The Unwilling Mistress Read online

Max’s engagement to the younger Calendar sister had obviously shaken the sisters’ resolve to keep the farm, May convinced that Max, once he had completely severed his ties with Jude, would want to go to London to work, and that January would go with him. Which, Will also thought, seemed a pretty astute guess. With May’s possible offer of an acting role in a film later this year, that only left March. May, he knew, was seriously considering turning down the film offer in order to support March’s stand.

  Which was why Will had come into town this morning and done what he had done…

  Although perhaps he had better not mention that to March just yet. Wait and see what the reaction was. After all, he could just be wrong…

  He had felt restless and unfocused after March had left him yesterday evening, the plans he had been working on before March had arrived offering no incentive whatsoever. Finally he had climbed up into the attic and looked at those paintings that March claimed weren’t paintings at all.

  They were good.

  In fact, they were better than good.

  So much so that Will had parcelled six of them up before coming into town to post them off to a friend of his who ran a gallery in London. As far as he could tell March no longer even looked at her own work, so there wasn’t much chance of her missing half a dozen of them. And if Will’s opinion of them turned out to be the correct one…

  Not that he thought March would see his high-handedness that way. Which was why he had no intention of telling her what he had done until he heard back from Graham.

  The matriarch of the Calendar family must have been something else, Will had decided after spending some time looking at all of March’s paintings, because their father, that bluntly spoken Yorkshireman, certainly hadn’t been the one to give them their array of artistic talents.

  ‘Am I?’ he gently prompted March now.

  ‘Of course,’ she scorned. ‘I’ve done nothing but encourage May to go for this opportunity. You’ve heard me yourself.’

  ‘At the same time that you’re absolutely adamant you aren’t going to sell the farm,’ Will pointed out ruefully.

  ‘I should have known it would all come back to that again,’ March snapped disgustedly. ‘Don’t you ever think of anything else?’ she added scathingly.

  He very much doubted she would want to hear about the thoughts that had kept him from sleeping last night!

  How could he have possibly slept when his mind and senses were so full of March, of how she had felt in his arms, of how much he wanted to make love with her?

  ‘Oh, I give the odd thought to food now and again,’ he answered her dismissively. ‘Talking of which…’

  ‘You were talking of food—I wasn’t,’ March came back tartly. ‘I haven’t eaten my sandwiches from yesterday yet—’

  ‘Ugh, they must be disgusting by now,’ Will broke in with a grimace. ‘But I’m quite happy to go to a sandwich bar if you insist,’ he assured her, at the same time directing her into the sandwich bar they had been about to pass. ‘I’ll even let you buy me lunch today, if you feel you must,’ he added with soft challenge.

  Hah! That had her confused, the conflicting emotions easily read on her face: of returning his gesture of yesterday, and as such not feeling beholden to him, warring with her desire to tell him what he could do with this second suggestion of lunch.

  As she pushed open the door to the sandwich bar, to precede him inside, he knew the former had won. Luckily for him. Because, for the moment, he had completely run out of options for ways of spending time with March. Something he very much wanted to do.

  ‘You know, the more I see of your boss, the less I like him,’ Will told her grimly once they had sat down and ordered their sandwiches and drinks. ‘He looks the sort who turns nasty if he doesn’t get his own way.’

  March looked at him beneath lowered lashes. ‘As opposed to…?’ she taunted.

  He gave a decisive shake of his head at her deliberate barb. ‘Nasty isn’t in my nature,’ he assured her dryly. ‘Determination. Arrogance, maybe—’

  ‘Maybe?’ she repeated with a derisive snort.

  ‘If warranted,’ he acknowledged laughingly. ‘But nasty? No, I don’t think that’s part of my nature at all.’ He gave another shake of his head.

  March looked at him unblinkingly for several minutes, before slowly relaxing, her smile rueful. ‘No, I don’t think it is either,’ she conceded wryly.

