Emerald Mistress (23 page)

* * *

Harriet’s first surprise of the day took place when Boyce got out of bed at the crack of dawn and insisted on accompanying her. She was even more taken aback when he took the broom she lifted out of her hand and told her that he would make himself useful sweeping the yard into a state of perfect presentation.

A gorgeous arrangement of flowers awaited her in the tiny office. The card prominently displayed bore Rafael’s distinctive signature, and she found herself smiling from ear to ear. After yesterday’s unpleasant delivery, the bouquet was a happy thought on his part and she could not stop thinking about him. He hadn’t said sorry but then she hadn’t said as much as she should have done to excuse the hideous insult of her having addressed him by Luke’s name. Over all, she decided ruefully, the odds were fairly even between them. If he had called her Bianca, and followed the offence up by taking in a fanciable house guest, she would have been equally suspicious and quick to cut her losses. Nor, after Luke’s behaviour, would she have been eager to risk her pride in confrontation and a demand for an explanation.

Rafael called her on her mobile phone while she was helping to check the course for the obstacle race.

‘I love the flowers!’ she exclaimed, the instant she
recognised his dark drawl, and then she winced at her own lack of cool.

‘I hoped you would. I’ve organised some helpers for you.’

‘Oh, that’s not necessary,’ she hastened to tell him.

‘Just occasionally you may wish to recall that I’m your partner,’ Rafael murmured lazily. ‘It’s the holiday season and the sun is shining. You’ve publicised the gymkhana far and wide. The event is likely to be well attended.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘Large crowds require supervision and facilities. My staff have put some extra arrangements in place to cover all contingencies. You need do nothing but accept the discreet assistance of the expert event organisers I employ.’

‘My goodness! Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression, but this is a very small meeting…I’ll be lucky to scrape together a couple of hundred people! Are you planning to put in an appearance?’

‘Yes.’

Two young women presented themselves soon after that call, and were followed by several well-built men. Soon the first keen competitive parent arrived, complete with trailer and child. When two horseboxes pulled up within minutes Harriet was
very grateful when one of the men offered to take charge of the parking area and ensure that the access lanes were kept clear. It was not very long before she began to see that she had underestimated the potential appeal of a country day out; even though it was still early there was a regular flow of traffic. A
garda
car containing two uniformed officers had taken up position as well.

A queue had already formed in the tack shop. Boyce was manning the counter, doling out change and wrapping curry brushes.

‘You know, you could make a bomb as one of them lookalikes,’ an admiring teenage girl was telling him. ‘You’re the picture of that Boyce Taylor from 4Some. You’re a lot smaller than he is, though.’

‘Oh, well…can’t have everything.’ Boyce was hamming it up for all he was worth.

‘I don’t think you’re half as cute as that guy in 4Some,’ Harriet interposed deadpan, as she stepped in to take his place.

Her brother’s eyes danced with merriment. ‘Thanks a bundle.’

Mid-morning she went to watch the dressage competition in the paddock. She loved seeing the earnest children perform on their fat, well-groomed
ponies. Fergal joined her, helpfully identifying the local kids and their parents for her benefit.

‘When I found out Boyce was your brother I decided not to tell Una that he was that singer,’ he shared rather abruptly. ‘She knows you’re related now, but I’m sure you’ve been wondering why I didn’t put her right straight away.’

Until that point Harriet had not been aware that Una was still in the dark about anything, and she turned to study Fergal with dawning comprehension. ‘Are you saying that you’ve known all along who Boyce really is?’

‘Harriet…he’s freakin’ famous! But he’s entitled to privacy if he wants it. Una would have been demanding his autograph and flirting like mad with him. I thought it was better that she didn’t come round while he was staying. Not that I wouldn’t have trusted him—or her.’

Ruddy self-conscious colour lay over his cheekbones and Harriet took pity on him, because she was amused by the extent of his protectiveness towards the younger woman. ‘But you thought it was better not to take the risk. Who else knows Boyce is the lead singer of 4Some?’

‘A good number.’ Fergal grinned. ‘He’s pure magic on that flute. Sure, anyone watching him would guess he was a professional and a star.’

