wary, but that’s better than some of these brazen types that are around these days. That’s the one thing I can’t abide in a woman, brazenness.’
What she meant was the brazen types he dated, Morgan thought wryly, being fully aware of Kitty’s opinion of his lifestyle and in particular his women. He unfolded his Sunday paper, signifying the conversation was at an end, his voice dismissive when he said coolly, ‘She’s a neighbour, that’s all, Kitty. And I’ll have a round of toast to go with the bacon and eggs, please.’
For once Kitty wasn’t playing ball. Folding her arms across her plump little stomach, she said grimly, ‘You let this one go and you’ll regret it, m’lad. That’s all I’m saying.’
For crying out loud! His tone deliberately weary, he said, ‘I can’t let go of what I don’t have. End of story.’ And he raised the newspaper in front of his face.
He didn’t enjoy his breakfast and the paper was full ofrubbish. Irritable and out of sorts, he decided to take the dogs for a long walk to blow away the cobwebs and get himself back on course so he could work that afternoon.
Pulling on a leather jacket, he whistled the dogs and left the house a few minutes later. There was a pleasing nip in the air, foretelling the frosts that were sure to come later in the month. The October day was fresh and bright, shallow sparkles of sunshine warming the fields that stretched either side of the lane beyond his house. He walked in the opposite direction to Willow’s cottage and the village, a host of magpies in the trees bordering the lane chattering across the autumn sky.
Shortly after leaving his property, he turned off the lane onto a footpath that led between fields recently ploughed under the stubble of the old wheat crop, the dogs gambolling ahead but taking care to stay on the footpath like the well-trained animals they were. The landscape was already turning into a glorious world of golden tints from copper to orange and Morgan stood for a moment, breathing in the sharp air and looking up into a blue sky, which until recently had been full of swallows gathering together ready to migrate and screaming their goodbyes.
Everything was fine. He nodded to the thought. Nothing had changed. His world was ticking along nicely and under his control.
He continued to tell himself this throughout the rest of the walk and by the time he returned home he was ready for his Sunday lunch. He ate a hearty portion of Kitty’s Yorkshire pudding and roast beef with roast potatoes that were crisp on the outside and feathery soft on the inside,and disappeared into his study for the rest of the afternoon. By the time he re-emerged as a golden autumn twilight was falling he had the facts and figures of the papers he’d been studying clear in his head.
He met Kitty in the hall and she was carrying a tray holding steaming coffee and a plate of her delicious home-made shortbread. ‘Though you might want a break,’ she said fussily. ‘You work too hard.’
Morgan hid a smile. This was her way of saying he was now forgiven. ‘Thanks, but I’m just on my way out,’ he said, and it was only in that moment he realized he’d been intending to call round and see Willow from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. ‘I’ll be back as and when,’ he added, ‘so don’t worry about dinner. I’ll grab a sandwich or something when I come in. Your roast was enough to keep a man going for twenty-four hours.’
He left before she could ask any awkward questions and for the same reason took the Harley. It would have been a giveaway if he’d walked. Kitty had a nose like an elephant as it was.
When he knocked on the door of Willow’s cottage his heart was slamming against his ribcage with the force of a sledgehammer and his mouth felt dry. In any other situation he could have laughed at himself. This evening, though, he didn’t feel like laughing.
The door opened and he hoped his nervousness, his rush of
What she meant was the brazen types he dated, Morgan thought wryly, being fully aware of Kitty’s opinion of his lifestyle and in particular his women. He unfolded his Sunday paper, signifying the conversation was at an end, his voice dismissive when he said coolly, ‘She’s a neighbour, that’s all, Kitty. And I’ll have a round of toast to go with the bacon and eggs, please.’
For once Kitty wasn’t playing ball. Folding her arms across her plump little stomach, she said grimly, ‘You let this one go and you’ll regret it, m’lad. That’s all I’m saying.’
For crying out loud! His tone deliberately weary, he said, ‘I can’t let go of what I don’t have. End of story.’ And he raised the newspaper in front of his face.
He didn’t enjoy his breakfast and the paper was full ofrubbish. Irritable and out of sorts, he decided to take the dogs for a long walk to blow away the cobwebs and get himself back on course so he could work that afternoon.
Pulling on a leather jacket, he whistled the dogs and left the house a few minutes later. There was a pleasing nip in the air, foretelling the frosts that were sure to come later in the month. The October day was fresh and bright, shallow sparkles of sunshine warming the fields that stretched either side of the lane beyond his house. He walked in the opposite direction to Willow’s cottage and the village, a host of magpies in the trees bordering the lane chattering across the autumn sky.
Shortly after leaving his property, he turned off the lane onto a footpath that led between fields recently ploughed under the stubble of the old wheat crop, the dogs gambolling ahead but taking care to stay on the footpath like the well-trained animals they were. The landscape was already turning into a glorious world of golden tints from copper to orange and Morgan stood for a moment, breathing in the sharp air and looking up into a blue sky, which until recently had been full of swallows gathering together ready to migrate and screaming their goodbyes.
Everything was fine. He nodded to the thought. Nothing had changed. His world was ticking along nicely and under his control.
He continued to tell himself this throughout the rest of the walk and by the time he returned home he was ready for his Sunday lunch. He ate a hearty portion of Kitty’s Yorkshire pudding and roast beef with roast potatoes that were crisp on the outside and feathery soft on the inside,and disappeared into his study for the rest of the afternoon. By the time he re-emerged as a golden autumn twilight was falling he had the facts and figures of the papers he’d been studying clear in his head.
He met Kitty in the hall and she was carrying a tray holding steaming coffee and a plate of her delicious home-made shortbread. ‘Though you might want a break,’ she said fussily. ‘You work too hard.’
Morgan hid a smile. This was her way of saying he was now forgiven. ‘Thanks, but I’m just on my way out,’ he said, and it was only in that moment he realized he’d been intending to call round and see Willow from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. ‘I’ll be back as and when,’ he added, ‘so don’t worry about dinner. I’ll grab a sandwich or something when I come in. Your roast was enough to keep a man going for twenty-four hours.’
He left before she could ask any awkward questions and for the same reason took the Harley. It would have been a giveaway if he’d walked. Kitty had a nose like an elephant as it was.
When he knocked on the door of Willow’s cottage his heart was slamming against his ribcage with the force of a sledgehammer and his mouth felt dry. In any other situation he could have laughed at himself. This evening, though, he didn’t feel like laughing.
The door opened and he hoped his nervousness, his rush of
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