Skye wasn’t exactly sure she wanted this man to like her too much; she was going to be living in the area for a while, and as things stood it probably wasn’t a good idea to clutter her life with any complications. Besides, this man had initially thought she was Selina Harrington…
Skye gave him a sideways glance. ‘Were you a friend of Selina Harrington’s?’ she asked casually, remembering the genuine pleasure in Paul’s voice when he had thought she was the other woman. If he had been a friend of the other woman’s, then he was the first person Skye had met who admitted to being so!
His face flushed as he gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I knew her quite well, yes.’
Not quite an admission, after all, Skye mused, wondering exactly what sort of ‘friends’ Paul and Selina had been.
‘Mmm, this foods looks delicious!’ she enthused as they arrived at the tables laden with salads and pastas as well as the meats cooked on the barbecue.
‘I’m a bachelor; any food that someone else has prepared looks wonderful to me!’ Paul answered self-derisively as he handed her a plate before taking one for himself. ‘My usual Sunday evening meal is beans on toast!’
Skye laughed. As she was meant to do, she was sure, confirming that Paul hadn’t welcomed her questioning about his friendship with Selina Harrington.
Oh, well, it was really none of her business, was it? After all, Selina had divorced Falkner amid accusations of another woman, not the other way around.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Skye stiffened, Paul Barclay having moved some way ahead of her as she easily recognized Falkner’s voice saying those words in her ear.
She turned to him frowningly, that frown deepening as she saw the scowl on his face. ‘I’m getting myself some food, what does it look like I’m doing?’ she answered irritably.
Falkner’s gaze narrowed at her sarcasm. ‘You and Paul Barclay seem to be very friendly,’ he rasped.
Skye glanced across to where the other man was now chatting easily to Charles. ‘He seems very nice.’ She shrugged dismissively; after all, the other man had been friendly and nice.
Falkner’s jaw clenched. ‘You’re far from the first woman in the area to think so!’
Was he referring to Selina, his ex-wife? Or did he mean someone else?
She shrugged. ‘Why not? He’s probably considered a very eligible bachelor.’
‘Oh, very,’ Falkner acknowledged scathingly. ‘Don’t you have enough complications in your life already without bringing some man into it?’
The fact that she had already come to that conclusion herself didn’t mean that she appreciated Falkner actually saying it!
Her mouth tightened. ‘Maybe “some man” in my life is exactly what I need to uncomplicate it,’ she snapped resentfully. ‘With the exception of you, of course!’ she added derisively, eyes brightly blue in her anger.
Falkner drew in a harsh breath. ‘Why with the exception of me?’ he challenged hardly.
Skye gave a humourless laugh. ‘Probably because you are the most complicated man I have ever met!’
He gave a perplexed frown. ‘What’s so complicated about me?’
She gave a derisive shake of her head. ‘There simply isn’t enough time right now to go into all that!’
He raised dark brows. ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow evening, we can discuss it then, try to make me a little less “complicated”,’ he added dryly.
Skye’s eyes widened at the invitation. Was Falkner actually asking her out on a date? Or did he just mean she was invited back to the house for dinner?
He was also, by asking to see her tomorrow evening at all, confirming that he was well aware of the fact that she was staying at the hotel in town!
Her mouth tightened at the thought of the arrogant way he had obtained that information from the taxi driver.
‘There’s a rather nice French restaurant on the edge of town,’ Falkner continued firmly—as if he had sensed she was about to turn down his invitation.
He was asking her out on a date. Incredible! Six months ago she would have been ecstatic at the invitation, even three weeks ago she would have felt the same way, but after the events of the last two weeks she could only view the invitation with suspicion.
‘If I book a table at Francois for eight o’clock, I could call for you at the hotel at seven-thirty—’
‘No, you couldn’t,’ Skye cut in determinedly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why couldn’t I?’
‘For one thing, I haven’t accepted your invitation to dinner,’ she told him exasperatedly.
