Read Online Miranda's Mount by Phillipa Ashley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phillipa Ashley
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to the heart and lower. He hadn’t felt anything like it since Rhianna …
The memoryslammed into him, like a freak wave, dragging him under and spinning him out of control. He remembered the last time he’d made love with Rhianna before their world had imploded. They’d slipped away into the dunes on a remote beach, the grass shading them from the fierce heat of the Southern afternoon. The sex had been glorious, heart pounding, sweet and tender and then it had happened. When he opened his eyes, four stone walls confronted him – and Miranda.
He hadn’t heard the door open. She stood in front of the desk, clutching the clipboard to her chest defensively. He thought of getting to his feet, like a gentleman would have done when a lady walked into the room.
His bum stayed firmly in the chair. ‘Hello.’
‘I saw you were in. I hope I’m not interrupting you.’
‘As a matter of fact, you are, but it doesn’t follow that the interruption is unwelcome.’
She pursed her lips at him, unsure how to take his remark. ‘I’d like to discuss the Festival of Fools,’ she said primly.
‘The Festival of Fools?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice grew higher. Maybe she was nervous or maybe her knickers were bothering her again. ‘The Festival of Fools,’ she repeated, enunciating each word as if he was an idiot, ‘is the Mount’s main event of the year. We have entertainers, stalls and attractions and all the proceeds go to good causes. I’m sure you must remember it.’
He felt angry and knew it was because her barbs had begun to land too close to home and his heart whispered, because he’d been thinking of her in the same place in his mind as Rhianna and that was wrong. It
had
to be.
He tried to keep his voice gruff. ‘I do remember. It’s been going on for years, even before my grandfather’s time when, as I’m sure you know, the proceeds went to the local poor fund. But why do you need to ask me about it?’
‘Because,’ she said patiently, ‘the choice of charity each year lies with the owner of the Mount. In the past, I’ve asked your mother’s opinion, of course, but she said that this year it should be your decision. She did, however, suggest the local lifeboat fund as one option. It’s been fourteen years since they last benefited.’
Clever Mummy, adding another tiny weight to his burden of guilt by reminding him of how many people depended on his role as landowner. No matter what his mother said, Jago was sure she hadn’t accepted his decision to sell. His mother would certainly hold out hope until the ink was dry on the contract. ‘The lifeboat sounds like a good idea,’ he said, glancing down at the papers on his desk.
Heheard Miranda click the top on her pen. ‘So that’s definite? I need to know so I can start the publicity campaign for the Festival. We need to let the lifeboat fundraisers know too, so they can promote it.’
‘Yes.’
Miranda made an exaggerated mark halfway down her form. Clearly, that was him ticked off the list.
‘Right. Thank you. I’ll leave you to get on with your work.’
He took in her tanned legs, her slight figure swamped by shorts and polo shirt like an urchin growing into a big sister’s clothes. She was the kind of woman who didn’t want to be noticed. She raised the clipboard. She definitely didn’t want to be noticed by him.
Toolate.
‘If you could spare a few minutes, I’d like to discuss something with you,’ he heard himself say.
The clipboard shot up in front of her chest like a shield. Was she that scared of him? He only wanted to talk to her. Hadn’t known how much he wanted to talk to her until this moment. He stood up. ‘Do you fancy an ice cream?’
‘What?’
‘An ice cream. Cold stuff, comes in lots of flavours.’ He smiled. ‘It’s such a lovely day and I think I should make another inspection of the property.’
‘I really should be doing a risk assessment of the visitor facilities.’
He felt reckless, and not quite
The memoryslammed into him, like a freak wave, dragging him under and spinning him out of control. He remembered the last time he’d made love with Rhianna before their world had imploded. They’d slipped away into the dunes on a remote beach, the grass shading them from the fierce heat of the Southern afternoon. The sex had been glorious, heart pounding, sweet and tender and then it had happened. When he opened his eyes, four stone walls confronted him – and Miranda.
He hadn’t heard the door open. She stood in front of the desk, clutching the clipboard to her chest defensively. He thought of getting to his feet, like a gentleman would have done when a lady walked into the room.
His bum stayed firmly in the chair. ‘Hello.’
‘I saw you were in. I hope I’m not interrupting you.’
‘As a matter of fact, you are, but it doesn’t follow that the interruption is unwelcome.’
She pursed her lips at him, unsure how to take his remark. ‘I’d like to discuss the Festival of Fools,’ she said primly.
‘The Festival of Fools?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice grew higher. Maybe she was nervous or maybe her knickers were bothering her again. ‘The Festival of Fools,’ she repeated, enunciating each word as if he was an idiot, ‘is the Mount’s main event of the year. We have entertainers, stalls and attractions and all the proceeds go to good causes. I’m sure you must remember it.’
He felt angry and knew it was because her barbs had begun to land too close to home and his heart whispered, because he’d been thinking of her in the same place in his mind as Rhianna and that was wrong. It
had
to be.
He tried to keep his voice gruff. ‘I do remember. It’s been going on for years, even before my grandfather’s time when, as I’m sure you know, the proceeds went to the local poor fund. But why do you need to ask me about it?’
‘Because,’ she said patiently, ‘the choice of charity each year lies with the owner of the Mount. In the past, I’ve asked your mother’s opinion, of course, but she said that this year it should be your decision. She did, however, suggest the local lifeboat fund as one option. It’s been fourteen years since they last benefited.’
Clever Mummy, adding another tiny weight to his burden of guilt by reminding him of how many people depended on his role as landowner. No matter what his mother said, Jago was sure she hadn’t accepted his decision to sell. His mother would certainly hold out hope until the ink was dry on the contract. ‘The lifeboat sounds like a good idea,’ he said, glancing down at the papers on his desk.
Heheard Miranda click the top on her pen. ‘So that’s definite? I need to know so I can start the publicity campaign for the Festival. We need to let the lifeboat fundraisers know too, so they can promote it.’
‘Yes.’
Miranda made an exaggerated mark halfway down her form. Clearly, that was him ticked off the list.
‘Right. Thank you. I’ll leave you to get on with your work.’
He took in her tanned legs, her slight figure swamped by shorts and polo shirt like an urchin growing into a big sister’s clothes. She was the kind of woman who didn’t want to be noticed. She raised the clipboard. She definitely didn’t want to be noticed by him.
Toolate.
‘If you could spare a few minutes, I’d like to discuss something with you,’ he heard himself say.
The clipboard shot up in front of her chest like a shield. Was she that scared of him? He only wanted to talk to her. Hadn’t known how much he wanted to talk to her until this moment. He stood up. ‘Do you fancy an ice cream?’
‘What?’
‘An ice cream. Cold stuff, comes in lots of flavours.’ He smiled. ‘It’s such a lovely day and I think I should make another inspection of the property.’
‘I really should be doing a risk assessment of the visitor facilities.’
He felt reckless, and not quite
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