Emerald Mistress

by Lynne Graham

  Harriet lifted her chin. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

  ‘Learn to accept compliments, gratitude and gifts with grace,’ Rafael countered, smooth as silk. ‘I won’t change the habits of a lifetime.’

  Hope leapt inside her and she crushed it back, angry with herself. She was not going to start reading unintentional personal messages into his every stray remark. Nor was she planning to jump with painful anticipation every time the phone rang over the next week. ‘Neither will I,’ she traded, smothering a suggestive yawn in a hint that he was keeping her standing around on the doorstep.

  After Luke, she told herself staunchly, she was as hardened and tough as old boots, and Rafael Cavaliere Flynn was already the equivalent of ancient history. He had cooled off and her pride had suffered a momentary pang. But that was all! And naturally there was a more positive angle to be considered. Now that she had lived through the proverbial rebound romance, popular report suggested that she would be in prime emotional condition to embrace a deeper and more lasting relationship with someone else. If right at that moment she felt that she would never in the longest day she lived look at another man again—well, no doubt that was only because she was feeling tired and battle-weary.

  ‘Rafael…my sister and her husband will have gone to bed if you don’t hurry up!’ Una wailed from the Lamborghini. ‘If we wake the baby Philomena will be furious!’

  ‘Relax…I’ve told them that you’ll be staying at Flynn Court tonight.’

  Rafael continued to look at Harriet until she was rigid with nervous tension and the stress of avoiding a direct encounter with his all too knowing gaze. When he finally headed back to the sports car Harriet sagged and shut the door fast.

  The phone rang. It was Boyce.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day,’ her brother complained. ‘Guess what? I’m flying in to Kerry airport tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ Harriet was delighted at the news that she was about to have a house guest.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RAFAEL WAS RUDELY awakened by an infernal noise that in terms of annoyance fell somewhere between an animal shriek and chalk scraping down a blackboard.

  A scraggy black and white rooster had taken up a perch on the worn statue of Neptune on the paved terrace below his bedroom. Rafael sprang out of bed and hauled up the nearest sash window. The bird loosed one more teeth-clenching screech before hopping niftily down and taking urgent flight over the fence to disappear into the long grass in the field.

  ‘I can’t believe that neither of you heard the hideous racket that bird was making this morning,’ Rafael commented at the breakfast table.

  ‘I sleep like the dead.’ Una was loyally determined to protect Harriet’s rooster, Albert, from being identified as the culprit.

  ‘At over seventy I can’t expect to have the hearing of a young man.’ Tolly cast his amused blue eyes down.

  Harriet’s day had enjoyed an equally lively beginning. Having slept in late, she got up in panic mode. She had to skip breakfast and race straight up to the yard to help feed the horses, for she felt that it was only fair to take advantage of Davis’s presence there when she was away from home. A large delivery arrived for the tack shop and she had to check the goods and set them out. After all, on Saturday next she would be open for business. To publicise that opening she had, with the help of several keen parents, organised a mini gymkhana for the same day, and had promised a substantial percentage of its profits to a children’s charity. The attendance of the local radio station at the event was part and parcel of her determination to promote the Flynn Court Livery yard in every way possible.

  By noon she was still running against the clock and had to flee back to the cottage in a mad rush to get changed. Dressed in the first things that met her frantic hand, she sprinted out to her car. She was halfway to the airport before she appreciated that she was wearing a white T-shirt with a short pink canvas skirt that was the biggest current mistake in her wardrobe but which she had been too stingy to dump.

  Her brother’s flight had already landed. Looking anything but anonymous, he was seated on a bench sporting large sunglasses and a Texan hat pulled down low over his spiky blond locks. If she had shaken him he would have rattled with exclusive designer tags.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late!’ she gasped.

  With the ready warmth that made him so well loved by his entire family, as well as his fans, Boyce wrapped his arms round his sister in a bear hug.

  Harriet stared at the small discreet dressing over his nose. ‘My goodness—what happened to you? Have you been in an accident?’

