‘I doubt that.’ She took a long, hard drink to steady her nerves. She felt a tinge shaky all of a sudden.
Fletcher might be old, but he was no fool. He’d detected a frisson of attraction between his nephew and this pretty, young woman. And why not? They looked good together, he concluded.
Fletcher had hit the nail well and truly on the head. Adira had indeed got under Jasper’s skin. Later that evening, in his attic bedroom he had found himself once again contemplating, but not over his uncle, this time it was their dinner guest who had dominated his thoughts. Images of her laughing easily with Fletcher who had harmlessly teased her filled his head. She had a natural, pretty look, her skin had a healthy, golden glow and the sun had highlighted streaks in her long, blonde hair. Even her fragrance haunted Jasper, a light, floral scent which he couldn’t inhale enough of.
Stop it, man, he roughly reprimanded himself. She was a virtual stranger, who he happened to have witnessed bathing. This then brought him back to his dilemma of whether she had sussed him. Fletcher hadn’t helped matters, blurting out that he was the one who had first spotted her. He knew the possibility had crossed her mind judging by the way she had looked at him. He was sure he hadn’t given anything away, he was renowned for his straight face in the boardroom when others had threatened to lose their nerve. Jasper was a master at ‘keeping his powder dry’, to quote one of Fletcher’s sayings.
It half unnerved him, though, the way his uncle had so easily warmed to her, and she to him. It appeared to be a mutual connection, one which had been created all too speedily for Jasper’s liking; perhaps because this behaviour was the polar opposite to his. Always he would act under caution, it was just his nature, his make-up. That’s why he had proved to be so good at his job. Never completely trusting anyone, unless he really knew them, had served him well over the years in the cut-throat world of business. Jasper made sound judgements. People trusted him. If Jasper Hendricks was on board, the powers that be could rest assured. He stood head and shoulders above the highest of flyers with his astute, cool exterior. Whilst negotiating deals, he appeared calm and composed, never getting hot under the collar, unlike many of his counterparts. Often, his colleagues would joke about him being the perfect poker player, to which Jasper would simply reply he didn’t gamble. Taking risks wasn’t his forte; he made sure he won. If they’d seen how Jasper was with his family and friends, they would probably be quite shocked. For it was them who saw the deeply caring Jasper, who would protect them at all costs.
Whilst he had grown up being closer to Fletcher than his own father, he still held his parents in high esteem and he had taken after Rufus with his rather cautious nature, but his mother, Alice, had passed on the compassionate, loving genes which ran through his blood. As a child, he’d often wished for a sibling, maybe Fletcher had in some way filled that gap.
Jasper couldn’t help but smile at the way his uncle had performed over dinner, regaling his stories from the past, half of which he was convinced he’d invented, or certainly embellished beyond recognition of the truth. Adira had loved hearing them, giggling along, encouraging Fletcher even more.
Then the vigilant side of Jasper kicked in. What if there was more to Adira than met the eye? Already, she had influenced his uncle with her herbal ‘medicines’, supposing she had an agenda? The more he considered it, the more plausible it became. Fletcher was an old man, with an estate. If he so chose, he could very easily leave a substantial amount of money to anyone he should befriend. Jasper had watched Adira walk up the path through the hall window. He had seen her admiring The Laurels. What had she been thinking? Had the pound signs flashed? Was she really a barrister, or had that been a ruse to look respectable? He remembered how her eyes had darted about the place, taking everything in – the paintings, antiques and silver. He also noted how quick she’d been to offer help, show concern over Fletcher’s ailments. That jar on the bathroom windowsill shot into his thoughts. What exactly was in it? What else was she going to ‘prescribe’ him?
Jasper shifted uncomfortably in his bed. His mind was going into overdrive. Probably too much wine at dinner, he told himself.
He heard Fletcher whistling softly as he shut the bathroom door. Well, Adira had certainly cheered him up, no doubt about that.
Adira strolled back to the camper van in the soft, silver moonlight. She’d stayed much longer than anticipated, time having flown. Fletcher was such entertaining company, but that she had expected. In a way, he reminded her of Edie, being quite a character, in an unconventional kind of way. Quirky, would be a word to describe them. Perhaps that’s why she had gelled so well with Fletcher, he was a comforting grandfather figure.
And Jasper, well he was food for thought. He’d certainly piqued Adira’s interest, but in which way, she wasn’t quite sure. There was no denying how attractive he was, but he wasn’t overconfident with it, unlike some men she had known. Often, when working alongside handsome barristers, they had flaunted their good looks by being openly flirty, expecting her to be flattered by the attention. Personally, she found it a turn-off and didn’t find it particularly professional when seeing the same behaviour with the pretty women in the chambers either.
