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Harriet mused, he was getting the best treatment now, and she had enough resources to ensure this treatment was maintained.
    Which led her thoughts onto the subject of Damien Wyatt and the incredible turn of events of the afternoon.
    A tremor ran through her as she remembered being in his arms and the powerfully sensual effect he’d had on her.
    How could she have been so affected? she wondered. Was it simply the human contact and warmth she’d responded to?
    It had to be something like that because hadn’t she sworn never to fall in love again?
    She grimaced at how melodramatic it sounded and wondered suddenly if she did project a neurotic image. And how about scholarly or academic as well as accident-prone? Superior?
    Or how about just plain lonely?
    She bit her lip and blinked away a sudden tear.

CHAPTER THREE
    T WO WEEKS LATER , memories of her time in the caravan had started to fade and she’d fitted into the Heathcote lifestyle easily.
    The flat above the converted stable block was comfortable and self-contained. It had a galley-style kitchen with all mod cons that appealed to Harriet. She was a keen and innovative cook and it wasn’t long before she had a variety of herbs growing in pots on the windowsills. There was a rather lovely old wooden refectory table with benches.
    The lounge area had comfortable armchairs and a view of the sea. The one bedroom was home to a king-sized bed, the lightest, warmest quilts and was rather sumptuously decorated in shades of violet and thyme-green.
    Isabel had confessed to being the decorator and also to having gone a bit overboard in the bedroom.
    Isabel was becoming friendlier and friendlier. She was Damien and Charlie’s father’s sister; she’d never married and it was plain to see that she ran not only the house but the estate with a lot of care and affection. She’d confided to Harriet once that she knew every inch of the estate and every nook of the house because she’d not only grown up at Heathcote but spent most of her life there.
    She certainly handled the small army of staff required—gardeners, cleaners, stable hands and one highly temperamental cook—with ease. Well, she’d confessed to Harriet that she suspected the cook, a Queenslander, was not only temperamental but that he drank and she really should sack him but he claimed to have six children under ten. He also cooked like an angel...
    It hadn’t required much insight on Harriet’s part to see that Isabel doted on her nephews.
    And she very early on discovered that Isabel always carried out Damien’s instructions.
    This discovery came, in fact, on the day Harriet arrived to take up residence at Heathcote. Isabel came up to the flat that afternoon to see how Harriet had settled in and at the same time she handed over a set of car keys.
    Harriet looked at the keys with a frown. ‘What are these for?’
    ‘There’s a blue Holden in the garage. It’s not new but it’s in great condition. It’s for you to use while you’re here. In fact, if you give me your car keys, I’ll get your vehicle parked elsewhere.’
    ‘Do I...do I detect the hand of Damien Wyatt here?’ Harriet said ominously.
    Isabel grimaced. ‘You do.’
    ‘Well, if he thinks he can—’
    ‘I’ve been told to let you go if you don’t agree to the Holden,’ Isabel interrupted, and patted Harriet’s arm. ‘Much easier to drive, I’m sure. Besides, there’s something about your vehicle that—upsets Damien.’
    ‘I can understand that, but Damien is not here,’ Harriet pointed out to his aunt.
    ‘Damien is always here,’ Isabel remarked with some irony. ‘He seems to have a sixth sense about the place even if he’s a million miles away. Please?’ she added.
    Harriet breathed deeply. ‘If you must know, I can’t help thinking he’s a bit of a control freak!’
    ‘Oh, definitely!’ Isabel agreed. ‘More than a bit, in fact. But it was—’ she put her head on one side ‘—rather a thoughtful thing to do,