Emerald Mistress

by Lynne Graham

  ‘Giving me useful hints on how best to achieve that objective?’

  Una nodded agreement, then got down on her knees to pet Samson and scratch Peanut at the back of the ear, in the precise spot that reduced the pig to an ecstatic porcine heap of contentment. ‘So I was furious when I thought you preferred a guy who’d two-timed you,’ the teenager admitted. ‘Rafael said that that was none of my business, and that I shouldn’t let it make a difference to me. I know that’s true, but we were friends and I couldn’t help being upset about it.’

  ‘I can understand that.’ But the faintest furrow still marred Harriet’s brow, for she believed every word that Rafael’s sister had said, and could not credit that the younger woman would have painted that warning on the stable wall.

  ‘Are you very angry with me?’ Una pressed tautly.

  ‘No, but from now on I think it would be easier for you if you took a little less interest in who your brother sees,’ she said quietly. ‘Now, if you’re here to stay I could really use an extra pair of hands around here today.’

  At lunchtime Tolly appeared, with a large old-fashioned covered basket. ‘I’ve brought you a picnic.’

  ‘Have you?’ Harriet smiled, delighted he had come to see her. ‘Oh, I could hug you! I hope you’re planning to join us?’

  His blue eyes shone with pleasure at the warmth of his welcome. ‘If you insist.’

  ‘Of course, I do. Una, come on. We’ll go and sit on the grass and enjoy the sunshine,’ she suggested.

  The meadow outside the stable yard was bright with wildflowers. Deep yellow cowslips, pretty pink lady’s smock and oxeye daisies flourished in the undisturbed ground. On the other side of the lane the field bristled with brightly coloured jumps. She helped Tolly spread the rug on the grass. He opened the basket to reveal a mouthwatering selection of picnic delicacies.

  ‘Delish,’ Una pronounced happily, and munched her way rapidly through a handful of tiny bites. After reaching for a more substantial roll to keep her going, she got up again to throw Peanut’s ball.

  ‘How’s your brother doing?’ Harriet asked the older man. ‘I heard he was ill.’

  ‘Eamon has heart trouble, but he’s making a good recovery. Rafael sent me over to Liverpool in his private jet and arranged for a consultant.’ Tolly sighed. ‘He’s a very generous, but only those who have experienced that side of him appreciate that. He doesn’t like to be thanked, and he doesn’t like the help he gives to be talked about. But he’s come to the rescue of many a needy family in this community.’

  ‘Harriet!’ Una shouted, loud enough and sharp enough in pitch to make Harriet flinch. ‘I think you should come over here…’

  The teenager was staring at Harriet’s car.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’ve got a flat tyre,’ Harriet groaned, crossing the lane to the gravelled parking area.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ Una queried with a revealing shudder.

  A funeral wreath composed of pink and white chrysanthemums was resting against the front windscreen of her car. Harriet’s tummy churned as if she had gone down too fast in a lift. The card had been turned out to display the time-honoured message: RIP. Handwritten in felt tip. Frozen to the spot, Harriet gazed at it in appalled disbelief. A creepy sensation of menace raised gooseflesh at the nape of her neck.

  ‘What is it?’ Tolly came to a halt beside her. The consternation on his kindly face was palpable.

  ‘Do you think it’s supposed to be a joke? It’s really freaky!’ Una exclaimed, backing off several steps. ‘I think you should call the guards right away.’

  ‘The guards?’ Harriet echoed, wondering how the wreath could possibly look so pretty and so threatening at the same time.

  ‘The garda…the police,’ the teenager clarified. ‘Wake up, Harriet! Someone must have come up here and left it while you were in the yard. You should ring those women who were doing the jumps and ask if they saw anyone acting strange up here.’

  Tolly had already moved to a spot a few yards away to employ a mobile phone.

  ‘No, don’t call the police…’ Harriet told him as he turned back to her. ‘Look, give me a minute to think about this.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve already called Rafael. He’ll know what to do,’ Tolly said soothingly. ‘Let’s not allow this to spoil our picnic.’

  But Harriet had been badly shaken, and she had no appetite left for food. In any case, Rafael arrived within five minutes. He treated the wreath to a cursory appraisal, instructed Tolly and Una not to touch it or the car, and suggested that he and Harriet talk indoors.

