Page 6 of 2 Books in One Bundle

She allowed herself a glance back at him. After all, it would be the last time in her life she would ever set eyes on him. Although a man like that—from another world!—might well crop up in her dreams, or her silly mooning fantasies as she did the housework.

He was looking at her, a frown between his dark arched brows, eyes narrowed in thought, mouth set.

Just looking at her.

Looking her over.

Although she deplored it, she felt her cheeks flush, and hoped desperately he could not see. There was no reason for the flush, because his looking over was doing nothing except imprinting upon him all her unloveliness. Frumpy, dumpy, and undeniably carrying too much weight for her height these days.

She gave an inner sigh and shut the passenger door with a slam, pausing only to raise her hand in a tentative wave of thanks as the car moved off down the lane leading out of the village. She gave another sigh, deeper this time, as she opened the garden gate. She had just seen the last of the most incredible-looking man she had ever seen in all her life.

Quite obviously, she would never see him again.

Except in that she was to be quite wrong...

Dante was driving again the following day, but this time far more slowly—as if he doubted whether he should be heading to this destination at all. He felt his thoughts pierce like arrows, As if he was, in fact, being entirely insane in heading there at all. Entirely insane to have in mind what he had been thinking about all night long.

But he was heading there, all the same.

When he arrived it was already late morning, and the little row of three chocolate box cottages looked ridiculously pretty in the bright early-summer sunshine, with their white picket fences and front gardens full of flowers. His eyes went to the one where he had dropped off his unintended passenger last night.

No wonder she does not wish to leave it.

He felt his thoughts churn again and silenced them. This was no time for emotion—only for cold, rational practicality. Needs must, and there would be an end to it. Rafaello had confirmed as much. Even though Raf would think Dante totally insane right now.

Dante’s expression tightened even more and his mouth twisted. Well, hewasinsane—of course he was. But there was no help for it. Time, he thought as his face darkened, was of the essence. There was none to waste. He had to get this sorted—and fast.

He drew the hire car up outside the end cottage. He could see an olde-worlde pub nearby, some more pretty cottages, the medieval church and a small village shop—all very pretty, all very quaint, all very quintessentially rural England. He could see how attractive it would be to holidaymakers—and how attractive letting their cottages to them would be to their owners. There was good money to be made in high season.

Trouble was, that left no room for permanent residents...

There was no one about as he got out of the car. Deliberately, he took a deep breath, impelling himself forward lest he bottle it and cut and run instead. He swung open the garden gate and in two short strides was standing in front of a pale green door around which a climbing rose was trailing.

Lifting his hand, his face grimly set, he rapped sharply with the knocker.

Time to put his fortune to the test.

However insanely he was behaving.

CHAPTER TWO

CONNIEWASSETTLINGher grandmother in a chair in the garden. Moving her from one place to another was a slow business. Gran could not be hurried these days. She wanted things just so, and queried them several times. Connie was learning patience, showing no sign that what Gran had just asked she had already asked twice before.

That was dementia for you. Cruel, progressive, and—her heart squeezed painfully—eventually lethal.

Gran’s GP had been sympathetic, but honest as well.

‘Unless something else carries her off first, you must be prepared for the long haul. It could well take years—are you prepared for that?’

Yes, she was prepared. Nothing else was even to be considered. She would never willingly put Gran into a home—never!

She felt the familiar mingling of fear and dread twist in her now, as she went back indoors. The bright, cheerful smile she’d put on for Gran, who had no idea what the future was about to inflict upon her, disappeared, to be replaced by her customary expression of worry and stress.

In the little kitchen, she flicked on the kettle to make tea for them both. Then gave a start.

Someone was knocking on the door. She frowned, wondering who it could be. The rap came again, sounding impatient, and she walked warily out to the little front hall, opened the door.

As she did so, she stepped back—and saw who was standing there. Her jaw dropped and she froze on the spot.

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