The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (17 page)

Harry’s blood stirred. ‘You’ll join me for bacon and eggs?’ he asked, pressing for a crack of compliance.

‘I’ll dance with you, Harry, but don’t assume I’ll accompany you home,’ she answered.

He grinned. ‘Then let’s make the dance a merry one.’

His feet were light as he exited from her room. Ashley had accepted the game, come what may, and it was fun again. Apart from which, playing the
butler wasn’t so deceptive because she would have all that he represented if she came with him in the end.

And more.

A
SHLEY
pondered her position as she dressed for the day. Harry had reaffirmed his mission, leaving little room for the pipedream that she might be able to keep him in Australia with her. He would go back to England. That was the inevitable reality, and it ill behove her to let it slip from her mind and think other foolish thoughts.

England represented Roger’s side of the family. It also represented closer memories of Harry’s beloved Penelope. The prospect of taking up residence in Springfield Manor held no attraction for Ashley. Unless Harry overcame all her objections to it.

He had openly declared that he would test her resistance to the limits and he was not inclined to take no for an answer. Ashley wondered how far he would use the tug of attraction to get his own way. He found her desirable. She no longer had any doubt about that.

For several electric moments, when he had first entered her bedroom, she had felt the strong swirl of wanting from him like a physical touch on her skin, a clamp on her heart. He had tried to hide it, tried to ignore it, but it had been still pulsing from him as he poured her coffee. All her senses had
been alive to it, treacherously responding to it even as she struggled for the same self-control he imposed upon himself.

But desire wasn’t love, Ashley cautioned herself. Desire could be manipulated for purposes that had nothing to do with love. Men and women had been doing that to each other since Adam and Eve. Desire could be a trap that would cost her dear in the end if she succumbed to it. Ashley had been the victim of one man’s ego. She didn’t intend to ever let that happen again.

Was
winning
uppermost in Harry’s mind?

Did he want to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him?

The wise thing to do, Ashley decided, was wait, watch and listen while keeping a good sparring distance from Harry Cliffton. Having settled on this sensible course of action, she headed downstairs for breakfast, confident of holding true to herself despite all the persuasive tactics Harry could come up with.

William was discussing the merits of spin bowling with Harry, swapping reminiscences of the great masters of the art. There was not the slightest hint of being patronising from Harry. They chatted away as equals, and William was very much enjoying the company.

Ashley suddenly felt inadequate as a single parent. It was impossible to be both mother and father to a child, to be the full complementary mixture that answered all needs. Not many people
achieved that ideal, she assured herself, dismissing a twinge of guilt at her emotional rejection of her dead husband and her indifference about actively looking for another.

‘Hi, Mum!’ William greeted her cheerfully. ‘I’m going to have bacon and eggs, too.’

Ashley’s guilt returned and persisted when the three of them sat down to the cooked breakfast. Like a proper family, she thought, beginning the day together, sharing amiable conversation. Usually William had his cereal and was about his business before she got up in the morning. Her routine was to read the newspaper as she ate her muesli. They only really shared the evening meal, and more times than not the television was on so conversation was mainly limited to ad breaks.

She remembered Harry saying that although there were television sets at Springfield Manor, interesting conversation always took priority over watching programmes. Ashley decided to revise the habits she and William had fallen into. Good communication was important and time should be made for more of it.
Families that talk together, stay together.
Harry was right about that.

‘Do you have a busy day ahead of you, Ashley?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She explained what had led up to Gordon Payne’s visit yesterday and Cheryn Kimball’s present predicament. ‘Cheryn thought she had a good, secure job and was counting on the income. Given the circumstances, I doubt he’ll even pay her
what he owes for the week’s work. I must try to place her again as quickly as I can. The poor girl was completely distraught yesterday.’

‘Can I help you with anything?’

‘No. It’s kind of you to offer but this is my job and I know how to handle it.’

‘You can help me paint my soldiers,’ William chimed in, eager to fill in any gap in Harry’s time.

‘This afternoon,’ he agreed. ‘Since your mother doesn’t need me here, there’s a few other things I’d like to do this morning. Reprovision the fridge and pantry, for one. I can’t be eating all your mother’s food without contributing something.’

