The Brooding Stranger. Maggie Cox
Colouring hotly at the question, Karen let her glance settle momentarily on the fat barrel of rosy-red apples by the door, their overripe scent filling the shop.
‘I take an early-morning walk in the woods sometimes. I bumped into him and his dog, that’s all.’ She wouldn’t tell the other woman that she had been scared out of her wits at the sight of the pair of them.
‘He’s an early riser, too, so I hear.’ Eileen shrugged one plump shoulder. ‘I daresay he managed to keep a civil tongue in his head?’
‘Just about.’ Karen’s expression was pained for a moment. ‘I don’t think he was feeling very sociable, either.’
‘That sounds like your man. Don’t pay any mind to his dark ways, will you? Once upon a time he was an entirely different kettle of fish, I can tell you, but tragedy has a way of knocking the stuffing out of folks, and that’s the truth. Some are never the same again.’
I can vouch for that, Karen acquiesced silently. ‘Well … thanks again, Mrs Kennedy. I’ll be seeing you.’
‘Take care of yourself, love. See you soon.’
And with the clanging of the bell behind her, Karen stepped out of the snug little shop, climbed into her car, and hurriedly headed home … .
She didn’t venture into the woods over the next few days. Instead she walked along the deserted beach, wrapped up warmly in sweater and jeans, waterproof jacket and gloves. It rained most mornings—a fine, drizzly affair that the locals lyrically referred to as a ‘soft’ rain—and the truth was Karen didn’t let the weather bother her. It suited her sometimes melancholy frame of mind, and if she waited for the day to be fine she’d never get past the front door.
She’d taken to collecting shells here and there. Her gaze naturally gravitated to the delicate pretty ones, but lately she’d added a couple of bigger specimens to her collection. Taking them back to the cottage, she’d arranged them on the window-sills, and she swore the scent of the sea still clung to each one. But mostly she just walked along the fine white sand until her legs ached, with nothing but the infinitely wise music of the ocean and the gulls screeching above to keep her company.
Often, her thoughts turned to Ryan. Most days she thought sadly how much he would have loved sharing her morning walks. How he would have been keen to share his knowledge of local plants and wildlife with her and fuel her hungry imagination with tales of old Ireland, of kings and storytellers, of myths and magic. She learnt afresh that she’d lost her best friend as well as her husband and manager.
One morning on the beach she discovered she wasn’t alone. Transfixed by the huge paw-prints dug deep into the sand, Karen felt her heart start to gallop. Shielding her eyes with her gloved hand against the diamond-bright glare of the sun, she glanced up ahead. There they were, just on the horizon, the ‘big bad wolf’ and his sidekick, Lurch. Karen grinned. She hadn’t found much to laugh at during the past interminable few months, and it was strangely exhilarating feeling this sudden desire to dissolve into mirth.
Grinning again, she kicked at some seaweed, then strolled slowly across the wide expanse of sand to the edge of the beach. As the foamy sea lapped at her booted toes, she determinedly resisted the urge to glance up ahead again and see if the man and his beast had gone. Instead, she fixed her sights on the horizon, on the pair of little boats that bobbed up and down on the waves—fishermen, most likely. Men who regularly braved the vagaries of the sea to make their living. There was definitely something heroic about them, she decided. After idly watching them for a while, she silently wished them a good day’s catch and turned to go.
She sucked in a surprised breath when she saw Chase pounding across the sand towards her. Behind him strode his master, and even with the distance between them Karen could see he was not best pleased. Tough, she thought, bracing herself for another terse encounter. But she was completely amazed and almost bowled over when Chase came to an abrupt halt just inches away from her. He sat back on his haunches with a look of such expectancy in his great dark eyes that Karen actually found herself smiling at the beast.
‘You silly hound,’ she murmured, reaching out to pat his head. To her relief, he didn’t try and bite her hand off, but instead made a sort of contented gurgling sound in his throat almost like a cat purring. It made her laugh out loud.
‘So … Little Red Riding Hood tames the beast.’ Gray O’Connell stopped about a foot away from them to regard Karen with a half-amused, enigmatic glance.
Immediately wary, she stopped fussing over the huge dog and dug her hands deep into her waterproof. All of a sudden the urge to laugh at anything suddenly deserted her.
‘Which beast are you referring to?’ she asked boldly.
A dark eyebrow lifted mockingly. ‘It would take more than a slip of a girl with pretty blue eyes to tame me, Miss Ford.’
‘You know who I am, then?’ Ignoring what she thought of as a distinctly backhanded compliment, Karen frowned.
‘I should do. You’re staying in my father’s old cottage. I’m your landlord.’
If he’d thought to shock her, Karen had the advantage—thanks to Eileen Kennedy. ‘So I learned the other day, Mr O’Connell. And, by the way, I wish you’d stop referring to me as a girl. I’m twenty-six and very definitely a woman.’
She’d never meant for the latter part of her statement to sound petulant and annoyed, but somehow it did. All that was missing was the stamping of her foot. To her complete and utter embarrassment, Gray O’Connell threw back his dark head and laughed out loud. Whether that laugh had genuine humour in it was another matter. To Karen’s mind, as she studied the handsome, sardonic profile, it sounded mockingly cruel.
‘I’ll take your word about you being a woman and not a girl, Miss Ford. Who can tell what’s underneath that shapeless garment you’re wearing?’
Karen’s cheeks burned with indignation. ‘There’s no need to be so rude. It’s just a waterproof. You’d hardly expect me to walk on the beach in this weather in something wispy and diaphanous, would you?’
The unsettling mercurial grey eyes insolently swept her figure. His jaw rose fractionally with undeniable challenge.
‘It would take more than that to tame the beast in me, Miss Ford—but I feel myself warming to the idea by the second …’
‘You’re completely impossible!’ This time, to her complete dismay, Karen did resort to stamping her foot. As soon as she’d done it she felt immensely foolish, and frustratingly too close to tears to say anything else. In front of her, Chase cocked his head, as if he understood and sympathised. It was funny how she was quickly warming to the dog and not the man.
‘I’m afraid you’re not the first woman to make that accusation,’ Gray muttered darkly, ‘and I’m damn sure you won’t be the last. By the way, it’s rather fortunate that we’ve seen each other today. There’s something I wanted to tell you.’
‘Oh?’ Karen’s brows knit worriedly beneath her honey-blonde fringe. ‘And what would that be, Mr O’Connell?’
‘I’m giving you notice to quit the cottage. Two weeks as of today. It’s no longer available to rent.’
Thunder roared in her ears as she stared at Gray O’Connell’s darkly implacable face in disbelief. He wanted her to leave the cottage? In just two weeks? Her plans had not been carved in stone, but she’d counted on staying where she was for at least another couple of months or so. To uproot now, when she was just starting to feel a part of this place … It was upsetting and unthinkable—and all because her devilish landlord had apparently taken an instant dislike to her!
‘Why?’ When the word came out she sounded winded, as if she’d been running. Disappointment and hurt tugged at the corners of her mouth, pulling it downwards.
Gray O’Connell shrugged one broad shoulder encased in battered black leather. ‘As far as