Distracted by her Virtue

‘We’ll make an apple pie to have with our tea tonight, Charlie,’ she promised cheerfully.

‘You don’t want an extra guest, do you? I’m quite partial to home-made apple pie.’

The arresting male voice was so richly resonant and well-spoken that Sophia glanced up in surprise at the man who had stepped up beside her. Her startled gaze was instantly magnetised by a pair of twinkling blue eyes so rivetingly intense that for a moment she couldn’t speak. It was him … Jarrett Gaskill. The name that had been warily filed away inside her brain presented itself with worrying ease.

‘No … I don’t. I’ve not long moved into my house and it’s taking me longer than I expected to get settled. Besides, it’s not likely I’d invite someone into my home that I don’t even know,’ she replied, quickly averting her gaze.

‘I told you my name the first time we met, remember?’

Sophia’s cheeks burned with heat, because she wasn’t able to pretend that she couldn’t recall it. ‘That’s neither here nor there. Knowing a person’s name hardly means that you know them.’

‘True … but an introduction at least creates the opportunity to get to know someone.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Gaskill, but I really must get on.’

‘You see?’ Something akin to delight was mirrored in the azure depths of his compelling glance. ‘You did remember my name. Perhaps now you’ll do me the honour of telling me yours?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Already turning away, Sophia was suddenly eager to leave the busy little market that was set up in the picturesque village square and head for home.

‘What a pity. I’ve got to call you something if we bump into each other again, don’t you think?’

‘No, you don’t. You can simply ignore me.’

His strong brow affected an exaggerated frown. ‘I certainly couldn’t. That would be the height of bad manners.’

‘You really care about things like good manners?’

‘Of course. I’d live in dread of my poor deceased mother haunting me if I didn’t keep her standards up.’

In spite of her eagerness to extricate herself from this unwanted and surreal conversation, Sophia couldn’t suppress a smile. But almost as soon as she’d succumbed to the gesture she firmed her lips into a much more serious line. ‘I’ve really got to go. I’ve got things to do. Goodbye.’

Firmly tightening her hold on her son’s small hand, she was about to walk out into the milling throng exploring the market stalls when the man standing beside her spoke clearly.

‘Enjoy that apple pie, Ms Markham … perhaps you’ll save me a slice?’

She spun round, her eyes widening in alarm. ‘Who told you my name?’

‘You’ve moved into a village … sooner or later everyone learns the name of a newcomer. They also tend to speculate on where they’ve come from and why they’ve moved here. Human nature, I guess.’

He shrugged nonchalantly, and Sophia stared. It was hard to ignore the width of those broad, well-defined shoulders beneath his well-worn, expensive-looking leather jacket. The black T-shirt he wore underneath with jeans was stretched across an equally well-defined chest, and he exuded the kind of masculine strength that made her even more wary of him. But more than that she was uncomfortable with the fact that people she didn’t even know might be discussing her and her son.

‘People should mind their own business! If my name should ever be mentioned in your hearing again, Mr Gaskill, I’d be obliged if you would make it very clear that I want to be left in peace.’

‘I don’t hold with gossiping about anyone. However, I will endeavour to respect your desire for privacy, Ms Markham.’

Sophia’s glance was wary, but she made herself acknowledge his remark just the same. ‘Thank you.’

Before Jarrett could engage her further, she took herself and Charlie off into the crowd and didn’t once glance back to see if his disturbing blue gaze followed them … even though her heart thudded fit to burst inside her chest at the thought that he might indeed be following her progress …

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLIE was playing in the overgrown front garden as Jarrett drove his Range Rover up to the impressive old house. Glancing out of his window up at the pearlescent sky that threatened rain, he grimaced. Before he talked himself out of it he was on his feet, opening the creaking iron gate that led onto a meandering gravel path sprouting with weeds.

He stopped to talk to the child. ‘Hello, there.’ Jarrett smiled. ‘Your name’s Charlie, isn’t it?’

‘Where’s your dog?’

Large dark eyes stared hopefully up at him. He was gratified that the boy seemed to remember him. It was two weeks since they’d last met. He also guessed that he probably didn’t have a pet of his own. For some reason, that bothered him.

