Henderson had ever done since his mother’s death.

Still. No distractions. No matter how annoyingly beautiful… or wonderfully feisty, just like he’d imagined.

Matt parked right outside the front door and quickly jumped out, grabbing her bag from the back seat and freeing George to run around in the snow in circles like a lunatic. Pip and Mrs Henderson came out to greet them at the front door when it suddenly occurred to him that he was sans Miss Tall, Tantalising and Tenacious. He slowly turned his head to see her peering out of the open car door, her brows squeezed together quizzically as she studied the snow like it posed a difficult question… which Miss Mensa could bloody well solve on her own.

He turned back to his family, shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes, but he was met with a disapproving look on Mrs Henderson’s face including hands on her hips which always meant trouble.

He dumped her bag on the floor and let out an exaggerated sigh before stomping back to collect her, muttering all the way about her having no coat and her ridiculous shoes.

She started to sit back into her seat at his approach but he quickly grabbed her around the waist and was secretly pleased at her surprised squeal before she finally grabbed hold of him as he kicked the door closed and carried her back over to her waiting fans and unceremoniously dumped her beside her bag.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sheepishly. “I only have these shoes.”

He was forced to make the introductions. “This is my sister, Pip, and our housekeeper, Mrs Henderson.”

***

“It’s lovely to meet you both.” Anastacia nodded and smiled, clutching Matt’s coat tighter around her body.

Pip ran forward and grabbed hold of her hand. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. I’m such a fan.”

She was much younger than Matt, a petite girl with long, dark, glossy locks and sporting a thick rimmed pair of glasses that were fashionable at the moment. She reminded her of a pixie, gorgeous, perfectly proportioned, and full of energy.

“Okay Pip, leave the lass alone. That’s enough,” said the older woman, Mrs Henderson. She was a large woman with silver hair tied back in a neat bun, in her sixties if Ana was to guess. She offered a warm welcoming smile and rubbed her hands on her apron before embracing her in a bear hug, filling her nostrils with the smell of lavender, and she could tell instantly that she would get along well with both women. Unlike the frustrating farmer.

Mrs Henderson took charge and ushered them all into a large entrance hall before calling over her shoulder to Matt, who stood statuesque outside.

“Matt dear, I’ve put Miss Harper in the guest room next to yours. Take her bag up there would you?”

“Call me Anasta—er, Ana, please, Mrs Henderson.” She thought she could hear Matt grumbling as he picked up her bag and stormed into the hall and up the impressive central staircase.

Pip continued to bounce around, a little bit like George, and clapped her hands as Mrs Henderson escorted her into the large, homely, yet surprisingly well equipped modern kitchen with a large wooden table in the middle.

“Mulled wine all round I think, to warm the cockles. Come along.” Mrs Henderson busied herself around the kitchen and insisted that Ana sit down and make herself at home. She almost scoffed at the woman’s words. Home. If only she knew that her starkly boring flat was anything but comforting!

“Now dear, you’re not one of those fussy eaters are you? You know, one of those vegetarians?” Mrs Henderson said the word scornfully, like it was a swear word!

Something about the kindly woman, warmly welcoming into her home with wide arms, stopped her from explaining that she very rarely ate a complete meal. “Nope, fully fledged meat eater here,” she said, assuring, and was treated to a full on wide smile. She was glad she hadn’t disappointed.

A few moments later, Matt re-entered the kitchen.

“I’ll be in the stud office,” he announced as he popped a kiss on the older woman’s cheek, the warmth of which shocked Ana but was quickly forgotten as he sailed past her and called back over his shoulder. “No need to tip me this time Miss Harper.” He left through the back door before she could come back with anything. Ana felt like she’d been dismissed.

***

Mrs Henderson and Pip came to check on her once she’d settled into her spacious yet cosy guest room.

“Yes thank you, but I do have one little problem,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect to travel straight here from Rome so I’ve very little in the way of clothes. A black bikini and a little summer dress aren’t going to be very practical here.” It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be able to squeeze into Pip’s clothes—assuming she could even get her jeans on over her hips, they would look like Peddle Pushers on her longer legs!

Mrs Henderson waved a hand at her. “Oh, right. Well we can sort that out, can’t we Pip. Let’s have a look in Matt’s room. You can roll up a pair of his jeans and there will be some T-shirts for you I’m sure. Come along.”

Matt’s bedroom was next to hers and was not what she imagined a single man’s bedroom looked like. Wait, was he even single? Why had she assumed that?

A super king size bed with white cotton sheets dominated the room. A mahogany dresser was topped with lots of family pictures, both colour and black and white, which seemed to be of his parents and Pip together when they were children. There was also a graduation picture of him and another extremely attractive man. Was it a brother, she wondered? No, on closer inspected he had a Middle Eastern look about him. She spotted a bottle of the cologne that she had smelt earlier on his coat. Yep, bergamot, nutmeg and cedarwood. It was one of her favourites and she had bought it for Alix on his last birthday.

Several modern paintings and prints were dotted around the room including a beautiful pencil drawing of a horse and her foal lying down. She went to step forward to examine the sketch but was interrupted by Mrs Henderson.

“The dressing room’s through here Ana.”