‘There’s no need…’ she started.

He smiled, melting the protest on her tongue. ‘I want to. Let me surprise you. It will give me great pleasure to provide a few special meals for you.’

‘The kind of meals you have at Springfield Manor?’ she asked sharply.

He tilted an eyebrow. ‘Is that forbidden?’

It probably made her a closed-minded bigot if she said it was, yet she resented the subtle pressures Harry was applying to undermine her negative attitude to his mission. She forced a smile. ‘Please feel free to provide whatever you like. As I understand it, you take full responsibility for the money you spend on us.’

‘You do?’ William’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. ‘Can I come shopping with you, Mr. Cliffton?’

‘You might find it boring, William,’ Harry warned.

‘Are you going in the Rolls Royce?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I won’t find it boring.’

‘You need your mother’s permission.’

‘Mum?’

Ashley eyed her son sternly. ‘You may go, William, but you are not to ask Mr. Cliffton to buy you anything.’

‘I promise I won’t ask him,’ he agreed quickly. A fair bit of hinting could easily be achieved, William thought, his mind leaping to certain shops that could be artfully included in the itinerary.

Ashley retired to her office once breakfast was over, leaving Harry and William to make whatever arrangements they liked between them. She heard the Rolls Royce arrive and hoped William wouldn’t find it too pleasant and addictive. They popped their heads into the office to say goodbye, and the house felt strangely empty when they were gone.

Ashley did her best to settle to work. She carefully scanned the Positions Vacant lists in the local newspaper, mentally matching them against the files of her clients for possibilities to pursue. There was nothing that would really use Cheryn’s abilities.

She made several telephone calls, scouting employers who had used her agency to find good employees in the past. One of them had a friend who had mentioned a need for an attractive front-office girl with superior secretarial skills. Ashley wasted
no time in making the contact and interesting him in the service she could provide. An appointment was made to discuss the matter further, and Ashley hoped it would result in a suitable position for Cheryn.

A few calls came in asking for temps. Ashley had no problem in filling these requirements. She wondered how Gordon Payne was getting on with finding someone to fit his needs and was glad the responsibility was no longer hers. She couldn’t, in all conscience, place anyone in such a demeaning situation.

Her gaze drifted to the Lladro clown that Harry had rescued for her, and the scene replayed itself in her mind, pausing over the sense of connection when their eyes had first met. Had it merely been some spark of chemistry ignited by the tension of the moment, or was it an instinctive recognition of fellow travellers on a plane that was subtly removed from other people?

Ashley realised that since her escape from marriage to Roger, she had been content to hibernate emotionally from all other men. She suspected Harry had done the same after Pen’s death, withdrawing himself from any close involvement with other women. Had their meeting snapped them both awake, seeding an awareness of needs they had buried? Were they meant to come together or was this encounter simply a turning point in their lives, a spur to reappraising where they had been and where they would go from here?

The realisation came to her that she had been building a
safe
self-containment. Harry tapped a yearning in her for all she was missing out on. Perhaps it was self-defeating to cling to the control she had achieved. Could what she most wanted be gained without risk? What if she was to go to Springfield Manor with Harry…

She shook her head over such impulsive madness. She had only known the man one short day. It was far too soon to consider throwing up everything on the chance that Harry Cliffton was the man to fill the empty places inside her with the satisfaction she craved.

The buzz of the telephone was a pertinent reminder she should be concentrating on work. She picked up the receiver and crisply identified the agency and herself.

‘Ah, Mrs. Harcourt…Gordon Payne here.’

Ashley instantly tensed, expecting his demands and threats to be renewed. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Payne?’ she said coolly, determined not to lose her temper this time no matter how provoked she was.

He cleared his throat. ‘I was out of line yesterday, Mrs. Harcourt. Said things I didn’t mean. I’m a man who’s set in my ways and I like things to run smoothly, you know?’

‘Perhaps mistakes of judgement were made on both sides,’ she offered, astonished at the conciliatory tone and happy to meet it halfway.

‘Very upsetting. A bad day all round. I regret my behaviour with you, Mrs. Harcourt, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.’

