His Defiant Mistress

Sarah’s eyes lit up. ‘It’s Mr Baker.’

Charlie Baker heaved himself out of the van and came to look at the houses in approval. ‘Morning, Miss Carver, Harry. I’ve brought the plants you wanted, my dear, and a few bags of compost to get you started.’

Sarah rushed to inspect the plants, and helped the men carry everything to the parking space cleared at the end of the row. ‘Lavender for fragrance and buddleia for butterflies,’ she said, delighted. ‘My mother’s favourites.’

‘I brought you some viburnums and a couple of hollies, too,’ he told her. ‘No point in putting in bedding plants, otherwise you’d be down here every night watering.’

‘I’m not really clued up about gardening. I wish now I’d helped my mother more in our garden at home,’ said Sarah with regret. ‘I was always making a nuisance of myself on one of Dad’s building sites instead.’

‘It paid off,’ Harry reminded her. ‘Now, we’d better get back to the real work. I want to finish painting number six today.’

‘Thank you so much, Mr Baker,’ said Sarah as she paid him.

He handed her a receipted bill in exchange. ‘Come down the pub some time and I’ll buy you that drink.’

‘Done,’ she said, as they walked back to his van, ‘By the way, I was wondering about some trees.’

Harry grinned as he waved at the tree-lined lane. ‘Plenty of those here already, boss.’

She made a face at him. ‘I meant a smallish flowering tree in the courtyard, and maybe another in the front. What do you think, Mr Baker?’

‘I’ll bring some catalogues to the pub and you can have a look,’ he promised.

Later, when Harry had finished for the day, Sarah waited until his pick-up was out of sight, then, feeling ridiculously furtive, took her mother’s garden tools from the boot of her car. It wouldn’t take long to plant some of the shrubs in front of what would be the show house. Now that the machinery and skips of rubbish had been hauled away and the parking spaces at either end of the row were clear, the site was beginning to shape up as a very attractive proposition. It was also a mere half a mile to the bus stop on the main road, and only another five to Hereford; a selling point Sarah intended to stress when the houses were advertised.

When her doorbell rang later that evening Sarah’s eyes widened as she heard Alex Merrick’s voice on the intercom.

‘It’s very late, Mr Merrick,’ she said coldly.

‘I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important,’ he assured her. ‘I need a word.’

Thankful she’d bothered to get dressed after her shower for once, Sarah pressed the release button for the main door, then opened her own as he strode across the hall, hand outstretched.

‘Thank you for seeing me.’

Sarah touched the hand briefly, but, startled by the contact, dropped it like a hot coal. ‘You’d better come inside,’ she said—with reluctance, he acknowledged with a twitch of his lips.

Looking disturbingly tougher and more formidable in jeans, and a sweatshirt which showed off impressive shoulders, Alex walked into the room and stood stock still, his eyes wide instead of showing their usual narrow gleam. ‘I don’t remember anything like this!’

‘You mean when your company did the makeover?’

He gave her the crooked smile Sarah felt sure he practised in the mirror.

‘I was thinking more of the old days, Miss Carver. My school socialised with the Medlar House girls. I used to come here to dances.’

Of course he had. ‘I believe this was a music room.’

‘Is that why you have a balcony?’

‘No. It’s a sleeping platform I built myself. The flight of steps as well. Once I’d sanded and sealed the floor I built the windowseat, too, and installed the shutters,’ Sarah couldn’t help adding. ‘The room was originally just an empty shell with huge windows—plus a tiny kitchen and bathroom, of course, or I wouldn’t have bought it.’

Alex looked round slowly, taking in the art nouveau chandelier, the trio of antique mirrors on the wall and the framed family photographs hung between them. ‘It’s a uniquely attractive room,’ he said, with gratifying respect. ‘I congratulate you.’

‘Thank you. Perhaps you’d like to sit down and tell me why you want to see me?’ She returned to her perch on the windowseat.

Alex sat on the edge of the small sofa, his expression grave enough to worry her. ‘I took a detour past the cottages tonight on my way home.’

Sarah stared at him in surprise. ‘Do you often do that?’

‘I do sometimes, to get away from traffic. But tonight I had a different reason. As you know, we’re building a spa-type hotel on the site of the old Medlar Farm, a couple of miles from your project. Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘it’s not high-rise. It’s designed to look organic, blend into the environment. It won’t affect your property—particularly if you agree to sell me your cottages.’