Dressing room… what the hell did a farmer need with a dressing room? Ah, unless he was married, but so far, no sight nor sound of a wife. She followed Mrs Henderson into a room next to the ensuite. It was as big as hers back in Chelsea! A row of stunning suits and dinner jackets hung on the right hand side. She trailed her hand along the suits. Gucci, Dior, Tom Ford, the man was a clothes horse!

God she needed to stop with the horse references.

To the left were shelves with neatly folded t-shirts, shirts, jeans, and jumpers. Underneath were smaller shelves for shoes and boots. It was like two entirely different people used the room: comfy and casual on one side and suited and booted on the other. Since when did Farmer Giles, or should that be Dr Jekel and Mr Hyde, need all these top end clothes? Had she been as guilty as him of making ill-informed assumptions?

Mrs Henderson hummed a tune as she busied herself in the wardrobe before handing her a bundle of clothes including a pair of jeans, t-shirts and a soft cashmere v-neck jumper and several pairs of socks.

“That should keep you going until your friend arrives. Matt has some spare wellington boots in the utility down stairs, a few pairs of socks on you and they should be alright. Oh, and there are lots of coats too. Just leave your delicates in the bathroom each day and I’ll launder those for you.”

“Thank you. Are you sure he won’t mind?” she checked, not entirely comfortable with the idea of wearing this man’s clothes without his permission—but in reality, what else could she do?

“Mind? Dearie he won’t even notice,” she said, chuckling to herself. “He barely wears any of these things nowadays anyway,” she said, waving at the posh side. “Jeans, t-shirts and boots are his uniform.”

“So what’s with the all the suits then?” Ana pushed, being unapologetically nosey.

She watched as the older woman fiddled nervously with her apron before running a hand over her bun. “Oh, well, you’d better ask him about that. Shall we, dearie?”

***

“That was delicious, thank you Mrs Henderson.” Anastacia reclined in the soft leather sofa in front of the roaring fire next to Pip, feet curled up underneath, while her new favourite person pottered around plumping cushions. The large fireplace was dressed with a festive swag of red berries, ivy, mistletoe, cinnamon sticks and pine cones, with four small, homemade, brightly coloured stockings hanging from it featuring their initials sewn with little glass beads. There was even one for George. She swallowed the lump which had formed in her throat at the vivid image of this family gathered around the fire on Christmas morning, hugging each other as they opened their gifts. The room was scented with fresh pine from the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. It was another depressing reminder that that she’d never had a real Christmas tree, just the plastic variety. Now she knew what she had been missing all these years. It smelled wonderful, a scent which no artificial room fragrance could accurately re-create : she’d tried them all. Her stomach being nicely full from the stew and dumplings was an alien feeling and she was drowsy from the couple of bottles of wine that they had all enjoyed with dinner and the brandy she now nursed in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine and heat of the crackling fire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much yet felt so relaxed and content, especially as she was in someone else’s home. Not that she’d ever felt so relaxed or content in her own home. To her, home was just a space where she kept her belongings.

“Ah, you’re welcome honey, it’s lovely to cook for people who enjoy their food.”

“Well I’ve never been one of those women who can survive on celery sticks.” She regretted the white lie immediately. “I love my food, just have to work extra hard in the gym.” Truth.

“Feel free to use the pool or gym whenever you like Ana.” Pip glanced over at her from where she was sprawled out in front of the fire, flicking through a magazine with a contented George snoozing with his strong head resting on her crossed legs.

“Thanks, I might just do that. I can make use of the spare time and the few clothing items I do have with me!”

“There’s also a library on the second floor if you get really bored. That’s where Matt spends most of his evenings, a real bookworm. Boring.”

She smiled as Pip made a huge fake yawn.

“Really, well, I love reading too so maybe I’ll have to, er, have a look later. Thanks.” Meaning, I’ll wait till he’s gone out.

Pip discarded the magazine at her side and promptly stood up, disturbing George briefly. “Right, I’m bored now. Fancy coming with me to the pub?” Pip seemed to have the attention span of an adorable puppy.

“Oh, erm…” She was so comfortable she wasn’t sure she could move, or be bothered by the fact that she’d rather stay right where she was, than go out for a night out?!

“Feel free to stay here if you like. Matt will be around somewhere and he’ll keep you company if you’d prefer.”

To be glared at by Mr Dark and Broody… in that case, there was no way she was staying here.

“No, that’s okay, I’d love to come with you and have a look around the village,” she said, prising herself out of the chair. “Just let me put on some warmer clothes and grab a coat and wellies and I’ll be right with you,” she said, edging backwards from the room until she slammed into something hard and unmoving…

She spun around to face Matt’s unimpressed hard stare.

She bobbed her head forward slightly. “Is that look on your face permanently?”

He didn’t bother to even acknowledge her and instead looked past her at Pip. “Where are you off too?”

“The pub. You want to come along?” Pip asked.

“No, I’m fine. Be careful in the snow, take a torch and make sure you have your phone fully charged.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother. “Yes Dad,” she mocked. “Besides, James will be there and he’ll give us a lift home if we need it.”

Anastacia glanced back over her shoulder at Pip.

“He’s such a sweetie Ana, and he’s the Stud’s vet. Wait ’till you see him, and the other local farmers. Why women go to the city to look for hot, available guys is beyond me. I tell you, this is where they should be. Go and make yourself even more gorgeous and we’ll get going.”