Incredulity billowed through Ashley’s mind. Roger had never apologised. Maybe she had over-inflated Gordon Payne’s ego and it wasn’t quite so monstrous, after all. ‘Thank you, Mr. Payne,’ she said, struggling to gather her wits and say something gracious. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t have reached a better understanding.’

‘I’ll put two cheques in the mail today. I presume you’ll pass Miss Kimball’s on to her.’

‘Yes, I will. Thank you. She’ll appreciate it.’

‘I don’t want any trouble.’

‘Neither do I, Mr. Payne.’

‘You’ll have no cause to bring any harassment charges against me. I promise you that.’

Ashley’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t even begun to consider such a means of redress. Even if Gordon Payne had carried through on his threats, how on earth could she have proved he was behind the harassment? People like him always covered their tracks.

‘I’d be obliged if you’d assure Mr. Cliffton I’ve put everything he demanded in train and there’ll be no reason to get into litigation.’

Harry?

Enlightenment blossomed.

Harry had overheard the threats. He was a witness. He must have gone shopping for a peaceful
and fair resolution to the Gordon Payne problem, as well as food to lead her into temptation.

Images of Harry deftly turning Gordon Payne inside out with clever arguments and putting the fear of messy legal action into him flashed through Ashley’s mind. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a wild giggle. She wished she’d been there to watch him run rings around the pompous power monger. It must have been a marvellous performance. A Rolls Royce definitely had the weight to buy more lawyers than a Daimler, and undoubtedly Gordon Payne respected that kind of money.

Having sobered herself enough to speak, Ashley blithely said, ‘I’ll certainly repeat the content of this call to Mr. Cliffton.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Harcourt. I won’t trouble you any further. Good day to you.’

Ashley put the receiver down and laughed out loud, joy and relief bubbling through her amusement. She felt like dancing. Harry had done it again! The dragon had been slain by her irrepressible white knight. Was it any wonder that she was in danger of falling in love with him? If he kept on righting the wrongs in her world…

But what if he saw it as simply settling her affairs, smoothing the path for her to wind up her business without any hassles before leaving it behind? That was part of his mission, wasn’t it? This act of gallantry might not be inspired by any personal wish for her well-being at all.

On the other hand, she was very grateful for the outcome, so why should she quibble about motives? She snatched up the telephone and dialled Cheryn Kimball’s number, delighted that she could pass on some good news and brighten Cheryn’s day.

Despite the many question marks in her mind, Ashley could not repress her high spirits when Harry and William arrived home from their shopping trip. She heard the Rolls Royce purr to a halt and hurried out of the office to open the front door for them. Harry and William emerged from the back seat, Harry using his silver-tipped walking cane with elegant panache as he stepped out, his beautiful three-piece suit stamping him as a man of class, William following, happily clutching a bag emblazoned with the toy shop logo.

Ashley moved out to the porch, eyeing her son with exasperation. ‘William, I told you…’

‘I didn’t ask, Mum,’ he expostulated. ‘Mr. Cliffton said we couldn’t have a proper war game without model cannons and cavalry. It was his idea. I just showed him where they could be bought.’

‘Led him there by the hand, did you?’

‘Aw, come on, Mum. Mr. Cliffton doesn’t need leading. He’s the smartest man I know.’ William broke into a run. ‘I’ll duck upstairs and put these away. Then I can help the chauffeur with the other shopping bags.’

Such virtue was highly suspicious, but Ashley let it pass. She looked at the smartest man William knew and was inclined to agree with her son.
Harry’s mouth was twitching with amusement as William bolted past his mother. His blue eyes danced with mischief.

‘I don’t suppose you’d know anything about the cavalry arriving in Gordon Payne’s office this morning,’ she said archly. ‘I got the impression that a few cannons were fired there, as well.’

‘I love cavalry charges. Did you know in the Battle of—

‘Let me guess. One of your ancestors led it.’

‘No. He blew the bugle.’

‘As you did with Gordon Payne.’

He grinned. ‘It seemed like a good tune to play.’

Ashley couldn’t help laughing. ‘It worked. The enemy has been routed, and the money is in the mail.’

‘A celebratory lunch is in order?’

‘It certainly is. And thank you, Harry, both for Cheryn and myself. You’re a great bugle player.’