His Suitable Bride(59)

It was a sentiment with which Rafael wholeheartedly concurred. The thought of her with Goodman—dressing for him, getting ready for him, tempted to sleep with him, whatever she stammered out about not being that sort of girl—would live in his head for ever.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he told her icily. ‘Furthermore, Goodman’s welcome to you.’





CHAPTER TEN


THREE days later and Cristina decided that she had to get away. She kept reliving every minute of their last encounter and, the more she relived it, the more hopeless and despairing she felt. She hadn’t meant to see him after the party, and when he’d turned up on her doorstep she hadn’t meant to let him get physically near her, but she had, and now she couldn’t stop beating herself up for her weakness. She had to get over him, and even being in the same city as he was, improbable though it was that she would ever catch sight of him, made her feel a bit panicked.

Anthea would be able to manage the flower shop on her own for a few days. She would leave loads of instructions and she would make sure that she wasn’t out of the country, although what she really would have loved to do was to pack her bags and slink back to the warm bosom of her family.

She could easily have rented a room in a hotel and disappeared off to a conveniently remote place, but in the end she telephoned one of the women she had met at the party in connection with a possible landscaping job. It hadn’t been anything big, just redoing a tiny bit of their garden at the back where they wanted a useful vegetable plot to be incorporated into something ornamental. Cristina remembered it because it was out in the country and she could be accommodated in a tiny cottage on the estate.

Having had no expectations that she would be in luck, she was pleasantly surprised when Amelia Connolly remembered her, and even more pleasantly surprised to be told that she could come immediately and stay for a few days, which would suit them fine as they were going to be out of the country for a fortnight.

So the following day saw her stepping out of her car and clutching the key to the cottage which she had retrieved from a neighbour, whose house lay out of sight behind fields and towering trees.

The main house was very grand. It was a traditional red-bricked Victorian mansion on a vast scale, and she could easily picture its elegant past of servants and butlers, cooks and nannies. Amelia and her husband had two young children and the house seemed very big for a family of only four, two of whom were only just out nappies, but then some people just liked having an awful lot of space around them.

The cottage was much more her style. It was at the front of the property, where the long, gravelled drive to the main house began, and it was very picturesque.

Inside not a great deal had been done and it was charming, with a small kitchen, a tiny little snug, and upstairs just the one bedroom and bathroom.

Cristina decided that she would explore the grounds in the morning because she was exhausted, even though the trip up had taken a scant two hours in her little car. She could hardly remember when she had last slept well; the past couple of nights had been a disaster. She had taken ages to fall asleep, and when she eventually had she had been awakened by dreams, which had all involved variations of Rafael vanishing into the distance while she tried to follow him only to discover that her feet were cemented to the ground.

She had brought enough food to last four days, which was how long she intended on staying. But, opening the fridge, she saw that Amelia had kindly stocked up with the basics, and beside a little dish of eggs on the counter was a note telling her to make herself at home, as well as several sheaths of paper detailing what sort of ideas they had for the vegetable plot.

Dinner was a cheese omelette, and by the time eight-thirty rolled around she was ready to fall asleep in front of the television. The mere fact that she wasn’t in London was good for her mind. Yes, she still thought of Rafael as she lay in bed with her eyes closed, but at least he didn’t pursue her in her dreams as well. And the following day she was bright-eyed and ready to start having a look at her project.

Losing herself in the maintained gardens and woodland was very easy for Cristina to do. More than once she wondered what on earth had possessed her to settle in London. When had it ever been her life’s ambition to live in a city surrounded by pollution, traffic and constant noise? She decided that she really would think about moving somewhere, where the views were not impeded by buildings, or the only greenery was contained in parks which were only ever bearable in winter when no one else was interested in using them.

Because of the acres of land to explore, Cristina had packed herself a picnic lunch, and it was absolute heaven sitting on the edge of the woodland, a small copse fragrant with lavender which was all part of the estate.