Dropping down to his haunches, so that he was on the same level as the child, Jarrett frowned with genuine regret. ‘I’m afraid that he doesn’t belong to me. I was just looking after him for my sister. He’s back with her now.’

‘Oh.’ His young companion was stumped for a moment. Recovering, he fixed his visitor with another interested gaze. ‘You called him Dylan.’

‘Yes, I did. That’s his name.’

‘It’s a good name. But if I had a dog I’d call him Sam.’

‘That’s a good name too. Would you like a dog of your own?’

The boy studied him gravely. ‘Yes, I would … But Mummy thinks a dog would be too much trouble to take care of—and we’ve had enough trouble already.’

Jarrett absorbed this very interesting snippet of information, ruffled the boy’s unruly dark hair, then rose to his full height again. ‘Never mind … perhaps in time she might have a change of heart?’

‘No, she won’t.’ Charlie kicked a nearby pebble with the scuffed toe of his trainer, but not before giving Jarrett a look that said he wished she could be persuaded differently. ‘Have you come to see her?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I have. Is she inside?’

‘She’s painting.’

Did Sophia Markham’s creative talent extend beyond photography to painting?

Jarrett was still considering the idea as he strode up to the front door. The faded sandstone of the house reflected the more muted, mellow tones of a bygone age. The whole building was in dire need of some serious maintenance and redecoration, but no one could deny it had tremendous potential and charm. If he owned the place he would know exactly which restoration company to hire to help return it to its former glory.

Biting back his disappointment that he would now never have the chance, he made robust use of the heavy brass door-knocker and waited for Sophia to appear. He couldn’t deny he was a little apprehensive about seeing the emerald-eyed beauty again. Both times that he’d tried to engage her in conversation she’d been decidedly aloof. He’d already received a warning that all she wanted to do was to be left in peace. And, despite his sister Beth and her friends still speculating on the whereabouts of a man in her life, Jarrett was becoming more and more convinced that, aside from her son, the mysterious Sophia was unattached.

‘For goodness’ sake, sweetheart, the back door is open. You don’t need to—’ Sophia bit off the comment that was clearly meant for Charlie and stared up in open-mouthed surprise at Jarrett. ‘You!’ She shook her head as if to clear it, and her already loosened ponytail drifted free from its band, so that long silken strands of the glossiest chestnut-brown fell down over her shoulders. A faded pink T-shirt spattered with blue and white paint highlighted the small pert breasts underneath it, and a pair of slim-fitting denims with a large ragged hole in one knee clung to long, slender legs.

Jarrett raised an eyebrow. If she’d appeared in a couture dress from one of the top fashion houses in Paris he couldn’t imagine her looking sexier than she did right then. Facing the pair of annoyed and sparkling green eyes that glared back at him, he couldn’t deny the powerful surge of sexual heat that tumbled forcefully through him.

‘How did you find out where I live?’

‘The house has been empty for quite a while. Didn’t you think that people would notice when it became occupied again?’

With what looked like a weary effort, she dragged her fingers through her loosened chestnut hair and shrugged. ‘I get the feeling that people round here notice a little bit too much.’

‘Anyway … my apologies for interrupting what looks like a very industrious Sunday afternoon for you. Your son said you were painting? Does that mean you’re a painter as well as a photographer?’

‘I’m painting my sitting room … not a canvas.’

‘Okay.’ He held up his hands, grinning at his mistake. ‘At any rate, I dropped by because I have an invitation to give to you—from my sister, Beth.’ He produced what was, in his opinion, a ridiculously scented and girly-pink envelope from the inside pocket of his three-quarter-length black leather jacket.

‘Have I met your sister?’

Amusement forced one corner of Jarrett’s mouth up into his cheek. ‘Not yet … but, trust me, she’s determined to meet you, Ms Markham—or is it Mrs?’

Her expression became even more vexed. She snatched the envelope from him. ‘It’s Ms. I used to be married, but I’m not any more.’

‘So you’re divorced?’

He saw her swallow hard. ‘No. I’m a widow.’

The news sobered Jarrett’s mood. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not. And before you make some specious judgement about that, the topic isn’t up for discussion.’

