Emily

Chapter Nine

I was determined the dinner party would be a success. For the next three days I cooked, polished and panicked, determined Rory should be proud of me. On the afternoon of the day they were coming, I was well ahead; the house gleamed like a telly ad., all the food was done. The only thing we needed was lots of flowers. There were none in the garden, but I’d noticed some gorgeous roses in a garden down the road. I set off, still in my nightie — flimsy and black. I’d been so busy I hadn’t even bothered to get dressed.

It was a warm day for the time of year, the wet grass felt delicious beneath my bare feet. I ran past ancient fruit trees and overgrown shrubberies, and started to pick great armfuls of roses.

I was just bending over, tearing off one huge red rose with my teeth, when I heard a furious voice behind me.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

I jumped out of my skin and spun round, aghast, the rose in my teeth like Carmen. A man towered over me. He must have been in his early thirties, he had dark red hair curling over his collar, a battered, freckled, high-complexioned face, a square jaw, a broken nose, and angry hazel eyes. His face was seamed with tiredness, his mouth set in an ugly line — but it was still a powerful, compelling, unforgettable face.

‘Don’t you realize this is private property?’

Then I twigged. This must be Finn Maclean. I stared at him, fascinated. It was not often one came face to face with a legend.

‘Didn’t you know you were trespassing?’

‘Yes, I did. I’m terribly sorry, but no-one’s ever picked any flowers here before. It seems such a waste to leave them. I didn’t know you’d turn up.’

‘Evidently,’ he said, taking in my extreme state of undress. ‘Who are you, anyway?’ he asked.

‘Emily,’ I muttered. ‘Emily Balniel.’

For a second there was a flicker of emotion other than anger in his face. Was it pity or contempt?

‘I’d have thought Rory was rich enough to afford his own roses. I suppose you’ve picked up all his habits of doing and taking exactly what you like?’

‘No, I haven’t, and you can keep your rotten roses,’ I said, and threw the whole lot at his feet.