Harriet looked past him to where Rafael’s customised and very distinctive Range Rover had purred to a halt. Her every nerve-ending sizzled into life and she left Fergal to head in that direction. But when she saw the gorgeous woman who had climbed out of Rafael’s car it was like someone had closed a cruel hand round her windpipe. Unfortunately he had noticed her approach, and it was too late to practise avoidance tactics.

Exuding class and sleek good looks in his country casuals, Rafael glanced at the crowds milling round the field and remarked to Harriet, ‘Give yourself a pat on the back. You must be a whiz at PR.’

‘And you were right. I was wrong. We’re being mobbed.’

Big brown eyes sparkling, the brunette flicked back her long black hair from her exquisite face and treated Harriet to an engaging smile. ‘Hi…I’m Frankie.’

Harriet could not believe there was a red-blooded male within ten miles unaware of who Frankie Millar was. A former glamour model, Frankie had made a highly successful transfer into the world of television as a presenter. Popular and talented, she now interviewed the rich and famous on her own chat show.
He must have slept with her last night
. Try as she might, that was the only thought in
Harriet’s head. She felt sick. But it was two days since Rafael had told her that he wanted her back, and she had turned him down and done a runner, so what had she expected? Guys that rich, handsome and in demand did not go solo for long.

‘Rafael tells me you’re his first business partner ever,’ Frankie continued cheerfully. ‘What’s it like?’

‘Interesting. There’s not a lot of discussion about decisions, and there’s a lot of the unexpected.’ To avoid looking direct at Frankie, who was adding being warm and friendly to the unwelcome parade of her virtues, Harriet focused with a wooden smile on the rosettes being handed out to the winners in the obstacle race. ‘But he has this very irritating habit of picking up on the things I miss, so I can’t complain. Excuse me—I have some things to check on. Lovely meeting you, Frankie.’

As Harriet walked away, with an eagerness she could not hide, Frankie watched Rafael stare after the curvaceous redhead with the kind of acquisitive intensity he usually reserved for thoroughbred racehorses.

‘You should’ve mentioned I was married to your best friend,’ Frankie told him ruefully.

Rafael shot his companion a wickedly amused glance. ‘It was a deliberate oversight.’

‘You sneaky bastard!’ the brunette gasped, as she
realised that she had been used to test the water. ‘I hope she gives you hell!’

‘She probably will. She’s no push-over.’

‘If you don’t tell her I’m a mate, I will,’ Frankie threatened.

Blinded by the raw surge of conflicting feelings surging up inside her, Harriet trudged slowly through the ranks of parked cars. Rafael had found a replacement for her and, what was even worse, a thinner, prettier and sexier lady, with a glamorous television career. She heard a shout and thought she recognised her half-brother’s voice. Frowning, she glanced up from the ground. Boyce was racing across the lane as if he was chasing after someone. In fact several people from different locations seemed to be giving chase, and she spun round to see what was causing the commotion. Had there been an accident? Or a theft? Wheels were screaming over gravel too fast, and she only had an instant to register that a car with a sobbing woman at the wheel was bearing down on her.

Someone shouted at her. Suddenly there was a blur of movement and she was snatched off her feet and hauled clear of danger. Her shoulder caught a glancing blow off the wing of a parked van before she hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. Winded and shocked, she gasped and fought to fill her squashed
lungs with oxygen again. She heard the horrible crunch of tearing metal as the car, which had missed her, took the corner too wide and too fast and cannoned into a stationary vehicle.

Rafael bent over her. His eyes were bright as the heart of a fire, his lean, dark face displaying a level of anxiety that she had never expected to see there. ‘Are you hurt?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me you’re OK.’

Her shoulder was throbbing and her whole body ached, for she had hit the ground hard when she fell, but in that moment the discomfort meant nothing to her. He had risked his own life to yank her out of the path of a car.

‘Frankie’s married to my oldest friend. I used her as bait to see if it bothered you to see me with another woman.’ He grabbed up her hand and his own was not quite steady. He turned his beautiful mouth into her palm to press a kiss there before lifting his head again and muttering roughly, ‘I’m a stupid smart-ass bastard. I might have killed you!’

‘It’s all right…’ Her throat tightening with the onset of shock and strong emotion, she was blinking back tears. ‘I like smart-asses.’

For a split second she thought he was about to kiss her. Then the raised voices and the tearing sound of a woman crying intruded. Rafael vaulted upright
and helped her up. ‘I think we’ve caught your stalker…I just hope she hasn’t hurt anybody else.’

