Page 30 of Donovan Blake: Passion

“Lord Hawthorne,” one of them declared, stepping up and extending his hand. “I’m Bruce Rathbone. If you have any questions or concerns just let me know. My team will be setting up an electronic barrier on both sides of your fencing. It’s invisible and effective. It won’t harm an intruder, but it will make a frightening sound that will scare them and alert us. There will be three men on watch at all times, day and night. Rest assured they’ll respond to any potential threat. All we need is to be shown our quarters. If nothing is available we can use our SUV’s.

“Bruce, I’m deeply grateful,” Peter replied, his reassurance being joined with wave of relief. “I have an apartment ready for you in the east wing. It does have a kitchen, but my staff is at your disposal, and that includes the cook. She’ll be very pleased to take care of you and your men.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll start by showing you to our modest security room, then give you a rundown of the house.”

Bruce signaled his men to join him. Introductions were made, and they followed Peter into the home.

* * *

Watching through the windows from the drawing room, Jane grinned. Having half-a-dozen hunky young men at the Hall was fine with her. She was about to hurry after them when she spied a black truck stopping at the gates. She’d been expecting her bodyguard, but she’d noticed the security team locking the chains after they’d entered. Running outside, she jogged up to check, only to break to a walk and catch her breath as the driver stepped out. He was sun-tanned, blonde-haired, and ridiculously handsome.

“Hi, I’m Trevor Martin,” he declared, striding towards her. “You must be Jane.”

“Yes, I’m Jane,” she managed. “Let me get this padlock off. It can be tricky.”

“You haven’t asked me for any ID.”

“Excuse me?”

“I could be anyone.”

“But you just said you’re Trevor Martin.”

“Rule number one, and it’s an old one. Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear.”

“That’s so cynical.”

“Sure, but in your situation it’s good advice,” he replied, lifting out his wallet and displaying his Driver’s License. “Now you can unlock the gate.”

“Like I said, it’s tricky. It sort of sticks.”

“Would you like some help.”

“I can manage!”

He didn’t respond, but leaned back against the front of his truck and crossed his arms. She hadn’t meant to be so brusque, and she could feel his eyes on her. It was nerve-racking. The more she jerked on the padlock, the more frustrated she became. Feeling her face flush red, she finally threw up her hands and stepped away.

“Fine. Go for it.”

“Is that your way of asking me for help?”

“Obviously.”

“Donovan was right,” he remarked, calmly moving up and opening the padlock. “You do need me.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

After speaking with Sam, Donovan walked across to Phoebe, took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

“What did he say?” she asked, leaning against him.

“He’s sending someone to pick us up and take us to a new car. I don’t trust that BMW now. I’m sure Alexi tampered with it.”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

“But we’ve got about thirty-minutes,” he continued, pulling her on the bed with him and into his arms. “Time enough to take your mind off things.”

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