Determined Lady. Margaret Mayo
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slightly apart, his face stern, his whole stance one of haughty, powerful arrogance.
Their eyes locked and warred and Saira’s chest heaved as she fought for control. He had strong capable hands, she noticed, long, well-manicured fingers spread on his forearms, and she wondered briefly what he did for a living—besides being a property owner! Power emanated from every bone in his body.
‘I have proof,’ she persisted, ‘most definitely I have proof. I have a letter from Aunt Lizzie’s solicitor. I thought I’d brought it with me, but——‘
‘And if I provide proof of my own?’ he cut in coldly.
‘I’ll contest it,’ Saira’s voice was loud and hostile, and she tried to match his demeanour with one of her own, standing tall, her chin high, her eyes ebullient.
Jarrett Brent’s lip curled, but there was undisguised admiration in his eyes. ‘You’re quite a spitfire.’
At his words something clicked in her subconscious, gone again instantly, forgotten in this battle of ownership. ‘Aunt Lizzie wanted me to have it; we were very close. I spent all my school holidays here. She would never have sold it to you, I know she wouldn’t.’
Jarrett Brent pushed his fingers through thick brown hair, cut viciously short. It would have suited him longer. The thought flashed through Saira’s mind and was gone. Damn the man, what he looked like didn’t matter. It was the sort of person he was that was at issue—and she sure as hell did not like what she saw.
‘Perhaps she had no option?’ Vivid blue eyes watched her closely.
‘Perhaps you didn’t give her any?’ she retorted. ‘Or perhaps you thought she had no relatives and decided to spread the word that you’d bought the cottage, adding it to your not inconsiderable list of properties. Oh, yes, I know all about you, Mr Brent, much more than you think.’
‘Indeed?’ Brows rose yet again, but there was anger now inside him. Gone was the mockery. He didn’t like her attitude, the way she was sticking up for herself, the things she was saying. He had probably never met anyone like her before.
Saira knew she ought to watch herself but instead she stamped her foot. ‘Lord, you’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met. You say you have proof? Well, show it to me.’
Thick brows rose reprovingly. ‘Why should I do that when I have no proof that you’re who you say you are? Lizzie never mentioned you to me.’
‘And she never mentioned you to me,’ Saira flung back.
‘Then we’re in a stalemate position, wouldn’t you say?’ Eyes locked, hostility reigned; it was a battle royal they were fighting.
‘This is an intolerable situation,’ she cried. ‘Where the hell am I going to sleep tonight if I can’t get into the cottage?’
‘You could go home,’ he suggested easily.
‘I have no transport,’ she told him, ‘and even if I had I wouldn’t go, not until this matter’s sorted out.’
‘So how did you get here?’
‘I came by train and taxi,’ she told him coolly.
‘And you dismissed the driver without first of all making sure that you could get in?’ He made it sound as though it was an incredibly stupid thing to do.
‘I never dreamt for one moment that the key wouldn’t fit,’ answered Saira hostilely. ‘Do they have rooms at the Challoner’s Arms?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ And he looked as though the fact pleased him.
Saira eyed him stormily. ‘I’ll find somewhere to stay. I’m most definitely not going home until I find out who the legal owner of Honeysuckle Cottage is.’ She would ring her employer and tell him that she was taking the few days’ holiday he owed her.
‘You’re a hell of a determined lady, I’ll say that for you.’ It was a grudging compliment.
Saira had never needed to stand up to anyone the way she did to this man; she was seeing a new side to herself. But there was a whole lot at stake and she had the feeling that if she walked away from here now she would lose the cottage altogether. ‘Where’s the nearest hotel?’ she asked.
‘Thirsk, I expect.’
‘Then perhaps you’d kindly ring for a taxi and I’ll book myself in there. But I’ll be back, Mr Brent, you can be sure about that.’ She would phone her mother and ask her to send Mr Kirby’s letter. With a bit of luck it would come in the morning and then she could present Mr High and Mighty Brent with it. That would wipe the smile off his face.
‘I have a better suggestion.’
Saira frowned suspiciously. She didn’t like the look in his eyes.
‘You can be my guest.’
‘And stay here,’ she derided, ‘in the camp of the enemy?’ This was the last thing she had expected and it wasn’t what she wanted at all. ‘No, thank you.’ Lord knew what his motive was, but it didn’t appeal to her one little bit.
‘I wasn’t talking about Frenton Hall,’ he answered impatiently. ‘I was referring to the cottage.’
Saira frowned. ‘That doesn’t make sense. You’re claiming it belongs to you, and yet you’re prepared to let me use it. Why?’
‘Just until the legalities are sorted out.’ The wolfish smile on his face suggested that he knew what the outcome would be.
And although half of Saira’s mind screamed that it was wrong, the other hot-headed half agreed. It was her right, after all. This thing had to be sorted out, and being here on the spot was the best way to do it. ‘I guess your conscience is bothering you?’
‘I was merely thinking of you,’ he announced carelessly. ‘It seems a bit pointless going into Thirsk when the cottage is sitting empty.’ He took a key off the keyring in his pocket and handed it to her.
So the man had a heart, of sorts! Saira eyed him with no real pleasure. ‘I’d like to say it’s very kind of you but I don’t think kindness plays a part in it. I shall be back, of course, with the necessary proof, and then you’ll see for yourself that Honeysuckle Cottage is most definitely mine.’
Head high, Saira marched out into the hall and across the polished wooden floor to the door. Mrs Gibbs was nowhere in sight and when the door would not open it galled Saira to have to stand back and let the obnoxious Jarrett Brent do it for her.
‘Goodbye, Miss Carlton.’ The aggravating smile was on his lips. ‘I shall look forward to your next visit.’
His nearness was a very real threat. Saira felt her heart beat unusually fast and was intensely aware of his raw masculinity and the danger he posed. This was no ordinary man. He appeared laid-back and friendly but beneath the surface he was as hard as steel. OK, he had offered to let her use the cottage, but she was damn sure it wasn’t a simple, generous gesture. There had to be some motive.
She walked stiff-backed all the way up the long drive, wondering whether she was being watched or whether he had closed the door and immediately forgotten all about her. Meeting a man like Jarrett Brent was certainly something she had never expected when inheriting her aunt’s cottage. She couldn’t accept that he was a friend of Lizzie’s. No friend would take your home from you. He had to be lying, and she was determined to find out the truth.
SAIRA felt oddly uncomfortable letting herself into Honeysuckle Cottage, and she blamed Jarrett Brent for it. He was trying it on, she felt sure, making out he had bought the cottage when really he hadn’t, but he was so convincing that there had to be some thread of truth in his story. Maybe he had been