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.Sensing the child's pent-up grief, Blythe knelt beside him and put her arms around his small frame.His slender shoulders began to quake, and then he turned to her shoulder, no longer able to hold back sobs that wrenched her own heart."I know, Dicken," she whispered into his hair."You miss her so much.It's all right, sweetheart… it's all right to cry."At the sound of his son's weeping, Luke abruptly turned and stalked out of the churchyard.Fortunately Richard wasn't aware of his father's angry departure.He continued to cry the deep, cleansing tears of a child long denied his own sadness.Luke was sitting stonily behind the wheel when Blythe and Richard climbed back into the Land Rover.For his part, Richard looked a bit pale, but he immediately began to chatter about his plan to help Mr.Quiller and the workmen measure the lengths of plastic that would soon enclose the remaining hothouses."But first, how about some lunch?" Blythe suggested, displaying a cheerfulness she certainly didn't feel.Luke had not uttered a word to either of them since he strode out of St.Goran's churchyard.Within minutes the car rolled to a stop behind the old pony stable.Also parked next to its high stone wall was Chloe Acton-Scott's dark-blue Jaguar."Hello, darlings?" she called, slamming the door to the driver's side.Richard's godmother was clad in a subversively simple suit and silk blouse the color of ripe peaches.A waistlength double strand of pearls nestled provocatively between her fulsome breasts.Considering that the rest of them were all wearing trousers, one might say the woman was a tad overdressed for the country.Or one might say she looked absolutely stunning."Chloe… what a surprise…" Luke said with less than his usual grace."You haven't looked in your diary," she chided him with a frosty smile in Blythe's direction."I'm to take Richard for his final fitting of his school uniform today, so he'll have it ready before he leaves for Shelby Hall on Friday."Blythe darted a glance at Luke's son and was dismayed to see fresh tears rimming the lad's eyes."Oh… right you are," Luke acknowledged sheepishly."I had forgot about the bloody uniform.Won't you join us for lunch?""No time, I'm afraid," she replied crisply."Can you have Mrs.Q pack you a quick sandwich, Richard, and come back here straightaway?" Without waiting for her godson to respond, she graced Luke with a coquettish smile and added, "We should be back around teatime.My parents are longing to see us both.Would you be free for dinner tonight in St.Austell?"There was a momentary pause, and then Luke replied, "How very kind.That would be lovely."He really was angry at her! Blythe realized with some surprise.She suspected that his irritation centered on her lack of resolve regarding the presumptuous demands of her ex-husband.Or was he upset by what had just transpired in the St.Goran's churchyard with his son? Either way, it appeared that he would seize Chloe's invitation as a means of punishing her for her sins.Typical Englishman! she seethed.Don't say what's bothering you! Just behave like a bloody jerk!By now Blythe's stomach was definitely in turmoil.She wondered vaguely if she was actually coming down with the flu."If you all will excuse me," she said in a tight voice, "I'm actually not feeling up to par.I think, if you don't mind, Luke, I'll take the afternoon off.""I'll drive you home," he offered quickly.He turned to his son."You run along with your godmother, Richard, and I'll catch up with you before Aunt Chloe and I leave for dinner."A sullen, stubborn look had replaced Richard's tears as he turned and headed for the back door of Barton Hall."Actually," Blythe said, feeling both angrier and increasingly ill by the minute, "I'd rather walk."And before either Luke or Chloe could respond, she strode toward the public pathway where the sign's arrow pointed toward Painter's Cottage.Bugger all! she seethed, mentally adopting Christopher Stowe's most vulgar epithet, reserved for occasions of unbearable frustration.Luke was hopeless when it came to understanding children! What was it with these Brits? Some sort of cultural barrier to the simple act of giving their kids a hug when they were unhappy?Ten minutes later Blythe emerged from the shaded path.She had just caught sight of the slate roof of her rented abode when she heard Luke's car grinding its way around a curve in the road that separated the estate from the coastal properties.He rolled to a stop just as she secured the gate to her own field."Blythe! Wait!" he called through the car window."Are you sure you're all right?""No! I'm not!" she retorted angrily, and kept walking.Luke jumped out of the Land Rover and caught up with her by the time she reached her front door.The tide was out, and now dark cumulus clouds had gathered on the horizon like a big black cat, ready to pounce."Blythe, please!" Luke began tersely, grabbing hold of her arm to force her to look at him.She stared at him without expression."Believe me, I don't look forward to dinner with Chloe and her parents.It's just that I didn't appreciate you stirring up unpleasant memories where Richard is concerned, and I stupidly—""Unpleasant! We're not talking 'memories' here," she said, with biting sarcasm [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]