***

Matt felt a spark of something strike him and stir his interest. Despite his earlier caustic remarks to her on the drive in, a world famous model in the village would cause a stir and possibly a scene, and as she was staying here… well, it was his responsibility to make sure nothing brought the Stud or his family name into disrepute. Never again. He ignored all possibility that it was the fact that other men would relish Miss Harper’s attention.

“Wait, on second thought, I’ll come along too. You need a chaperone and George could do with the exercise to work off that chicken.” His accusatory stare was ignored by Mrs Henderson who continued to tidy around the room. “I’ll get my coat. George, come on lad.” George pricked up his ears, stretched his front legs, and trotted after him.

Why the hell was he going? He’d planned on a quiet night in, catching up on some paperwork for the Stud and looking over some potential new bloodlines before trying to get some much needed sleep.

He was going to keep an eye on Pip and keep Miss Darling out of trouble. Yes, that was it. No way was he going to make sure Ana stayed away from the Waddington Single Farmers crowd. Nope. Not that, no Siree.

***

“So what’ll it be Matt?”

“Evening Bob, pint of the guest bitter for me and…” Matt glanced over at Ana and raised a brow in silent question.

“Hmm, I’ll have the same,” she replied confidently to Bob..

“Are you sure?” Matt said, raising his brow even higher.

She turned to face him and put a hand on her hip. “Yes. Why?”

Matt shrugged, “Just thought you’d prefer wine to beer, or at least something with a straw and cocktail umbrella in it.” He shared a knowing smile with the long serving bar owner..

“Is that so? It’s dangerous to make assumptions, Mr Darling. I should know, before I met you, I assumed all Yorkshire folk were salt of the earth types, friendly to all travelers,” she chastised, and Matt heard Bob try unsuccessfully to stifle his laugh as she continued, “Apparently us Southerners have been living under a misapprehension that all Yorkshire people are warm and welcoming, walk around sporting a flat cap with a friendly ferret in their coat pocket.” She held her hand up towards the bar. “No offence Bob. But then I met you.” She drilled Matt with an accusatorial stare.

Matt glanced back at the barman for support and took a deep breath. “Make that two pints Bob, and whatever Pip is drinking when she drags herself away from the games room.”

Bob was still struggling to keep a straight face. “Sure thing. You ’n your feisty southern lass go ’n grab a table and I’ll bring ’em on over.”

***

Matt ignored the barman’s comment as he turned to face her. “It seems Pip has abandoned you with me. Shall we?” Matt motioned for her to make her way over towards a quieter section of the bar and a table with two large red leather chesterfields in front of another roaring log fire. God she could get used to these, but there was no way she could have one fitted in her apartment in London. Not that it would ever get used, she was barely there… she caught herself and remembered that she’d be in New York soon and she doubted her apartment there, chosen by someone else, would have a real fire.

Once settled she took a closer look around the warm, friendly, and inviting pub. It had taken about thirty minutes to walk there, slowed down by the snow and slippery road. She and Pip had become instant friends and had linked arms and giggled like school girls as they slid around almost losing their balance several times while Matt muttered to himself as he walked behind them with George in tow. It had suddenly hit her how much she had missed close female companionship. She and her mother hadn’t been close. Ever. She’d never had a sister or female cousin and her closest friend had been Alix. She decided that she liked it and could very easily get used to it, and that scared her. Two days; that’s all you’re here for Ana, then back to reality.

The pub looked like an old coaching house with low hanging ceiling and exposed wooden beams: lots of brass trinkets scattered about and Toby Jugs hanging from those low ceilings. It was the sort of old style country pub that the big chains tried to replicate en mass, sometimes successfully. Both she and Matt had to duck their heads when they’d walked in and she’d smiled at the brass sign saying, “Duck or grouse”. She ducked.

It was made up of a number of smaller rooms and it was clear that each area was distinct. The room immediately to the right as they entered entertained the more senior patrons enjoying card games and dominos and she imagined that, before the smoking ban, the room would have featured a permanent smoky haze. She could hear more enthusiastic noise from the far end of the pub and Pip had told her that that was where the games room was before disappearing off in search of James, leaving her with Matt and making a vague promise that she’d be back shortly. She began to wonder if she had been played by Pip and whether there was an agenda she was missing…

The rest of the eclectic pub was made up of quiet tables with couples and families enjoying what looked like good home cooked food if the smells were anything to go by. There was a lovely atmosphere and every so often there would be a louder cheer and laughter from either the games room or from the chap’s playing dominos.

Bob delivered their drinks and made a quick getaway. “Cheers.” Matt held up his pint glass to her and took a long gulp.

“Cheers.” She sipped on the frothy beverage. Hmm, okay, an acquired taste but no way in hell was she going to say anything other than “Yum” as she placed her glass on the table and crossed her legs.

“Okay, so if I’m going to be staying with you, I think it’s only fair you tell me more about yourself. It’s clear that you have formed an opinion about me so it’s only fair I get to see whether my opinion of you is correct.”

He mimicked her position. “And what opinion is that? Not that I am remotely bothered, you understand, but please do enlighten me.”

“I’m not ready to disclose it yet,” she challenged. “I’ll reserve my final judgment until the end of this conversation.” She took another sip of the disgusting drink.