‘Fair enough … that’s your prerogative.’

The fire in her eyes suddenly died. Gripping the pink envelope he’d handed her as if she’d prefer to rip it to shreds rather than open it, she laid the flat of her free hand against the doorframe, as if needing support. It was as though every ounce of her vitality and strength had leaked away, leaving her visibly weak and shaken.

To be that angry … that aloof … must take a hell of a lot of energy, Jarrett mused. What had the woman been through to make her so furious and defensive? Her remark about not being sorry that she was a widow suggested that her relationship with her husband had not been the stuff of fairytales.

For whatever pain she’d endured in the past, a genuine feeling of compassion arose inside him. ‘Ms Markham … Sophia … are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

With a look of steely resolve she straightened, but he could hardly miss the tears that glistened in her eyes, and the sight made him feel as if he’d just been punched in the gut. He never had been able to bear seeing a woman cry …

‘How did you know my name was Sophia?’ she challenged.

Before Jarrett had the chance to answer, she folded her arms and wryly moved her head from side to side.

‘I expect it filtered down to you from the headquarters of the local gossip collective. Am I right?’

‘I can’t deny it.’

‘Do people have such dull and boring lives that they have to pry into the business of a total stranger?’ she demanded irritably.

‘They most likely do. Why do you think they’re so addicted to the soaps on TV? The invented drama of a stranger’s life is probably far preferable to the reality of their own.’

‘I won’t have a TV in the house. I’d rather read a book.’

‘What about Charlie?’ Jarrett ventured, glancing over at the small boy who was once again careening round the giant hollyhocks, mimicking the ‘rat-a-tat’ sound of machine gun fire.

Sophia winced. ‘My son doesn’t need to be glued to a television or computer screen to enjoy himself. Besides, a lot of the programmes shown nowadays are so negative and manipulative that he’s hardly missing out on anything helpful or essential.’

‘So … what kind of books do you like to read?’

‘If you’re hoping that I’ll invite you in to have a cup of tea and discuss my reading habits, then I’m sorry, Mr Gaskill, but I’m going to have to disappoint you. You may keep turning up like the proverbial bad penny, but I’m not going to encourage you.’

‘You have something against making friends?’

‘I manage just fine without them.’

‘What about your son?’

‘What about him?’

‘You might prefer to be reclusive, but what about Charlie? Doesn’t he need the companionship of children his own age?’

‘He’s joining the village primary school in a couple of weeks, so he’ll make lots of friends there, I’m sure.’

‘My sister Beth’s best friend Molly teaches the nursery class. If you come to Beth’s little get-together next Saturday you’re bound to meet her. Who knows? You might even become friends.’

Sophia huffed out a sigh. ‘What is it with you? Are you employed to go round the village encouraging fellowship amongst its inhabitants whether they want it or not?’

Jarrett laughed. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time that a woman’s witty repartee had engaged him quite so much—thrilled him, even. ‘No, I’m not … Though it seems to me that would be a quite commendable way to spend my time. The downside is I could hardly earn a living doing it.’

Tapping the pink envelope against her thigh, Sophia gave an impatient glance that didn’t reflect a similar enjoyment in his company. ‘Look … I’m in the middle of decorating the sitting room and I must get on. I’m sorry if I seem a little terse, but I have my work cut out trying to make this place into a home for me and Charlie. Thanks for taking the time and trouble to bring me the invitation. You can tell your sister that I’ll think about it and let her know.’

‘If you do that much she’ll be delighted, I’m sure.’

He held out his hand without much hope or expectation that she would take it. He almost stumbled when she slid her cool palm inside his. It was as light and as delicate as a bird.

‘Goodbye, Mr Gaskill.’ She quickly withdrew it, but not before his skin tingled fiercely from its contact with hers.

‘Now that we’ve introduced ourselves you can call me Jarrett. Goodbye … Sophia.’ Before turning away he gave her a deliberately teasing smile, lifted his hand in a wave to Charlie, then strode back down the uneven path and out through the gate to his car …

Reflecting on her most recent encounter with Jarrett Gaskill disturbed Sophia so much that, despite her assertion that she had work to do, the desire to spend the rest of her Sunday afternoon painting the sitting room utterly deserted her. In search of a solution to the hard-to-contain restlessness his visit had left her with, she jumped with Charlie into the small second-hand car she’d recently purchased and drove down to the coast.

