Swept into the Rich Man's World(5)

He leant across the table and fixed his gaze on her. It was unnerving to  be captivated by those blue eyes. By the sheer size and strength of him  as his arms rested on the table, his broad shoulders angled towards  her.

'There's no shame in failing, Aideen.'

Heat barrelled through her and she leant back in her chair, away from  him. 'Really?' She pushed her mug to the side. 'What would you know  about failing?'

His jaw hardened, and when he spoke his low voice was harsh with something she couldn't identify.

'Trust me-I have failed many times in my life. I'm far from perfect.'

She looked at him sceptically. He looked pretty perfect to her. From his  financial stability and security and his film-star looks to this  beautiful house, everything was perfect...even his spotless kitchen.

He stood and grabbed both mugs. With his back to her he said, 'I think it's time we went to bed.'

Once again he was annoyed with her. She should leave it. Go to bed, as  he had suggested. But curiosity got the better of her. 'Why are you here  in Mooncoyne? Why not somewhere like New York or London?'

He turned and folded his arms, leant against the counter. 'I met the  previous owner of Ashbrooke, Lord Balfe, at a dinner party in London and  we became good friends. He invited me to stay here and I fell in love  with the house and the estate. Lord Balfe couldn't afford the upkeep any  longer, and he was looking to sell the estate to someone who felt as  passionate as he did about conserving it. So I agreed to buy it.' His  unwavering eyes held hers and he said matter-of-factly, 'My business was  growing ever more demanding. I knew I needed to live somewhere quiet in  order to focus on it. This estate seemed the perfect place. And also  Mooncoyne reminded me of the small fishing village where I grew up in  County Antrim.'

So that was why he had traces of a soft, melodic Northern Irish brogue. 'Do your family still live there?'

Another quick look at his watch. He flicked his gaze back up to her. He  looked as though he wasn't going to answer, but then he took her by  surprise and said, 'No, my mum died when I was a boy and my dad passed  away a number of years ago.'

For a moment their eyes locked and incomprehensively she felt tears form at the back of hers. 'I'm sorry.'

Blue eyes held hers and her pulse quickened at the intimacy of looking  into a stranger's eyes for more than a polite second or two. Not being  able to look away...not wanting to look away.

Then his hands gripped the countertop and he dipped his head for a  moment before he looked back up and spoke. 'It happens. I have a younger  sister, Orla, who lives in Madrid.'

'Do you see her often?'

His mouth twisted unhappily. 'Occasionally.'

His tone told her to back off. Tension filled the room. She hated an  unhappy atmosphere. And she didn't want to cause him any offence.

So, in a bid to make amends and lighten the tension, she said what she  had been thinking all night. 'You've a spectacularly beautiful home.'                       
       
           



       

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. 'Thank you. I'm very proud of the work we've done here over the past few years.'

'How many staff do you employ?'

'I've cleaning and housekeeping staff who come in every day. Out on the  estate my estate manager, William, employs twenty-two staff between the  stables and the farm.'

'No housekeeper...even a butler?'

His mouth lifted ever so slightly. If she had blinked she would have missed it.

'Sorry to disappoint you but I like my privacy. And I can cook for myself, do up my own buttons, tie my own shoelaces...'

She knew she was pushing it, but decided to push her luck as curiosity  got the better of her. 'A girlfriend?' She tried to ignore the  unexpected stab of jealousy that came with the thought that there might  be a special woman in his life.

Something dark flashed in his eyes and he quietly answered. 'No-no girlfriend.'

She tried to fill the silence that followed. 'So nobody but you lives in the house?'

'No. Now, I think it's time for bed.'

So they were all alone tonight. It shouldn't matter, but for some reason  heat grew in her belly at that thought. This was a huge place for one  man to live in alone.

Though she stood in preparation for leaving the kitchen she didn't move  away from the table. Instead she said, 'Wow. Don't you get lonely?'

'I prefer to live on my own. I don't have time for relationships.' He studied her sombrely. 'Why? Do you get lonely?'