  Rafael pulled out her shabby office chair. ‘Sit down…you look like you’re in shock.’

  ‘Maybe because this isn’t the first thing that’s happened.’

  He leant back against the desk in a galling attitude of relaxation while she told him about the message on the stable wall. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone about it?’

  ‘I didn’t take it seriously…Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ Harriet gave him a look of rueful appeal. ‘You’ll probably hate me for admitting it, but at the time I was worried it was Una, because I knew she was annoyed with me. And, no, I don’t suspect her for one moment now, or think she’s in any way involved with putting that wretched wreath on my car! She’s not the type to sneak around behind backs.’

  ‘I would agree—my sister is much more in-your-face than that. I don’t think that we need to make a fuss about the wreath,’ Rafael drawled with measured cool, his brilliant eyes veiled by dense black lashes, ‘however, the garda should still be informed. I’ll have the car checked over for you as well.’

  ‘It’s not like me, but I’m just a bit nervous,’ Harriet muttered apologetically. ‘Do you have any ex-girlfriend who is likely to qualify for the bunny-boiler stakes?’

  ‘Anything’s possible.’ Rafael shrugged a broad shoulder in the same nonchalant fashion that suggested bunny boilers were no big deal, and she found that attitude wonderfully reassuring.

  ‘I don’t like knowing that someone was bold enough to plant that thing on my car in broad daylight,’ she admitted.

  ‘Davis says the yard now attracts a steady stream of callers, so one more car wouldn’t attract attention.’

  ‘Do you think it’s all right to go ahead with the gymkhana tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course it is!’ he responded with emphasis. ‘You worry too much. I’m sure this is a tasteless practical joke and nothing more.’

  As soon as he had left Harriet, Rafael crossed the yard to warn Davis not to let Harriet out of his sight until his own security men were in place to watch over her. He called the head of his protection team, discussed events so far, with particular reference to his suspicion that the same malicious party had unbolted the gate and let out the horses the other night. He pointed out the need for discretion in Harriet’s vicinity because he did not want her to be alarmed. He also organised extra security men to cover the gymkhana. At that point he drove down to the cottage and was just in time to catch Boyce before he went out. Some time later the two men parted, in full agreement on how to deal with the situation; Boyce’s opinion of Rafael had rocketed…

  *

  Harriet’s first surprise of the day took place when Boyce got out of bed at the crack of dawn and insisted on accompanying her. She was even more taken aback when he took the broom she lifted out of her hand and told her that he would make himself useful sweeping the yard into a state of perfect presentation.

  A gorgeous arrangement of flowers awaited her in the tiny office. The card prominently displayed bore Rafael’s distinctive signature, and she found herself smiling from ear to ear. After yesterday’s unpleasant delivery, the bouquet was a happy thought on his part and she could not stop thinking about him. He hadn’t said sorry but then she hadn’t said as much as she should have done to excuse the hideous insult of her having addressed him by Luke’s name. Over all, she decided ruefully, the odds were fairly even between them. If he had called her Bianca, and followed the off
ence up by taking in a fanciable house guest, she would have been equally suspicious and quick to cut her losses. Nor, after Luke’s behaviour, would she have been eager to risk her pride in confrontation and a demand for an explanation.

  Rafael called her on her mobile phone while she was helping to check the course for the obstacle race.

  ‘I love the flowers!’ she exclaimed, the instant she recognised his dark drawl, and then she winced at her own lack of cool.

  ‘I hoped you would. I’ve organised some helpers for you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not necessary,’ she hastened to tell him.

  ‘Just occasionally you may wish to recall that I’m your partner,’ Rafael murmured lazily. ‘It’s the holiday season and the sun is shining. You’ve publicised the gymkhana far and wide. The event is likely to be well attended.’

  ‘I certainly hope so.’

  ‘Large crowds require supervision and facilities. My staff have put some extra arrangements in place to cover all contingencies. You need do nothing but accept the discreet assistance of the expert event organisers I employ.’

