Distracted by her Virtue (2 page)

‘Well, you’re wrong about that. As a matter of fact I’m flying out to New York on Friday. I expect to be away for at last a fortnight, if not more.’

‘I’m only teasing you, little brother.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ replied Jarrett, who at six foot two could scarcely be described as ‘little’.

‘To me you’ll always be my little brother. And with both our parents gone it’s down to me to keep a sisterly eye on you. Changing the subject—have you seen anything of Katie Stewart lately?’

Katie Stewart? The woman he’d taken out on a few dates he hadn’t even wanted to go on? She had barely crossed Jarrett’s mind. Her company was pleasant enough, but her conversation hardly lit up the world. As attractive as she was, he wouldn’t date any woman purely because she was easy on the eye. At the very least she had to be bright and engaging, with a good sense of humour. And of course the most important element
of all was that there had to be some fundamental connection between them—an undeniable spark that would keep him interested. At thirty-six he was still single, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. The kind of woman his heart secretly yearned for seemed hard to find—at least in
his
world. Beth put it down to pickiness, but Jarrett preferred to consider himself discerning.

‘No, I haven’t seen Katie Stewart lately. When and
if
I do I’ll be sure to give you a report.’

‘I just worry about you having no one who really matters to you in your life. All the money and success in the world won’t make you happy or keep you warm on those bitter winter nights, Jarrett.’

He grinned into the receiver. ‘Now you’re sounding like one of those batty psychics that tell you you’re going to meet a tall dark stranger if you cross their palm with silver.’

‘Is Sophia Markham tall?’

Jarrett’s grin immediately turned into a scowl. ‘I’ve no idea. When I saw her she was crouching to take a photograph. Anyway, I’ve got to get on. I’ll bring the dog back to you around lunchtime, shall I?’

‘Are you angling for a lunch invitation?’

‘Throw a slice of ham between a couple of slices of bread, make me a cup of tea and I won’t dash off. I’ll stay and have a chat with you.’

‘The day I “throw” a slice of ham between two slices of bread and call it lunch, I’ll know I’ve seriously lost the plot!’

Reflecting on some of the wonderful meals his sister had made for him long before she’d gone to catering college and eventually become head chef for one
of the high-end restaurants in the west end of London, Jarrett’s feelings towards Beth palpably softened. ‘You’re a true culinary genius, sweetheart, and believe me—both my stomach and my palate are grateful for it. I’ll see your around one o’clock, shall I?’

‘And don’t forget to bring Dylan with you, will you?’

‘As if I’d forget … Every time I turn round he’s either doing his best to enslave me with those huge seal-pup eyes of his or trip me over!’

As she drew back the ancient tapestry drapes, the rain of dust made Sophia cough violently. She stepped back just in time as the heavy brass curtain rail clattered heavily down onto the dark wooden floor.

‘Of all the stupid things to do …’ she muttered.

Knowing she’d had a lucky escape, she shook her head, planted her hands on her hips and smiled ruefully. For a while she just stood, watching the dust motes that jumped up from the floor swirl madly in the beam of sunlight that arrowed in through the window. If she’d longed for a project to help quell the misery and despair of the past then she’d found one right enough. It was going to take a good deal of hard toil, sweat and probably tears too to make this house anywhere
near
comfortable enough to enjoy living in. But she hardly had cause for complaint. Not when her eccentric Great-Aunt Mary had bequeathed her such an incredible gift.

Who would have guessed that a woman who had barely even acknowledged her as a child except to frown down at her through her half-moon glasses would turn out to be her guardian angel and fairy godmother all rolled into one?

‘Aunt Mary dislikes most of her family … the adults
at any rate,’ Sophia’s dad had told her once, even as his merry green eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘She doesn’t believe that we deserve to count her as a relative. We’re a great disappointment to her, I’m sure. When she goes she’ll leave this gothic monstrosity of a house to some cat or dog charity … just wait and see!’

Well … her eccentric great-aunt
hadn’t
bequeathed High Ridge Hall to an animal charity.
She’d left it to Sophia instead
.

