Panic beat a tattoo in her chest that was even louder than the hail falling on the cobblestone path. The one thing Mr Pendleton looked forward to each day was seeing Truffles. How could Tillie tell him she had lost her? What if Truffles was hit by a car and lying bleeding and broken in some rain-soaked and debris-ridden gutter? What if the dog was critically injured and had gone out of sight to die in one of the nearby hedgerows or fields or woods? It would break Mr Pendleton’s heart if he lost Truffles. It would make him ever more despondent and depressed, and no amount of Tillie’s marshmallow slice would cheer him up.
Tillie ran up and down the street calling for the dog but all she got for her effort was sodden with rain and splashed with mud. Her stomach was churning with dread—a cold fist that clutched at her insides until she had to stop and bend over with her hands resting on her knees to draw breath.
How could this be happening?
Where would Truffles have gone?
Think. Think. Think.
Could Truffles have headed to McClelland Park? It was her home after all, the place where she had spent the first two years of her life. The cottage here was not as familiar to her and perhaps she got spooked while out in the garden and took off.
Tillie didn’t stop to consider the possibility of running into Blake. As far as she knew he hadn’t been back to the Park since the sale was finalised. It wouldn’t take her long to have a quick look around and see if Truffles had headed there. It was a few kilometres away, but she knew dogs could travel much further than that when distressed.
Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.
But Tillie wasn’t sure if she was praying about the dog or Blake or both.
* * *
Blake decided to go down to McClelland Park for the weekend in any case. So what if his father was too busy with his new love-nest buddy to celebrate the return of their ancestral home with him? So what if the weather turned foul as if to add a further insult? It could rain and hail on his parade for all it liked. He did not give a damn. He would drink the champagne and eat the caviar by himself. He had a right to celebrate, didn’t he? He had achieved what he’d set out to achieve. So what if his father didn’t want to live there now? It didn’t matter. The place was back in McClelland hands and that was where it would stay.
Living there himself hadn’t really crossed Blake’s mind...well, maybe that wasn’t strictly true. It had crossed his mind. Heaps of times. He just hadn’t allowed it any space to plant itself down and mess with his head.
The house seemed cavernously cold and empty when he unlocked the front door. Like some abandoned Gothic mansion with clanging shutters and creaking floorboards, especially with the storm raging like a howling beast.
Blake closed the door against the wind and rain and bullets of hail but there were no wonderful cooking smells wafting through the air to greet him, no vases of fresh-smelling flowers on the hall table. The furniture he had bought with the house was just furniture. For all the comfort and welcome it gave, he could have been standing in an antiques warehouse. There were no excited barks from a mad dog with its paws scrabbling on the floorboards as it rushed at him in unmitigated joy at his arrival.
And worst of all...no Tillie.
Blake stood surrounded by the furniture and walls and roof of the house that was no longer a home. This was his prize. His Holy Grail. The mission he had spent years of his life dreaming of, planning, and working towards.
He had finally nailed it.
Why then did it feel so...pointless?
Blake walked into the sitting room, pulling back the curtains to look at the view over the lake and the old elm tree. The wind was thrashing the ancient limbs, shaking off leaves and twigs as if it cared nothing for the promise he had made all those years ago. But then he was almost blinded by an almighty flash of lightning, and then there was an ear-splitting crack of thunder followed by a splintering crash. He blinked to clear his gaze to see the ancient elm tree coming down like a felled giant.
Seeing that old tree lying there in such disarray forced him to take a good hard look at himself. The tree, once proud and strong and confident, was broken, battered, shattered. That tree had symbolised so much of his journey since childhood, but now it was worth little more than firewood and kindling.
How could Blake have got it so wrong? About this house? About his father?
About himself?
This property wasn’t enough. This grand old house and all its memories were not enough. It wasn’t making him feel satisfied. It wasn’t making him feel anything but miserable. Lonely and miserable like an old house with furniture but no family.
His father was right, so too, wise old Mr Pendleton. What was a house without the one you loved sharing it with you?
Blake loved Tillie.
How could he have not realised that until now? Or maybe he had realised it. Maybe he had realised it from the moment he walked into that shop and encountered those sparkling nutmeg-brown eyes. But he had shied away from those feelings because it was too threatening to love someone who might not always be there.
But he’d lost her anyway.
Was it too late?
His heart felt as if it were crushed beneath the fallen ancient trunk of the elm tree. What if he’d blown his only chance with Tillie? He had let her walk away without telling her he loved her. He’d told her he didn’t want a future with her, marriage and a family—all the things that had made this house the home it was meant to be.
But he did want those things.
He wanted them but only if he could have them with her.
Blake snatched up the keys, but on his way out to his car he saw a bedraggled Truffles bolting up the driveway towards him. She shot through the front door and disappeared into the house leaving a trail of muddy footprints along the way.