  ‘No…I got my nose straightened out a few days ago,’ Boyce admitted, in a pronounced whisper that warned her that his venture into the realms of cosmetic surgery was a matter of extreme confidentiality.

  She was astonished, but she swallowed back any adverse comment on his decision. After all, her brother worked in an industry that was highly looks-orientated. He had been born with a snub nose that turned up at the tip in a slightly elfish fashion, and perhaps he had been teased about it, she thought ruefully. It was, however, a family feature they had shared until he’d decided to dispense with it, and she had to resist a strong urge to shape her own offending nose with apologetic fingers.

  Picking up his bag, Boyce ran his eyes over her and slowly shook his head. ‘By the way, you look amazing. Getting shot of old Luke was obviously the best thing that ever happened to you!’

  ‘Flatterer.’ Harriet turned her head in reaction to an indefinable sense that she was being watched. Her attention sped over several clumps of passengers but nobody appeared to be looking in their direction.

  ‘I’m not flattering you,’ her brother argued. ‘You’re glowing because you’ve got your energy back. Last time I saw you, you were way too thin—and you were always exhausted. You’ve grown your hair and it suits you. Even the skirt’s a big improvement. Luke liked you to dress like an old lady, in drab colours.’

  Harriet blinked, and then released an involuntary laugh. ‘Thanks for making me feel good!’

  ‘Why do you always refuse to believe in the positive things that people say about you?’

  Harriet went pink. ‘Do I?’

  ‘It’s annoying,’ he informed her with brotherly bluntness.

  ‘You’re the second person to tell me that in twenty-four hours. I suppose I’ve never been very confident about my looks.’

  ‘You should be comfortable in your own skin,’ Boyce declared impressively.

  ‘That sounds good, coming from a bloke who’s just had a nose job.’

  ‘You’ve still got the knack of taking your little brother down a peg or two, haven’t you?’ Boyce shook his fair head with a rueful grin of appreciation, curving an arm round her to point her in the direction of the exit. ‘Come on—let’s get out of here. I don’t want to run the risk of being recognised.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think you’ve got much to worry about around here,’ she told him soothingly. ‘The price of land and the cost of farm feed are of more interest to my neighbours.’

  Boyce loved the lush wildness of the landscape, and the quiet, often wooded winding roads. He even thought it was a treat to get stuck behind an ancient tractor driven by an even more ancient little old man, who helpfully kept on waving them on at blind corners. The cottage, with its eccentric roof, struck him as amazingly small and appealing. Even the guest room, which she had brightened up with her own furniture and bedding, looked very presentable. The huge television she had put in the kitchen where the desk used to be made his eyes light up.

  ‘I was scared you mightn’t have one,’ Boyce confided with a shudder. ‘I couldn’t live without the football.’

  Harriet grinned and handed him the remote control. There was no need to tell him that she had only bought it the week before, in anticipation of his visit. She wanted him to feel at home and enjoy his stay.

  Fergal knocked on the door when they were abo
ut to have the meal she had prepared the night before. Swearing under his breath, Boyce shot out of his seat and hurriedly backed out of the room. ‘Do you think he saw me?’

  ‘Of course he did…Look, Fergal’s up here every day, seeing to his horses—’

  ‘He has no need to know who I am…just say I’m a friend.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.’ Fergal scanned the empty kitchen behind her in some surprise. His attention returned with strong curiosity to the table set for two, with a crisp white cloth, a bottle of wine and crystal glasses.

  ‘I have a friend from London staying.’ Harriet was uncomfortable, for skirting round the truth did not come naturally to her.

  ‘Shy sort of bloke, is he?’

  Harriet went pink. ‘I suppose he is.’

  ‘Right…I’ll not interrupt you, then.’

  ‘No, really, there’s no need for you to rush off.’

  Fergal gave her bemused look. ‘But when you’re all dressed up and you’ve got the wine out even I can see that it’s a special occasion. Can I mention this to my mother?’

  ‘Your mother?’ It was Harriet’s turn to be bewildered.