“Ha,” he chuckled, “what is this, Mr and Mrs?”

“What? Not that I’m saying you would but you could just Google me to find out everything about the nitty gritty of my life. I’m sure even my bra size is on Wikipedia if anyone was interested.” She wasn’t joking.

His intense stare made her feel nervous, but not in an entirely bad way.

“Okay, let me get you started. Why are you so grumpy?”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “Pass.”

“You can’t pass,” she said, shaking her head and leaning forward.

“I can do anything I want Miss Harper.”

Okay, the Grumpy Farmer was back, she thought as she rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair dramatically.

He sighed. “Okay. Fine.” He conceded in defeat, “You win, but I’m not talking about that, and you first.” He smirked, pointing his finger at her. “Favourite film?”

“When Harry Met Sally. You?”

“The Italian Job. The original,” he added, raising his finger. “I loved vintage mini’s as a kid. Favourite… er, book?”

“Easy, Gone with the Wind, hands down best book ever. You gotta love Scarlett’s independent nature and her attitude to life, not to mention the fabulous fashions of the mid eighteen hundreds. Not that I envy the tight corsets, although some of my shoes are likely just as painful. You?”

“Oh erm, I’m not sure, probably just some Dan Brown thriller or something.” He shook his head and picked up a beer mat, twirling it in his hands.

“Ah ah, no way Mr Darling. Come on, just tell me. If you don’t then I’ll just think the worst.”

“Okay, fine, it’s The Princess Bride. Okay.” He pulled at the corners of the mat.

Ana grinned and doing her best Vizzini impression lisped, “Inconceivable!”

“Yeah, Yeah laugh it up.” He gently tossed the beer mat at her and she caught it on instinct. “Impressive.”

“You’re a closet romantic aren’t you?! I love that book too. So did you read the kissing parts too?!”

“No,” he refuted too quickly, “it’s got really good action sequences in it and Mrs H used to read it to me when I was a kid, and then Pip demanded I read it to her when she was younger. She insisted on me doing all the accents. You know…” He cleared his throat and in a hilariously bad Spanish accent quoted, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” A wry smile curved from the corner of his mouth as reached to pick up his glass and drank his beer.

Ana couldn’t help but laugh as his awful Spanish accent. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. Don’t worry Farm Boy, your secret’s safe with me.”

He rolled his eyes at her at her teasing. “Favourite ice-cream flavour?” he asked as a distraction.

“Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter every time. Yours?”

He pursed his lips and dropped his brows. “You know, I really don’t think I have a favourite, probably just boring vanilla.”

“Even vanilla can be exciting… given the right topping,” she said, winking at him and then laughing at his bemused and slightly shocked expression. Was that a blush in his cheeks?

And so it continued…When he wasn’t being grumpy he was actually good company, but she couldn’t fail to notice the inquisitive looks they attracted from the locals. Matt was clearly known to all and attracted a female following of varying ages, and some of the looks she received were positively venomous. The message was clear: “he’s our hottie, so back off London chick.” She would’ve found it quite funny if she wasn’t in fear that the one with the blonde quaffed hairstyle, red talon nails, and matching lipstick might actually cause her some physical harm. She was a viper dressed perfectly in vintage Chanel. She had to give the snake kudos for that.

She averted her eyes from the unfriendly female stares and bent down to stroke George’s ears as he curled up in front of their table, basking in the heat from the fire. As she brought her head back up to the table, a young barmaid approached their table tentatively, finally gathering courage to come over and ask for her autograph. Anastacia didn’t fail to notice her lick her lips, flutter her eyes, and stick out her small chest. Ana was a model. She noticed such actions. She assumed it was for Matt’s benefit but he seemed completely disinterested and she actually felt sorry for the young woman. Slightly.

She caught Matt’s unease and displeasure as she signed the girl’s notebook and posed for a selfie with her, Matt having refused to take the picture.

“Doesn’t that…” he paused as if looking for the right word or trying not to swear, “bother you?”

“What, your rudeness, or her polite request for a photo?” she teased whilst sitting back in her chair. At his cool stare she continued. “It’s just part of the job. You probably have bits of yours that you hate but tolerate.” She took another sip of her drink before adding, “Like putting up with annoying models who land at your door with no coat and wearing fabulously inappropriate shoes.” She winked and shrugged her shoulders. “This is mine.”

His thoughts were clearly elsewhere as he stared into the crackling fireplace and ignored her. Stubborn man..

He stood abruptly. “Another one?” he asked, and she couldn’t help quoting back at him in the hope she could raise a smile.

“As you wish.” Maybe he had the book in the library back at the house aanndd… Maybe taking that sleeping pill and drinking so much alcohol wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had…

***

Matt had to hide his smile from her. Stubborn redheaded woman, he thought. It was obvious that she hated the pint of bitter but was clearly not going to let on. She may be a top model but she was no top actress. He couldn’t get his head around what her day to day life must be like: constant interruptions and silly requests for a signed piece of paper and a photograph. No privacy. Why the hell would that appeal to anyone?

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. George, the traitor, was curled up enjoying Ana’s attentions yet again. He lifted his head briefly to gaze lovingly at her. Good grief, he thought, he had it bad. As if hearing his thoughts, George turned his head to him and gave him a look which Matt loosely interpreted as “What the hell are you waiting for? Get on with it mate.”