He closed the front door and followed the dog to her hiding place behind the sofa in the sitting room. ‘What are you doing here, girl?’ he said, crouching down to soothe her. She shivered and shook and looked at him with the whites of her terrified eyes showing.
He took a throw rug off the nearest sofa and gently covered her with it to make her feel secure. He stood to close the curtains to keep the storm from frightening her, but then, over the sound of the storm outside, he heard the sound of a car coming up the driveway and his heart leapt.
‘Stay,’ he said to the dog.
* * *
Tillie saw Blake’s car parked in front of the house and pulled up behind it, barely waiting long enough to turn off the engine. The first thing she’d noticed coming up the driveway was the elm tree was down.
Please God, don’t let Truffles be under it.
Would the terrified dog have taken shelter under its over-arching limbs? She sprang out of the car and rushed through the pelting rain just as Blake opened the front door.
‘Is Truffles here?’ she asked. ‘The elm tree is down. Please tell me she’s here with you and not under it crushed to death. I can’t find her anywhere and I can’t bear telling Mr Pendleton she’s—’
‘She’s here with me,’ Blake said, taking her by the hands and bringing her inside the house and closing the door.
‘Is she all right? Is she hurt? Is she—?’
‘She’s safe.’ He took her by the upper arms. ‘She’s cowering behind the sofa in the sitting room but she’s fine. Are you okay?’
Am I okay? Of course I’m flipping not okay.
Tillie closed her eyes to get control of her emotions. She should be feeling relieved about finding the dog safe but seeing Blake again was messing with her head and with her heart.
How long had Truffles been here? Why hadn’t he called or texted to tell her the dog was okay? Surely it wouldn’t have hurt him to do that?
But no, he didn’t want anything to do with her now.
‘I was so worried,’ she said. ‘She hates storms. I should have realised and gone back earlier to check on her and lock her in the cottage or something but the wind r
Blake’s hands slid down to hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. ‘I was about to call you. Actually, I was on my way to see you.’
Tillie could feel his thumb moving over the diamond on her left hand. ‘Oh, right, about the ring? I’m sorry I haven’t got it back to you yet. I’ve tried heaps of times but it still won’t budge. I’m going to get it cut off. I would have done it before this but it’s been flat out crazy at the shop and—’
‘I don’t want you to give it back,’ Blake said. ‘I want it to stay right where it is.’
Tillie’s heart was beating its way out of her ribcage like a pigeon fighting its way out of a paper bag. ‘You don’t mean that. You told me you didn’t—’
‘Don’t remind me what a fool I’ve been, my darling,’ he said. ‘I love you. I want to marry you. I want to live with you and make babies with you. Please will you say yes?’
Tillie gazed up at him in stupefaction. ‘Is...is this a joke?’
He gave a self-effacing chuckle. ‘I suppose I deserve that. Of course it’s not a joke. It’s the truth. I love you and can’t bear the thought of spending another day, another minute, another second without you. Marry me, darling. Let’s fill this sad old house with love and laughter again.’
‘But what about your father?’ Tillie asked. ‘Isn’t he going to live here?’
‘That was another thing I got totally wrong,’ Blake said. ‘He has other plans. He’s finally moving on with his life and I couldn’t be happier for him. He’s met someone. Someone who means more to him, much more than this house and all the memories it contains.’ He brought his hands up to cup her face, holding her gaze with his. ‘You are my special someone, darling. The perfect someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.’
Tillie moistened her lips; still not certain she was actually hearing what he’d been saying. Surely she was dreaming. Surely this couldn’t be real. He loved her? He really loved her? ‘You keep calling me darling.’
His grey-blue eyes twinkled. ‘I do, don’t I? That’s because that’s what I am going to call you from now on. You are the love of my life. I think I realised it the first time I met you when I made you blush. But I was afraid of loving you. Scared of being vulnerable because I’d seen what loving someone so much had done to my father when my mum was taken away.’
Tillie put her hands against his chest; she could feel his heart beating against her palm almost as fast as hers. ‘I love you so much. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how much. It’s been like an ache deep inside. I haven’t slept properly since you left. I keep reaching for you in the bed to find you gone.’
Tillie pressed closer to wind her arms around his neck. ‘Do you really mean it? You really truly want to marry me?’
‘Yes. As soon as it can be arranged,’ he said. ‘But if you can’t bring yourself to get married in a church we could do it here. Down by the lake...although I think we might have to plant a new elm tree first.’
‘That sounds like a great idea,’ Tillie said, ‘to symbolise a new beginning for McClelland Park.’
‘So I take it that’s a yes to my proposal?’
She gave him a teasing smile. ‘Is this one for real or just pretend?’
He brought his mouth down to within reach of hers. ‘This one’s for real and it’s for ever.’
EPILOGUE
One year later...
BLAKE CARRIED THE tea tray out to the garden of McClelland Park where Tillie was resting in the shade with Mr Pendleton. The new elm tree down by the lake wasn’t quite big enough for shade yet, but every time he looked at it there in the distance, he thought of the future he was building with Tillie.