  He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘She’s decided you’ll make me a good wife.’

  Harriet winced. ‘Oh, dear…’

  ‘But hearing that you’re entertaining another man will change her mind.’

  ‘Sing like a canary,’ she advised him.

  Boyce reappeared as soon as Fergal had departed. ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘No—with the result that he now thinks you’re a boyfriend!’

  ‘If he’s interested, it’ll fire him up. If he’s not, it won’t matter,’ her brother countered with his happy-go-lucky grin. ‘But as long as you’re the only person who knows who I really am I’m safe from the paparazzi.’

  ‘A lot of celebrities live on the west coast of Ireland. I honestly don’t think you need to hide.’

  ‘I’m just being discreet. I definitely didn’t come here to hide. First on my agenda is a visit to the old place where Mum was born…have you been there yet?’

  ‘No. When you said you were coming to visit I decided that that was one trip we should make together. How is Mum?’ she asked.

  Her sibling grimaced. ‘Not too pleased that I’m here instead of in Paris…and awash with wedding fever.’

  Harriet gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s all right. That’s pretty much what I expected. How are the happy couple?’

  ‘How honest can I be?’

  ‘I want you to be brutally honest.’

  ‘Alice doesn’t fit your shoes very well.’

  ‘I had no idea she was trying to.’

  ‘She’s tripped up a few times, but I guess I shouldn’t go into details.’

  ‘You said you wouldn’t take sides.’ Harriet topped up his wine glass with a shamelessly encouraging hand. ‘I’m over Luke, but I’m still very human and curious.’

  ‘Alice cracked jokes at some legal dinner and offended some of his uptight colleagues, his friends all bore her to death, and after spending one weekend up North with his parents she flatly refuses to go back there. Luke went for the party girl and the forbidden thrills. She went for the clever-Dick lawyer. But I don’t think either of them were prepared for the daily trials of living together.’

  Boyce had always been extremely astute. That skill had helped him avoid the most obvious pitfalls when he’d found fame at such a young age. Harriet was startled by his take on Alice and Luke’s relationship, but impressed. She was also relieved to appreciate that her kid sister’s betrayal now hurt her more than the recollection of her former fiancé’s treachery. She had soon seen that Luke was not worth her grief, but she still missed the bond she had shared with Alice before Luke came between them and made her a rival to be scorned and deceived in her envious half-sibling’s eyes.

  ‘So, what about your love life?’ Feeling that the past should now be left in its proper place, Harriet changed the subject.

  Boyce looked surprisingly serious and compressed his lips. ‘I got into something hot and heavy with a girl. It was hard to deal with at the time, but it’s all done and dusted now.’

  At that point, while Harriet was stifling her curiosity and wondering if she dared ask for more details, the doorbell sounded. It was a special delivery and she signed for a small parcel. The gift card bore Rafael’s signature. Surprise gripped her, along with a surge of helpless anticipation and excitement. Carefully she removed a jewel case from the padded delivery pouch. Whatever it was, she was giving it right back.

  She flipped open the lid to reveal an emerald and diamond-studded gold horseshoe brooch. The jewels were so bright they dazzled her. It was a truly gorgeous thing. Returning it was going to hurt, but she felt that to accept so costly a gift on so short an acquaintance was absolutely out of the question.

  ‘Bling-bling!’ Boyce decried, with a chuckle of amusement as he peered over her shoulder. ‘A horsy brooch and, what’s even worse, one chosen with a shocking lack of good taste. Fake jewels should never be so obviously bogus.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Harriet shut the case again fast, happy for him to continue in that assumption and save her from the humiliating necessity of explaining the whys and wherefores of her own recent behaviour.

  ‘Still, I guess you’re the type of woman who really goes in a big way for horsy brooches.’ Sensitive as always, Boyce misunderstood his sister’s tension and pulled a comical face of apology. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so tactless. I’m glad you’ve got a bloke in your life again.’

  ‘I haven’t…er…this is only a little friendly gift from someone who took me to the races the other day,’ Harriet mumbled evasively.

