Heaven Here On Earth

The butler didn’t even blink an eyelid when she told him who she was. ‘Miss Amanda is in the drawing-room,’ he told her stiffly.

Thank goodness she was staying in a cottage on the estate—far away from the main house, she hoped. She was used to doing what she wanted, when she wanted. It must be strange having a houseful of servants.

‘Stay, Ragtag,’ she instructed as he sat down on the top step. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ she added hopefully, leaving her luggage in the hallway before following the butler through to the drawing-room. At least she was going to meet the Montgomerys one at a time!

It was a very long room, almost running the entire length of the house, and the whole room had an air of comfortable elegance; one end was obviously the sitting area, the suite having an unobtrusive floral pattern, the curtains at the long windows matching the pattern exactly.

Huge double doors were opened into the garden at the other end of the informal room, and it was the girl seated behind the piano who held Ryan’s attention. She couldn’t be any other than Mark’s sister; she had his rich dark hair, kept short and boyish, her eyes, as she stared sightlessly into the garden, were the same hazel colour. She was a pretty girl, extremely so, and her pale lilac dress suited her dark colouring.

The butler coughed rather pointedly, and although the girl’s shoulders stiffened slightly she made no effort to stop playing, her fingers flowing fluidly over the piano keys. Ryan had no sense of music, modern or old, but she thought this playing was probably good.

Suddenly the girl crashed all ten fingers down on to the keys and turned to face them, her eyes flashing. ‘What is it, Shelley?’ she snapped in a haughty voice, totally ignoring Ryan as she stood beside him.

The butler appeared unperturbed by her abruptness. ‘Miss Ryan Shelton,’ he announced.

Cool hazel eyes were turned on Ryan, who withstood the appraisal very well in the circumstances. This girl was very insolent, nothing at all like the easygoing Mark.

‘Thank you, Shelley,’ she said dismissively, not even looking at him. ‘You may go.’ She stood up, a tall girl; her lilac dress was very elegantly styled, her legs long and shapely, the heels high on her matching sandals. ‘So you’re Ryan Shelton,’ she mused slowly. ‘My brother’s little friend from college.’

Ryan bit her lip, not taking to Amanda Montgomery at all. She only hoped first impressions were wrong! ‘Mark and I are at college together, yes,’ she answered calmly, feeling her untidiness more against this young girl’s sophistication. She looked much older than the eighteen Mark had said she was! As for the two of them being company for each other—the only thing they had in common was their youth!

‘My name’s Mandy.’ The other girl began to thaw a little, humour lightening her eyes. ‘You aren’t what Grant was expecting at all,’ she commented.

‘No?’ Ryan frowned.

‘No. You see, he—–’ Mandy broke off as a man strode into the room, a man who instantly held Ryan’s attention.

He had to be Grant Montgomery, that much was obvious once again by his dark colouring, but that was where all similarity to Mark ended! This man was incredibly tall, well over six feet, with the powerful physique of an athlete, his shoulders wide, a flat hardened stomach, muscular thighs and long legs all shown to advantage in the checked working shirt and close-fitting faded denims.

But it was his face that held her attention. It wasn’t just that he was so much older than she had expected, at least ten years Mark’s senior, it was also that he was so incredibly good-looking, in a harsh way. His hair grew long and dark over his ears and collar, his face was tanned a dark teak colour from the wind and sunshine he worked in, his eyes were the colour of emeralds, the nose long and hawkish, the top lip of the firmly compressed mouth thin and uncompromising, the lower lip fuller, sensually so. His jaw was firm and strong, the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned to reveal an equally tanned chest.

Those green eyes flickered over her with a keen intelligence, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you had a friend coming over this afternoon, Mandy.’ His voice was deep and gravelly, sending shivers of awareness down Ryan’s spine.

His sister’s mouth twisted. ‘I haven’t.’

The green eyes narrowed now. ‘Then who—–’

‘Ryan Shelton,’ Mandy supplied with obvious relish.

He drew in an angry breath. ‘Another of Mark’s little jokes, I take it?’ he rasped, his voice no longer pleasurable to listen to in his displeasure.

