Savage Awakening(21)

'Why not?'

'Well-for a start, because I do think I can trust you.'

'Thanks.' His tone was dry.

'I mean it.' Fliss sighed. 'But Amy had no right to involve you-'

'If you say so.'

'-and I'm sure you have better things to do than take a nine-year-old to the beach.'

'Ah.' He was sardonic. 'This is your way of letting me down gently, right?'

'Wrong.'

'But you're going to say no, anyway,' he persisted harshly. 'Why don't you just come out and say so?'

'If you must know, I'd already decided to take her myself,' said Fliss  defensively, and she saw the way his mouth turned down at this news.

'Yeah, right.'

'I mean it.' She gave a helpless shake of her head. 'Why would I lie?'

'You tell me.'

'I'm not lying,' she protested. 'If you don't believe me, why don't you come with us?'

It was one of those moments when the air in the room practically  shimmered with tension. Matt was obviously taken aback by her words and  Fliss was wondering how much deeper a hole she was going to dig herself.  Dear God, she didn't want to spend a whole day with him any more than  he wanted to spend the day with her. Dammit, why hadn't she kept her big  mouth shut?

'What's going on here?'

Her father's appearance in the doorway seemed like the last straw. She  had hoped Matt would have said his piece and disappeared before her  father came down, but now George Taylor was staring at their visitor  with wary eyes. He'd recognised him, of course. How could he not? And he  was characteristically suspicious as to why Matt should be standing in  his kitchen.                       
       
           



       

In fact it was Matt who took the initiative. 'Mr Taylor, I presume,' he  remarked easily, putting out his hand to shake the other man's as if  he'd never expressed any reluctance to speak to a member of the Press.  'Matt Quinn. I'm the new owner of the Old Coaching House.'

'I know who you are Mr Quinn,' said Fliss's father stiffly, obviously as  taken aback by Matt's cordiality as Fliss was herself. Then his gaze  turned to his daughter, and his lips tightened. 'I suggest you go and  put some clothes on, Felicity. I'll entertain our guest.'

Fliss rolled her eyes. 'Dad-'

'It's OK,' said Matt, before she could say anything more. 'I've got to  go and finish my breakfast and lock up the house.' He met Fliss's gaze  with apparent unconcern. 'I'll leave your daughter to explain that I'm  taking her and your granddaughter out for the day.'

Fliss didn't know which of them was the most shocked, her or her father.  But rather than wait to see how she was going to handle it, Matt arched  a challenging brow in her direction and headed for the door.

'I'll be back in an hour,' he promised blandly. 'Nice to meet you, Mr Taylor.'

And with that, he was gone, and Fliss was left to face her father's  undoubted irritation. The door had scarcely closed behind Matt before he  snapped, 'Do you want to tell me what's going on between you and that  man? Why would he think he had the right to come here at-' he consulted  his wrist-watch before continuing-'at seven-thirty in the morning? Has  he been here all night?'

Fliss's jaw dropped. 'Don't be ridiculous!'

'What's ridiculous about it? I didn't hear a car, and you're hardly  dressed to receive visitors.' His lips pursed with annoyance as he  viewed her attire. 'And couldn't you buy yourself some nightgowns? What  must he think, finding you wearing men's underpants to sleep in?'

'They're boxers,' Fliss corrected him shortly. 'And they're very comfortable, actually.'

'No doubt.' Her father sniffed. 'Well? What's all this about?'

Fliss expelled an exasperated breath, but before she could answer the  door opened again and Amy and Harvey bounded in. 'Is it true?' the  little girl demanded as Harvey raced wildly about the room. 'Are we  really going out with Quinn? He said we were. He said you'd said we  could all go to the beach.'

'Amy-'

'I think your mother's taken leave of her senses,' retorted her  grandfather dauntingly. 'I never approved of her going to work for that  man, but getting you involved as well-'

'I didn't get Amy involved,' protested Fliss quickly, not prepared to be  blamed for something that really wasn't her fault. 'It was Amy who let  Harvey into Matt's garden.'

'So it's "Matt's" garden, is it?' Her father was scornful. Then he  turned to his granddaughter. 'Is this true, Amy? Did you let Harvey  out?'

Amy hunched her shoulders. 'I might have done.'

