âLetâs make a deal. You must be used to those. You must understand, Zachâthere must be something in this for me. Otherwise, Iâm off.â
He looked down at her, reluctant to grant any favors. But she knew that his love for his son would win the day.
âDone!â he said decisively. âBut letâs get this clear. Itâs just for a month.â
âAgreed.â
âNo riotous parties.â
âNo.â
Had he come a step closer? It seemed the gap between them had filled with a thick and electrifying heat.
âNext weekend, as part of your dutiesâ¦I thoughtâ¦maybe a boat trip.â
She closed her eyes and nodded dumbly. And then she felt something brush her lips. Something warm. Soft yet firm. Every fiber of her being was crying out for Zach to touch her, hold her and make passionate love to herâ¦.
âHI, EVERYONE.â
Catherine tried to sound bright but failed. As she eased her narrow boat alongside Tomâs massive Dutch barge she could see from her friendsâ faces that the rumours sheâd heard in Saxonbury town were probably true.
Tom, Steve, Nick and Dudley rose from the spacious well of the foredeck, looking alarmingly sympathetic. That made things worse. Her stomach did an impromptu roll of its own accord.
Now she had to face the fact that if Tresanton Island had been sold then her immediate future lay in the hands of the new owner.
Turning her head, she looked back longingly at the beautiful island further up river. Sheâd had no legal right to be there, even though sheâd had the mooring for the past three years. That hadnât mattered with the tolerant and genial Edith Tresanton as her landlady. But ever since Edithâs death there had been an air of uncertainty about her situation.
Willing hands caught the ropes she tossed. Hitching up her long skirt, she let The Boysâas she called themâhaul her on board. Her gypsy-black pre-Raphaelite hair escaped from its binding and she deftly fastened it again, her sweet, fragile-boned face an unusual pallor.
âBeen talking about you,â Tom said in greeting. âCuppa?â
She shook her head and perched apprehensively on the deck lid. Steve gave her a friendly kiss and wasted no time getting to the point.
âYou know the islandâs got a new owner?â he asked anxiously.
Her heart sank. âI suspected it. That means I could be in trouble,â she said, her hopes disappearing into her tiny size threeâs. She rubbed suddenly damp palms on the thin cotton of her flowing skirt. âWhat do you know?â she asked. âHave the people moved in? I didnât see a car on the bank when I came past.â
âRemoval vanâs been and gone. Local traders say a bossy, yuppie London womanâs taken it over,â Tom answered, spiralling Catherineâs spirits down still further. âFancy yuk-yellow sports car, all chrome and turbo thrust and soâs she. City suit, egg-whisk hair, killer heels and an elaborately painted face.â
âNot exactly a kindred spirit,â she muttered.
Sheâd hoped that a nature lover would buy Tresanton Island. Who else would want somewhere so isolated, so rural? A nature lover would have liked having narrow boats around. Would have considered it romantic. The new owner didnât sound as if sheâd be too empathetic.
âYeah. Not our sortâor Edithâs,â he grunted. âA really bossy type. Sheâs moved her stuff in and cleaned everyone out of expensive gourmet provisionsâafter screeching with shock-horror because Saxonbury doesnât stock wheat grass.â He grinned. âSome bright spark directed her to a field for the grass and she went ballistic, calling him an ignorant peasant! Thatâs all we know.â
Catherine managed a smile then released a huge breath of resignation. It sounded as though there would definitely be changes to the islandâand to Edithâs house. The manorâs charming, countrified air would probably be transformed with the addition of a stainless steel kitchen and futuristic technology. And the island laid to lawn.
But what of her? Her wistful gaze lingered on her boatâs scarlet cabin roof cluttered with flower boxes, assorted chimneys and narrow boat paraphernalia. Traditional in style and wonderfully cosy, the narrow boat had been the ideal solution for somewhere cheap to live and work in an expensive area. In all her twenty-six years sheâd never felt so insecure.
âYellow carâs coming along the lane,â warned Steve, making everyone sit up sharply.
The colour screamed its yellowness so successfully that it was visible half a mile away. They watched it bumping slowly along. Catherineâs heart bumped too. By the time she motored back to the island and moored her boat the new owner would be in residence.