Adira wasn’t a prude, far from it, but firmly believed that the workplace was just that, a place towork.One or two of her male colleagues had asked her out, to which she had very politely declined. Instead, she had chosen to date men outside of her chambers. Rory had been different, she had enjoyed a few drinks with him after work, but that had been purely platonic, as friends meeting up.
Jasper was different too, but in a completely separate way. He was self-assured, in an understated manner. Comfortable in his own skin, surmised Adira. There was a definite edge to him, of that she had no doubt. Clearly he was protective of his uncle, and rightly so, and she detected an air of distrust oozing from him. For once, Adira couldn’t quite put her finger on what gave her that uneasy impression. Jasper had been amiable, he’d joined in the conversation, often sharing banter with Fletcher, and had briefly talked about his life in Dubai. In return, he had politely enquired about her and had appeared rather impressed to learn she was in fact a barrister and had even heard of Goldgate Chambers. He also seemed to admire her decision to buy the camper van and get away from it all – well, for at least a year anyway. So, he knew she was no ‘hippy’ about to squat forever on his family’s land. On the face of it, she was just a harmless passer-by that Fletcher had invited for dinner. So why had he looked at her in that brooding way?
Adira had been accustomed to meeting new clients and quickly judging their characters, getting a sense as to what made them tick. Always her instincts, her gut feeling, had been proved right. Look at Sir Reginald Demsy, she’d got his measure immediately. Yet for some reason Jasper was an enigma. One minute he was all smiles and pleasantries, the next he was sizing her up with narrowed eyes. Once or twice, she had met his scrutinising gaze head-on, as if challenging him. He didn’t respond, just coolly sipped his wine.
Truth be told, Jasper unsettled her, and she hated to admit it. Unacquainted with this position, it made her feel vulnerable. Adira was used to being in control, both in her public and private life. She could be assertive when needed in court and knew what she wanted from a relationship. All she knew about Jasper was that she found him attractive, yet wasn’t sure if she actually liked him.
Soon, she had made her way across the field back to Sheila, gently lit up by the stream and waiting for her. Fletcher had roared with laughter when she had told him of the camper van’s name. He’d also shown concern when Adira had mentioned that Sheila had momentarily conked out on her shortly after arriving in Lilacwell. He’d insisted the camper van be checked over, earning her another ‘look’ from Jasper.
Entering the cosy van, Adira put the stove on for a cup of Horlicks. She looked up at the small roof window, out onto the clear, starry night sky. How beautiful it was and how fortunate she was to have found such a place.
Chapter 9
The next day brought more glorious weather. The bright morning sunrise warmed the valley, which didn’t encourage Adira to get behind the driving wheel too soon. In fact, with Fletcher’s permission, she fancied staying in Lilacwell a few more days before setting off again. Deciding to explore the village, she headed to the local inn which he had mentioned last night. She took the track she had originally driven down, drinking in the idyllic scenery. In the distance lay the Bowland Fells with shades of every green. Fir trees surrounded the area, interrupted by stone walls and clear running waterfalls. Adira heard a wood pigeon call far from a verdant forest and breathed in the fresh country air. It was heaven.
For a moment, she compared her surroundings to that of North London, where the traffic stood pumping out fumes, whilst commuters frantically went about their business in silence with fixed expressions. It was a world away, and a world she was well shot of. In such a short space of time, Adira was coming to the conclusion that she was no longer a part of the London life. In many ways, she wondered if she truly ever had been. All it had taken was a couple of days in a camper van to realise how much that life had been crushing her. How right her gran was to send her that picture of Sheila to entice her out of it. Where would she be now if Edie hadn’t taken the initiative? In that office with the rest of them, tapping away at their keyboards, staring at screens. She shuddered at the thought.
As Adira walked to the end of the track and onto the main road into the village, the first view of the Inn at Lilacwell stood before her, every bit as impressive as The Laurels, with the same sandstone and Georgian pillars. Set in stunning grounds and a winding gravel driveway, Adira saw the open studded oak door and was too tempted not to visit.
She entered the inn to find it fairly busy. Obviously a popular place to dine, given that most of the tables were taken. It had a faint smell of beeswax and polish. Rays of sun blasted in through the small leaded windows, highlighting a touch of dust from last evening’s open fires. It was exactly what she expected of a typical country inn. And so different from the corporate bars and pretentious restaurants in the capital. The atmosphere was friendly and comfortable, the clientele varied yet relaxed, ranging from local farmers propping up the bar, to the archetypal country set in tweeds with Labradors sat obediently by.
A young woman serving behind the bar smiled up at Adira. ‘Hello there, what can I get you?’
‘A Coke please.’
After handing her the drink, the girl spoke again. ‘Visiting Lilacwell?’
‘Yes, just for a few days. I’m camping nearby.’
At this the girl laughed, making Adira frown.
‘Oh, so you’re Fletcher’s squatter then?’
Adira looked surprised, making the girl laugh even more.