‘I see. So is there a problem?’

He nodded. ‘Security. Late this evening someone got into our night watchman’s cabin at the hotel site while he was on his rounds. He heard a car drive off, and got back to find the Portakabin vandalised.’

‘Did they get away with anything?’

‘One small television—the solitary thing worth taking. The place was probably trashed in frustration, or just for the sake of it.’ Alex looked grim. ‘From now on two men with dogs will be on permanent night duty at the site. I drove back via Medlar Cottages, to see if you’d arranged any security there.’

‘No,’ she said unhappily, ‘I haven’t.’ She brightened. ‘But the problem’s easy enough to solve. The first house is ready to live in, so I’ll move in there until the others are finished.’

Alex gave her a patronising look. ‘And what if someone decided to break in one fine night?’

‘I’ll spread the word in the pub that it’s inhabited,’ she said promptly. ‘Then with the security lights and burglar alarms functioning I’ll be fine.’

He shook his head. ‘Your decision. But I don’t like it.’

‘You don’t have to like it,’ she pointed out.

‘I know,’ he said morosely, and stood up. ‘Give me your mobile phone.’

‘Why?’

He held out an imperative hand.

Sarah took the phone from her holdall and handed it to him. ‘It’s charged and working,’ she assured him.

He keyed in some numbers. ‘Ring me anytime if you need me, or just feel worried,’ he ordered, handing it back. ‘Make sure you lock up behind me. Goodnight.’

Sarah glared, incensed, at the door he closed behind him. What earthly right did the man have to come ordering her about? Being fast-tracked to group vice-chairman so young had obviously gone to his head. Damn him for disrupting her life. The last thing she wanted was to move into one of the cottages. Until Alex Merrick had shown up tonight she’d been quite pleased with herself. The cottages were well on schedule, and she was likely to make a sizeable profit on the sale. But now she would have trouble sleeping tonight.

Next morning Sarah was waiting in the lane when Harry arrived. ‘Good morning. Could you do me a big favour?’

‘Depends, boss,’ he said, with a smile which would have surprised his cronies at the pub. ‘What do you want?’

She told him about Alex’s visit, and the reason for it. ‘I haven’t given much thought to security,’ she said, depressed. ‘So I’ll just have to move into number one for the time being. Will you cart my sofabed down here in the pick-up, please?’

‘No,’ said Harry, so flatly Sarah eyed him in dismay.

‘But, Harry, I’ll never sleep at the flat for thinking someone might be breaking in down here and wrecking the place.’

‘And you’ll sleep better here on your own? What good would a little thing like you do if someone did break in?’ he growled.

Sarah pushed her cap back on her head. ‘I’ll be straight with you, Harry, I can’t afford a security firm.’

He gave it some thought. ‘I’d offer to move in myself,’ he said at last, ‘but better I get Ian to sleep here, bring his dog.’

Her eyes lit up at the thought of the young giant who’d helped with the roofing. ‘Would Ian do it?’

‘Slip him a few quid and he’ll jump at it. He shares a bedroom with his kid brother at home, so he’ll be glad of some space for a bit. And he’s nearer to his current job here. You’ve got a kettle, and the fridge is working, so with his portable telly and Nero for company he’ll be in clover.’

‘We need to fetch my sofabed just the same, then.’

Harry laughed. ‘Ian’s six foot five in his socks, boss. He’d have your sofa in bits. He can bring his camping gear.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll give him a ring when he’s on his break.’

‘And while you’re at it could you ask Peter Cox to spare us a minute some time today, to make sure the security lights and alarms are all working?’ said Sarah.

‘Stop worrying, boss. I’ll see to it all.’

Ian Sollers was only too happy to do a bit of easy moonlighting, as long as Miss Carver didn’t mind Josie coming round of an evening to watch telly with him.

‘The girlfriend,’ said Harry, reporting. ‘Nice kid, Josie.’ His lips twitched. ‘And if the youngsters get a bit wrapped up in themselves there’s always Nero to keep watch for intruders. He’s a German Shepherd, and a big lad—like his master.’

Once the security lights and alarms had been checked and confirmed in perfect working order Sarah finally relaxed enough to laugh when Harry teased her about her clandestine gardening.

‘You must have started before I was down the lane.’