'Either you did or you didn't.' Her grandfather regarded her sternly.  'You know that was a very naughty thing to do, don't you? Harvey could  have run away, or got knocked down. Anything.'

'No, he couldn't,' muttered Amy sulkily. 'He was safe enough in the garden at the big house.'

Her grandfather gasped. 'So, you admit you deliberately released the dog in Mr Quinn's garden?'

Amy looked mutinous. 'He didn't mind.'

'How do you know that?' Fliss's father was angry now. 'You hardly know the man.'

'I do, too.' Amy was defiant. 'I spent all yesterday morning talking to  him.' She took a breath and then added staunchly, 'He likes me.'

'Does he?' George Taylor turned back to his daughter now. 'Why wasn't I told about this?'

Fliss sighed. 'About what?'

'About Amy spending the morning with that man,' stated her father  grimly. 'I thought you told me she was going to play outside, as she  used to do when you worked for the colonel-'                       
       
           



       

'I didn't always play outside,' Amy interrupted him quickly, and  although Fliss knew the child was only trying to defend herself, she  wasn't doing herself any favours by reminding her grandfather of that.  He had always been jealous of the time Amy spent with Colonel Phillips,  and of the affection she had had for the old man. 'We often used to play  games-'

'Be quiet, Amy.' Her grandfather had heard enough. 'Well, Fliss? I'm waiting for an answer.'

'You're not talking to Amy now, Dad,' retorted Fliss, deciding her own  grievance with her daughter would have to wait. 'Amy was helping Mr  Quinn unpack some books, that was all. He was glad of her company.'

'And you left her with this man? With a man you hardly know?' Her father shook his head. 'I thought you'd have had more sense!'

Fliss stared at him. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Oh-' He swung away to lift his coffee mug from the hook and poured  himself a cup before saying anything else. Then, aware that she was  still watching him, he muttered, 'I should have thought it was obvious.'

Fliss felt cold. 'I hope you don't mean what I think you mean,' she began, and Amy looked confused.

'What does Grandad mean?' she asked innocently, and Fliss realised she couldn't say anything more in front of her daughter.

'Your grandfather's just feeling liverish,' she said instead, deciding  getting dressed would have to wait until after breakfast. 'Now, I  suggest you go and put your clothes on. I'll get my shower after you've  finished.'

Amy moved reluctantly towards the door and Fliss was hardly surprised  when she paused in the doorway. 'We are going out, aren't we, Mummy?'  she asked anxiously. 'You're not going to say no because Grandad's  cross?'

Fliss blew out a breath. 'Just get dressed, Amy,' she advised the little girl flatly, but Amy was persistent.

'Are we?' she pleaded. 'Please say we are.'

'I'll think about it,' said Fliss, giving her father a reflective look. 'Now, scoot.'

'Can I wear my new skirt?'

'Don't push your luck,' Fliss declared drily, and the child had to be content with that.

But after Amy had disappeared upstairs, Fliss turned from taking milk  from the refrigerator and said, 'Why are you being so horrible about  this? What have I done to make you think I can't look after myself and  my daughter?'

Her father pulled out a chair at the table and then shook his head. 'You can ask me that?'

Fliss caught her breath. 'I was sixteen, Dad.' She paused. 'I thought we'd got over that.'

'We have,' he muttered, setting his mug on the table and then dropping  wearily into his chair. 'But dammit, Fliss, I've told you what I've  heard about that man.'

'And what have you heard exactly?'

'Just what I said-that he's had some mental problems since he got back from Abuqara.'

'What kind of mental problems?'

'I don't know.' Her father took a mouthful of his coffee. 'God knows what state he was in when he got back.'

Fliss sighed. 'Isn't this just gossip?'

'Well, you said yourself he'd left London because he felt he needed space.'

'So?'

'So-why would he do that? I mean, as I hear it, the company he worked for were more than willing to give him his old job back.'

'Perhaps he felt like a change.'

'Yes.' Her father reached for the morning newspaper Fliss had picked up  from the hall when she came down. 'Well, in my opinion, no one in their  right mind would have turned down the opportunity to pick up where they  had left off. Most wouldn't get the chance.'

Fliss lifted a loaf from the bread bin. 'Perhaps that was because he was  good at his job,' she said practically, but her father wasn't having  that.