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admired so much in him as a teenager, and even now, watching him she was conscious of a faint frisson of awareness, a purely feminine acknowledgement of his masculinity. Stop it, she warned herself as they turned into Flaws Farm Lane. Stop thinking about him.
    When the Land Rover stopped, she glanced uncomfortably at him. ‘Are you coming in with me?’
    ‘Do you really want me to?’ he asked mockingly, before shaking his head. ‘No, unlike you Sapphire, I’m not hard enough to raise hopes in your father’s heart that I can’t fulfil. Your father means a lot to me,’ he added, startling her with his admission. ‘I’ve always admired him, even patterned myself on him as a youngster Isuppose—my own grandfather was too cold and distant—he never ceased mourning my father. I’d give a lot to see your father happy.’
    ‘And even more to make sure that you get Flaws land,’ Sapphire threw at him bitterly, ‘even to the extent of marrying me. I fell for it once Blake, I’m not going to fall for it again.’
    It was only as she struggled across the yard that she remembered about her luggage, still in Alan’s car. It was too late to turn around and call Blake back now, he was already reversing out of the yard. Sighing, Sapphire found the familiar back door and unlatched it. The kitchen was much as she remembered it. Her father used to employ a housekeeper to look after the house, but she had retired just after Sapphire’s marriage. For a while he had managed with daily help from the village, but now it seemed he was employing someone else.
    The door to the hall opened as Sapphire stepped into the kitchen and a woman entered the room. For a second they stared at one another and then the woman smiled tentatively, offering her hand. ‘Mary,’ she introduced herself, ‘and you must be Sapphire. Your father’s been worrying about you.’
    There was just enough reproof in the calm, softly burred voice for Sapphire to flush and feel at a disadvantage. Mary was somewhere in her late thirties, plumpish with smooth brown hair and warm eyes. The sort of calm, serene, capable woman she had always envied.
    ‘I’m sorry about that.’ Quickly she explained howshe had been delayed, warmed by the quick sympathy in the hazel eyes.
    ‘May I see my father?’ Sapphire asked tentatively. She had been nerving herself for this moment ever since Blake had told her the seriousness of her father’s condition, and her palms were damp and sticky as she followed Mary up the familiar stairs. Her father’s bedroom had windows that looked out over the hills, but tonight the curtains were drawn to obscure the view.
    ‘It’s all right Mary, you can switch the lamp on,’ her father’s familiar voice growled as Sapphire stood awkwardly by the door in the half light. ‘I am awake.’
    ‘Sapphire’s here,’ Mary told him, snapping on the bedside light. Perhaps it was the warm glow from the lamp but her father didn’t look as ill as she had anticipated. Her legs felt shaky as she approached his bed, regret, guilt, and a dozen other emotions clamouring for expression. In the end all she could manage was a choked ‘Dad,’ and then she was in her father’s arms, hugging him tightly, trying not to give way to tears.
    ‘Well now, and how’s my lass? Let me have a look at you.’ As he held her slightly away from him, studying her features, Sapphire studied his. Her father had always had a tall, spare frame, but now he was gaunt, almost painfully thin, the weathered tanned face she remembered frighteningly pale—a sick-room pallor Sapphire acknowledged.
    ‘Dad, if only I’d known …’
    ‘Stop tormenting yourself, I wouldn’t let Blake tell you. You’re far too thin,’ he scolded. ‘Mary will haveto feed you up while you’re here. Borders’ men don’t like their women skinny.’
    ‘But London men do,’ Sapphire responded, withdrawing from him a little, sensing danger.
    ‘You’re later than we expected.’
    ‘Umm, I had