‘Can’t stand the heat, eh?’
‘I don’t think he’s been asked.’
Jago must know she was talking about him. She sounded guilty as sin but, still, he didn’t look up at her.
‘OK, thank you for calling,’ she said, eager to end the call. She could phone Theo back when she was on her own.
‘Miranda, wait.’
She squirmed. ‘Yes?’
‘I’ve put this off for far too long. Would you like to come out for a drink with me sometime? Not the Pilchard, somewhere away from the Mount and the village so we can talk properly.’ Miranda glimpsed Jago, eyes still riveted on the report as Theo went on. ‘What about Wednesday? That would be best for me as I’m definitely not on call and we won’t be interrupted.’
‘Wednesday?’ She scrabbled through her mental diary. ‘Well, I was hoping to go to the see the Fishermen’s Choir that night. They’re appearing at the Festival and I wanted to meet them in person and thank them for donating their fee to the Lifeboats.’
‘Where are they doing the gig?’
‘Porth Ivo.’
‘That’s not far. Why don’t I sail you there, weather permitting? One of the lifeboat crew has a cousin who sings with them.’
‘But do you really want to see them? Won’t it be a busman’s holiday?’
Theo laughed. ‘You know I love sailing and I can put up with a few sea shanties for one night. I’ll pick you up by boat or in the car, depending on the tides and weather. I’ll phone you again when I know which.’
‘Wednesday. Of course,’ she repeated.
‘Miranda, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. See you then.’
Gently, she replaced the receiver. Surely, Jago must have realised she was setting up a date by now but he still appeared to be absorbed in his work. Too absorbed, in Miranda’s opinion. Had he guessed that it had been Theo on the phone? Of course, it didn’t matter if he had. It was none of his business and of no relevance whatsoever to his life or Miranda’s. And there was no earthly reason for her to refuse Theo’s invitation. Jago had made it brutally clear he wasn’t interested in taking their relationship further and she wanted to prove to herself that could move on from her crush on Jago.
Ten minutes later, after she’d stared at her own screen without taking in a single word, she heard Jago snap shut a box file and replace it in the cupboard.
She treated him to a beaming smile that was as much guilt as relief. ‘Taking a break?’ she asked.
‘I need to go up to the castle. I’ve got a video conference with my legal team about the Southcastle contract.’
‘Oh.’
He came over to the desk and glanced down at her. ‘Have a lovely evening, Miranda. You know, Theo is right; you really should get away from this place.
The tides and weather being fair, Theo arrived on schedule at the Mount, allowing plenty of time to sail to the busy harbour at Porth Ivo. Ronnie and Neem waved them off from the quayside. Ronnie almost danced with glee because she’d finally ‘got Theo and Miranda together’ as she put it. At least, two people were happy; not all love affairs were doomed, thought Miranda at the unlikely sight of Neem giving Ronnie a piggyback to her cottage. Tonight, she hoped that getting to know Theo better, away from work and the Mount, might mark a new start for her.
Miranda wasn’t a great sailor but she knew the ropes well enough to help Theo crew his small yacht safely in to the mousehole-sized harbour at Porth Ivo. After tying up, they joined the crowds heading to one of the harbourside inns where the choir had set up ready to sing.
It was a repertoire Miranda had heard before yet still loved; Cornish standards like ‘Trelawny’, sea shanties, folk songs and the odd modern track, given an unusual twist. The choir had rich, evocative voices that told of people lost at sea and the pride of local fishing communities; Miranda could almost feel the sea spray whipping her face as they sang. It should have been cheesy, but it wasn’t, not sung here by people who really did live, work and die by the sea.
‘I have to go and thank them,’ she said as the applause died down after their first half set and everyone dived for the bar.
‘Sure. Let’s say hello.’ Theo slipped his arm around her back, his hand firmly on her waist. Miranda asked herself how that felt. Sexy? She wasn’t sure. Comforting? Not really. Proprietorial? Where had that word come from? She tried to relax as they wandered among the audience in the interval. She was sure his grip tightened when they stopped to chat to his friends and realised that Theo obviously wanted people to know she was with him. She was with him, for that evening anyway, and it was flattering, but she didn’t feel ready to be labelled as his girlfriend.
