Swept into the Rich Man's World(6)

The baby would be born in the next month. He should be there. Supporting  Orla. At least she was willing to accept his financial support. If she  had refused to do so then he really would have been out of his mind,  worrying about how she was going to cope.

His call to Hong Kong earlier had gone well. If he kept up the pressure  for the remainder of the day, with the rest of his acquisition teams,  then the deal would go through later tonight. It would be strange for it  all to be over. For months he had worked day and night to see it  happen.

A strange emptiness sat in his chest. What would he do once the project was over?

The slow tendrils of an idea had formed in his mind but he kept pushing  them away. But as he walked through the ruins of the abbey the idea came  back, stronger and more insistent this time.

He should help Aideen. It was what any good neighbour would do. It was what his father would have done.

But would he be crazy to do it? Last night he had lowered his guard  around her. He couldn't allow that again. If he was to help then it  would have to be done on a strictly business basis. He could help her  re-establish her business, mentor her if required. He knew what it was  like to throw your heart and soul into a business. And he knew only too  well the pain of failure.

He would help her. And it would all be professional and uncomplicated.

* * *

The memory of a deep voice snaked through Aideen's brain. She gave a  small sigh, smiled to herself, and stretched out on the bed.

But then her eyes popped open and she looked around, disorientated. Small shafts of daylight sneaked under drawn curtains.

Slowly she remembered where she was. And what she had to face today.

Dreaming about Patrick Fitzsimon was the last thing she should be doing.

The cottage. Deadlines.

For a few seconds she pulled the duvet up over her head. Maybe she could  just stay here in this warm and dark cocoon for a few days.

With a groan she pushed back the cover. Time to rise and shine. And face what the day had to bring.

Anyway, it couldn't be any worse than being forced out of the business  she'd once created. She had survived the past year, so she would survive  this.

She pulled the curtains apart and winced as daylight flooded the room.

The view out of her window was breathtaking. Below her, formal box  gardens led down to a gigantic fountain that sprayed a sprout of water  so vigorously upwards it was as though it was trying to defy gravity.  Rose gardens lay beyond the fountain, and then a long rolling meadow,  rich in rain-drenched emerald green grass, ran all the way down to the  faraway sea.                       
       
           



       

Though the sun was still low in the sky the light was dazzling, thanks to a startlingly clear blue sky.

Had last night's storm been in her imagination? How could such furious weather be followed by such a beautiful day?

She could almost convince herself maybe her cottage hadn't flooded. That  the weather was a good omen. But she had seen the ferocity of the sea.  There was no way her cottage had got away with avoiding that angry  swell.

When she had come to view the property she had fallen in love with the  old cottage and its outbuildings, arranged around a courtyard garden.  Fuchsia had dangled from the hedgerows and fading old roses had tumbled  from its walls. It had seemed the perfect solution then.

But now her income was sparser and more sporadic than she had projected,  and sometimes she wondered whether she could make this work. That was  one of the worst consequences of losing her business: the vulnerability  and constant questioning of whether she was doing the right thing,  making the right decisions.

But a burning passion for her work along with a heavy dose of pride got  her through most days. She would sacrifice everything to make this  business a success.

Her heart was a different matter, though. It felt bruised. To think that  once upon a time she had thought her ex had loved her...

Pressing the edges of her palms against her eyes, she drew in a deep breath.

A quick shower, an even quicker coffee, and she would head home to start sorting out whatever was waiting for her.

She mightn't even see Patrick. Which would be a good thing, right?

Heading to the bathroom, she sighed. Just who was she trying to kid?

The truth was giddiness was fizzing through her veins at the prospect of  seeing his tall, muscular body, the darkness of his hair, and his  lightly tanned skin which emphasised the celestial blue of his eyes.

Showered and dressed, she was about to open the bedroom door when she  spotted a note pushed under it. Picking it up, she read the brief words.

Aideen,

I will drive you back to your cottage. Help yourself to breakfast in the  kitchen. I will meet you in the main entrance hall at nine.

Patrick

It was a generous offer, but she needed to face the cottage on her own.  It was her responsibility. She had taken up enough of his time as it  was.

And then she studied the note again as an uncomfortable truth dawned on  her. Was he offering to take her as a way of ensuring that she left?  Humiliation burnt on her cheeks.

She checked the time on her phone. It was not yet eight o'clock. She  would get changed and then go reassure him that she was leaving and was  perfectly capable of making her own way home.

Thirty minutes later she had searched for him throughout the house but  there was no sign of him. Her search in this exquisite house, as she'd  gasped at the beauty of the baroque ballroom, with its frescoed ceiling,  mirrored walls, and golden chandeliers, had brought home how different  their lives were.

She was writing a note for him in the kitchen when the cloakroom door swung open.

Over off-white jodhpurs and black riding boots he was wearing a loose  pale green shirt, the top three buttons open to reveal a masculine  smattering of dark hair. His skin glistened with a sheen of  perspiration.

He came to a stop when he spotted her at the table.

'Good morning.' He moved across the kitchen in long strides while  adding, 'Help yourself to breakfast. I'll have a quick shower and be  ready by nine.'

His manner was brusque, and she was left with no doubt that he just  wanted to get the business of taking her home over and done with.  Embarrassment coiled its way around her insides and she wanted to curl  up into a protective ball against his rejection.

But instead she gave him a sunny smile. 'Thank you for the offer, but  there's really no need for you to drive me. I've taken up enough of your  time.' He turned to her with a frown and she added, as way of  explanation, 'I'll collect my car down by the bridge. I could do with a  walk anyway.'

'I'm coming.'

Didn't he trust her? Was he always this insistent?

'No, honestly-you've done enough.'

He leant against the island unit at the centre of the kitchen. 'Aideen, there's no point in arguing. I've made up my mind.'                       
       
           



       

His cool composure set her teeth on edge. 'I want to go to the cottage by myself.'

'Why?'

Oh, for crying out loud. 'Because I can manage. The cottage is my  responsibility. And I have no doubt that you are an extremely busy man. I  can't take up any more of your time.'

'I'm taking you. End of story.'

She was leaving. Why wasn't that enough for him? She gave a small laugh  and said jokingly, 'You don't have to personally escort me off the  estate, you know.'

He obviously didn't enjoy her joke as annoyance flared on his face. 'Do  you really think that is why I want to drive you to the cottage? That I  want to make sure you leave?'

Thrown by his anger, she challenged him back. 'What other reason could you possibly have?'

His blue gaze held hers for a long time, and then, with a deep  inhalation, he said in a quiet voice, 'Why can't you just accept that I  want to help you?'

He moved beside the table and hunkered down beside her. Heat coursed  through her veins at having his powerful body so close by, at seeing the  movement of the hard muscles of his thighs beneath the thin fabric of  the jodhpurs, the beauty of his lightly tanned hand and forearm which  rested on the table beside her.

He didn't speak again until she met his determined gaze. 'Let me help you.'

Why wasn't he listening to her? She was able to look after herself-she didn't need any help.

'I appreciate the offer, but I can manage by myself.'

He stood, his jaw working, and eyed her unhappily. 'As you wish.'

With that, he strode out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

* * *

For the second time in less than twelve hours Aideen knocked at  Patrick's front door. If she'd hated to ask for help the first time  around then it was ten times worse now. Talk about having to eat humble  pie...

As she waited for her knock to be answered she looked back towards her  car. Thankfully it had started immediately, and although the floor was a  little damp, the files and office equipment piled on to the back seat  and in the boot had escaped the storm and flood waters.