He quickly averted his gaze back to the bar and dropped his head in shame. Yep, definitely jealous of his dog.

As he waited for Bob to finish serving him he reflected on his surprise at the fact that he was actually enjoying himself. He’d popped into the pub several times since Emily’s departure but never really just sat back and chilled, enjoying someone else’s company. How strange that a woman, apparently known all over the world but not to him and who represented almost everything that he despised, would be the one person he could actually talk to… that he actually wanted to open up to. Yet something still held him back. She was a stranger after all, even if his sister and Mrs Henderson were treating her like a long lost Darling, home for Christmas.

Okay, so he was attracted to Ana. There, he’d admitted it, if only to himself, and secretly he loved the fact that she was wearing his clothes. She was a model, her job was to attract, so he decided he wouldn’t continue to beat himself up about it. There was no point even thinking of taking it any further. He certainly wasn’t ready for another relationship and anyway, she likely had some macho male model/actor/singer as a companion. They probably stared at themselves in the mirror each morning before congratulating each other on their respective attractiveness.

He returned to their table and set their drinks down. “Are you married?” Shit, why the hell had he just blurted that out? His mouth and brain were clearly not on the same wave length.

It was Ana’s turn to choke on the dregs from her glass.

“Sorry, “she finally managed to mutter, still clearing her throat. “Erm, no I’m not. You?” she countered, raising her brow.

“No.”

Smooth Matt, real smooth.

“I think I need a brandy. You?” He needed to escape, re-group and calm the hell down before he asked her what her favourite colour was and if she’d like to go with him to the school disco. Purple, he thought, as he jumped up and headed back to the bar.

***

Matt had jumped up and almost ran to the bar before even waiting for her reply. She eyed their full glasses on the table. He seemed a bit out of sorts. Correction, more out of sorts than earlier. If she didn’t know better she’d have said he was nervous but she knew his type. Sexy, wealthy, sexy, self- confident business man. Had she mentioned he was sexy?

Why would he be nervous around her? There was something more to him, hidden behind a carefully constructed grumpy exterior that may or may not be his genuine character. Could it just be a shield? She knew all about shields; hers had been perfected over many lonely years. But if he had one, why?

She took the “not to be missed” opportunity to openly admire his backside yet again as he stood at the bar and spoke to Bob. She imagined a luscious ripe peach, just waiting to be bitten…

“My oh my George,” she bent down to whisper at him while her eyes stayed fixated on Matt’s behind, “Have you ever seen a more attractive backside?” She dropped her gaze to meet George’s dark brown eyes as they stared back up at her. She smiled as he tilted his head to one side as if to say, “you think?!” She continued, “Don’t you just want to grab it and squeeze? No? Well, I guess you’re a boy. Now if Alix was here I’d have to prop him up, wipe off the drool, and fan him with the beer mat.” She sat back in her chair and leaned her head to the side. “’’Course that backside could do with a good kick occasionally… just when he’s extra grumpy.”

Anastacia narrowed her eyes, fascinated as the Village Viper stalked her prey, deciding it was time to make her strike. Her prey was distracted, vulnerable. Matt’s body automatically jerked away as the viper touched his arm and whispered in his ear. It was as if he’d been electrocuted. She smiled to herself, contemplating how long to leave it until she rescued him. Surprisingly, he now seemed overly polite. It must just be her that caused his caustic reaction. She tried to analyse his strange reactions as he attempted to politely dislodge himself from the viper’s ’ O.P.I “Winter Berry" claws without causing offence. When Anastacia saw her reach up to touch his face, she’d seen enough. The man had already told her that he hated attention and he evidently needed rescuing.

Ditching her David Attenborough commentary, she used stealth to approach them unseen before slipping her hand around Matt’s backside and putting her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, kissing him on the cheek and being secretly thrilled that he hadn’t jerked away from her touch. “Hey honey, just thought I’d see what was taking you so long, I’m so thirsty. Hi.” She turned to the viper, fixing her best professional smile to her lips and offering her hand. “I’m Anastacia, or Ana as Matt prefers to calls me. Pleased to meet you,” she said, charmingly offering her hand.

The Village Viper gawped for a moment before her eyes widened with recognition and she accepted defeat. She shook her hand and backed off. “You too. See you at the Ball, Matt.” She slithered off back under her rock.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered in his ear, turning back to their table and re-settling herself in the comfy chair, pleased with a job well done.

Matt joined her with the drinks, his expression dark. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he complained, shaking his head. “That’s Phyllis Armer, she’s harmless, just lonely.” His eyes darted around the room as if to make sure there was no one around. “Her husband ran off with the mobile hairdresser a few years back. She owns the ladies’ dress shop in the village.” He sighed, shaking his head again. “Now we’ll have to deal with the fallout of the whole village thinking there is something going on between us.” That muscle in his jaw was twitching again, as she tried to ignore its increasing appeal.

“You said you hated attention and I thought she was giving you too much. So anyway.” She started, in order to change the subject, not willing to get into yet another argument with him. “What’s happening with this Ball she mentioned?”

Matt stared at here for a moment as if he had something on his mind or was trying to figure out some puzzle before he recovered.

