‘Buying up the village, and fitting in some pastoral care at the same time? I’m sorry,’ Rose added quickly, with a gesture suggesting she’d do anything to undo those words. ‘I’ve no right to question you. It’s just that our situation is so complicated.’
‘No, it isn’t. If I can keep my personal and professional lives apart, so can you. I’m offering you a way forward. Take your holiday entitlement if you need to, but don’t shut me out. As your employer, I’ll support you any way I can, but the position of Head Groom must be filled—if not by you, then by someone else.’
Dios!What was he saying? This wasn’t about business, it was all about Rose. He wanted to help her as much as he could, but she wouldn’t let him.
‘I appreciate you giving me a second chance,’ she said, matching his formal tone. ‘I’d like to take you up on the offer.’
With that, she got up and left the room, leaving him to smash his fist into the table with frustration.
‘I hope I’m not too late,’ the landlady announced within moments of Rose leaving as she backed into the room with a loaded tray of food.
‘Just leave it on the table, thank you.’
He could think of nothing but Rose—chin up, shoulders back, typical Rose, ready to take on the next challenge and the next. Her fighting spirit would see her through, but she couldn’t go on like this forever. If she refused his help, he’d watch from the wings, ready to catch her if she fell. He would always care for Rose, even from a distance.
Care was a strange word, very close to love...
And didn’t he destroy those he loved?
Not this time. He couldn’t fix everything, but nothing on earth would stop him caring for Rose.
Rose went straight from the meeting with Raffa to check on her father, who was living with Máire and her boys at the bakery. Rose was looking forward to seeing him, and dreading it too. She never knew what to expect, and it was impossible to be in his company without feeling such regret for the man he might have been. Máire had said he was responding well to the discipline her sons imposed, but, as Raffa had pointed out, that only was a temporary solution. Relationships were rarely straightforward, she reflected as she walked down the village street. With the threat of dismissal removed, Rose was relieved, but not comforted. Nothing could compensate for losing the closeness she’d so briefly experienced with Raffa, and his new formality had left her feeling she’d lost something precious that she might never get back.You can’t have everything, she told herself firmly as she knocked on Máire’s door. That would be greedy.
‘I’ve given your father the small bedroom directly above the bakery,’ Máire explained as she welcomed Rose inside. ‘It has its own bathroom, and there’s no access to either exit without going past my room,’ she added with a wink. ‘But he’s out with my boys at the moment. You’ll stay for a mug of tea?’
‘Will they be long?’ Rose asked with concern, picturing the wreck of a man she’d brought home from the police cell. News that her father was out with Máire’s strapping lads might either herald a turning point or a chance for him to escape the bakery to sneak off for a drink. Whichever it was, Rose had good cause to worry.
‘They’ll walk him to death, if they don’t work him to death first,’ Máire confided. ‘And they’re on top of his drinking. They got their own father sober, remember?’
Rose hummed diplomatically. She remembered Máire’s husband stopping the drink, but she also remembered him running off with the vicar’s wife afterwards.
‘Your father had too much time on his hands to think about your mother, and he’ll not get a drink here,’ Máire reassured her. ‘So, you go find that meal of a man, and ask about his plans for the hall—’
‘Thehall?’ Rose tensed. ‘Don’t you mean the pub?’
Máire laughed as if Rose had just said the funniest thing. ‘Pub, the hall—who knows what else he’s bought up in the village? By the time Señor Acosta’s finished here, we’ll all be dancing the flamenco and snapping our castanets.’
His team was well on with the purchase of the Old Hall. He hadn’t mentioned it to Rose, as he didn’t want to raise her hopes until the deal was done. The large baronial-style building was perfect for one of his sister’s retreats. He couldn’t wait to tell Sofia what he’d found.
‘You do know I’m still on my honeymoon?’ Sofia complained with her usual good humour.
Hearing a steel band in the background, he drew his own conclusions. Her husband, Cesar, had never stinted on exotic hideaways. He’d probably bought a new island for his bride. ‘This won’t take long.’
‘Just don’t buy up everything in the village,’ Sofia said with concern when he explained his plan, ‘or Rose might think you’re taking over. Don’t hurt her, Raffa. She’s got more than enough to put up with.’
Sofia and Rose had enjoyed some quiet time in the run-up to the wedding, with plenty of chance to unload. ‘I’ve no intention of hurting anyone. I’m helping by—’
‘Buying up everything?’ his sister suggested dryly. ‘May I humbly suggest that might not work where Rose is concerned?’
‘The Old Hall will make an excellent retreat.’
‘My first in Ireland,’ his sister reflected thoughtfully.
‘Why not?’
Sofia was forced to agree. ‘For once, I can’t think of a single reason to argue with you.’
‘Which must mean it’s time for you to get back to enjoying your honeymoon, while I put these ideas into action.’