‘I was dying to see how the plants would look.’

‘They look good.’ He shook his head. ‘But it doesn’t seem right, a lass like you with nothing better to do with her evenings than grub about in the garden.’

‘It makes a change from the carpentry and painting I did every evening until I got my flat sorted—’ She broke off as her phone rang.

‘I’ll make some tea while you answer that,’ said Harry, getting up.

‘Miss Carver?’

‘Yes.’

‘Greg Harris here, personal assistant to Alex Merrick. He asked me to let you know that one of our security men will take a drive out to the Medlar Farm Cottages at regular intervals tonight, so there’s no need for you to sleep there.’

Sarah rolled her eyes. No use losing her cool with the monkey, she’d wait until she met the organ-grinder again. ‘Thank Mr Merrick for me, but I’ve made my own arrangements. Please pass the message on to his security people.’

‘Are you sure about this, Miss Carver?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ she said icily.

‘I mean, after what happened last night I hope you’re not going to sleep there yourself after all—’

‘I repeat, Mr Harris,’ she snapped, ‘I’ve made my own arrangements. Goodbye.’

Mindful of Harry’s words about young people getting wrapped up in themselves, Sarah took time to hang curtains at the windows of the show house to give them some privacy. Her plan for decorating a cottage of this era was to keep it simple, with quality curtain material and a rug in muted colours on the gleaming wood floor in the sitting room. When the house was ready for the public she would transfer some of the furniture she’d put in storage, hang a picture or two, and the cottage would look so good she would hate to part with it.

Sarah stood in the doorway of the sitting room, which looked different already with just the addition of curtains and a few things she’d brought from the flat. Much as she resented his high-handedness, Alex Merrick’s warnings had given her a wake-up call. It was only common sense from a security point of view to make the house at least appear inhabited.

She heard Harry coming down a ladder and went out to beckon him inside.

‘What do you think?’

He whistled. ‘Very cosy!’

‘Will it con a would-be intruder?’

‘No matter. Nero will start barking long before anyone gets near enough to take a closer look.’

Sarah drove back to the flat that evening in high spirits. Ian had turned up in his van with his handsome dog before she left. After a few rapturous minutes spent in making Nero’s acquaintance, Sarah had talked money with Ian, and assured the young giant that his Josie was welcome to join him any time.

‘Thanks, I appreciate that Miss Carver. But she’s at her kickboxing class tonight so I just brought my telly for company.’ Ian had looked round with deep approval. ‘Josie will love it here. I wish we could afford one of these.’

When Sarah’s doorbell rang very late she pulled on her dressing gown and climbed down from her platform, stiffening when she heard the angry, clipped tones of Alex Merrick over the intercom. She buzzed him in, and smothered a snort of laughter as he came storming across the hall in his shirtsleeves, hair on end, and a great tear flapping in one expensive trouser leg.

‘I’m glad you think this is funny! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, advancing on her with such menace Sarah had to force herself to stand her ground.

‘Good evening, Mr Merrick. Come inside before you wake my neighbours. What should I have told you?’

‘That you’d sold one of the cottages,’ he snapped.

‘I haven’t. Harry Sollers’ nephew Ian is doing me a favour by sleeping there, that’s all. I made it perfectly clear to your Mr Harris that I had my security arrangements in hand,’ she added frostily.

Alex controlled himself with obvious difficulty. ‘He relayed the message, but it obviously lost something in translation. I took it for granted you were sticking to your plan of sleeping there yourself. I was at a charity dinner earlier, and went home by way of Medlar Cottages to check on you. I got savaged by a bloody great monster of a dog for my pains.’

‘That was just Nero, doing his job. Did he bite you?’ she asked solicitously.

‘No. I fought him off.’ Alex glared at the ragged tear. ‘I was fond of this suit.’

‘If you’ll tell me how much it cost I’ll reimburse you,’ she said promptly, and won a look of such blazing antagonism she backed away a little.

‘I didn’t come here for money,’ he snapped.

‘What, then?’

The angular, good-looking face hardened. ‘I should think that’s obvious,’ he snapped, and started towards her.

CHAPTER THREE

SARAH BACKED away in such knee-jerk rejection Alex glared at her, incensed.