  ‘My goodness! Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression, but this is a very small meeting…I’ll be lucky to scrape together a couple of hundred people! Are you planning to put in an appearance?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Two young women presented themselves soon after that call, and were followed by several well-built men. Soon the first keen competitive parent arrived, complete with trailer and child. When two horseboxes pulled up within minutes Harriet was very grateful when one of the men offered to take charge of the parking area and ensure that the access lanes were kept clear. It was not very long before she began to see that she had underestimated the potential appeal of a country day out; even though it was still early there was a regular flow of traffic. A garda car containing two uniformed officers had taken up position as well.

  A queue had already formed in the tack shop. Boyce was manning the counter, doling out change and wrapping curry brushes.

  ‘You know, you could make a bomb as one of them lookalikes,’ an admiring teenage girl was telling him. ‘You’re the picture of that Boyce Taylor from 4Some. You’re a lot smaller than he is, though.’

  ‘Oh, well…can’t have everything.’ Boyce was hamming it up for all he was worth.

  ‘I don’t think you’re half as cute as that guy in 4Some,’ Harriet interposed deadpan, as she stepped in to take his place.

  Her brother’s eyes danced with merriment. ‘Thanks a bundle.’

  Mid-morning she went to watch the dressage competition in the paddock. She loved seeing the earnest children perform on their fat, well-groomed ponies. Fergal joined her, helpfully identifying the local kids and their parents for her benefit.

  ‘When I found out Boyce was your brother I decided not to tell Una that he was that singer,’ he shared rather abruptly. ‘She knows you’re related now, but I’m sure you’ve been wondering why I didn’t put her right straight away.’

  Until that point Harriet had not been aware that Una was still in the dark about anything, and she turned to study Fergal with dawning comprehension. ‘Are you saying that you’ve known all along who Boyce really is?’

  ‘Harriet…he’s freakin’ famous! But he’s entitled to privacy if he wants it. Una would have been demanding his autograph and flirting like mad with him. I thought it was better that she didn’t come round while he was staying. Not that I wouldn’t have trusted him—or her.’

  Ruddy self-conscious colour lay over his cheekbones and Harriet took pity on him, because she was amused by the extent of his protectiveness towards the younger woman. ‘But you thought it was better not to take the risk. Who else knows Boyce is the lead singer of 4Some?’

  ‘A good number.’ Fergal grinned. ‘He’s pure magic on that flute. Sure, anyone watching him would guess he was a professional and a star.’

  Harriet looked past him to where Rafael’s customised and very distinctive Range Rover had purred to a halt. Her every nerve-ending sizzled into life and she left Fergal to head in that direction. But when she saw the gorgeous woman who had climbed out of Rafael’s car it was like someone had closed a cruel hand round her windpipe. Unfortunately he had noticed her approach, and it was too late to practise avoidance tactics.

  Exuding class and sleek good looks in his country casuals, Rafael glanced at the crowds milling round the field and remarked to Harriet, ‘Give yourself a pat on the back. You must be a whiz at PR.’

  ‘And you were right. I was wrong. We’re being mobbed.’

  Big brown eyes sparkling, the brunette flicked back her long black hair from her exquisite face and treated Harriet to an engaging smile. ‘Hi…I’m Frankie.’

  Harriet could not believe there was a red-blooded male within ten miles unaware of who Frankie Millar was. A former glamour model, Frankie had made a highly successful transfer into the world of television as a presenter. Popular and talented, she now interviewed the rich and famous on her own chat show. He must have slept with her last night. Try as she might, that was the only thought in Harriet’s head. She felt sick. But it was two days since Rafael had told her that he wanted her back, and she had turned him down and done a runner, so what had she expected? Guys that rich, handsome and in demand did not go solo for long.

  ‘Rafael tells me you’re his first business partner ever,’ Frankie continued cheerfully. ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Interesting. There’s not a lot of discussion about decisions, and there’s a lot of the unexpected.’ To avoid looking direct at Frankie, who was adding being warm and friendly to the unwelcome parade of her virtues, Harriet focused with a wooden smile on the rosettes being handed out to the winners in the obstacle race. ‘But he has this very irritating habit of picking up on the things I miss, so I can’t complain. Excuse me—I have some things to check on. Lovely meeting you, Frankie.’