  ‘Thank you.’ Will gave a gracious inclination of his head. ‘Does Carter have anything to do with the questions you were asking me yesterday concerning undervaluing property?’

  The return to his original subject was done so suddenly that March didn’t even have time to try to hide her consternation—even if she could have done, which was doubtful!—looking across at him frowningly now.

  ‘Add sneaky to determined and arrogant,’ she bit out tersely.

  He shrugged unapologetically. ‘Does he?’

  March’s gaze no longer met his; she was obviously perfectly aware of how easily readable her emotions were. ‘They were merely abstract questions,’ she dismissed huskily. ‘Not specifically aimed at anyone,’ she added firmly.

  ‘Add evasive to your other list of attractions,’ Will returned dryly.

  She raised dark brows, a smile now lurking at the corners of her kissable mouth. ‘Do I have a list of “attractions”?’ she prompted teasingly.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Will confirmed appreciatively, knowing she was deliberately changing the subject, but at this moment willing to let her do so. ‘Would you like me to tell you what they are?’ He quirked blond brows at her suggestively.

  ‘Er—no,’ she decided hastily, leaning back as their food and drinks arrived, obviously relieved at the interruption.

  Not that he could blame her; it could prove highly embarrassing if he were to start talking about all March’s wonderful attributes. Besides, this was hardly the time or the place…

  Now that he was here with March, having lunch with her, despite her obvious reluctance, he was beginning to feel a slight trepidation about sending those paintings off to London. Last night it had all seemed so simple: send the paintings to Graham and await his artistic criticism. But here and now, with March sitting only inches away from him, he wasn’t so sure of his actions.

  Of course, it would all be easier if Graham were to agree with March’s own opinion of her artistic talent, but if Graham agreed with Will, then he was going to have to talk to March about them, and what he had done. Looking at her now, knowing how hard it was to get past her prickly nature, he knew that wasn’t going to be an easy matter!

  ‘Is the sandwich not to your liking? You were frowning,’ March explained at his questioning look. ‘We can always swap if you want to; I’ll be perfectly happy with the tuna if you would like my egg mayonnaise,’ she offered lightly.

  ‘“Greater love hath no man—” or woman, and all that?’ He grinned.

  ‘It’s just a sandwich, Will,’ she said dryly.

  His grin widened. ‘You’re fun to be with, do you know that?’

  ‘What does that have to do with exchanging sandwiches?’ she came back tartly—although there was a slight flush of pleasure in her cheeks now.

  ‘The tuna is fine,’ he dismissed. ‘But I’m glad I’m back to being Will; “Mr Davenport” sounds like it should be my father you’re talking to.’ He grimaced.

  ‘You have parents?’ March prompted interestedly.

  Will burst out laughing. ‘Did you think I was manufactured?’ he teased at her puzzled expression.

  She gave him a scathing grimace. ‘I meant, are your parents still alive?’

  ‘Well, they were the last time I spoke to them.’ He nodded. ‘Which was only last week. Dad’s a retired doctor,’ he continued hastily as he sensed March was about to give him another cutting reply. ‘My mother was a nurse.’

  ‘A hospital romance,’ March mused.

  ‘I don’t know—I’ve never asked them.’ Will shrugged ruefully.
<
br />   ‘Oh, the disinterest of youth,’ she reproved mockingly.

  ‘Unless I’m mistaken, young lady, I’m several years older than you,’ he said dryly.

  ‘Almost Methuselah.’ She nodded, grey-green eyes glowing with laughter.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far!’ He grimaced. ‘Do you have anything against older men?’

  ‘Do you have anything against younger women?’ she came back tartly, the colour in her cheeks now owing nothing to pleasure as she merely looked embarrassed by the intimate turn the conversation had taken.

  ‘In this particular case—no.’ He smiled warmly, perfectly happy with the conversation himself.

  March swallowed hard, her gaze once again avoiding his as she took a sip of her coffee. ‘Isn’t it strange that your parents were both medical people, and yet you became an architect?’ she abruptly changed the subject back to his parents.