“Er, the village has an annual Christmas Ball to raise funds for a local children’s home. It’s held in the village hall and all the locals club together to help with all the arrangements. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Sounds like fun. Am I invited?” she enquired, making no apology for being pushy.

His eyes widened slightly before he shrugged his shoulders. “You’d want to go to the Village Ball? Our Village Ball?” He raised his brow as if in disbelief.

At her nod, he continued. “Sure, if you like. Pip and Mrs H will be going and no doubt you’ll have the rest of the villagers falling over themselves to speak to you.”

Such enthusiasm. “Oh, I thought you said that they wouldn’t care less about me. I was looking forward to the anonymity,” she teased.

They spent the next hour or so chatting comfortably about safe subjects like their jobs and hobbies and it was clear to Ana that horses were Matt’s passion, not just something which obviously paid well. His passion was horses, hers was fashion.

“So there’s quite an age gap between you and Pip?”

“Hmm, she was our parent’s little mid-life surprise. My father wanted another Aston Martin and he got a baby girl.” Matt paused and gathered his thoughts. “She took our mother’s death badly so she’s taking some time off from university at the moment ’till she decides whether she’s going back. But of course she is going back to university, whether she knows it yet or not. I’m just giving her some time out. Her tutors are being very understanding and making allowances.”

“You look out for her. That’s nice.”

“Of course.” He shrugged his shoulders again. “She’s my little sister. My family. It’s my job and I promised our mother.” Matt glanced down at his glass, breaking their eye contact, but not before she caught their sadness, highlighted against the dark shadows beneath his lower lashes.

Ana was surprised by his powerful declaration about Pip. Despite her limited experience with men she knew it was rare for a man to speak so passionately and protectively about his little sister. It was clear that he adored his sibling and her heart ached to have someone care for her with such devotion. What would that kind of love and protection feel like? Yes, she had Alix, but it wasn’t the same as proper family.

He sighed heavily and shook his head as if to dispel sad memories. “Of course, there was that time I locked her in a wardrobe and then forgot about her and went out with a girl.” He winced and took a swig of his drink. “Better not mention that to her though, she’s still a bit sensitive about it.”

“Our secret. So that’s two secrets so far… anything else you want to confess?” She quickly added, “From one insomniac to another.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a problem sleeping.”

“Ha.” The short sound burst from her throat. “Now, I already told you about my Mensa membership so don’t treat me like an idiot. If you don’t want to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you and keeping you awake at night that’s fine,” she paused to take a sip of her drink before she shook her head, “but don’t lie.”

“I don’t know you,” he stated as a matter of fact.

She thinned her lips before saying, “Precisely. I’ll be gone and out of your life in a couple of days so you have no need to worry that I’ll make some judgment about you.” She quickly tilted her head to one side. “Well,” she continued, “none that you’ll be bothered by. I’m like the best free therapy you could get.”

He dropped his eyes away from her again. Her suspicions that there was something else going on with this man were confirmed, but clearly now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t going to talk. “I’m sorry about your mum,” she said, and he looked back into her eyes, smiled half-heartedly and nodded. “Mrs Henderson told me.”

“Yeah, well, it was for the best I suppose. She was in pain towards the end and ever since my dad died, she’d never really been the same. She never recovered. They were soulmates, married for over fifty years. They certainly set Pip and I an unattainable standard.” He cleared his throat. “So do you have siblings?”

She gave a humourless sharp laugh. “No, I barely have a mother. There was no way she was going to make the same mistake twice and have another kid.”

“You’re not close then?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, confused by her comment.

She gave him a mirthless smile. “Nope, we’re not even living on the same continent, haven’t for years. She’s always been focused on her career. From what little I know, she had a fling with someone, most likely a director or such like, and got knocked up. I still don’t know why she kept me.”

She caught Matt wince from the corner of her eye like she’d hit a nerve.

“She probably hoped she could snare the fella into some sort of advantageous marriage fiasco. I’m guessing he was probably married. Anyway.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “She had me but I have no happy memories of my childhood and no idea who my father is. Just ever changing ’nannies and being packed off to boarding school as soon as I was old enough. I’ve tried so many times over the years to get close to her but there’s only so many times you can get kicked, right? Even dogs learn eventually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said, honestly. “I can’t imagine not being close to my mother. Still, she must be proud of you. What you’ve achieved and everything?” at her wry look he quickly added, “Pip tells me your very famous.”

“You’d think.” Ana took a sip of her brandy. She was so not ready to have that conversation with a man she’d only just met… especially as he wasn’t up for quid pro quo.

Chapter Three

“Hey you two. Sooo, how’s it going?” Pip’s enthusiasm was contagious as she pulled up a spare chair and plonked her drink on the table and looked between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match. “Oh, sorry did I interrupt something?”

Matt was impressed that Pip had even noticed. Most of the time he loved his sister’s glass half full, fly by the seat of your pants, blasé attitude to life but right now… he wished she’d just shove off, which surprised him. After she’d abandoned Ana with him he’d silently cursed her and thought about the pro’s and con’s of locking her back in that cupboard in the attic. Would it be worth Mrs H’s wrath again?

“So, are you single Ana?”

