Read Online Miranda's Mount by Phillipa Ashley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phillipa Ashley
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shoved the folder of papers away from him. No matter how resolved he was on the sale, seeing the details set out in black and white was not a pleasant experience.
He’d gone through Southcastle’s proposals with his mother, not wanting to leave her out of the proceedings. Lady St Merryn had questioned many of the points in the draft contract, as Jago had expected, but, ultimately, she’d said the final details were up to him; it was his decision to sell and he must take responsibility.
He knew she didn’t really agree with the sale and hoped he would change his mind, and he wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. At the end of the day, he was alone in this one.
What was new about that? The previous decision he’d had to take had been the most lonely of his life, and he still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. His stomach knotted even now at the memory of the dilemma he’d had to face. He would never forget what he’d done, or rather what he hadn’t had the courage to do.
A suddensquall rattled the window, wafting the sound of the ocean and the smell of ozone into the study. He could almost feel the salt tightening on his skin. He should be on the sea now – he smiled to himself – or more likely, in the sea. He hadn’t surfed a break in Cornwall for years and he’d probably get wiped out within thirty seconds.
He crossed to the window and squinted at the beach. A calm sea licked the shore as the tide crept in and out each day. Waves battered the Mount in winter, but it was bucket and spade land. For surf, he’d need to head for Godrevy or Porthmeor.
Not that he’d ever surf again.
He saw someone enter the courtyard from the staff pathway and walk across the terrace. That rear view was unmistakable. Miranda, tight arsed in every way. She strode across the courtyard, carrying a clipboard – God, did anyone need a clipboard nowadays? He edged a little closer to the leaded panes.
She’d stopped, apparently to inspect a litter bin and seemed to be marking the flapping sheet of paper on her clipboard. Surely she could have got one of the staff to do that. Hadn’t she heard of delegating responsibility?
He inched open the leaded window, careful not to make a sound with the iron catch, and leaned out. She had her back to him, trying to tug her shorts and knickers out of her bottom. Oh dear, she
was
having trouble with those shorts. It was sweet, really, and strangely sexy, not that he was interested. Smiling in spite of himself, he nudged the window open wider.
‘Shit!’
His head bumped the window, the catch slipped and the window crashed back against the masonry. Miranda flashed round, eyes instantly riveted on his guilty face. He wondered if he could detect a blush on her cheeks.
Jago lifted a hand and nodded politely like he’d just met her walking the dog. He desperately wanted to laugh but Miranda’s expression was stormy. She marched off and disappeared down the steps that led to the dining hall.
No more box-ticking for her today, he’d put a stop to that.
He closedthe window and trooped back to his desk, sat down in the leather chair and tried to read through some paperwork but no matter how many times he saw words on pages, none of them were making any sense to him. His mind seemed to seethe and boil with conflicting emotions like the currents around the Mount. He couldn’t shake off the image of Miranda, gazing up at him, in contempt and embarrassment and … Had there been something else in her expression other than hostility towards him? Was she in some bizarre way attracted to him? No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was attracted to her physically and if, in spite of her attitude towards him, she felt the same way … what then?
It would be bloody inconvenient, that’s what. And disturbing. He couldn’t let it happen, but what if it was already too late? A weird tingling had begun inside his cheek; a bizarre buzzing that spread through his whole body, right
He’d gone through Southcastle’s proposals with his mother, not wanting to leave her out of the proceedings. Lady St Merryn had questioned many of the points in the draft contract, as Jago had expected, but, ultimately, she’d said the final details were up to him; it was his decision to sell and he must take responsibility.
He knew she didn’t really agree with the sale and hoped he would change his mind, and he wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. At the end of the day, he was alone in this one.
What was new about that? The previous decision he’d had to take had been the most lonely of his life, and he still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. His stomach knotted even now at the memory of the dilemma he’d had to face. He would never forget what he’d done, or rather what he hadn’t had the courage to do.
A suddensquall rattled the window, wafting the sound of the ocean and the smell of ozone into the study. He could almost feel the salt tightening on his skin. He should be on the sea now – he smiled to himself – or more likely, in the sea. He hadn’t surfed a break in Cornwall for years and he’d probably get wiped out within thirty seconds.
He crossed to the window and squinted at the beach. A calm sea licked the shore as the tide crept in and out each day. Waves battered the Mount in winter, but it was bucket and spade land. For surf, he’d need to head for Godrevy or Porthmeor.
Not that he’d ever surf again.
He saw someone enter the courtyard from the staff pathway and walk across the terrace. That rear view was unmistakable. Miranda, tight arsed in every way. She strode across the courtyard, carrying a clipboard – God, did anyone need a clipboard nowadays? He edged a little closer to the leaded panes.
She’d stopped, apparently to inspect a litter bin and seemed to be marking the flapping sheet of paper on her clipboard. Surely she could have got one of the staff to do that. Hadn’t she heard of delegating responsibility?
He inched open the leaded window, careful not to make a sound with the iron catch, and leaned out. She had her back to him, trying to tug her shorts and knickers out of her bottom. Oh dear, she
was
having trouble with those shorts. It was sweet, really, and strangely sexy, not that he was interested. Smiling in spite of himself, he nudged the window open wider.
‘Shit!’
His head bumped the window, the catch slipped and the window crashed back against the masonry. Miranda flashed round, eyes instantly riveted on his guilty face. He wondered if he could detect a blush on her cheeks.
Jago lifted a hand and nodded politely like he’d just met her walking the dog. He desperately wanted to laugh but Miranda’s expression was stormy. She marched off and disappeared down the steps that led to the dining hall.
No more box-ticking for her today, he’d put a stop to that.
He closedthe window and trooped back to his desk, sat down in the leather chair and tried to read through some paperwork but no matter how many times he saw words on pages, none of them were making any sense to him. His mind seemed to seethe and boil with conflicting emotions like the currents around the Mount. He couldn’t shake off the image of Miranda, gazing up at him, in contempt and embarrassment and … Had there been something else in her expression other than hostility towards him? Was she in some bizarre way attracted to him? No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was attracted to her physically and if, in spite of her attitude towards him, she felt the same way … what then?
It would be bloody inconvenient, that’s what. And disturbing. He couldn’t let it happen, but what if it was already too late? A weird tingling had begun inside his cheek; a bizarre buzzing that spread through his whole body, right
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