She managed to fight her way through the crowds to the singers, enjoying pints of cider and Doom Bar ale. After thanking them for their generosity and saying how much she enjoyed the gig, Theo bought some of the singers a pint and Miranda slipped away to the loo. On the way back, she bumped into Karen from the Pilchard.
‘Hello there!’
‘Oh hello, Karen.’
Karen smiled. ‘What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or is it a guilty conscience?’
Miranda laughed. ‘No … um … I’m just surprised you got a night off from the pub. You’re always so busy.’
‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I got Ray to hold the fort while he’s not at sea. I wanted to see this gig. One of my regulars is in the choir.’
‘Oh.’ Miranda moved out of the narrow corridor that led to the toilets in the pub. Karen followed. Theo saw her and waved.
‘I didn’t know you were with Theo,’ said Karen. ‘I saw him with his arm round you earlier.’
‘Well, I’m not actually with him.’
‘You could have fooled me. You two seemed glued together.’
Miranda managed a laugh, but she knew that it wasn’t only her who had noticed Theo’s casual ownership of her. ‘Theo wanted to come and meet the choir before they sing at the Festival and he offered to sail me here.’
Karen held up her hands. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to explain. It’s really none of my business.’
Miranda thought she did have to explain, having been seen with Jago one week and Theo the next. Apparently dating two men hardly made her the village bike but the bad blood that existed between Jago and Theo somehow made the situation seem worse. She hadn’t forgotten that Karen knew most of Jago’s intimate secrets, either.
She lowered her voice and plunged in. ‘Karen, what happened that night with the rowing boat and Jago. It was a one-off. I was three sheets to the wind.’
Karen winked. ‘It’s OK. My lips are sealed. To be honest with you, a one-off sounds about right where Jago’s concerned. I heard about his wife’s accident, you know. My second cousin runs a bar in Bells Beach near where they were living. It was a terrible business and it sounds like it’s messed Jago up for good. He’s always been a complicated boy, shall we say, and now he’s pure trouble.’ She smiled. ‘He’s completely gorgeous trouble, of course but you’re better off with Theo.’
‘And Theo isn’t trouble?’
Karen laughed. ‘Aren’t all men? Yes, Theo’s a handful, but he’s very loyal. When he takes a liking to someone, he sticks by them – and the reverse is true too. Cross him and you’ve made an enemy for good.’
Miranda thought about asking Karen if she knew why Theo disliked Jago so much. After all, she was involved with Jago when both he and Theo were lads and still living in the village. Perhaps the rivalry had started then? But Miranda couldn’t think of any way of asking that didn’t sound incredibly intrusive and showing such an interest in Jago’s past really would ring Karen’s alarm bells.
‘Theo seems like a nice guy. He does a lot for the community,’ said Miranda, hoping Karen would take the bait.
‘And he’s sex on legs, honey, unless it had escaped your notice. He’s a man who knows what he wants and gets it. Catch of the year is Theo and you hooked him.’
Miranda wasn’t quite sure she liked this analogy. It sounded like she’d cast her net, hauled Theo in and had him floundering at her feet, gasping for air. ‘Maybe,’ she said, going for enigmatic and failing. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said, and walked back to Theo.
‘Miranda. You look cold. I’ll warm you up.’ Theo handed her a pint of cider and Miranda tried to relax and enjoy nestling in the arm of the unofficial hottest guy in Cornwall. A quick scan of the women in the audience showed more than one pair of envious eyes turned in her direction.
Unexpectedly, the cider and the rousing second half of the gig helped her unwind and she was laughing all the way home as Theo sailed back to the Mount. It was dark when they tied up in the harbour, with a few lights shining in the cottages and castle, revealing who was still awake. There was a glow from the bedroom of Ronnie’s place, Lady St Merryn’s bedroom window was dark but Jago’s lamp was on. He must be in his study working late.
Theo followed Miranda up the ladder from the boat and onto the quayside. They stood in the night air, both a little breathless and unsure what to say.