‘For God’s sake, I’m not in the habit of hitting women!’ He controlled himself with obvious effort. ‘My sole aim was to make sure you came to no harm, alone in one of those cottages. If you’d had the courtesy to let me know what you’d arranged all this nonsense could have been avoided.’

She took in a deep breath. ‘I suppose you feel I made a fool of you?’

‘Not at all. I made a fool of myself,’ he said bitterly, and turned to go.

‘Have some coffee first,’ she offered, surprising herself as much as Alex. ‘You look a bit shaken.’

‘Is it any wonder?’ he demanded morosely. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as a coward—dammit, I love dogs. But that one scared the hell out of me.’

She felt an unexpected pang of remorse. ‘Please have some coffee. Sit there for a minute and relax while I make it.’

When she got back with a couple of mugs Alex was looking round the room, frowning.

‘It seems emptier in here tonight.’

‘I took a few things down to the cottage for Ian. He provided his own bedroll, plus a couple of garden chairs and a television.’ She smiled demurely as she sat on the windowseat with her mug. ‘On future evenings his girlfriend Josie will be keeping him company, but tonight she was at her kickboxing class.’

‘Kickboxing?’ Alex stared at her in horror. ‘Then thank God I missed her, if she’s as big as the boyfriend.’

‘I don’t know. I hope not.’

‘Frightening thought,’ he agreed, and drank deeply. ‘This is wonderful coffee. Thank you.’

‘The least I could do. Though a shot of caffeine is probably the last thing you need right now.’

‘It hits the spot just the same.’ He yawned suddenly. ‘Sorry. I don’t suppose I could have a refill?’

Sarah eyed him doubtfully. ‘Is that wise?’

‘Probably not.’ He heaved himself up, but she waved him back and took his mug.

When she returned with the coffee Alex gave her a speculative look. ‘This is a very attractive flat, but it’s obviously the home of a single woman.’ His eyes followed her as she crossed to her windowseat. ‘That must surely be from choice?’

Her chin lifted. ‘It is.’

‘And you obviously think it’s none of my business! Though I already know you don’t lack for male admirers, Miss Carver,’ he added wryly. ‘The day I came looking for you it was like trying to detach Snow White from the Seven Dwarfs—only you’re the small one. Those pals of yours may be getting on a bit, but they’re a hefty bunch.’

Sarah unbent a little. ‘I’m a constant source of entertainment to them. In the beginning they were thunderstruck, because I was doing some of the work myself. They kept popping round to check up on the city girl.’

Alex laughed, his eyes dancing in a way which put her on her guard. This man was dangerous.

‘I suppose they think it’s an unsuitable job for a woman?’ Alex commented. ‘How did you get into it?’

‘My father was a building contractor. I was brought up on building sites, so I’m doing what I like best and hopefully making a living out of it.’

‘With no distractions allowed.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Once you put me right about your relationship with Oliver Moore, I wondered if you’d shut yourself away in your ivory tower here to mend a broken heart.’

Sarah gave him a scornful look. ‘Even if I had it would be none of your business, Mr Merrick.’

But damned interesting, thought Alex, wondering just what there was about this girl that got under his skin. Right now her narrow face was scrubbed and shiny, her hair—the colour of bitter chocolate instead of the blonde he normally preferred—was a tangle of unruly curls. And her pink dressing gown was elderly and faded, and a shade too small, even for someone of her size, which probably meant she’d had it for years but couldn’t bear to part with it.

Sarah decided to give him a hint by relieving him of his coffee cup, and he promptly stood up.

‘Time I was leaving.’

‘I’m sorry about your near-death experience with Nero,’ said Sarah, on her way to the door. Though she wasn’t in the slightest.

He paused, giving her the crooked smile she was surprised to find she was beginning to find attractive, whether he practised it or not. ‘You may laugh, but it wasn’t at all funny at the time.’

‘No, indeed. And you ruined your suit—or Nero did.’

‘No point in sending him a bill, either. Nor,’ he added quickly, ‘will I send one to you, Miss Carver. I shall write tonight off to experience. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘The least I could do after you’d risked life and limb to make sure I was safe,’ she assured him, and eyed him curiously. ‘But why did you feel you had to?’

‘Because I want the cottages. I had to make sure they wouldn’t be vandalised,’ he lied.

‘I see. By the way, did Nero actually hurt you?’

