His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,109
they had passed through any other villages or signs of civilisation. She really was in the middle of nowhere. The village itself was exactly as she’d imagined a Dickensian village would look. Quaint. A main high street with a medley of shops on each side, butcher, baker, candle stick maker, with quite a few shoppers mulling around, most of whom waved or acknowledged Matt in some way. Matt simply nodded his head or raised his index finger from the wheel in greeting. She also spotted a dress shop, all tastefully decorated for the season with cream twinkle lights and small Christmas trees above each shop building. The local pub was set back at the end of the high street with the main village Christmas tree; a huge star on the top with a wide white banner around the base attached to the railings advertised an event of some sort, but Matt had driven past before she’d had a chance to read the details.
“How far is it to the farm now?”
Matt glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not a farm, and you’re dangerously close to sounding like a two year old.”
“So I guess now isn’t a good time to say that I really need a wee?” she threw back at him, only partly teasing. She actually needed to visit the ladies since the arrivals hall but had got distracted by Mr Gallant, Gorgeous and Grumpy.
“I can pull over. There’s plenty of bushes,” he threatened, and she wondered whether Mr Dark and Broody did actually have a sense of humour.
At least she hoped he was kidding.
“Only a few more minutes,” he continued. “The house is only a mile or so from the village, closer if you walk straight over that hill”. He bobbed his head slightly and pointed past her shoulder.
She smiled back lightly in concession. “I’ll hold it. I was never very patient and as for that...” pointing in the same direction as Matt, “I’d say it’s a mountain not a hill!”
As promised, they soon approached a large wrought iron gate featuring two prancing stallions, which formed a complete design when the gates met. Matt punched a code into a security pad at the side of the road to open the automatic gates. They entered a pebbled driveway flanked either side by large evergreen trees. A brass sign at the side of the drive announced that they’d just entered the private grounds of “Melville House and Stud”.
Ah okay, so definitely not a farm. No sheep would warrant this much security!
“So, how big is this place?”
“Eight hundred acres or so. We have thirty stallions at the moment and ten visiting mares.”
She raised an eyebrow at that and smirked. “Visiting mares?” she repeated, slowly.
They continued to drive slowly down the winding driveway and caught sight of a couple of horses with their riders in the distance and circular arenas where it looked as though the horses might be exercised by some sort of machine that walked them around.
The grounds were extensive and spectacularly maintained. This was no simple horse farm!
A majestic three story Jacobean manor house came into view through the tree line as Matt steered the car around the final bend. Its traditional symmetrical style and intricate stone masonry with mullioned windows and numerous tall chimney stacks were set off magnificently against the vivid green ivy growing on one gable end of the house, now wearing a blanket of newly fallen snow. The main door was set back into an impressive archway flanked on either side with stone columns and urns, but the main focus was directly in front of the main door where a fountain with six bubbling jets shot water at least five meters into the sky. Numerous old fashioned brass street lamps were scattered around the property and would no doubt create a spectacular illumination in the evenings. The driveway continued around to the side of the house where a detached three car garage was situated, its doors open showing a black Range Rover and Silver Aston Martin parked inside. She’d already noted a scattering of other out outbuildings throughout the manicured gardens and shrubs. It was a winter wonderland and the child in her itched to play out in the snow.
“It’s amazing,” she beamed, but he seemed deep in thought, a ticking nerve in his jaw the only give away that he was annoyed at something. She left him to his grumpiness and continued to admire the view as he parked.