Blake’s dad and Susie visited frequently and always enjoyed being there, but Jim Pendleton had been joining them just about every weekend ever since Blake and Tillie got back from their honeymoon. Jim loved seeing Truffles and he loved being around Tillie, but then, Blake had no argument with that. He loved being around her, too. More than words could ever say. More than he had thought it possible to love someone. His life was so full and enriched by her. There was nothing he didn’t enjoy about being married to her.
But in a few months’ time he would have someone else to love. Tillie was just over twelve weeks pregnant and he couldn’t believe how excited he was about becoming a father. She was glowing with good health, hardly any morning sickness so far and the only cravings she’d had were for him.
Tillie’s Tearoom in the village in Maude Rosethorne’s newly renovated cottage was doing brilliantly. Joanne and another assistant were doing a magnificent job of running things so Tillie could start to pull back a bit to prepare for motherhood. He was so thrilled she’d made the tearoom such a success because he liked to think it made up for all the disappointments she’d had before. Sure, he had helped her achieve it, but in so many countless ways she had helped and healed him.
Truffles was chasing a butterfly but came bounding over with her ears flapping when she smelt the scones and jam and cream Blake had set down. Some things never changed, but, hey, that was part of the joy of living with a nutty dog. Of being a family.
Blake sat down next to Tillie and placed his arm around her waist, smiling down at her radiant face. ‘Time to tell Jim our news, darling?’ he said.
Tillie took Blake’s hand and placed it on her abdomen. ‘I have a feeling he’s already guessed, right, Mr Pendleton?’
Jim Pendleton’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Congratulations. I couldn’t be happier for you both and for McClelland Park.’
Blake looked at the new elm tree where it was anchoring its roots in the past and stretching its limbs into the future. He couldn’t help feeling his mother would be happy the home she loved so much was going to be filled with joy and laughter once more.
He brought Tillie’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers, his heart swelling at the love reflected in her gaze. ‘I think we should plant a new elm tree for each child we have. What do you think, darling?’
Tillie smiled. ‘I think that sounds like a perfect plan.’
And it was.
* * * * *
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT
When chauffeur Keira Ryan drives into a snowdrift, she and her devastatingly attractive passenger must find a hotel…but there’s only one bed! Luckily Matteo Valenti knows how to make the best of a bad situation—with the most sizzling experience of her life. It’s nearly Christmas again before Matteo uncovers Keira’s secret. He’s avoided commitment his whole life, but now it’s time to claim his heir…
Read on for a sneak preview of Sharon Kendrick’s book
THE ITALIAN’S CHRISTMAS SECRET
One Night With Consequences
‘Santino?’ Matteo repeated, wondering if he’d misheard her. He stared at her, his brow creased in a frown.
‘You gave him an Italian name?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because when I looked at him…’ Keira’s voice faltered as she scraped her fingers back through her hair and turned those big sapphire eyes on him ‘…I knew I could call him nothing else but an Italian name.’
‘Even though you sought to deny him his heritage and kept his birth hidden from me?’
She swallowed. ‘You made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again, Matteo.’
His voice grew hard. ‘I haven’t come here to argue the rights and wrongs of your secrecy. I’ve come to see my son.’
It was a demand Keira couldn’t ignore. She’d seen the brief tightening of his face when she’d mentioned his child and another wave of guilt had washed over her.
‘Come with me,’ she said huskily.
He followed her up the narrow staircase and Keira was acutely aware of his presence behind her. She could detect the heat from his body and the subtle sandalwood which was all his and, stupidly, she remembered the way that scent had clung to her skin the morning after he’d made love to her. Her heart was thundering by the time they reached the box-room she shared with Santino and she held her breath as Matteo stood frozen for a moment before moving soundlessly towards the crib.
‘Matteo?’ she said.
Matteo didn’t answer. Not then. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak because his thoughts were in such disarray. He stared down at the dark fringe of eyelashes which curved on the infant’s olive-hued cheeks and the shock of black hair. Tiny hands were curled into two tiny fists and he found himself leaning forward to count all the fingers, nodding his head with satisfaction as he registered each one.
He swallowed.
His son.
He opened his mouth to speak but Santino chose that moment to start to whimper and Keira bent over the crib to scoop him up. ‘Would you…would you like to hold him?’
‘Not now,’ he said abruptly. ‘There isn’t time. You need to pack your things while I call ahead and prepare for your arrival in Italy.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. You can’t put out a call for help and then ignore help when it comes. You telephoned me and now you must accept the consequences,’ he added grimly.
Don’t miss
THE ITALIAN’S CHRISTMAS SECRET
By Sharon Kendrick
Available November 2017
PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Copyright ©2017 Sharon Kendrick
ISBN: 978-1-474-05296-2
THE TYCOON'S MARRIAGE DEAL
© 2017 Melanie Milburne
Published in Great Britain 2017
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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