Possibly the worst idea he’d ever had, given that life in England brought with it a daily dose of his wayward ward’s misadventures.
This love triangle was the last straw. What was she thinking, moving in with the man who had been engaged to her best friend? Being photographed walking the streets with him, sipping coffee, talking as though she had not a care in the world? She was catnip to the sleazy tabloid press; didn’t she know that by now?
Still, he’d intended to handle things with a degree of finesse. He’d intended to speak to her, to cajole her into realizing the errors of her ways, to encourage her to make better choices. He’d intended to be reasonable yet firm, kind but strict.
Instead, he’d taken one look at her and started thinking with other parts of his anatomy.
And that was a huge, huge mistake.
CHAPTER FOUR
“AH, CLAUDIA. WELCOME BACK.” Claudia paused guiltily at the bottom of the staircase, like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit jar. She turned and her face broke into a smile when she saw Marta’s husband Patrick grinning at her from near the front door. “Got a moment?”
Claudia had indeed been contemplating escape. Not in the melodramatic, escape-to-London way, but in the I-need-to-get-out-of-the-same-house-as-Stavros kind of way. It was still early, but she’d pulled on a pair of jeans, a thick grey shirt and another sweater as soon as she’d woken, and then a pair of boots that was lined up in the wardrobe along with a few other pairs of shoes. All brand new, all her size. She’d planned to go for a walk, just around the garden. But a walk had always succeeded in clearing her head in the past, so why wouldn’t it now?
“Yes,” she said, and Patrick pulled a quizzical face.
“Why are you whispering?”
Colour flooded her cheeks.
“Was I?” Still whispering. She cleared her throat.
“Yeah.” He laughed. He was a good ten years younger than Marta, and just as striking to look at. “My missus tells me you’re after a tree.”
Claudia lifted her brows and something fluttered in her chest. “Did she?”
“Yeah. We’ve been saying the same thing. It aint right around here not having it decorated. Back when Mrs Chastain was in charge, the place sparkled with Christmas charm.” He winked. “Come on.”
Excitement drove her feet forward. “Where will we buy a tree?”
“Buy one?” He shook his head. “When we’ve got all this on our doorstep?” He nodded towards the enchanted woodland and a trill of pleasure spiraled through Claudia’s chest.
“A real tree?” She had to walk quickly to keep pace with his long stride. “I’ve never had a real tree before?”
“Then you’ve been missing out.”
Tell me something I don’t know, Claudia thought, jamming her hands into her pockets. But nothing could take the shine off her excitement as they made their way down the drive. The early morning was crisp, but she practically had to run to keep up with Patrick, so she barely felt the chill.
Patrick made idle chit chat as they went, asking about her life in London and her friends, telling her about their two children and seven grandchildren, and the fact that they were going to stay with them over Christmas and New Years, something which put a blade of awareness deep into Claudia’s heart. Because if Marta and Patrick left Barnwell, she would be truly alone with Stavros.
She needed to leave before then.
“When are you going?”
“Three nights,” he said.
She nodded, wondering if they’d give her a lift. Even so far as Bath, and from there she’d make her own way back to London.
“You must be looking forward to seeing the kids?”
“Oh, yes. They’re growing like weeds.”
It was darker in the forest and three little squirrels who had appeared to be having a tea party at the base of a tree scampered away, climbing up high, their bushy tails bristling as they went.
“Kids have a habit of doing that.”
“So,” he stopped walking and looked around. “Which one?”