doing?
But there was no answer in the enfolding silence. No sound at all, except the frantic drumming of her own heart.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I T ISN’T,’ Tara said, ‘as if it was a real date. So it really doesn’t matter what I wear. Does it?’
Melusine, lying on the bed, her paws neatly disposed under her, opened her eyes and squinted with the weary scorn of one who’d heard it all before. As indeed she had. Several times.
‘And you’re no help,’ Tara added, holding yet another pair of jeans and top in front of her and glaring at her reflection.
She didn’t wish to appear as if she’d dressed up for the occasion, treating it as some kind of special thing.
On the other hand she didn’t want to look as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards either.
And she’d brought no going-out clothes with her for the very good reason she’d planned on spending her evenings at home.
So much for planning, she thought, with a sigh. Of course she could always make an excuse—invent a headache when Adam called for her. And she could also visualise the cynical disbelief that would twist his mouth if she did any such thing.
She sighed again, and tossed the clothes she was holding on to the bed, just missing Melusine, who gave her an affronted stare.
‘You don’t walk in my shoes, so don’t judge me,’ Tara told her, running a distracted hand through her hair.
Of course there were always the things that she’d left in her old room, she realised, frowning. They weren’t new by any means, just oddments that had accumulated over the years, but there might be something that deserved another outing.
A swift rummage through the wardrobe produced a button-through denim skirt, flaring to mid-calf, and a blue and white striped shirt.
At least tonight she would look more like a woman and less like a painter and decorator. Though maybe overalls and a blow torch might be safer gear, she acknowledged, her lips twisting.
In her mother’s room, she found a dark blue knitted jacket and a pair of plain navy pumps.
When she was dressed, and her newly washed hair had been dried to curve smoothly and silkily round her face, she could even be moderately pleased with the overall effect. She applied a dusting of colour to her eyelids and cheekbones, and painted her mouth a soft rose.
She was just descending the stairs when she heard Adam’s knock, and drew a deep, steadying breath before she opened the door.
His brows lifted when he saw her, and he whistled softly and appreciatively. ‘You look terrific.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she returned, keeping her tone light. Because actually he was breathtaking, in beautifully cut dark trousers, topped by a black sweater, and a jacket in a fine black and white tweed that looked expensive and Italian.
She felt hunger twist inside her, a cold, desolate thing that could never be satisfied.
He was looking down at her feet. ‘Are you going to be able to walk to the village in those shoes?’
‘I’m not even going to try. We’ll go in my car.’ She met his gaze with something of a challenge. She’d decided while she was dressing that being at the controls of a vehicle seemed a safer bet than a long walk home in the moonlight.
‘In other words you plan to keep a cool head this evening.’ He sounded amused, but not put out.
‘I usually do.’ She noticed he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. She also noticed Buster sitting in the doorway. ‘Is he coming with us?’
‘No, I thought I’d leave him here, if that’s all right with you.’
‘You’d better ask Melusine,’ she retorted.
‘Oh, I think the truce is holding.’ He pointed Buster in the direction of the kitchen, and the dog trotted off obediently. ‘Have you locked the back door?’
Tara tutted. ‘How did silly little me manage till you came along?’ she sighed. ‘Yes, it’s locked, and bolted too. And I’ve checked the windows.’
‘Leaving me to check my words for any hint of
But there was no answer in the enfolding silence. No sound at all, except the frantic drumming of her own heart.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I T ISN’T,’ Tara said, ‘as if it was a real date. So it really doesn’t matter what I wear. Does it?’
Melusine, lying on the bed, her paws neatly disposed under her, opened her eyes and squinted with the weary scorn of one who’d heard it all before. As indeed she had. Several times.
‘And you’re no help,’ Tara added, holding yet another pair of jeans and top in front of her and glaring at her reflection.
She didn’t wish to appear as if she’d dressed up for the occasion, treating it as some kind of special thing.
On the other hand she didn’t want to look as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards either.
And she’d brought no going-out clothes with her for the very good reason she’d planned on spending her evenings at home.
So much for planning, she thought, with a sigh. Of course she could always make an excuse—invent a headache when Adam called for her. And she could also visualise the cynical disbelief that would twist his mouth if she did any such thing.
She sighed again, and tossed the clothes she was holding on to the bed, just missing Melusine, who gave her an affronted stare.
‘You don’t walk in my shoes, so don’t judge me,’ Tara told her, running a distracted hand through her hair.
Of course there were always the things that she’d left in her old room, she realised, frowning. They weren’t new by any means, just oddments that had accumulated over the years, but there might be something that deserved another outing.
A swift rummage through the wardrobe produced a button-through denim skirt, flaring to mid-calf, and a blue and white striped shirt.
At least tonight she would look more like a woman and less like a painter and decorator. Though maybe overalls and a blow torch might be safer gear, she acknowledged, her lips twisting.
In her mother’s room, she found a dark blue knitted jacket and a pair of plain navy pumps.
When she was dressed, and her newly washed hair had been dried to curve smoothly and silkily round her face, she could even be moderately pleased with the overall effect. She applied a dusting of colour to her eyelids and cheekbones, and painted her mouth a soft rose.
She was just descending the stairs when she heard Adam’s knock, and drew a deep, steadying breath before she opened the door.
His brows lifted when he saw her, and he whistled softly and appreciatively. ‘You look terrific.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she returned, keeping her tone light. Because actually he was breathtaking, in beautifully cut dark trousers, topped by a black sweater, and a jacket in a fine black and white tweed that looked expensive and Italian.
She felt hunger twist inside her, a cold, desolate thing that could never be satisfied.
He was looking down at her feet. ‘Are you going to be able to walk to the village in those shoes?’
‘I’m not even going to try. We’ll go in my car.’ She met his gaze with something of a challenge. She’d decided while she was dressing that being at the controls of a vehicle seemed a safer bet than a long walk home in the moonlight.
‘In other words you plan to keep a cool head this evening.’ He sounded amused, but not put out.
‘I usually do.’ She noticed he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. She also noticed Buster sitting in the doorway. ‘Is he coming with us?’
‘No, I thought I’d leave him here, if that’s all right with you.’
‘You’d better ask Melusine,’ she retorted.
‘Oh, I think the truce is holding.’ He pointed Buster in the direction of the kitchen, and the dog trotted off obediently. ‘Have you locked the back door?’
Tara tutted. ‘How did silly little me manage till you came along?’ she sighed. ‘Yes, it’s locked, and bolted too. And I’ve checked the windows.’
‘Leaving me to check my words for any hint of
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