Terms Of Engagement

‘Fine, thanks.’ His eyes flicked briefly over her appearance. She was wet, and the pale ribbed jumper clung tightly over a very shapely outline. ‘Where did you learn to fix a car like that?’

‘I have two brothers who are both car-mad.’ She was trying not to notice the way he had just looked at her. Was it her imagination or had there been a glimmer of male interest in those dark eyes? ‘I decided to beat them at their own game and did a course at college on car maintenance a few years ago.’

‘Very impressive.’

‘It put you in your place anyway.’ She smiled.

He had the grace to cringe. ‘I’m sorry. Was I being patronising?’

‘Just a little.’

‘I was having a bad morning.’ He smiled. ‘I hope you won’t hold it against me.’

Heavens, when he smiled at her like that she would let him get away with almost anything, she thought. Frazer McClarran was gorgeous. The notion discomfited her. He wasn’t her type, she told herself firmly. He was off-limits. She had given men up.

‘So what are you doing here?’ he asked casually.

‘I want to book a couple of rooms for…some friends.’ She faltered slightly, wondering if she should say it was for her ex-husband, then decided forcefully that was her own business. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m organising a stag night here tomorrow night.’

‘Oh?’ Was he getting married? she wondered. Maybe Mrs Murray didn’t know everything.

‘Did you get your errant goat back under lock and key?’

‘Yes, your underwear is safe again.’ She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Molly is back where she belongs. But it took three of us this morning to catch her.’

He laughed. ‘Rosa will be pleased.’

‘Rosa?’

‘My housekeeper.’

They were interrupted by a woman coming out to the reception desk beside them. She was an attractive blonde in her early twenties. ‘Frazer, this is a nice surprise,’ she said cheerfully. ‘What brings you in here on a Friday afternoon?’

‘Mark’s stag night.’ Frazer turned with a smile. ‘How are you, Angela?’

It wasn’t his stag night, Emma noted. Not that it made a blind bit of difference to her whether this man was about to be married or not.

‘Bearing up, under the circumstances.’ Angela patted her stomach. She wore a black dress that did little to disguise the fact that she was heavily pregnant.

‘How long have you got to go now?’

‘Another month, would you believe?’

‘You’re looking well.’

Angela laughed, then looked curiously at Emma.

‘This is Emma Sinclair. Ethan Daniels’ niece.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’

Emma wondered if she was imagining the momentary look of surprise on the woman’s face. It was as if she’d done a double take on her appearance.

‘We were very sorry to hear about your uncle’s death.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said politely, then felt impelled to explain, ‘I didn’t really know him very well.’

‘Not a lot of people did. He withdrew into himself after his daughter’s death. Became a near recluse.’

There was a feeling of awkwardness for a moment. Then Angela said in a bright, businesslike tone, ‘Well, Frazer, what can I do for you?’

‘Better see to Mrs Sinclair first,’ Frazer replied. ‘She wants to book some rooms.’

‘No, it’s OK. You go ahead.’ Emma was happy to put off the moment. She was starting to think she should ring Jon and tell him there was no accommodation available. ‘I’m not in a hurry. I don’t particularly want to go back outside until it stops raining anyway.’

Frazer shrugged. ‘Fair enough. It’s just that Mark’s decided we should have the meal earlier, Angela, and there are a few extra guests now.’

As Emma listened idly her eyes moved over Frazer’s long, lean form. She wasn’t surprised to learn he was a member of the mountain rescue team. He was the epitome of the outdoor athletic type, ruggedly masculine, laden with sex appeal, yet so casually natural that he seemed totally unaware of it.

Emma’s attention wandered. Her eyes moved over the reception area—a red tartan carpet and walls panelled with dark wood. The building was obviously hundreds of years old; the floors seemed to be uneven and the doorways through to the bar were low, the ceiling beamed with black oak. Through the open door she could see there was only one old man in the bar lounge. He was sitting by a large inglenook fireplace which held the remaining glimmer of a dying fire, a pint in front of him. He looked as if he was asleep.

She wondered what Jon would think of this place. His world was cocooned in absolute luxury; he only stayed in top-class hotels. She pulled herself up sharply. She didn’t care what Jon thought. All she wanted was the opportunity to start her life afresh here.

‘How many rooms did you want to book, Mrs Sinclair?’ Angela finished dealing with Frazer and turned to her.

‘Two singles for tomorrow night.’ Emma was very conscious of the fact that even though Frazer’s business was concluded he continued to stand next to her.

Angela turned on a computer screen next to her. ‘Was it just for one night?’

‘Yes, I think so.’ She hoped so.

‘And what name is the booking to be made in?’

‘Lesley May and Jonathan Sinclair.’ Emma felt very uncomfortable now. The woman keyed in the names and smiled at her.

‘They’re flying up from London to Edinburgh in the morning, then driving here. They should arrive late in the afternoon.’

‘That’s fine,’ Angela said easily.

‘Thank you.’ Emma swallowed hard. There, she’d done it.

She’d face Jon tomorrow and pretend to herself that he was just a stranger.

She turned and looked up at Frazer. For a fleeting second he noticed the haunting sadness in her eyes. Then she smiled, and the shadows were banished, making him wonder if he had imagined them.

‘It’s still raining,’ he remarked, looking towards the doors. ‘I’m going to have a coffee in the lounge. Would you care to join me?’