  Boyce spent most of the following day in bed, catching up on his sleep. Harriet had heard Rafael take off in the helicopter at eight that morning and it was very late that evening when she heard him return.

  Monday dawned with the drenching sunlight of a hot summer day. Harriet withstood the strong urge to phone Rafael at an inexcusably early hour just to hear his voice as she explained that, while she very much appreciated the brooch and didn’t want to offend him, she just couldn’t accept it. She decided that a face-to-face meeting would be friendlier, and less open to misinterpretation than a phone call.

  *

  While Harriet was still agonising over the delicate matter of how best to approach Rafael without giving him the impression that he was being chased or encouraged in any way, he was picking up Una from her half-sister’s home in the village. He should have been in Rome, but he had been forced to cancel his meetings. Una had panicked when he told her about the appointment he had arranged for her with an educational psychologist in Tralee. He had swiftly appreciated that if he did not want to risk the teenager going missing again she would need his personal support before she could face the prospect of sitting any type of test.

  Una clumped into the Range Rover in big heavy boots. Rafael stared: she looked seriously scary. She was clad from head to toe in gothic black. Her eyes were heavily coloured in a variety of plum and purple shades, her lips were crimson against her pale skin. She was a dead ringer for a vampire from an old movie. He wanted to laugh, but was too shrewd to make the mistake.

  ‘Did you know that Harriet’s got back with her ex?’ Una demanded.

  Rafael went very still. ‘Her ex?’

  ‘Luke. A neighbour runs a taxi service to the airport and he saw Harriet picking up a blond bloke yesterday. She was hugging and kissing him…yeuk!’ Una confided in a revolted tone. ‘I called Fergal to ask him, and apparently he interrupted their big celebration meal at the cottage. So it’s true. But I can’t believe it. I thought she had more pride. Are you annoyed?’

  ‘Why would I be?’ Rafael fielded, and his half-sister subsided into silence.

  He began to reverse the four-wheel-drive back on to the road. He felt nothing. He never felt anything. Messy reactions were for other people, and not something he could identify with eit
her. He had still been a child when he had learned absolute control of his emotions. Forced to witness Valente’s cruelty, and powerless to intervene, Rafael had switched off his human responses: it had been a simple matter of sanity and survival.

  *

  Harriet and Boyce enjoyed a hearty breakfast before making use of Tolly’s hand drawn map to go and find the house where Eva and generations of Gallaghers before her had been born. The property was called Slieveross, and was every bit as remote in location as Tolly had warned. Although the land lay only a couple of miles out of Ballyflynn, they had to trek up a long steep lane across the lower slopes of a mountain. The hedgerows were bright with the lanterns of the fuchsia bushes that grew wild. They stopped several times to catch their breath and enjoy the spectacular panorama of the jagged coastline. Far below them the white foam of the Atlantic breakers battered the steep cliffs. The little farmhouse was a ruin in the lee of the hill.

  ‘What a place this would be to get away from it all,’ her brother breathed, in a tone of awe and longing that took her by surprise. ‘Look at that view. It’s out of this world. There’s not a soul in sight. I can’t even see the road. Can you hear that silence? I can’t remember when I last heard silence. I’d pay a fortune for the chance to buy and restore this place.’

  ‘But Mum would go mad!’ Harriet was torn by simultaneous dismay and hope. She knew that she would get the blame if Boyce, who was Eva’s pride and joy, put down roots in Ireland. Yet there was nothing that would please her more than the luxury of seeing a little more of him.

  ‘Perhaps it’s time she got over that. I don’t see why it should influence me. I’d like a base where I could write music, unwind…Here I could just be an ordinary guy.’

  Boyce had always been a mover and a shaker. On the way home he made her call in at the auctioneers in Ballyflynn, to see if she could find out who now owned Slieveross. That party’s identity confirmed, and after a further visit to Mr McNally, the solicitor, Boyce returned to the cottage with plans to get his business manager on the phone to discuss the pros and cons of acquiring a home in Ireland.