Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife. Элли Блейк
buildings that housed the wine-making plant. On the nearby south-facing slopes stretched row upon row of vines.
Having stopped the car, he asked, ‘Ankle up to a little walking?’
‘Yes, certainly.’
He came round to help her out and, with an intimate little gesture that made her catch her breath, reached for her hand and tucked it under his arm.
Though the sun was still shining, the air seemed appreciably cooler and a slight breeze had sprung up as they strolled through what had once been a thriving little vineyard.
Now the vines were overgrown and neglected and, through the grass and weeds that partially obscured them, Tina could see purple grapes hanging in great heavy clusters.
‘I presume that a lot of these vines will have to come out?’ Richard enquired.
‘Not necessarily if they’re healthy stock. Though some re-planting might be advisable, depending on what kind of wine you’re hoping to produce.’
‘I see…Well, I suggest that we discuss the whole thing later when you’ve had time to consider exactly what’s involved.’
‘I really don’t think there’s any point in—’
He pre-empted her refusal. ‘Unless, having seen how badly neglected everything’s been, you don’t feel you want to take it on?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t that.’It was exactly the kind of challenge she would enjoy. Or would have enjoyed had the circumstances been other than they were.
‘Then what is it?’
‘I would have liked the job, but…’
‘But?’
‘In the circumstances, it w-would be awkward,’ she stammered.
‘You mean after last night?’
Her silence was answer enough.
Once again she wasn’t acting as he might have expected but, as he’d only used the job offer as a ploy to get her to the castle, it didn’t much matter if she did refuse it.
She was here, out of harm’s way, so to speak, and here he intended her to stay just in case they tried to make contact by phone.
Following that train of thought, he frowned. They wouldn’t be able to reach her at Cartel Wines—he’d seen to that—but if they tried to contact her at home, the friend she was staying with would no doubt be able to give them her mobile number…
Which, come Monday, could pose a problem if he didn’t do something about it…
As the silence lengthened uncomfortably, she glanced at him and, seeing the grim look on his face, said unhappily, ‘I’m sorry…’
Collecting himself, he smiled down at her reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry about it…Let’s go on up to the castle, shall we?’
They had returned to the main drive and followed it for perhaps half a mile when, at the end of a narrow track to the left, she saw part of a ruined tower built on a mound.
‘That’s Daland Tower,’ Richard told her. ‘All that’s still standing of the original eleventh-century castle. Anders is a few hundred yards to the east. There, it’s just coming into view…’
She caught a brief glimpse of grey walls and battlements but, before she could take any of it in, it had vanished from view behind a stand of tall trees decked in their autumn livery.
It wasn’t until after they had climbed a little more and rounded the next bend that Richard stopped the car and she saw it clearly.
She caught her breath.
Small it might be, a castle in miniature, but it was a perfect little gem. Serene and enchanted, its grey towers and turrets etched against the deep blue of the sky, it was like something out of a fairy tale.
When, wholly entranced, she had gazed her fill, she turned shining eyes on her companion, who had been sitting quietly watching her reaction, and breathed, ‘I’m not surprised you love it. It’s wonderful.’
Her enthusiasm was so genuine, so spontaneous, that he found himself with very mixed feelings.
‘Of course an old pile like this has its drawbacks,’ he said carefully, ‘and, though over the years parts of it have been modernized to make it more liveable in, structurally it’s the same…
‘Which means it needs a great deal of maintenance and takes almost every penny the estate makes to keep it in good order.’
Turning her head to smile at him, she said dreamily, ‘But it must be well worth it to have a place like this.’
Throwing in his hand, he admitted, ‘I think so.’
Her eyes turned once more to the castle and, watching her glowing face, he thought she looked like a child gazing at something rare and magical.
He felt a strange pang. If only she hadn’t been who she was; if only she had been as sweet and innocent as she appeared. But she was, and she wasn’t.
After a few moments, as she continued to gaze, enraptured, he started the car and drove on.
As they passed a track to the right, he told her, ‘Down there, beyond the back entrance, is the old stabling and coach house, the orangery, the herb garden and the kitchen gardens…’
Half hidden behind the towering grey walls of the castle, Tina could make out a sizable area of outbuildings and glasshouses.
‘Apart from a couple of stalls that are in use,’ Richard went on, ‘the stabling has been converted into garages.’
‘So you still have horses?’
‘Two. Jupiter and Juno. Though Bradley disliked horses and wanted Mother to get rid of them both, she refused to part with them.
‘Until she got too ill to ride, on my visits home I used to go out with her. Do you ride?’
‘I used to love to. Though it’s been years since I was on a horse.’
They were nearing the castle now and, craning her neck, she cried excitedly, ‘Oh, there’s a moat…’
‘Yes and quite a deep one. But where, in the past, it was one of the castle’s main defences, these days it’s simply home to a variety of ducks and carp.
‘It’s fed by an underground stream. The same stream supplied the household wells and, because of its pureness, kept the inhabitants free from the diseases caused by contaminated water.’
As they drew nearer she exclaimed, ‘And what a lovely old bridge…’
In truth it was a picture, its lichen-covered stones draped with delicate trails of small-leafed creeper spangled with tiny mauve and white flowers.
‘This bridge wasn’t built until about a hundred and fifty years ago,’ he told her as they drove across it and through an archway into a cobbled courtyard. ‘Before that there was a wooden drawbridge and a portcullis.’
His voice holding a hint of derision, he added, ‘Now it’s your turn to cry, “How romantic!”’
Flushing a little, she said quietly, ‘I’m sorry. Did I go over the top?’
Feeling ashamed, he brought the car to a halt in front of an imposing oak door and, taking her hand, raised it to his lips. ‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m just being a bear. As a matter of fact it’s nice to find someone genuinely enthusiastic about the old place.’
Despite his apology she still looked uncomfortable and, watching her half-averted face, he cursed himself for the way he had lashed out at her simply because she liked it.
For one thing, none of this mess was her fault and, for another, if he lost ground it could easily wreck all his plans.
Bearing