The day before she’d been due to leave the home that she had been forced to sell she’d had a phone call from a solicitor’s office in London. They had spent months trying to track her down, to tell her that she was the sole beneficiary in her great-aunt’s will. Sophia had been appalled—she hadn’t even heard that she’d died. Since her dad had passed away she’d lost touch with practically everyone but her brother David, and she saw him infrequently enough. In a way she was glad. Since her husband’s destructive behaviour and alcoholism had grown even worse, she’d become too ashamed to let family or friends see how low she had sunk. To learn that not only had she been left High Ridge Hall but a small amount of money too had been overwhelming.

Dropping down into the one remaining antique chair in the living room that hadn’t yet been sold to help meet her deceased husband’s mountain of debt, Sophia had cried hard with gratitude and relief at her eleventh-hour reprieve. If her great-aunt hadn’t left her beautiful old house to her even contemplating the alternative living arrangements insisted upon by her bullying father-in-law would have been too grim to bear …

Her little son ran in from the kitchen, his dark eyes round as saucers when he saw the dislodged brass rail
and the pile of old curtains that half smothered it. ‘What happened, Mummy? I heard the loudest bang.’

‘The curtain rail fell down. These walls are very old, Charlie. The plaster is crumbling like powder. It’s going to take a lot of work to make this room nice again … The whole house is in need of some major attention to make it fit to live in. I’m only grateful that your uncle David was able to take some time off to get a couple of the rooms ready for us before we moved in—otherwise we would have had to camp out in the garden in a tent!’

Charlie was already losing interest in the dramatic incident that had caused him to rush in from the kitchen. Instead he was staring down at the colourful toy he’d carried into the room with him, restlessly turning it over and over between his fingers, as if itching to employ it in some way.

‘Can I go out to the garden to play? I want to make a fort. I promise I won’t go near the pond.’

‘All right, then. As long as you keep in full view of these windows so that I can see you. Promise?’

He grinned, showing a couple of gaps where he’d lost his baby teeth.

Sophia’s heart squeezed. ‘Give me a hug and a kiss first.’

‘You’re
always
hugging and kissing me.’

‘I know, but I can’t help it!’ Seizing her young son by the waist, she whirled him round and round until he shrieked with laughter.

‘Let me go!’ he begged. ‘You’re making me dizzy!’

When he’d got his bearings again, he threw his mother a disarming grin and rushed out of the house into the wild forest of a garden—the garden that was already keeping Sophia awake at night, as she planned
how she was going to make it beautiful again and restore it to the fairytale garden of her childhood.

As she bent down to retrieve the curtains and the rail, out of the blue an image stole into her mind of the physically arresting man who had stopped to say hello the other day while she’d been taking photographs of wildflowers for her portfolio. His eyes had been electrifyingly blue, yet his hair was a thick, curling cap of ebony silk. A small flare of heat imploded inside her. Despite her attraction to him Sophia had been nervous.
What if her father-in-law had sent him to find her … to force her to return to the neighbourhood where she had lived with her late husband?

God knew the man had the kind of strong, intimidating physique that could easily overwhelm her if he tried. She inhaled a long steadying breath. Her worst fears thankfully hadn’t come true, but she was still uneasy.

Jarrett Gaskill … what kind of a name was that?

Even if the man had never heard of her illustrious father-in-law, his name sounded a little too highbrow and pompous for her taste. No doubt he was some ambitious city type who kept a second home here in the country for weekends where he could entertain his London friends and play Lord of the Manor.

The thought brought a briefly cynical smile to her lips, before making her frown. Remembering his mellifluous tones, she’d thought he’d sounded sincere enough. Perhaps it was wrong of her to so judge him so quickly. But what did she know of sincere men when she’d been married to the biggest liar and cheat in the country? Tom Abingdon—the man she’d so stupidly rushed headlong into marriage with at eighteen against
all advice—had been cruel, possessive, and self-indulgent to excess, as well as vain and self-obsessed, and the signs had been there right from the beginning.

