That Despicable Rogue by Virginia Heath

no longer alone. A very skinny, pathetic excuse for a dog had plonked itself on the ground next to him and was watching him with interest. The animal was of no discernible breed, and was neither large nor small for a hound. Its fur was a dull shade of beige, but his eyes, ears and tail were ringed with black. Ross stared back at the ugly canine and then tentatively reached out a hand to stroke it. The dog stood and pushed his knobbly head into his open palm, and let out a small doggy sigh of contentment when he scratched behind one of its flea-bitten pointed ears.
    A quick glance to the left confirmed its sex. ‘Hello, boy,’ Ross whispered. ‘Where is your owner?’
    There was not a single person in sight. The creature panted in response and the sour aroma of dank dog wafted up Ross’s nostrils and made him pull a face.
    ‘Pardon my forthrightness, Dog, but you stink.’
    His hand felt decidedly unpleasant, and he immediately regretted petting the mangy thing. He wiped it on the grass and then hoisted himself to his feet. The dog sidled up next to him and looked up hopefully.
    ‘Shoo! Go away!’ He started to walk towards the house and the dog trotted alongside. Just what he needed—another stray to blight his life. ‘I mean it, dog— go away !’
    The animal paused and Ross made a break for it. Decisively he marched out of the woods, and did his best to ignore the sound of the mongrel’s panting as it continued to trot behind his heels. The blasted animal had latched on to him. Annoyed, he stopped dead and turned to face it, with his hands planted on his hips. But then he saw something else move through the edge of the trees in the distance and forgot about the mutt. If he was not mistaken that was Prim he had just spotted—no doubt she was still fuming about the kiss.
    A smile crept over his face as he remembered how enthusiastically she had kissed him back. Kissing Prim had been a bit of a revelation. Usually, kissing was a bit of a means to an end—a way of getting a woman into bed. Kissing Prim had been a wholly enjoyable activity in itself. Ross could have carried on and on. When she had abruptly ended it he had felt bereft—and more than a little bit stunned. He had certainly never experienced that before—and certainly not from just a kiss. Would it have the same effect on him again? he wondered.
    There was only one way to find out.
    Quickly, he slipped back into the woods. She was walking at some speed in the opposite direction to the house and was clutching a bouquet of freshly picked wild flowers. Curious, he kept in the cover of the trees and followed her. Soon she had inadvertently led him to a part of the grounds he had not yet seen. There was a small area enclosed by a low wall that had been almost completely obscured by weeds and meadow grass. From a distance it appeared to be a small cemetery. He could just make out the tops of one or two of the headstones.
    Prim opened the gate and let herself in, then he watched her separate the flowers into three small bunches, which she placed next to the stones. Oblivious to his hiding place, she knelt down and began pulling up the weeds.

Chapter Eight
    H annah felt guilty as she tidied up her brother’s grave. Up until now she had not even seen it. Word of his death had arrived in Yorkshire only after his funeral. Their solicitor had informed her that Jameson, in an unexpected show of decency, had allowed her brother to rest with the family and his remains had been buried quickly. Since her return to Barchester Hall she had not been able to bring herself to come and see him. There were too many bad memories. She could not even bring herself to forgive him for sending her away.
    ‘I am sorry I have not come sooner,’ she said aloud, ‘But you must understand, George, that I am beyond angry at you.’
    She tugged at a stubborn dandelion and sighed.
    ‘What were you thinking? You lost everything George. Everything . How could you gamble away our home