The spring day was chilly, but they still ate their fish and chips outside, sitting on a bench overlooking the foaming silver sea, and the gusting wind that blew around them was sufficiently cold to prevent Sophia from dwelling on any of the worries that were usually hovering just below the surface of her conscious thoughts.

When they’d finished eating, she bought her son a crabbing line from a nearby corner shop, along with some bacon to use for bait. Then they walked back down to the seafront, where they enjoyed a pleasantly distracting time fishing about in the murky shallows for baby crabs. After Charlie had diligently counted their catch, they conscientiously dropped them back into the water again.

On the journey home, her exuberant son fell fast asleep in his car seat, worn out by his afternoon’s activities. At last Sophia could mull over the man who so persistently seemed to want to get to know her. She didn’t doubt that he had great ability to charm the ladies. How could he not, with that carved handsome face, those flawless blue eyes and a voice that was mellifluous and compelling?

As she took the road out of the village that led almost straight to High Ridge Hall, she wondered why Jarrett would take the trouble to deliver an invitation to his sister’s ‘little get-together’ by hand? Was it because he wanted to get a chance to look more closely at the house? The idea deflated her and she didn’t know why. She knew that High Ridge had always held a fascination not just for local people but also for passing ramblers. The imposing early nineteenth-century edifice demanded more than just a fleeting glance. Her great-aunt had often had to contend with strangers knocking on the door to enquire after its history.

The idea of her elderly relative giving short shrift in response to those enquiries brought an instant smile to Sophia’s lips. It also reminded her of the great responsibility of taking care of such a house. With the proceeds from the sale of the house she’d shared with her husband and a not insubstantial part of her inheritance from her aunt already gone to help pay off his debts, it was vital that she was able to revive the photographic career that had promised to take off when she’d left college. The career that when she’d had Charlie she’d foolishly and naively put aside, to be the stay-at-home wife and mother that her husband had demanded she be.

A residence the size and importance of High Ridge demanded that she earn a healthy income to maintain it. What little money that was left from her inheritance after all her outgoings were met wasn’t going to last very long. Thankfully she’d kept a note of some of the contacts she’d made after leaving college, and had already been in touch with two very interested parties who liked the sample photos she’d sent them.

Her thoughts gravitated back to Jarrett. The idea of him using his sister’s invitation to seize a chance to view the house at close quarters seriously bothered Sophia. She didn’t know if that had been his motivation for a fact, but still she preferred the notion that it was her company he sought and not a closer acquaintance with her home. Warning herself not to forget even for a second that she’d sworn off relationships with men for good after enduring the living nightmare that had been her marriage, she determinedly buried the familiar feelings of failure and loneliness and reaffirmed her vow to put any further thoughts of Jarrett Gaskill aside.

Feeling somewhat calmer at this resolve, she carefully transported her still sleeping son inside the house. Settling him down on the threadbare old couch, she decided to let him doze for a little longer … at least until she’d prepared their dinner.

To please his sister, Jarrett did what she told him he was so naturally adept at and effortlessly mingled and chatted to her and her husband’s friends at the little soirée she’d arranged—even though he secretly hated it. He did enough schmoozing at the corporate functions and meetings relating to his property business without replicating the behaviour in his supposed free time.

It was rare that he had a weekend off, and when he did he much preferred to be left to his own devices. He liked to take long walks in the countryside surrounding his house, listen to opera on his state-of-the-art music centre or catch up on the stack of films he had missed at the cinema because he’d inevitably been working. Yet agreeing to be sociable with his sister’s friends and neighbours wasn’t the only reason that he’d agreed to be present at her house this warm spring Saturday afternoon. All week Jarrett had hardly been able to think about anything but seeing Sophia Markham again. He couldn’t forget the sight of her beautiful emerald eyes bathed in tears. It troubled him that she might be sad or lonely, yet if he was honest underneath his compassion he couldn’t help wondering if there might be a way to persuade her to sell High Ridge to him. Painting her sitting room by herself didn’t suggest that money was exactly plentiful, he mused. And if she agreed to entertain the idea of selling he would pay her a more than fair price.