‘And for a second thing…?’ he prompted slowly.
She was no longer staying at the hotel, had booked out an hour or so before coming to the birthday party!
She had been successful at her first job interview this morning, the position as stable-girl including purpose-built accommodation close to the stables themselves. The actual wages for the job, as she had suspected, weren’t very high, but the inclusion of the accommodation, relieving her of the need to pay a hotel bill, more than made up for that.
But she didn’t want to tell Falkner about her new job, not what it was, or where she was living…
For the first time in her life she was on her own, having to make her own way, and even if she did say so herself she wasn’t doing too bad a job of it so far. She had found employment, and accommodation, and the stable manager was quite happy for her to bring Storm with her. As long as she looked after him and paid towards his keep. Which she was quite happy to do.
‘The “one thing” is quite sufficient reason for the moment,’ she told Falkner sharply. ‘Exactly why are you inviting me out to dinner, Falkner?’ she prompted dryly; if it had anything to do with the fact that she had struck up a conversation with Paul Barclay, then he could just forget it!
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘It seems like a neighbourly thing to do.’
‘Neighbourly!’ Skye echoed incredulously. ‘Falkner, you live at least three miles out of town!’
‘More like four,’ he acknowledged dryly. ‘But distance doesn’t mean the same thing here in the country.’
No, it probably didn’t, she accepted, knowing that it was pretty much the same in Ireland. But even so…
‘Skye, Friday wasn’t the time to go into this, but there are still some things we have to discuss,’ Falkner continued determinedly, glancing past Skye to where he could see Paul Barclay making his way back to them.
‘Such as?’ she challenged, also aware of the other man’s approach—and the increase in Falkner’s tension. Because of the other man…? She had no idea.
Just as she had no idea whether or not she should accept Falkner’s dinner invitation. Part of her said, having got away once, that she should stay well away from him. But another part of her, the part that loved him so much it was torture just talking to him like this, wanted so desperately to say yes!
His mouth twisted mockingly. ‘“There simply isn’t enough time”—or privacy!—“right now to go into all that”.’ He dryly quoted her own earlier answer to him back at her, at the same time glancing pointedly towards the rapidly approaching Paul Barclay. ‘Oh, come on, Skye, it’s only dinner, for goodness’ sake,’ he added impatiently as she still hesitated.
It might only be dinner to him, but to Skye it was reopening that door she had only recently slammed in his face.
Falkner bent his head, his mouth only inches from her ear now. ‘How about if I promise not to even mention the word marriage?’ he prompted softly.
Skye moved back sharply, her head raised challengingly. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she snapped impatiently. ‘Oh, okay, Falkner, dinner tomorrow evening. But I’ll make my own way to the restaurant,’ she added firmly, irritated as his face was lit by triumph at her acceptance.
Some of that triumph faded from his face. ‘And just how do you intend doing that? The last I heard, you didn’t have a car,’ he prompted frowningly.
She sti
ll didn’t have one, but she did have the use of one; the manager at the stable had told her there were a couple of old Land Rovers that the stable-hands could use if need be. It might not be the best way of avoiding having Falkner call and collect her, but for the moment she didn’t want him to know where she was staying.
But his mention of her not having a car had reminded Skye of what had happened two weeks ago, the Mercedes her father had hired for their stay in England a complete write-off in the accident.
Falkner’s expression darkened as he must have seen that knowledge in her suddenly bereft expression. ‘Damn it, Skye, I didn’t mean to—’
‘Here you are, Skye.’ Paul Barclay had finally reached them, a laden plate held in one hand. ‘You’re missing out on all the food,’ he told her lightly. ‘Falkner,’ he greeted, his glance guarded as he turned to look at the other man.
Or was that just Skye’s imagination? Probably not, if Falkner’s attitude earlier to the other man was anything to go by.