Alex shook his head and raised a muscular leg to show her an unmarked shin through the rip. ‘I had a fight to detach him from my bespoke suiting, but he stopped short of actually savaging me.’

‘So no worry about rabies, then?’

He blenched. ‘Good God! I hadn’t thought of that.’

She eyed him with derision. ‘You’re in no danger from an aristocrat like Nero.’

‘Just the same,’ he said with feeling, ‘I’ll give your property a wide berth from now on—at night, at least.’

‘Very wise.’ She opened the door, but Alex seemed in no hurry to leave.

‘How about changing your mind?’ he asked casually.

‘About what, exactly?’

‘Having dinner with me one evening. We could just talk business, if that would make the idea more attractive.’ He listened to himself in disbelief. This kind of persuasion wasn’t his style. Probably because he’d never had to use any.

‘No—thank you,’ she said distantly.

His jaw clenched. ‘Why not? Do you find me repulsive?’

‘No.’

‘Then have you sworn off men as some kind of vow?’

Instead of saying Just you, Alex Merrick, as she yearned to, Sarah shook her head. ‘I’m just not socialising with anyone right now.’

‘Except Oliver Moore,’ he reminded her.

‘That’s right.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After all, he is my godfather.’

‘So you said.’ Alex moved closer, struck by sudden compassion. ‘Are you still in mourning for your father? Surely he would want you to get on with your life?’

Sarah’s smile vanished. ‘As I keep pointing out, my life is my concern, and no one else’s, Mr Merrick.’

‘Message received,’ he said stiffly. ‘Goodnight, Miss Carver.’

Sarah felt very thoughtful as she climbed back up to bed later. If she were honest, and she tried hard to be most of the time, she knew she should have told Greg Harris that she’d arranged a night watchman for the cottages. But Alex’s highhanded message had really ticked her off. Though he’d certainly paid for it. Sarah grinned at the thought of the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group fighting off a large German Shepherd.

But what had actually sent Alex storming round here afterwards? He’d been so blazingly angry when she’d opened the door to him Sarah had felt a thrill of apprehension, afraid for a split second that he’d throw her on the floor and take his revenge in the time-honoured way. He’d certainly been hot to vent his rage in some way on the person responsible for his clash with Nero. But she hadn’t known he’d check up on her himself—had she? Sarah thought about it, and reluctantly admitted that she’d been aware of the possibility. Visiting the cottages to make sure she was safe had been a chivalrous gesture, and maybe—just maybe—she’d hoped that he would do it. But she would have expected Nero just to bark, not launch himself at Alex in attack mode. She would have a word with Ian on the subject. Injury to innocent visitors was something to be avoided. But, chivalrous or not, she reminded herself tartly, Alex’s name was still Merrick. And her reaction to it was still the same as the first time she’d heard it.

On her very first day at Barclay Homes she’d found that the firm was actually a subsidiary of the Merrick Group, which had swallowed up other building firms in the area. A small outfit like her father’s had never stood a chance. Sarah knew with the logical part of her that the Merrick Group had not caused his death. But the illogical, emotional side of her still held them accountable.

CHAPTER FOUR

SARAH SAW no more of Alex Merrick after their midnight encounter. But to her surprise—and disgust—she kept wondering if he’d ring, or call in again. To counteract this she worked like a demon on the last touches to the cottages while Harry painted the exteriors, and Ian moved into number two at night, rather than spoil any of Sarah’s work on the show house. When she ran out of indoor jobs she repointed the waist-high walls dividing the front gardens, and when she’d finished those Charlie Baker drove her to a local nursery to choose a flowering cherry for the back courtyard of the show house, and a Japanese maple for the front. It was only sensible to go the extra mile to make the properties as attractive as possible to prospective buyers.

‘Is something worrying you?’ asked Harry, as he helped her plant the trees one evening.

‘Yes. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to do with myself when this lot goes up for sale.’

‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked, surprising her.

‘Nothing much. Why?’

‘How do you feel about barns?’

Sarah straightened, eyes gleaming. ‘Are we talking barn conversion?’

He smiled as he trampled the earth in round the cherry tree. ‘Could be.’

‘Tell me more—’ Her face fell. ‘But if they’re up for sale I can’t do a thing about it until I sell this lot.’

‘These barns are not for sale. Leastways, not yet.’

She wagged a dirty finger at him. ‘Stop teasing, Harry!’