  ‘Not really—I faint at the first sight of blood!’ he admitted with a self-conscious grimace.

  March looked astounded for several seconds, and then she burst out laughing, her eyes glowing, two tiny dimples appearing endearingly either side of that smiling mouth.

  She continued to chuckle, giving Will chance to enjoy her laughter. Even if it was at his expense! Not that he minded that at all if it meant he could see March smiling.

  ‘Feet of clay?’ he finally prompted ruefully.

  ‘Not really.’ She shook her head, still smiling. ‘I was just thinking how useless you would be on a farm. It’s a busy time of year for us. Most of the ewes have already lambed, and we will have the cows calving shortly. But at least I know where not to come for help if there are any complications!’ she added teasingly.

  ‘Not unless you want to step over me during the process,’ he confirmed lightly.

  ‘I think we’ll pass, if you don’t mind,’ she said dryly, her eyes widening as she glanced down at her wristwatch. ‘It’s almost one o’clock, I’ll have to be getting back.’

  Was there a slight note of regret in her voice, or was it just wishful thinking on his part? Probably the latter, he decided, but one could dream, couldn’t one?

  ‘One of your bosses at least said you didn’t have to hurry back,’ he reminded her. ‘And you haven’t finished your sandwich yet,’ he pointed out practically.

  ‘I’m really not that hungry.’ March pushed away the plate containing the half-eaten sandwich, taking a last gulp of her coffee before standing up. ‘Some of us have work to go to, you know,’ she added with a return of her usual tartness, before moving across to the counter to pay for their lunch.

  Will let her, knowing it was a pride thing on her part, and having no wish to upset her any more than he already had. Besides, it gave him chance to watch her, to admire the gentle sway of her hips, the silky length of her legs.

  Although he wasn’t quite so pleased to note that several other men in the room were doing the same thing! But March, to give her her due, seemed completely unaware of the male admiration coming in her direction, looking to neither left nor right as she moved through the room to join Will at the door.

  ‘I may faint at the sight of blood,’ Will told her quietly as they moved off down the street together, ‘but otherwise I’m pretty good in a crisis. If you should ever need any help,’ he added huskily.

  March gave him a searching sideways glance. ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she finally answered softly.

  Will wasn’t at all sure what was going on in the estate agency of Carter and Jones, but he was pretty sure that something was. He was equally sure, no matter how evasive she might have been on the subject earlier, that March knew there was too. And Will had meant what he said about Clive Carter; the other man looked as if he might turn nasty if thwarted.

  But having offered his help, with March as prickly as she was, Will knew he couldn’t do any more for the moment.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t intend keeping an eye on the situation, if only from a distance…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MARCH had no intention of telling May of her second lunch with Will, but the two of them had watched the news together, eaten dinner, and still her sister hadn’t mentioned the telephone call she had received from the film director earlier that day.

  Quite how to approach the subject, without mentioning having lunch with Will, March didn’t know. Although she had certainly taken to heart Will’s earlier comments about May’s reluctance to even go to London for the screen test. And the reason for it!

  ‘Anything interesting happen today?’ she attempted casually as the two of them strolled over to the barn where they were keeping the ewes with their more delicate lambs.

  May gave her a puzzled glance. ‘I told you earlier, I’ve been at the farm all day.’

  March nodded. ‘But no visitors? Telephone calls?’ A casual glance in the direction of the studio showed it to be in darkness, which meant that Will wasn’t home yet. Or he had been home and gone out again. Which was interesting, because she didn’t think he knew anyone else in the area…

  ‘I haven’t heard from January, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ May assured her lightly as the two of them entered the warmth of the lambing shed. ‘But then, I wouldn’t expect to. Would you?’ she added mischievously as she strolled over to the ewe in the first pen.

  ‘Hello, Ginny, aren’t you a clever girl?’ she soothed, at the same time running a critical eye over the animal still awaiting the arrival of her offspring.