  As Harriet walked away, with an eagerness she could not hide, Frankie watched Rafael stare after the curvaceous redhead with the kind of acquisitive intensity he usually reserved for thoroughbred racehorses.

  ‘You should’ve mentioned I was married to your best friend,’ Frankie told him ruefully.

  Rafael shot his companion a wickedly amused glance. ‘It was a deliberate oversight.’

  ‘You sneaky bastard!’ the brunette gasped, as she realised that she had been used to test the water. ‘I hope she gives you hell!’

  ‘She probably will. She’s no push-over.’

  ‘If you don’t tell her I’m a mate, I will,’ Frankie threatened.

  Blinded by the raw surge of conflicting feelings surging up inside her, Harriet trudged slowly through the ranks of parked cars. Rafael had found a replacement for her and, what was even worse, a thinner, prettier and sexier lady, with a glamorous television career. She heard a shout and thought she recognised her half-brother’s voice. Frowning, she glanced up from the ground. Boyce was racing across the lane as if he was chasing after someone. In fact several people from different locations seemed to be giving chase, and she spun round to see what was causing the commotion. Had there been an accident? Or a theft? Wheels were screaming over gravel too fast, and she only had an instant to register that a car with a sobbing woman at the wheel was bearing down on her.

  Someone shouted at her. Suddenly there was a blur of movement and she was snatched off her feet and hauled clear of danger. Her shoulder caught a glancing blow off the wing of a parked van before she hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. Winded and shocked, she gasped and fought to fill her squashed lungs with oxygen again. She heard the horrible crunch of tearing metal as the car, which had missed her, took the corner too wide and too fast and cannoned into a stationary vehicle.

  Rafael bent over her. His eyes were bright as the heart of a fire, his lean, dark face displaying a level of anxiety that she had never expected to see there. ‘Are you hurt?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me you’re OK.’

  Her shoulder was throbbing and her whole body ached, for sh
e had hit the ground hard when she fell, but in that moment the discomfort meant nothing to her. He had risked his own life to yank her out of the path of a car.

  ‘Frankie’s married to my oldest friend. I used her as bait to see if it bothered you to see me with another woman.’ He grabbed up her hand and his own was not quite steady. He turned his beautiful mouth into her palm to press a kiss there before lifting his head again and muttering roughly, ‘I’m a stupid smart-ass bastard. I might have killed you!’

  ‘It’s all right…’ Her throat tightening with the onset of shock and strong emotion, she was blinking back tears. ‘I like smart-asses.’

  For a split second she thought he was about to kiss her. Then the raised voices and the tearing sound of a woman crying intruded. Rafael vaulted upright and helped her up. ‘I think we’ve caught your stalker…I just hope she hasn’t hurt anybody else.’

  ‘Stalker?’ Her attention locked in consternation to the tableau playing out thirty feet away.

  Mercifully nobody appeared to have been hurt in the accident, but a youthful blonde woman was having noisy hysterics at the bonnet of the Porsche that had just missed hitting Harriet. For some reason she appeared to be surrounded by a good proportion of Rafael’s events organizers, and a garda officer for good measure. But what drew Harriet’s concerned scrutiny was the sight of her brother, lodged ten feet away. He was staring at the blonde with an unusually bleak expression, and then he swung away.

  ‘Boyce!’ the blonde called frantically after him. ‘Help me…don’t leave me here like this!’

  Shoulders hunched, Boyce walked straight over to Harriet and put his arms round his sister. ‘I’m so sorry…I’m really sorry about all of this. Are you all right? Thank God you’re not hurt. If Gemma had run you over I don’t think I could have lived with myself—’

  ‘Why should you be sorry?’ Harriet winced as the blonde began to sob with noisy abandon. ‘Gemma? Do you know her?’

  ‘Let’s take this discussion elsewhere. We’re beginning to attract attention.’ An arm around Harriet’s form, Rafael led the way over to his car, saying only loud enough for her to hear, ‘The stalker is your brother’s ex, Gemma Barton. She went overboard for him and he broke it off. But she made it tough for him to cut loose completely and he was glad to get away on tour. Evidently she followed him over to Ireland and assumed that you were his latest squeeze.’