‘I had a nice time tonight,’ she said eventually.
‘Me too.’ Theo reached out, pulled her gently to him and kissed her. It was a long, slow, wet kiss. A kiss that might possibly have been enjoyable were it not for the fact that when she opened her eyes Jago was watching from barely ten feet away.
She dropped her hands from Theo’s back and pulled away.
‘What’s up?’ Theo’s eyes were puzzled then he turned. ‘Oh, I see. His lordship.’
Jago’s face was half in shadow. ‘Hello. Had a good evening?’ he asked.
‘A fantastic evening, thanks. Didn’t we, Miranda?’
Her heart sank. ‘It was lovely. The Fishermen’s Choir did a brilliant gig.’
‘And Theo sailed you home?’
‘No, we walked. What do you think?’ said Theo not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
‘How lovely. Miranda loves boats, don’t you?’ There was no mistaking the dangerous edge to Jago’s voice.
‘I’ve had a nice time,’ said Miranda firmly.
Theo took her hand in his. ‘Good. I aim to please. Now, I’m sorry I can’t come in for coffee but I’ve got an early start. Work has to come before pleasure for some of us.’
Someone turned a light on in the harbourmaster’s cottage and Jago’s face was illuminated. There was a momentary flash of fury on his face then it settled into blankness. Miranda stopped herself from pointing out she hadn’t asked Theo back to her cottage. That would have delighted Jago and she wasn’t in the mood to give either one of them an inch.
‘Now, I hate to leave but I must get home before the tide turns.’
‘Yes, we wouldn’t want you to get stuck here for the night, would we?’ said Jago.
Miranda felt like a bone being fought over by two Jack Russells. She freed her hand from Theo’s and threw him a brief smile, ignoring Jago. Theo brushed her lips with his and said, ‘I’ll call you.’
Miranda longed for a bucket of cold water to chuck over them. ‘Yes, you do that,’ she said sweetly.
‘I can see I’m intruding. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miranda,’ Jago muttered.
Theo threw him a triumphant glare. ‘Goodnight, your lordship.’
Miranda half held her breath, sure that Jago would shout or swear or show some reaction but instead he gave the slightest inclination of his head, almost as if he was admitting defeat to Theo. Then he turned his back and stalked off towards the path to the castle.
As Theo sailed off to the mainland, Miranda watched him, first from the quay and then from her cottage window, all the way back to the harbour. She flopped down on her bed, trying to make sense of the evening and the encounter between Jago and Theo. Theo had clearly wanted everyone to know she was ‘his’ at the gig; in fact, she had the distinct impression she was his trophy – his war trophy. But, she reminded herself as she shivered in the draught from the open window, how could there be a war if one party wasn’t interested in fighting for her?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning, Miranda hovered in front of Jago’s desk, having been summoned to his study by a message on her radio. When she’d arrived, he’d peered at her through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses as if he’d forgotten he’d asked her to see him. Then he took them off and lifted his thick, dark hair back from his temples, revealing threads of grey. The gesture and the glasses made him seemed more real and vulnerable and sexy than he ever had before. She felt her resolve to ignore him collapsing like a sandcastle swamped by a wave.
‘You’re wearing glasses.’
He frowned. ‘Yes. Did you expect me to have superhuman powers or something like X-Men?’
She laughed at him. ‘’Course not, but I haven’t seen them before.’
‘I wear contacts normally but my eyes are sore. All that typing, I guess.’ As he pushed the glasses aside, he brushed a pile of papers and a heavy object rolled from under them. Jago scrabbled to catch it but it fell off the desk and landed on the floorboards with a crash. Both he and Miranda dashed to pick the object up, ending up on the floorboards at the same time. Miranda saw it was a telescope and closed her hand around it. Crouched on the floor, inches from him, his eyes, amber-flecked brown without his contacts, held hers.
His breath feathered her face. She ached for him to lean forwards and kiss her and make love to her on the boards. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet, still keeping hold of the telescope. He straightened up too and she held out the scope, now warm from her hand.
‘Thanks.’