‘Stalker?’ Her attention locked in consternation to the tableau playing out thirty feet away.

Mercifully nobody appeared to have been hurt in the accident, but a youthful blonde woman was having noisy hysterics at the bonnet of the Porsche that had just missed hitting Harriet. For some reason she appeared to be surrounded by a good proportion of Rafael’s events organizers, and a
garda
officer for good measure. But what drew Harriet’s concerned scrutiny was the sight of her brother, lodged ten feet away. He was staring at the blonde with an unusually bleak expression, and then he swung away.

‘Boyce!’ the blonde called frantically after him. ‘Help me…don’t leave me here like this!’

Shoulders hunched, Boyce walked straight over to Harriet and put his arms round his sister. ‘I’m so sorry…I’m really sorry about all of this. Are you all right? Thank God you’re not hurt. If Gemma had run you over I don’t think I could have lived with myself—’

‘Why should you be sorry?’ Harriet winced as the blonde began to sob with noisy abandon. ‘Gemma? Do you know her?’

‘Let’s take this discussion elsewhere. We’re beginning
to attract attention.’ An arm around Harriet’s form, Rafael led the way over to his car, saying only loud enough for her to hear, ‘The stalker is your brother’s ex, Gemma Barton. She went overboard for him and he broke it off. But she made it tough for him to cut loose completely and he was glad to get away on tour. Evidently she followed him over to Ireland and assumed that you were his latest squeeze.’

‘Oh, heck.’ Harriet stole a glance at her half-sibling’s pale, set profile, her heart going out to him as she let Rafael help her into the passenger seat. ‘Why didn’t it occur to me that
he
might be the “him” in that message on the stable wall?’

‘I suspect you felt that I deserved a bunny-boiler more than he did.’

Harriet was shocked to feel her lip quiver at that deadpan response. ‘How come you know so much more about this than I do?’ she asked. ‘Look, why am I getting into your car?’

‘I put you in it,’ Rafael pointed out equably.

‘But I can’t leave the gymkhana,’ Harriet argued as Boyce climbed into the back seat.

‘Yes, you can. My staff are more than capable of running what remains of the show. You need to be checked over by a doctor—’

‘No—’

‘And make a statement to the
garda
and a complaint against the stalker who’s been harassing you.’

‘Gemma…’

‘Don’t personalise a psycho who frightened the living daylights out of you,’ Rafael incised with ruthless bite. ‘Five minutes ago she almost ran you down!’

‘But that was an accident: she didn’t see me. I walked out in front of her car. I saw her face and she was distraught, not looking where she was going.’

‘You think that makes me feel better? Excuse me…I’ll be back in a few minutes. Boyce, make sure your sister stays where she is.’

‘OK,’ her half-brother answered, like an obedient schoolboy.

‘Are you just going to let Rafael tell you what to do?’

‘I really would prefer the media not to get hold of this particular story; the lid could blow off it so easily,’ Boyce admitted heavily. ‘It’s only thanks to Rafael that the situation is under control. He’s had his people keeping an eye on you since yesterday.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Events organisers aren’t usually so muscular. Most of the staff he sent over to help you today work for him in the security field.’

‘I had no idea. But before Rafael comes back tell
me about Gemma and what happened between you. For a start, who is she?’

‘She’s the daughter of a wealthy property developer. When I first started seeing her she was a lot of fun, but that didn’t last long. She began listening in on my calls and throwing jealous scenes. She stole a key to my apartment, showed up uninvited all the time,’ he recited wearily. ‘I couldn’t handle her, so I ended it. She threatened to top herself. I talked to her parents and they were very decent about it, but I felt guilty.’

‘You mustn’t.’ Harriet was impressed that he had tried to help Gemma even after she had become a real headache in his life. ‘How did she find out you were in Ireland?’

‘That was my fault too. She phoned me to ask me to her twenty-first birthday party and I said I’d be over here. She seems to have got the details of when and where from a mutual friend, who wasn’t aware she’d become a problem. I was shattered last night when Rafael told me what had been happening. I wish you’d told me about the threat painted on the wall. You see, I
did
think I’d seen Gemma in Dooleys, but just assumed I’d been mistaken…’