“Pip, leave it.” Matt snapped. He’d only lock her in it for a short time…

“What?” Pip asked innocently, raising her shoulders and eyebrows before carrying on unperturbed. “Right,” she clapped her hands together, “now that Matt has probably bored you to tears talking about bloody horses, you up for some fun, karaoke style?” Her eyes sparkled and her smile was wide as she wiggled her shoulders.

“Oh I don’t think so Pip.”

But the disappointed look on Pip’s face was enough to change Ana’s mind..

“Okay. Okay, you win,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Let’s go before I change my mind. Thanks for keeping me company Matt.” She said quickly finishing her brandy before following Pip to the far end of the bar. Matt tracked her as she walked away, hypnotised by the sway of her hips.

As she vanished into the games room he bent down and stroked George, nursing the rest of his own brandy, ignoring the fact he was already missing Ana’s company and warm smile. He reflected on her earlier comment about rescuing him from Phyliss. He’d been momentarily stunned by her comment and that she’d actually remembered what he’d said earlier in the car and had acted in order to protect him; even though it was the worst thing she could have done. But she barely knew him.

She was like a breath of fresh air but he’d noticed the sad look in her eyes at the mention of her mother. He lent back, closed his eyes as images of a certain feisty redhead came to mind wearing a tight corset…where had she said he could find out her bra size??

***

Matt’s peaceful relaxation was shattered by ear-splitting, tuneless warbling coming from the far end of the pub. Even George woke up, pricked his ears, and whined.

“Good grief lad, we better go and put them out of their misery before they clear the pub.”

Matt walked into the games room at the far end and decided that he’d obviously snoozed for a while in front of the fire. Ana and Pip had empty shot glasses lined up in front of them and had their arms around each other holding a microphone in the middle; the height difference was comical. Matt couldn’t be sure but thought he detected the tortured sounds of the Bee Gee’s’ “You Should Be Dancing”. At least, that was the tune in the background, but Ana and Pip were too busy giggling and improvising to be bothered with actual lyrics… or tone.

He hoped she didn’t have plans to be a pop singer.

The girls had attracted an audience of the young village males who seemed keen to keep the girls supplied with alcohol.

Okay, enough fun.

“Yay, Matt’s here!”

His name was shouted by them both and echoed around the room through the speakers, which complained loudly with shrill reverb.

Matt winced. “Okay you two, time to let someone else have some fun. Share the lime light.”

Matt heard the grumblings from the lads who had congregated towards the back of the room. He silenced them with an arctic stare. Intelligent lads that they were, they recognised his alpha status in the room, dropped their eyes, and busied themselves with a game of pool.

“Boo boring!” Pip chanted. “We’re just having some fun Matt. Come on Matt, sing with your ’lil sister purrlleeeaasse…”

“I think Matt’s right Pip, too much fun for me. I’m shattered and… oops, possibly slightly inebriated.”

Matt noticed the slight slurring of her words right before she stumbled off the stage. He sprung forward to catch her.

“Whoops, falling off the stage, thank God that’s never happened to me before. Career suicide, Naomi never fully recovered. Thank you my—" She hiccupped. “Hero.”

“You’re welcome, now let’s get you home.” He placed his arm around Ana’s waist to help her. “You coming Pip?”

“No, not yet. James texted before and he’s on his way. He’ll bring me home later.”

“Fine, not too late though. If you’re not back before twelve I’ll be coming back for you.”

“Alright, alright, I’ve got it. Byyyeee Ana!!”

Matt turned back to Ana. “Ready?”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Or at least that’s what he thought she slurred, before she added, “even with the bags underneath. I know a beauty trick for that.” She hiccupped again and giggled.

Oh great. This was going to be a long walk home!

He manoeuvred them out of the games room and towards the exit. “Come on George. Night Bob, thanks.”

“Night Matt, see ya at the Ball. Oh and tell ya lass she’s welcome t’ come and see me ferret anytime she likes.”

Ana lifted her head slightly and giggled whilst slapping an open palm against Matt’s chest. “Naughty Barman Bob.”

Matt rolled his eyes and huffed. “He’s not propositioning you Ana. He really does have a ferret – and before you ask no, I don’t.”

***

Despite a lull in the snowfall, a cold blast of air hit them as they left the warmth of the pub and Matt was taken aback as Ana immediately snuggled into his chest in protest and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. The unexpected action had him frozen like the children’s snowman: standing proudly in the village square. He was completely out of his depth here. Did he put his arm around her or keep his distance? Although, untangling her from his body might be a bit tricky. The woman’s grip rivalled that of an octopus.

She mumbled into his chest."urghmattitsbloomfreezingoutereletsgobackinsidecozitsniceandwarm.”

Matt had to smile. Miss Harper was drunk and, evidently, she was an affectionate drunk. So much better than an aggressive or loud drunk.

“Hmmmyousmellsoooogood,” she slurred, and then giggled for absolutely no reason he could determine. Odd woman.

“Hmm hm, you do too.”

It was taking them forever to walk down the street. For every step forward, Ana seemed to force them to the side but in actual fact Matt was beginning to enjoy the excuse for the close contact that he didn’t have to think too much about. He eventually gave up trying to keep any distance between their bodies and brought his left arm around her shoulder, the other covering her clasped hands.

“Comeonemattpleaseletsgoovethehillpleaseprettypurleessee.”

It took a moment for him to translate her meaning.