Taken aback, she answered, 'I'm too busy. I can-'

A tightness in her chest stopped her mid-sentence. Maybe she had been  lonely these past few months, and had been denying it all along in her  determination to get her business back up and running again.

She shrugged and looked at him with a half smile. 'I must admit it's  nice to talk to someone face to face for a change, rather than on the  phone or over the internet. I seem to spend all my days on the phone at  the moment, calling prospective clients.' With a sigh of exasperation  she added, 'I really should go and visit them. It would save me a lot of  time being put on hold.'

'Why don't you?'

She felt herself blush. 'Most of my clients are based in Paris, and it's  on my list of priorities to visit them.' She couldn't admit that  financially she wasn't in a position to travel there, so instead she  said, 'But, to be honest, part of me is embarrassed. I haven't seen any  of them since I lost my business. I suppose my pride has taken a dent.'

'Go back out there and be proud that you're back and fighting. I'm going  to Paris next week...' He didn't finish the sentence and a look of  annoyance flashed across his face. His tone now cooler, he said, 'You  have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. I'll walk you back to your room.'

He called to the dogs and led them back to their beds in the cloakroom.

As they approached the bottom of the stairs she gave him a smile and  offered him her hand. 'Thank you for tonight.' A surprising lump of  something had formed in her throat, and her voice was croaky when she  finally managed to continue to speak. 'Thank you for taking me in. I  plan on leaving early tomorrow, so in case I don't see you then, it was  nice to meet you.'

Tension seemed to bounce off the surrounding walls and she felt dizzy  when his hand took hers. 'I wake before dawn, so the security alarm will  be disabled after that.' With a quick nod he added, 'Take care of  yourself.'

He walked away, back towards the main entrance hall.

She walked up the stairs slowly, her head spinning. What on earth had  possessed her to tell him so much? And why on earth did the thought that  she might never see him again make her feel sad? The man obviously  didn't want her in his house.

As she lay in bed the memory of his incredible blue eyes and quiet but  assured presence left her twisting and tumbling and wishing the hours  away so she could leave for home. Where she could lose herself in her  work again.

And when sleep finally started to pull her into oblivion her tired mind  replayed on a loop his deep voice saying, 'You're safe. That's all that  matters.' Words he would probably say to anyone. But when he had said  them to her, he had looked at her with such intensity it had felt as  though he was tattooing them on her heart.                       
       
           



       





CHAPTER THREE

PATRICK TORE ALONG the bridle path that cut through the woods, pushing  his horse harder and harder. Soft ground underfoot, branches whizzing  by, the flash of vivid, almost purple patches of bluebells, calm cool  air beating against his skin...

When they reached the edge of the woods they raced through the  parkland's glistening green grass. They leapt time and time again over  the ditches separating the fields. Adrenaline pumped in both man and  mare.

They followed the ancient pathway that hugged the coast and galloped in  the steps of the medieval pilgrims who had come to Mooncoyne abbey.

The rising sun slatted its thick rays of sunlight through the window  openings and he pulled the horse to a halt by the entrance. He  dismounted and walked into the nave.

He hadn't managed to get back to sleep again last night. Instead he had  lain awake, wondering how his conversation with Aideen Ryan had become  so personal so quickly. It had unsettled him. That wasn't how he  operated. He didn't open up to anyone.

For crying out loud, he had almost suggested to her that she travel with  him to Paris. His guess was that it wasn't just pride standing in her  way of going, but also financial difficulties. In the end he had ended  the conversation, been glad when she'd made her own way to bed, because  he hadn't been able to handle how good it was to talk to someone else,  to actually connect with them.

And, despite himself, he was deeply attracted to her.

All of which was dangerous.

He threw his head back and stared up into the endless depths of the blue sky.

Hadn't he already proved he wasn't capable of having effective  relationships? He had a string of exes who had been beautiful but  superficial. A sister who wouldn't talk to him. And a nephew or niece he  would never get to know.