For His Eyes Only(43)

                ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, pushing open the door and half falling with her into the verge, where they lay laughing, catching their breath amongst long grass, red campion, a few late bluebells that were a perfect match for her eyes. ‘Come on,’ he said, hauling her up, holding her close, not wanting to let her go even for the short scramble down the bank.

                She clutched at jeans that were heading for her knees. ‘Where are we going?’

                ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

                ‘What the...?’ He swung round and Natasha gave a little shriek as they were confronted by a helmeted, visored security guard. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’ he demanded.

                Ignoring his question, the guard said, ‘This is private property. You’re going to have to leave.’

                ‘What? No...’ Then cursed himself for every kind of fool—Ramsey had told him that he’d employed a security firm to keep an eye on the place. Cursed again as he realised that Natasha was standing there without a stitch above her waist and not much below it and putting himself between them. ‘Show a little respect,’ he said, boiling with anger that the man hadn’t had the decency to look away. More likely couldn’t take his eyes off her.

                Despite his helmet and a uniform designed to make him look as much like a policeman as possible without breaking the law, the man took a nervous step back, looked away.

                ‘There’s no need for that,’ he said defensively. ‘I’m just doing my job.’

                ‘Hanging about like some Peeping Tom. You’re the trespasser,’ he said, wrenching off his polo shirt and handing it to Natasha, bundling her back into the seat they’d just fallen out of before turning furiously on the man. ‘This is my land.’ The words were out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. ‘I am Darius Hadley and I own this estate.’

                ‘Good try, but Mr Hadley is dead,’ he replied, ‘and the house is being sold, so if you’d just get back in the vehicle. You can turn around about fifty yards ahead—’

                ‘I know where I can turn. I know every inch of this estate,’ he said, cutting him off, but clearly words weren’t going to do it. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, he opened it and held it out so that the man could see his driver’s licence. ‘Darius Hadley,’ he repeated, while the man checked the name and photograph. ‘The previous owner was my grandfather.’

                ‘Even so, sir, I’ll have to check with the office.’

                ‘Check with who you like. How did you know we were here?’ It seemed unlikely that a patrol just happened to be passing at the exact moment he’d stalled his engine.

                ‘There’s CCTV on all the entrances, Mr Hadley. Apparently this one is something of a lovers’...’

                ‘Get rid of it.’

                ‘I’m sorry...’

                ‘I want the cameras down now. Every one of them, is that clear?’

                ‘I can’t—’

                Darius didn’t wait for the excuses, but reached into the Land Rover for his mobile phone and called Brian Ramsey.

                ‘Ramsey,’ he said, before the man could do more than say his name, ‘I understand that you’ve had security cameras installed at the Chase. Get rid of them. And the security company.’