“No way Ana, we’re sticking to the road,” he said sternly, shaking his head. He would not be moved on this.

Ana stopped abruptly and turned to face him, sulking as she put her hands on her hips. Or at least he thought that was the look she was going for. It rather missed its objective when her hands slipped forward off her hips and she started to fall forward. Matt stopped her by placing his hand on her forehead and pushing her back gently.

He arched a brow. “I see the stroppy two year old is back again, Miss Harper,” he said in a mocking yet light tone.

She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at him. He was relatively sure she hadn’t meant to cover his face in spittle.

Matt wiped his face and didn’t try to hide the smile creeping suspiciously to his lips. “Nice, Miss Harper. Very refined.”

“Ah there’s ya smile; see ya do have one farm boy.” She chucked at her own joke and dropped her head back onto his coat. “Dowhateveryoozewantimgoingoveryonderhill.”

Nope, not a clue this time.

Matt sighed. If this was what having a child would be like maybe he should re-think his desire to have lots of the little blighters.

“Right then come along Jill, over the hill we go. Let’s just hope it doesn’t end as badly for us.” He looked up at the stars as if seeking guidance.

“Whooohoo!” Ana jumped up and down like a child.

Matt steered them off towards the relatively small hill over which Melville House stood. It was usually a much quicker way into the village but tonight, with the snow and Miss Harper, he wasn’t so sure.

Ana snuggled towards him and linked her arm through his as they strolled along the end of the high street in anything but a straight line.

The snow was about a foot deep making the trudge over the hill take twice as long as usual, but thankfully the light cast by the full moon and the torch he had brought with him was enough to guide them.

Eventually they came to a sty and Matt helped Ana up from behind and guided her foot over. Wow, her bottom looked mighty fine in his jeans. Unfortunately as she brought her other foot over she caught it on the top of the wooden post and tumbled forward, face planting into the snow. She didn’t even have time to put her hands up in front of her face. Matt rolled his eyes knowing that she hadn’t hurt herself; the snow was too deep and had cushioned her impact. He jumped over the sty to help her turn over but couldn’t hold back the short laugh. Such an alien sound to him, but she was covered head to foot in snow including her face, her eyelashes, her hair.

“You look like the abominable snowman Ana.” He tried to help brush off the snow and hold back the fits of laughter he could sense were about to burst free. Ana squealed as George tried to lick her face.

Eventually she opened her mouth and spat out snow. That pushed him over the edge and he couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t want to stop; it had been a long time since he’d laughed at anything.

“Youfinditfunnymisserdarlin?” she asked, as she continued to clear her mask of snow.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you with all that snow in your mouth.” He bent over to hold his sides which now ached through laughter until a snowball hit him directly on his head.

He stopped laughing abruptly. “Oh, no you didn’t,” he lectured, trying to keep a straight face as he shook his head free of the snow. George barked excitedly and bounced through the snow like Tigger.

Ana squealed and gathered more snow and an impromptu snowball fight ensued, the winner of which was never declared.

Eventually, exhaustion had them collapsing in the snow, and Ana giggling again at the imprint of her body where she’d fallen. They made snow angels; Ana not taking no for an answer when Matt had originally refused. He glanced over at her as she stared at the stars in the clear sky, their fingertips just touching. An owl screeched from somewhere in the small copse.

“Itssobeautiful,” she said, softly. “When I was a kid I really did think there was a man in it.”

It took him another moment to translate her slightly slurred words and catch on that she was talking about the moon. He followed her gaze to the full moon sitting impressively low in the sky, a couple of wispy clouds silhouetted against it. Pip would call it a “creepy, Scooby-Doo moon”.

“’Course then my mother told me the truth, along with the fact that there was no Santa.”

He closed his eyes tightly. Christ, he’d never meet this woman’s mother but he already wanted to throttle her neck. His strong reaction shocked him as he wasn’t a violent man. He decided to blame it on the alcohol.

Their fingertips were still touching on top of the snow and he turned his head to the side. Her eyes were now closed and he had an uncomfortable desire to touch her face. She looked ethereal, a stunning Sleeping Beauty with her now dark, damp, auburn curls spread out in the snow around her like a halo. An uncontrollable force brought his hand to her face, delicately brushing the snow from her hair and reddened cheeks. Her eyes remained closed but he thought he felt her turn her cheek into his hand as if seeking his touch. Swallowing, he was losing the battle against his body’s growing desire as his eyes traced over her face. Her ruby red lips looked soft and inviting and he could almost imagine leaning over to kiss them. He’d start with her cheeks and nose before touching those lips. Would she encourage him or push him away?

The owl screeched again and brought sanity back to his thoughts. He noticed her body shiver and decided it was time to head indoors.

“Okay, time to go before we become popsicles.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up.

“Ouch,” she giggled and then hiccupped. “IthinkIvehurtoohoutchankle.” Another hiccup followed by a giggle as she clasped her hand over those lips.

“Can you put weight on it?” Ana took a tentative step forward and he saw her wince in pain.

“Oh. Okay, up you go.” Matt swiftly lifted her into his arms and started down the hillside. Ana once again snuggled into his neck and he felt her hot breath on his skin. Her cold nose tickled him as he felt the soft curves of her body beneath his hands. He tightened his hold and felt her relax in his arms and thought she might have drifted off to sleep.

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