She huddled on her quilted jacket, pulled on her Wellington boots and grabbed a leash and a torch from the shelf in the boot room before letting herself out through the back door. The temperature outside wasn’t much above freezing, and she could see her breath like a cloud in front of her as she skirted the house, softly calling Barney’s name, hoping he would be waiting anxiously on the terrace for readmission.
But there was no sign of him. Biting her lip, she went round to the side gate, left carelessly open, probably by the departing Mavis, and stepped out on to the lane leading to the common.
As she walked, she called again, sweeping the area with her torch, knowing that he could be anywhere. As she reached the edge of the common, she took a deep breath then gave three soft whistles as Andrew used to do.
In the distance, there was an answering bark and a moment later, Barney came loping into view, tail wagging and tongue hanging out.
‘Good boy,’ Ginny said, sighing with relief as she attached the leash to his collar, but as she turned back towards the house, he resisted, standing stock still, staring back the way he’d come, and whimpering softly and excitedly.
As if, she thought, he was waiting for someone. She raised the torch, aiming the beam across the scrubby grass and clumps of gorse. She said sharply, ‘Who’s there?’
But there was no reply or sign of movement, and after a moment or two, Barney came out of alert mode and turned obediently for home.
You, my girl, she told herself grimly, had better stop being over-imaginative and get down to practicalities—like where you’ll go, and how the hell you’ll earn your living.
And, as she trudged back to the house, she found herself wishing, with a kind of bitter despair, that she’d never heard the name of Andre Duchard. Or, better still, that he’d never been born.
Copyright © 2015 by Sara Craven
ISBN-13: 9781460329696
Fonseca’s Fury
Copyright © 2015 by Abby Green
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He’ll make her an offer...
Pascha Virshilas is on the brink of securing personal redemption when Emily Richardson breaks into his office and steals private company documents. And then she has the gall to blackmail him into clearing her father’s name!
She can’t refuse!
But Pascha has his own terms. He’ll keep his side of the bargain, but the enticing Emily must accompany him to his private island—the only place he can ensure her silence. But in the midst of a tropical storm, the wind blows aside suspicions and secrets to reveal something much more dangerous—lust!
Only with the greatest effort did Pascha keep his features still.
Emily’s brown eyes held his as if in challenge before her lips—amazing lips, like a heart tugged out at the sides—curved upward. Her eyes remained cold. She leaned forward.
“It is obvious this buyout is important to you and you need to keep it a secret. I suggest we make a deal. If you agree to withdraw the threat of legal action toward my father I will keep my mouth shut about the Plushenko deal.”
Pascha’s fingers tightened on the document in his grasp. “You think you can blackmail me?”
She raised her shoulders in a sign of nonchalance. “You may call it blackmail but I like to think of it as us making a deal.”
If the Plushenko deal fell through, his legacy would be gone.
And so would Pascha’s last chance at redemption.
Could he trust her?
Beneath the collected exterior lurked a wildness. It echoed in the flickers of light emitting from her dark eyes. He could feel it.