The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,13
‘But it doesn’t seem right, a lass like you with nothing better to do with her evenings than grub about in the garden.’
‘It makes a change from the carpentry and painting I did every evening until I got my flat sorted—’ She broke off as her phone rang.
‘I’ll make some tea while you answer that,’ said Harry, getting up.
‘Miss Carver?’
‘Yes.’
‘Greg Harris here, personal assistant to Alex Merrick. He asked me to let you know that one of our security men will take a drive out to the Medlar Farm Cottages at regular intervals tonight, so there’s no need for you to sleep there.’
Sarah rolled her eyes. No use losing her cool with the monkey, she’d wait until she met the organ-grinder again. ‘Thank Mr Merrick for me, but I’ve made my own arrangements. Please pass the message on to his security people.’
‘Are you sure about this, Miss Carver?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she said icily.
‘I mean, after what happened last night I hope you’re not going to sleep there yourself after all—’
‘I repeat, Mr Harris,’ she snapped, ‘I’ve made my own arrangements. Goodbye.’
Mindful of Harry’s words about young people getting wrapped up in themselves, Sarah took time to hang curtains at the windows of the show house to give them some privacy. Her plan for decorating a cottage of this era was to keep it simple, with quality curtain material and a rug in muted colours on the gleaming wood floor in the sitting room. When the house was ready for the public she would transfer some of the furniture she’d put in storage, hang a picture or two, and the cottage would look so good she would hate to part with it.
Sarah stood in the doorway of the sitting room, which looked different already with just the addition of curtains and a few things she’d brought from the flat. Much as she resented his high-handedness, Alex Merrick’s warnings had given her a wake-up call. It was only common sense from a security point of view to make the house at least appear inhabited.
She heard Harry coming down a ladder and went out to beckon him inside.
‘What do you think?’
He whistled. ‘Very cosy!’
‘Will it con a would-be intruder?’
‘No matter. Nero will start barking long before anyone gets near enough to take a closer look.’
Sarah drove back to the flat that evening in high spirits. Ian had turned up in his van with his handsome dog before she left. After a few rapturous minutes spent in making Nero’s acquaintance, Sarah had talked money with Ian, and assured the young giant that his Josie was welcome to join him any time.
‘Thanks, I appreciate that Miss Carver. But she’s at her kickboxing class tonight so I just brought my telly for company.’ Ian had looked round with deep approval. ‘Josie will love it here. I wish we could afford one of these.’
When Sarah’s doorbell rang very late she pulled on her dressing gown and climbed down from her platform, stiffening when she heard the angry, clipped tones of Alex Merrick over the intercom. She buzzed him in, and smothered a snort of laughter as he came storming across the hall in his shirtsleeves, hair on end, and a great tear flapping in one expensive trouser leg.
‘I’m glad you think this is funny! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, advancing on her with such menace Sarah had to force herself to stand her ground.
‘Good evening, Mr Merrick. Come inside before you wake my neighbours. What should I have told you?’
‘That you’d sold one of the cottages,’ he snapped.
‘I haven’t. Harry Sollers’ nephew Ian is doing me a favour by sleeping there, that’s all. I made it perfectly clear to your Mr Harris that I had my security arrangements in hand,’ she added frostily.
Alex controlled himself with obvious difficulty. ‘He relayed the message, but it obviously lost something in translation. I took it for granted you were sticking to your plan of sleeping there yourself. I was at a charity dinner earlier, and went home by way of Medlar Cottages to check on you. I got savaged by a bloody great monster of a dog for my pains.’
‘That was just Nero, doing his job. Did he bite you?’ she asked solicitously.
‘No. I fought him off.’ Alex glared at the ragged tear. ‘I was fond of this suit.’
‘If you’ll tell me how much it cost I’ll reimburse you,’ she said promptly, and won a look of such blazing antagonism she backed away a little.