‘Barclay,’ he returned distantly. ‘I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow evening, then, Skye,’ he added briskly, giving Paul Barclay a curt nod before striding back, with that slightly lopsided gait he had adopted since his riding accident, to join Charles at the barbecue.
There was an awkward silence after his departure. One deliberately created by Falkner by his parting remark, Skye guessed as she glared across at him impatiently.
‘I had no idea you and Falkner were such good friends.’ Paul Barclay spoke lightly at her side.
A forced lightness, Skye easily guessed from his suddenly strained expression, giving credence to her earlier guess of the two men not liking each other very much. Because of Selina Harrington? She wondered once again. Possibly, but she had no intention of asking Paul Barclay about that, and she doubted very much that Falkner would confide that information to her!
‘We’re acquaintances,’ she corrected firmly. ‘I did tell you that I know the family,’ she reminded lightly.
‘So you did,’ Paul accepted with a rueful smile. ‘I’m sure Belinda will make the two of you a great meal tomorrow evening; she’s a wonderful cook!’
She was sure Belinda was a good cook; the other woman seemed more than capable at most things. She just wouldn’t be cooking for Falkner and Skye tomorrow evening!
She eyed Paul teasingly. ‘Is it still true that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’
‘It is to a bachelor of thirty-three!’ he returned self-derisively.
Skye gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘What a pity I never got beyond the bacon-and-egg stage!’
Paul’s eyes glowed appreciatively. ‘I’m sure it’s not too late to learn!’
Skye sobered; it really wouldn’t do to encourage this man when she had no real interest in him other than the fact he appeared to be a nice man. Over the years, she had discovered there were a lot of nice men in the world, but when she was already in love with one of them, there was absolutely no point in flirting with any others. And flirting with Falkner was definitely out of the question!
‘Sadly I have no interest in learning,’ she told Paul briskly. ‘But as I am rather hungry, I think I’ll take your advice and help myself to some food.’
Unfortunately, Paul didn’t take this as the hint it had been for him to leave her side. Instead he accompanied her over to the table once she had her food, sitting down with her as she deliberately turned their conversation to more general things concerning the area.
Paul proved to be quite an amusing companion as he related some of the funnier cases he had been called to deal with.
But it was nevertheless impossible for Skye to relax in his company, all the time aware as Paul chatted lightly of Falkner’s brooding gaze fixed on them in total disapproval!
CHAPTER TEN
‘WHAT on earth have you been doing with yourself?’
Skye scowled impatiently at Falkner, having just joined him at the table he had reserved at Francois.
She had been trying so hard not to let him see how stiffly she was moving, her hours spent in the saddle today having done absolutely nothing for her two broken ribs. From his opening remark, she might just as well have saved herself the trouble of the hot bath and the pain-killers she had taken before coming out, too!
She eased herself gingerly down into the chair Falkner had stood up to hold back for her, grateful when he moved away to sit down in his own chair opposite.
‘Well?’ he rasped at her continued silence.
‘Good evening to you too, Falkner,’ she returned with obvious sarcasm. ‘May I say how lovely you’re looking this evening?’ she added pointedly.
Falkner looked unimpressed. ‘You do look lovely. You always do. But you’re also moving as if someone has driven over you with a steamroller!’
The glow of pleasure Skye had felt at his first comments was easily wiped out by the one that followed! ‘Thanks.’ She grimaced, inwardly acknowledging that he did indeed look wonderful this evening, his dark suit obviously expensively tailored, the blue of his shirt an exact match for the colour of his eyes.
‘You’re welcome,’ he bit out dryly, still looking at her with narrowed eyes. ‘So what have you been doing?’
Dogged came to mind, Skye acknowledged irritatedly. ‘This and that,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘Do you think I might have a sparkling water?’
‘I’ll order some wine.’
‘I’m driving,’ Skye refused. ‘The sparkling water will be fine.’