His hopes lifting, Jarrett looked forward even more to seeing Sophia again. But the get-together had been underway for almost two hours and he was getting bored. There was only so much inconsequential chitchat he could bear, even for his sister, and there was still no sign of Sophia, although Beth assured him that she’d rung to say she was coming.

He was just debating whether to go up to the house and check to see if anything was amiss when the doorbell’s familiar cheery melody chimed through the hallway. As luck would have it he was standing in the vicinity, endeavouring to listen attentively to his brother-in-law Paul’s enthusiastic description of the new car he was going to buy. Privately he thought it was a bad choice, and he had just been thinking he would have a quiet word with Beth about it so she could nudge him in the direction of something better when the doorbell had rung. Without a flicker of guilt he moved down the hall to answer it. His body was already tightening warmly in anticipation of seeing High Ridge’s lovely new owner again.

‘Hi … I’m sorry if we’re a little late.’

The statement came out in a breathless rush, and Sophia Markham’s apologetic smile as he opened the door rendered him almost speechless because it was so bewitching.

Waiting patiently for his response, she drew Charlie protectively against her side. It wasn’t hard to see that the child meant the sun, moon and stars to her.

Staring at her as she stood before him, in faded jeans, colourful knitted tank-top and long unbuttoned navy blue cardigan, he likened her appearance to a breath of longed-for fresh air that a prisoner might greedily gulp down when he’d been freed from solitary confinement. Today her pretty dark hair hadn’t been left loose to flow down over her shoulders—instead she’d fashioned it into two very becoming braids. In contrast, the other women at the small party had seized the opportunity to show off their wardrobes and were dressed up to the nines. Personally, Jarrett thought such a brash display was unnecessary and over the top. He himself had dressed in a casual white shirt and black jeans faded almost to grey—his usual mode of attire when he wasn’t at work—and he was very glad to see that Sophia had opted to do the same.

‘Don’t worry about being late … Beth will kill me for saying it, but you’ve haven’t exactly missed anything. It’s good to see you.’ After speaking at last, he grinned, then leaned down to squeeze Charlie’s shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you too, Charlie. Why don’t you both come inside?’

‘Hello, there, I’m Paul Harvey—Beth’s husband. How nice to meet you at last, Ms Markham.’

‘And you, Mr Harvey.’

‘Call me Paul.’

Sophia didn’t invite the other man to call her by her first name in return, Jarrett noticed, silently approving. He had no earthly right to feel so possessive towards her, but for reasons he couldn’t begin to explain he did.

‘Let’s go and meet everyone,’ he suggested, gesturing for her and her son to precede him.

The conversations that littered the air as they walked in abruptly ceased as Jarrett escorted Sophia into the stylishly furnished living room. Even the softly playing jazz emanating from the music centre seemed to grow quieter. His sister Beth immediately peeled herself away from the trio of women she’d been deep in conversation with and presented herself to her new guest with an enthusiastic handshake, followed by the characteristic peck on the cheek with which she greeted all her friends.

‘Hi, Sophia, I’m Beth Harvey—Jarrett’s sister. I had no idea you’d be so pretty! I’m so glad you could come … your son too. Jarrett tells me that his name is Charlie?’

‘That’s right.’

Inside that perfectly decorated room, with its carefully chosen, strategically arranged amalgam of modern and antique furniture, surrounded by a bunch of curious strangers, Sophia looked ill at ease. Her coral lips were pursed together tightly as she listened to his sister gush, and Jarrett intuited that she’d rather be anywhere else but here. He was intrigued to know what had persuaded her to put in an appearance at all. Clearly she’d wrestled with the decision for some time—why else had she been so late in arriving? Something else struck him. He’d always regarded the sister who shared his own dramatic colouring of ebony hair and blue eyes as unquestionably pretty. However, next to Sophia’s finely drawn beautiful features and bewitching emerald eyes Beth seemed merely attractive.