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She had to cover her mouth to stifle the delicious amusement, and with that he laid a soft kiss against the back of her hands. In an instant she’d dropped the final barrier of what was considered ladylike, and, finally, what she’d been pretending not to wish for all day came true. Harry bent and kissed her; ridiculously, the thought that rattled around her mind absently as she gave herself over to his softly searching mouth with Scotland on his breath was dispelling the notion that the reality never lived up to the dream.

Harry’s kiss crushed that myth and made her feel weakened by its intensity and the realisation of how desperate her longing had been for this sort of affection. And just as she opened her yearning for Harry to explore further, the phone jangled and their kiss broke.

‘Don’t answer it,’ he murmured.

‘If I don’t, Norma will take the call from the phone in the hall, and then she’ll have permission to come into this room and see just what we’re up to.’

‘Shall we shock her?’ But she could tell he was joking. ‘Best you answer then, as I need to . . . er . . . collect myself,’ he said, clearing his throat.

Alex threw him a sympathetic look as she crossed the room quickly to beat Norma to the receiver and answer the call herself.

She was too late and could hear the housekeeper already talking to her mother. ‘Ah, thank you, Norma. I’ve got it. Hello, Mother.’

‘Darling, it’s us,’ Minerva said, ignoring Alex’s words. ‘I was just telling Norma that your father and I might be early.’

‘I shall leave you to it, Mrs Britten-Jones,’ Norma spoke from the hall but into Alex’s ear in a slightly bizarre three-way conversation. ‘Perhaps I should put the coffee on now?’

‘Yes, Norma, why don’t you do that. It sounds as though my parents are coming over shortly.’

‘Be there in ten or fifteen minutes, darling. Hope you don’t mind?’

‘Why should I?’ she replied, feeling the shame rise from the cradle of her hips to her cheeks.

‘Well, it cuts short your private time with your guest.’

‘Nothing we can’t all share, Mother,’ she lied, despairing of herself. ‘Come over as soon as you’re ready. We’re just sipping a sherry near the fire.’

15

She replaced the receiver and tried to cool her shamed cheeks with her hands but they were hot too, her fingertips still tingling from holding Harry. She could still feel the smooth wool of his jacket behind his neck from where she had pulled him close and then closer still, recalling how tiny flicks of his hair had caressed her while she’d held him.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, tone predictably sheepish.

‘Yes . . . you?’ She glanced at his lap where his long fingers were knitted in a protective prayer-like clasp.

‘I’m going to think about Norma’s disapproval and that will help.’

She grinned, desperately wishing she could collapse into that very lap, snake her arms around his neck and snuggle in close to his chest like a child wanting to be held.

‘We need to eat. They’ll be here shortly . . . my parents.’

‘Is it going to be too awkward for you? Would you prefer I ducked away now?’

‘More awkward if you leave, frankly.’ She glanced towards the food and back at him as he bit on the corner of his lip in thought. ‘Because I’ll be thinking about you while trying to speak to them.’ She loved seeing the small twitch of a smile that her remark prompted.

‘Dangerous talk.’

‘We’re past talk, aren’t we, Harry?’

He lifted a finger. ‘Not too far past yet. I can walk out of this house and you will never have to see me again. We can put this down to . . . well, an aberration. You were feeling downhearted at this being the last week of your tenure at Rowntree coupled with the gloom that your husband was absent. I shamelessly took advantage of that situation, behaving like a typically bewildered returned soldier, and I didn’t respond to traditional boundaries in the company of a gorgeous woman who was being kind to me.’

‘Except none of that is true.’

He looked down. ‘No, I’m not bewildered at all about how I feel about you.’

‘You barely know me,’ she said, just above a whisper.

He gave a soft sigh of resignation. ‘What difference could it make if it were otherwise? None, I can assure you, and I can also unequivocally declare that I own my feelings and no one can tell me how to direct them. They do precisely what they want.’