He deposited it in his wire in-tray as if he kept one there every day, but Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off it. She recognised it now. It was an antique brass piece from the nautical room and it had no place in Jago’s study. The cogs in her mind whirred.
‘Jago. Were you watching us last night?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know exactly what I mean. Your study light was on when we sailed into the harbour so what were you doing down on the quayside when we tied up?’
‘Firstly, I came out for some of fresh air and, secondly, I do own the place, so I have a right to be down there.’
‘So you weren’t spying on me?’
A smile spread over his face. ‘With my little telescope? Ah, Miranda, you have a wild imagination. No, I wasn’t spying on you. I was working late and I had a headache, so I went for a walk. It is pure coincidence that I caught you and Theo snogging on the quayside.’
‘Snogging? We weren’t snogging. And as for catching us? We’re not naughty schoolkids!’
He shrugged. ‘Snogging, kissing, have it your way, I don’t care. Or rather I do care as long as it – he – makes you happy.’
Miranda simmered with a mix of anger and, she had to admit, of hope. Jago was jealous.
‘Now can we actually discuss the reason I asked you up here? Southcastle are coming over.’
Her stomach turned over. The last thing she needed was another visit from Southcastle Estates. ‘What for?’ It was a dangerous question and the moment it was out she fully expected him to say he was signing the contract. She felt sick.
‘It’s a final visit to tie up any loose ends before I go to London to sign the deal in front of the lawyers and money men.’
That answer brought no relief. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. You won’t be required but I thought it only fair to warn you.’
The next morning, Miranda was in the castle courtyard checking there was space for the fire-eaters and jesters to perform. Pierre Jumeau came across her as she blew an imaginary flame at an imaginary audience. ‘Whooshhhh!’
‘Miranda. Bonjour.’ She cringed as he strode up, obviously amused. ‘Sound effects, non? Very good.’
Goosebumps popped up on her arms. ‘We have fire-eaters at the Festival. I was just checking out the space. Um … I didn’t know you’d arrived. I thought you’d be here a bit later than this.’
/> ‘I decided to catch an earlier train and walk over the causeway.’
‘Oh. Is Andrew not with you?’
‘No. He’s tied up in London and sends his apologies.’
‘Has Jago seen you yet?’
‘No. I was on my way into the castle now.’ He smiled. ‘I have paid my entry fee.’
‘Paid? I must reimburse you.’ She shoved her hand in her pocket for some cash but Jumeau laughed.
‘Don’t think of it. I wanted to arrive as a normal visitor and just wander about.’
Shit, thought Miranda. She was torn between a hope that Fred had been rude to him or that he’d been impressed. She was past the stage of trying to put him off buying the Mount. Once was enough as a joke, now she had no choice but to try to make the best of a bad job. ‘So, how was your visitor experience so far?’ she asked, fighting to sound neutral.
‘Quirky … very British, polite, amusing.’
‘Oh.’
He patted her arm, making her goosebumps almost explode. He really made her skin crawl. ‘And exactly as I’d have expected and hoped. We don’t want to change the character of the place, Miranda. I feel passionate about this property too. It has the potential to be the biggest asset we own. We may take a slightly different approach in the short term but I’m sure you will appreciate what we are trying to do.’
Asset? Different approach? The hairs rose on her scalp now too. Jumeau had the same effect on her as some suave but creepy character from a vintage film noir. ‘I …’
‘I empathise with your loyalty and your passion, believe me, but you can see that Lord St Merryn does not want to take on the responsibility of this place. It is a huge enterprise, one that has become far bigger than one family should have to cope with – one man, in fact, now her ladyship is so frail and planning to leave. I think you know Lord St Merryn –’ he smiled ‘– or should I say, you know Jago very well indeed. For everyone’s sake, and his, you must realise this is the right decision.’
Jumeau glanced behind him. Miranda saw Jago standing by the wall on the other side of the terrace, staring out to sea. He looked tired, bowed down, almost broken. She felt like her own heart, her spirit even, might shatter at any moment. Then she saw Jumeau’s smug half-smile. Bugger that. She’d still fight, for the staff if not for herself.
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