  Their father had always deplored the way the three girls gave each of their animals a name, sure that making pets of the animals would only make it harder for them all when it came time for them to ‘go to market’, as he delicately put it. That might have been true when they were younger, but as the sisters had grown older, they had come to accept the simplicity of farming life, the cows and sheep going to market for sale, for whatever reason.

  Although that wasn’t quite the case with Ginny, the ewe having become a firm favourite with all the sisters over the years. She was probably approaching the end of her usefulness now, but all of them were loath to make that decision.

  But March really wasn’t interested in Ginny, or any other of their livestock, at this particular moment. ‘I wasn’t actually referring to January,’ she prompted tautly.

  May gave her a searching glance now. ‘Will popped over for a cup of coffee this morning, if that’s what you want to know.’ She shrugged.

  Well, it was a start!

  ‘What did he want?’ she bit out abruptly.

  ‘I told you, a cup of coffee. Oh, and he brought back the cup of sugar you went over there to borrow last night,’ her sister added teasingly.

  March felt the colour in her cheeks as she remembered the reason for her hurried departure from the studio the previous evening. ‘Good of him,’ she snapped.

  May laughed softly. ‘You weren’t exactly subtle, were you?’ She gave an exasperated shake of her head. ‘Will didn’t say too much about it, but I’m sure you gave him a hard time of it last night once you knew who he was.’

  That wasn’t quite the way March would have put what had happened between herself and Will the previous evening!

  Her gaze was evasive. ‘I told you he was a snake in the grass!’

  May gave a heavy sigh. ‘He’s simply doing his job, March, in the best way he knows how. Like all of us,’ she added quietly.

  ‘Is that what he told you?’ she scorned. ‘I happen to think differently.’ She gave a dismissive shake of her head, not having missed her sister’s second husky remark, and not about to be sidetracked by talk of Will Davenport, either; she had heard far too much from him today already! ‘May, how do you really feel about letting all of this go?’ She opened her arms expansively, deliberately keeping her own expression neutral.

  May had always done what was best for all three sisters, without complaint, without regrets, as far as March knew. But March simply couldn’t believe that concerning May’s hesitation about the offere
d screen test, clearly remembering how excited her sister had been after the director had first approached her.

  Much as March would hate letting Jude Marshall have his own way where their farm was concerned, she wasn’t about to stand in her sister’s way, either.

  ‘Well, we aren’t going to sell it, are we?’ May answered brightly. ‘So that possibility doesn’t even arise.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ Will greeted smoothly as he stood in the doorway to the lambing shed. ‘None about to give birth, I hope?’ He held back cautiously.

  ‘Not right this minute, no,’ March answered him dryly before turning to give her sister a knowing smile. ‘Will goes green at the sight of blood,’ she informed May derisively.

  ‘I believe that was “faints at the sight of blood”,’ he corrected with a grimace.

  May nodded. ‘March has the same reaction to spiders.’ She shot March a mischievous smile.

  ‘Really?’ Will’s sky-blue gaze was turned on her mockingly now. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me!’ March came back tartly. He was still wearing the blue jumper and black denims, so perhaps he hadn’t been home and then out again, after all…

  ‘So I didn’t.’ He chuckled in acknowledgement. ‘So what are the two of you doing out here if you aren’t assisting in a birth?’ he prompted interestedly.

  ‘Checking that there isn’t one taking place,’ March answered him impatiently; she had finally been getting somewhere with her conversation with May, could quite well have done without this interruption. Especially from Will!

  He nodded, obviously no more informed about the workings of their farm than he had been a few minutes ago. ‘I’ve just come back from town—anyone feel like joining me in a glass of wine?’

  ‘No, thanks—’

  ‘Lovely—’

  Both sisters had answered at once, March in the negative—obviously! May in the positive.

  ‘Two to one against, March,’ Will informed her triumphantly. ‘The wine wins!’

  Her gaze narrowed. He was looking decidedly pleased with himself this evening. Very much as if he knew something they didn’t…