Ryan listened to the exchange between brother and sister with a sinking heart. It didn’t sound as if she was exactly welcome here! And Mark had sworn he had arranged everything! She should have known. She would kill him when she got back to—–

‘Please excuse us, Miss Shelton,’ Grant Montgomery spoke to her directly now. ‘When Mark informed us of your visit he omitted one thing.’

At least it was only one!

‘The fact that you’re a girl,’ Grant finished in a derisive voice.

Ryan swallowed hard, as the sinking feeling returned. ‘He did?’ she grimaced. What did it mean? Wasn’t she welcome if she was a girl?

‘Yes,’ Grant Montgomery bit out, his eyes icy now, derogative as he looked her up and down. ‘He merely said it would be a friend called Ryan.’

‘Does it make a difference?’ She chewed on her bottom lip.

‘To your visit here? No,’ he shrugged dismissively. ‘Although I’m a little surprised at your interest in art.’

‘Interest?’ she echoed sharply. ‘It’s more than an interest, it’s my career,’ she defended, sensing his criticism.

‘Oh yes?’ he scorned. ‘And what do you intend doing with it?’

‘Well, I—–’

‘Because unless you have an exceptional talent,’ which his tone seemed to imply he doubted, ‘or intend going into advertising or teaching, art is a complete waste of time, especially for a woman.’

Ryan flushed. ‘Maybe I have an exceptional talent,’ she snapped, her chin at a challenging angle.

‘Maybe,’ Grant Montgomery drawled. ‘And now you have the use of an exceptional studio. But not of the cottage, I’m afraid,’ he added with a frown.

‘No?’ She tried to remain calm in the face of what looked like being a wasted journey. Even supposing Grant Montgomery did let her have the use of the studio, she doubted if the village had a hotel. If it didn’t have a taxi it was highly unlikely to have a hotel!

‘No. You see—–’ He broke off as a strange noise sounded through the house. ‘What the hell—–!’ He strode off through the open patio doors to the back of the house where the noise appeared to be coming from.

Ryan followed more slowly. She already knew what the strange noise was. Ragtag howling. …

CHAPTER TWO (#u027ca364-ac56-5f7e-9de8-f4eb00f364f8)

HE was still howling when the three of them reached the back of the house, sitting in the cobbled yard with his head raised to the clear blue sky, howling soulfully, as if his very life depended on it.

Grant Montgomery came to an abrupt halt, staring incredulously at the scruffy dog. ‘Good grief,’ he blinked, as if his eyes had to be deceiving him. ‘What on earth is that?’

Ryan bridled at his scornful tone, and Ragtag stopped his howling long enough to growl at the tall imposing man who looked down at him so disdainfully.

‘It looks like a dog,’ said Mandy in amusement.

‘It is a dog!’ Ryan moved to Ragtag’s side, going down on her haunches to have her face licked ecstatically by her new canine friend. She glared up at the brother and sister. ‘My dog,’ she told them angrily.

Grant’s brows rose arrogantly. ‘You’re expecting him to stay here too?’

‘You said I couldn’t use the cottage,’ she reminded him, standing up, but keeping the now quiet Ragtag at her side.

‘At this moment, unfortunately not. Some of the roof tiles have come loose during the winter storms, something that wasn’t discovered until yesterday when the cottage was opened up for you. I have a man working on it now, but until such time as the repairs are completed and the cottage is aired for you you’re welcome to stay in the house.’ He looked down at Ragtag. ‘The dog is not.’

She looked down at Ragtag too, seeing what Grant Montgomery must see, a dirty unbrushed mutt, desperately in need of a good cleaning. But she also saw the trust in his deep brown eyes as he watched her, the almost stupidly loving expression on his face, his tail wagging goodnaturedly. If what Peter Thornby said was truth, that Ragtag was probably a stray, then there was no reason why he shouldn’t become her dog.

‘I have two dogs of my own,’ Grant Montgomery added before she could make any comment. ‘Two Golden Labradors. I doubt they would welcome—–’ he paused pointedly.

‘Ragtag,’ she mumbled at his prompting.