The End of her Innocence. Sara Craven
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aback. ‘On the contrary. They wanted me to go with them for the summer to run their villa in the South of France.’
‘And you turned that down for Willowford? Amazing.’
No, Chloe wanted to say. I turned it down for you.
Aloud, she said, ‘I felt it was time to come home, back to real life again.’ She paused. ‘So, what time shall I see you tonight?’
He sighed. ‘Can’t manage tonight, Clo. There’s a pony club committee meeting and I’m chairing it because Mrs Hammond’s away. You must have known for ages that you’d be back today. I wish you’d told me sooner.’
‘So do I.’ She felt deflated, and oddly close to tears. ‘But I wanted to surprise you.’
‘Well you’ve done that all right.’ He paused. ‘Look, why don’t I book a table at the Willowford Arms for tomorrow evening? Catch up with everything over dinner?’
Or why don’t you suggest we see each other for a drink when your meeting is over? Or rush over here now?
She put a smile in her voice. ‘Sounds great.’
‘Then I’ll pick you up just before eight,’ he said briskly. ‘Got to dash. I’m expecting a call from the Crawfords. Their whippet is about to litter and they’re a bit concerned.’
It’s a twenty-four-hour service, Chloe told herself as she put the phone down. Aunt Libby reminded you of that just now. And you’ve always known it—lived with it for the greater part of your life. Planned to stick with it. So you can’t jib now.
A vet is like being a doctor, only the patients can’t tell you their symptoms, and a successful practice is built on trust and availability. Haven’t you heard Uncle Hal say so a hundred times over spoiled meals and cancelled outings?
It’s not the end of the world. You’ve just endured one of those days, that’s all, but everything starts again tomorrow.
Just keep thinking of that, and it will all work out just fine.
CHAPTER THREE
CHLOE lay back in the bath, appreciatively absorbing the scent of the rose geranium oil rising from the warm water.
In less than two hours, she’d be with Ian, and the time between would be spent pampering herself as never before.
I want to be irresistible, she thought, smiling inwardly.
All the same, she wasn’t finding it as easy to slip back into the swim of things as she’d expected, although her uncle’s affectionate greeting the previous evening had been balm to the soul, and he and Aunt Libby had tranquilly accepted that Ian was needed elsewhere, so she’d be eating cottage pie with them.
‘That whippet’s a beauty but she could be tricky. Let’s hope this litter is the first and last,’ had been Mr Jackson’s only comment.
‘So what are you doing with yourself today?’ he’d asked that morning as he stood up from the breakfast table, stuffing his folded newspaper into his jacket pocket.
‘Just pottering, I suppose.’ Chloe had smiled at him.
‘Well you could always potter over to Lizbeth Crane’s, if you felt inclined,’ her uncle said briskly. ‘She’s damaged her wrist gardening and Jack’s in Brussels, so their retriever will need walking.’
‘Of course I’ll go.’ Chloe didn’t think twice. ‘A wander across the fields with a friendly dog like Flare is just what I need. I’ll call round as soon as I’ve been to the post office.’
Which in itself had been an experience, she thought.
‘So you’re back.’ Mrs Thursgood had greeted her with a faint sniff. ‘Thought you’d deserted us for good. Come back for that young vet, I dare say. We all thought round here that the banns would have been called a year back or more. You don’t want to leave it too long, missy,’ she added with a look of faint disparagement. ‘You’re not getting any younger, and men go off the boil as quick as they go on it.’
Chloe, acutely aware that every word was being savoured by the queue behind her, paid for her stamps with murder in her heart and escaped.
But there had been more to come. She had to run the gauntlet of the shoppers in the main street, and by the time she reached the Cranes’ house, she felt if one more person said, ‘Well, Chloe, you’re quite a stranger,’ she would howl at the sky.
But Mrs Crane’s delighted welcome, accompanied as it was by coffee and home-made biscuits, plus Flare’s grin and gently offered paw had compensated for a great deal.
Except …
It had been a marvellous walk, the sun warm on her back, and Flare, plumy tail waving, bounding along ahead of her. After a mild disagreement over the retriever’s wish to complete the pleasure of the morning by rolling joyously in a large cowpat, they turned for home. They’d just emerged from a field onto the lane leading back to the village and Chloe was fastening the gate behind her, when she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves.
She glanced round and saw a handsome bay gelding trotting towards them, and paused, her throat tightening when she saw who was riding him.
‘Good morning.’ Darius brought the horse to a stand, and bent forward to pat his glossy neck. ‘Enjoying a constitutional, Miss Benson? I thought you’d be getting your exercise elsewhere on this lovely day—in some convenient haystack with your intended, perhaps.’
Her skin warmed. ‘Do you have to make unpleasant remarks?’ she asked coldly.
‘On the contrary, the activity I’m referring to is entirely pleasurable.’ He grinned down at her. ‘Or perhaps you don’t find it so. What a terrible shame, not to mention waste,’ he added, his gaze sliding appreciatively over the thrust of her breasts under her white shirt, down to her slender waist and the curve of her hips.
Aware that her flush was deepening, Chloe bent hurriedly to clip on Flare’s leash.
‘Just as a matter of interest,’ he went on. ‘Why are you walking Lizbeth Crane’s dog?’
‘I’m being a good neighbour,’ she said shortly. ‘A concept you may find unfamiliar.’
‘Not at all, as I hope to demonstrate over the coming months.’ He paused. ‘However, if true love has worked some miracle and you’re really in Good Samaritan mode, you might consider extending your range as far as the Hall.’
As Chloe’s lips parted to deliver a stinging refusal, he held up a hand.
‘Hear me out, please. I don’t get the chance to take Orion here out as much as I should, largely because any spare time I have goes to my brother’s Samson, who’s eating his head off in between throwing serious moodies.
‘I seem to recall you were a damned good rider in the old days, so, if you’d consider exercising Orion for me sometimes, I’d be immensely grateful to you.’
She gave him a startled look. Gratitude wasn’t something she’d ever have attributed to him. Or the paying of compliments. Not that it made any real difference. I seem to recall …
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But it’s quite impossible.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘I have a wedding to organise,’ she said curtly. ‘In case you’ve forgotten. I shall be far too busy.’
He sat, one hand resting on his hip, his gaze meditative as he watched her. ‘I hadn’t forgotten. But is it really going to take all day of every day? How many hundreds of people are you planning to invite, for God’s sake?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ she returned. ‘Anyway, Arthur must still be at the Hall, so why can’t he ride Orion?’
‘Unfortunately,