Falkner ordered two sparkling waters from a passing waiter, before turning back to her. ‘You’re driving?’ he repeated, brows raised. ‘You’ve bought yourself a car since we spoke yesterday?’
‘Not exactly,’ she avoided; the Land Rover she had borrowed for the evening left a lot to be desired in the line of comfort, Skye had discovered earlier, having to put a blanket on the front seat before she could sit in it in her black dress, the vehicle also seeming to feel every bump and pothole in the road on the drive here. ‘But I do have transport,’ she added unhelpfully. ‘I believe you said there are some things we still need to discuss…?’
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Is it okay with you if we order our food first?’
Skye felt as if she had just received a slap on the wrist. A light one, but still a slap.
‘Fine.’ She picked up the menu, placing it in front of her as she looked at the food listed there.
Blast the man. He always seemed to have a way of taking control of any situation, and turning it to his advantage. Well, she hadn’t been at all sure about having dinner with him this evening as it was, so he had better have a genuine reason for getting her here!
‘You checked out of the hotel.’ Falkner spoke as soon as they had ordered their food, pâté and chicken for Skye, soup and steak for Falkner.
Skye gave him a sharp look. ‘And how would you know that?’
He shrugged unconcernedly. ‘I telephoned you there earlier today, Margaret said you checked out yesterday.’
Yes, she had, and the accommodation at the stables might not be quite as luxurious as the hotel—it was also unheated, she had discovered last night—but at least it went free with her new job. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, she had decided ruefully as she’d pulled on a pair of socks before getting into bed.
‘So?’ she returned lightly.
‘So you checked out of the hotel,’ Falkner repeated pointedly.
‘What is your point, Falkner?’ Skye prompted impatiently.
‘My point is that you are obviously still staying in the area,’ he bit out forcefully.
‘And?’ Really, it was none of Falkner’s business that she had booked out of the hotel, or where she was staying now!
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Skye, unless it’s escaped your notice, this is a pretty tight-knit community. Sooner or later someone is going to tell me where you’re staying now, so you may as well give me the information yourself!’
‘And deprive you of the pleasure of liste
ning to gossip?’ she taunted.
His eyes flashed warningly. ‘I never listen to gossip, Skye—but Belinda does,’ he added dryly. ‘And you can be sure that my little sister will then pass the information on to me—whether I want to know or not!’
‘Then why don’t you just wait and see how long it takes for that little piece of information to reach you?’ Skye returned sweetly.
‘Skye—’
‘I think the more important point here, Falkner, is why you telephoned me earlier today at all,’ she cut in firmly. ‘Don’t you?’
He looked as if he would like to argue the point, but, as their first course arrived at that moment, he waited until they were alone again before speaking. ‘Your father’s lawyer contacted me again this morning; he would like to see us as soon as convenient,’ he told her with obvious reluctance.
Rightly so. Because there could only be one reason her father’s lawyer would need to see her so urgently—for the reading of the will that had been cancelled on Friday. Just the mention of it was enough to put a complete dampener on the evening. As if it hadn’t been tense enough already!
To delay the moment of truth even further Skye picked up some Melba toast and began to eat her pâté. Although her appetite suddenly seemed to have deserted her…
Which was a pity. Because, apart from the fact that she ached in every bone in her body after a gruelling day’s work, she had actually felt as if her new job was a positive move forward; the mention of the lawyer took her back into the nightmare.
‘I don’t see why he needs to see me at all,’ Skye finally dismissed hardly. ‘My father put every bit of money he had into paying off the creditors of O’Hara Whiskey. He had no money left when he—when he died.’
‘The company had no money,’ Falkner corrected softly.
‘Same thing,’ Skye muttered.
‘Not really.’ He shook his head. ‘Although up to a point, you’re correct.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘And which “point” would that be?’
‘Skye, several years ago—before all this trouble with your uncle Seamus blew up in his face,’ he added hardly, ‘your father went in with me on several financial ventures. To our mutual benefit.’
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