How incredible, how
naive
, that Sophia had once believed she could turn him away from his destructive tendencies and show him that life together could be good. It hadn’t taken her long to find out how contemptuous he was of her sincere and innocent impulses. The dark road she’d been travelling with him had grown darker and more twisted day by day, and somehow, because her spirits had sunk so low, she’d been unable to find any means of breaking free.

Towards the end of his life he’d been intent on dragging her and their small son down to even more despicable lows, until one day, in the midst of her growing despair, it had suddenly become clear to her that she had to abandon her youthful dreams of ‘happy-ever-after’—she couldn’t fix her self-destructive husband’s life and she should walk away … right
now
. For Charlie’s sake, if not her own.

It was that thought that had rejuvenated hope in her—had spurred her on to make plans to leave him. But fate had had other more finite plans for Tom Abingdon. One night, after a heavy bout of drinking, he’d died in his sleep.

For a few unsteadying moments the sickening hurt and fury at the pain he had caused deluged Sophia’s heart and made her suck in her breath. Perhaps it was an apt reminder of the supreme idiocy of her getting involved with anyone ever again. If Tom was anything to go by, it was all too easy to be mesmerised and trapped by a man. Even the liars and cheats of this world could present a normal façade in order to get
what they wanted, and it made her vow to be extra careful and much more vigilant.

If she ever saw him again, she promised herself she would give Jarrett Gaskill a wide berth. There was no way she would give
any
man the opportunity to get to know her … to discover the shameful truth of her marriage to a man who had frequently mistreated and degraded her. A new beginning was what she wanted for her and her son. One that didn’t include strangers—however friendly—who wanted to pry into her business. Not that she kidded herself for an instant that Jarrett Gaskill would even remember bumping into her and Charlie down by that idyllic little brook.

For the past three weeks Sophia had visited the weekly farmers’ market in the town centre. There was nothing like buying fruit and vegetables straight from the source, rather than from a soulless and anodyne supermarket, she thought. It was fresher, smelled better, and the taste far surpassed anything you could buy packaged and wrapped up in plastic.

Drawing her son closer to her side, she accepted the sturdy brown paper bag of apples she’d just bought from a friendly female stallholder and deposited it into her hessian shopping bag, on top of the other fresh produce she’d purchased. Glancing down at the cherubic little face that gazed up at her, she smiled brightly in anticipation of her plans for the afternoon. It was still such a treat to bake pies and cakes without fear of Tom coming home drunk, mocking her efforts and then throwing them against the wall.

‘We’ll make an apple pie to have with our tea tonight, Charlie,’ she promised cheerfully.

‘You don’t want an extra guest, do you? I’m quite partial to home-made apple pie.’

The arresting male voice was so richly resonant and well-spoken that Sophia glanced up in surprise at the man who had stepped up beside her. Her startled gaze was instantly magnetised by a pair of twinkling blue eyes so rivetingly intense that for a moment she couldn’t speak. It was
him
… Jarrett Gaskill. The name that had been warily filed away inside her brain presented itself with worrying ease.

‘No … I don’t. I’ve not long moved into my house and it’s taking me longer than I expected to get settled. Besides, it’s not likely I’d invite someone into my home that I don’t even know,’ she replied, quickly averting her gaze.

‘I told you my name the first time we met, remember?’

Sophia’s cheeks burned with heat, because she wasn’t able to pretend that she couldn’t recall it. ‘That’s neither here nor there. Knowing a person’s name hardly means that you
know
them.’

‘True … but an introduction at least creates the opportunity to
get
to know someone.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Gaskill, but I really must get on.’

‘You see?’ Something akin to delight was mirrored in the azure depths of his compelling glance. ‘You
did
remember my name. Perhaps now you’ll do me the honour of telling me yours?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Already turning away, Sophia was suddenly eager to leave the busy little market that was set up in the picturesque village square and head for home.

‘What a pity. I’ve got to call you something if we bump into each other again, don’t you think?’

‘No, you don’t. You can simply ignore me.’

His strong brow affected an exaggerated frown. ‘I certainly couldn’t. That would be the height of bad manners.’

‘You really care about things like good manners?’

‘Of course. I’d live in dread of my poor deceased mother haunting me if I didn’t keep her standards up.’