Grounds For Marriage. Daphne ClairЧитать онлайн книгу.
firm is that?’
‘Cleaver’s,’ Tully said shortly.
‘A family business?’
After a moment Tully said, ‘That’s right.’ It had been a family business, founded by Tully’s grandfather, but Lacey knew that Tully now owned the New Zealand branch, having bought out his father who lived and operated his factories in Australia.
‘I think I read something about it recently,’ Julian mused. ‘You’re branching out from life-jackets and emergency craft into manufacturing some new type of rubber-and-wool boom to contain oil spills?’
‘And mop them up. Yes.’
‘It sounds very worthwhile, a real contribution towards preserving the environment.’
Tully swirled the whisky in his glass. ‘It’s also going to make the firm a good bit of money, I hope.’
Julian smiled uncertainly. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong in that.’ He took a quick sip from his wineglass.
Lacey tried to think of something with which to fill the ensuing silence. ‘Have you and Emma been riding again?’ she asked Tully.
He smiled, turning his head to look into her eyes. ‘Try to keep her away. It’s true what she said. She does seem to be a natural on a horse.’
‘You’re an experienced rider?’ Julian looked interested.
Tully almost reluctantly dragged his eyes from Lacey. ‘I’m learning along with Emma,’ he said. ‘I was quoting the instructor.’
Julian’s brows rose in surprise. ‘That’s very commendable. Sharing Emma’s interests—I take off my hat to you, Tully.’
‘Thanks,’ Tully drawled, eyeing Julian with a look of judicious speculation. ‘Actually, I’m enjoying it.’
Emma came into the room, and Tully smiled at her, immediately shifting over to make room on the end of the sofa. His hip pressed against Lacey’s, his arm sliding further along behind her. If she leaned back a little she knew he would lay it casually about her shoulders. She didn’t lean back.
Julian smiled at Emma. ‘Your father’s been telling us about your riding lessons, Emma. Have you fallen off, yet?’
‘I don’t fall off,’ she told him loftily. ‘If you use your hands and your knees the right way you won’t fall.’
Lacey wrenched her attention away from Tully. ‘I don’t know, I have a feeling I might fall off all the same.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Emma said with great confidence. ‘I’d stop you—or Daddy. Wouldn’t we?’ she appealed to her father.
He grinned down at her. ‘We’d certainly do our best. But don’t forget, you and I are just learners, and they do say pride goes before a fall.’ Turning back to Lacey, he said, ‘Maybe you should join us next time. We could all give it a go.’
He was very close. She could smell the warm scent of his body, still carrying a faint tang of the outdoors. Her eyes were drawn to the outline of his mouth, the faintly shadowed male perfection of his skin. At this distance—or lack of it—his blatant masculinity was overwhelming.
‘Maybe,’ she said, deliberately shifting her gaze beyond him to Julian. ‘Should we, Julian? Do you think you’d enjoy riding?’
‘I think my riding days are over,’ he said. ‘I gave it up a long time ago.’
‘You used to ride? I didn’t know that.’
‘When I was a boy,’ he said, adding rather modestly, ‘I collected a few ribbons at shows.’
Oh, joy! She felt Tully sit up straighter beside her as his eyes swivelled to Julian. Emma had turned too, staring at Julian with new respect.
‘What sort of ribbons?’ Emma asked him.
‘Dressage and show-jumping.’
‘What’s dressage?’ Emma asked.
As Julian began to explain, Lacey went to check the dinner. She needed to remove herself from Tully. He ought to carry a health label—Warning: Proximity May Endanger Your Heart. Though surely hers was safe. She’d given it to Julian. And she’d had plenty of practice at ignoring her natural female response to Tully’s blatant masculinity.
She set a bowl of pansies in the centre of the dining table. They seldom used this room for its avowed purpose—usually it served as an office for Lacey’s typing and desk-top publishing business. Her word-processor, printer and photocopier occupied a long bench spanning one wall, while filing cabinets sat underneath, and the extendible dining table was useful for collating pages or making up layouts.
‘Mum, shall I set the table?’ Emma stood in the doorway.
Surprised, Lacey turned. ‘If you’d like to. I thought you’d be talking to Julian about horses.’
Emma’s face screwed up briefly. ‘Mm. Daddy said to come and ask if you needed any help.’
‘Did he?’ Lacey said grimly.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’ She smiled at Emma, banishing the suspicion that Tully had thought Julian was getting on too well with the child. Tully wasn’t a mean-minded man. More likely he wanted to talk to Julian himself.
But she had to fight an impulse to rush back into the living room and monitor what the men were saying. ‘Okay,’ she told Emma. ‘You set the table nicely while I turn over the potatoes.’
The meal went without any hitch, and the two men seemed cordial, if a bit formal with each other. Emma helped by chattering as usual, mostly to Tully. But when Julian put in a smiling question or remark here and there she answered politely enough.
‘Bedtime,’ Lacey told her after the dishes were cleared away and she’d been allowed to sit with them while they had coffee in the other room. ‘Go and have your bath and put on your pyjamas, then you can come and say good night.’
When she did so, looking innocent and soapy-clean, she inveigled Tully into tucking her in, and he went off with a good grace, holding her hand.
‘She has him wound around her little finger, doesn’t she?’ Julian remarked. He was sitting on an easy chair, and after dinner Lacey had chosen the one opposite, leaving the sofa for Tully and Emma.
‘She adores him.’ The fire was growing sluggish, and Lacey got up to put some wood on from the basket at the side of the hearth. Julian came over, removing the mesh fire screen, and replacing it for her as she straightened.
‘It’s going to be difficult,’ he said, ‘to compete.’
‘You don’t have to compete.’ Lacey looked at him, her eyes troubled. ‘It’s a different relationship. I want her to be clear about that.’
‘Mm. And do you think that when—if—I have to correct her, Emma will accept it from me? She’s never had a real father, has she?’ As Lacey opened her mouth to demur, he added, ‘Tully’s a weekend father, a fun-father, obviously. You told me he spoils her.’
She had said something of the sort once, when they were exchanging mutual confidences about their children and their problems. ‘He does like to give her things, but she’s not a spoiled child, is she?’
‘She’s a charmer,’ Julian said dryly. ‘And accustomed to being the centre of attention. I just wonder how she reacts when she isn’t, or if she doesn’t get her own way.’
Lacey felt a stirring of resentment, and reminded herself not to be oversensitive. ‘Well, of course she sulks sometimes, or slams a few doors. She’s only ten! But I don’t give in to her, and I won’t expect you to, either.’
He smiled. ‘Well, that’s all right then. As long