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‘I’ve been telling the new owner’s agent since the summer that thing was dangerous!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Darcy?’ He scrutinised her healthy-looking, pink-cheeked face worriedly. ‘Hurt anywhere?’
‘I’m fine.’ Darcy unwrapped the looped scarf from around her throat.
‘And you, Mr…?’
The dazed-looking stranger with blood running down the side of his face closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall. An anxious Jack looked to Darcy to supply the information.
Her shoulders lifted. ‘Don’t ask me—I’ve no idea who he is.’
‘How come you were in the summer-house with a guy and you don’t know his name?’ Nick wondered, regarding the stranger with a suspicious light in his hostile blue eyes.
‘I wasn’t in the summer-house; I was outside.’ Darcy kept her impatience in check—Nick always chose all the wrong moments to play the protective big brother; he was the most infuriatingly inconsistent person she knew.
‘Doing what?’ Nick persisted doggedly.
Darcy rolled her eyes in exasperation before returning her attention to the man beside her. ‘You should sit down,’ she said in soft aside to the object of her brother’s suspicions.
‘Give me a minute,’ the stranger responded tersely, resisting her efforts to point him in the right direction. Darcy was a strong girl but she knew right away that moving this man against his will was beyond her capabilities.
‘Harry, Charlie, could you give me a hand?’ she called to her younger brothers.
The twins shook their identical heads in unison.
‘We’d like to, but…’ Harry began.
‘There’s blood…’ Charlie completed with a shudder of disgust.
Darcy, in no mood on this occasion to see the amusing side of a pair of strapping, beefy specimens who came over ‘funny’ at the sight of blood, gave a snort of exasperation. ‘You’re hopeless, the pair of you!’
‘Wimps,’ Charlie agreed cheerfully.
Harry nodded his agreement. ‘Maybe he’s one of those contractors working on the Hall.’
‘Nah! They’ve all gone home for the holiday,’ his identical twin pointed out. ‘Besides, does he look like a builder to you…? He’s obviously loaded.’
Darcy was inclined to agree with Charlie, but she couldn’t help but reflect that the injured stranger looked more than physically capable of the odd bit of manual labour. Her mind drifted back to the way the hard, muscular contours of his lean torso and broad chest had felt— With a muffled snort of dismay she brought her reflections to an abrupt halt mid-drool.
The tiny sound drew Jack’s concerned attention.
She flushed uncomfortably, shook her head and silently mouthed ‘I’m fine’, which she was, if you discounted the fact she was sleazing over a total stranger who was bleeding on their kitchen floor. She grabbed a clean tea towel from the dresser drawer to stem the flow.
‘Maybe he’s the bloke that bought the place,’ Darcy heard Harry suggest.
Reece, who was feeling less awful, noticed a little hazily that the notion seemed to afford amusement all round.
‘My God, mate, but you’ve been done,’ the instigator of the theory sniggered, digging his twin in the ribs.
Darcy gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘I hardly think now is the right time for a cross-examination,’ she told them repressively.
At first it had felt as if the room was full of a lot of people. On closer examination Reece now realised there were actually only four besides himself and the choirboy, all male. The two youngest, despite being almost his own height, were scarcely more than boys, and either they were identical twins or he was seeing double.
‘Shut up!’ With enviable lung power the diminutive figure beside him silenced the assembly. ‘Let’s not get sidetracked here; it doesn’t matter who he is—he’s had an accident. Charlie, go get the First Aid kit.’
‘I don’t know…’
Darcy, wise to male helplessness ploys, was ahead of him. ‘First shelf down in the bathroom.’ She turned to the younger—by five minutes—of her twin brothers. ‘Harry, get the dogs out of here.’ With a lot of noisy encouragement the dogs eventually removed themselves from the chairs.
Reece remained mildly disorientated while his youthful rescuer continued to throw out a steady stream of orders as if they were going out of fashion to everyone, including himself. The hell of it was he found himself obeying the kid and meekly sitting down in the larger of the two armchairs. The small figure was arguing with the dark-haired male around his own age.
‘How should I know why he was up a tree? Maybe he’s a tree surgeon…?’ Her elder brother had a very suspicious nature and seemed to have jumped to the deeply embarrassing and bizarre conclusion that she was trying to cover up some sort of secret assignation.
Darcy couldn’t help but wistfully wonder what life was like with a few secret assignations—alas, unless she could rid herself of her wholesome image and get herself a bit of glamour it seemed unlikely that she would ever find out!
‘My name’s Reece Erskine.’ So much for anonymity.
Nobody started in recognition at the sound of his name— Maybe I’m not as famous as I think, he wondered. A self-deprecating little smile made his mobile lips quiver as he relaxed a little.
‘I don’t need to trouble you; if I could just use your phone…’ His firm words only elicited a few fleeting glances of benevolent dismissal.
Reece wasn’t used to having his opinion dismissed and he found the novel experience irritating. It was even more irritating that he didn’t have enough functioning brain cells to demonstrate to them how very much in control he really was.
‘Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?’ a worried Jack Alexander appealed to his eldest stepchildren.
‘Was he out long?’ Nick asked his sister.
‘I’m not sure…’
‘I wasn’t unconscious at all.’ Reece’s jaw tightened; he might just as well have spoken to the brick wall beside him for the notice anyone was taking.
‘It would probably be quicker to take him to Casualty ourselves.’ Darcy held out her hand expectantly as young Charlie returned conspicuously empty-handed.
‘I can’t find it.’
She gave a sigh of exasperation and glared up at her tall young brother. ‘Do I have to do everything myself?’ she wondered witheringly.
To Reece’s amazement, the big guy shifted uncomfortably and looked sheepish before he joined his twin at the far end of the room. He was finding the family dynamics of this noisy household deeply confusing. Maybe it’s me…? Maybe I’m concussed, he thought. He closed his eyes and the room continued to spin.
Darcy took the stairs at the far end of the room two steps at a time. She tore along the narrow upper hallway, shedding her layers as she went—the First Aid kit was exactly where she’d said it would be. Why couldn’t men find something when it was right under their noses…?
‘Learnt helplessness,’ she snorted in knowledgeable disgust, and Mum let them get away with it, she thought disapprovingly as she rapidly retraced her steps. Her respect for what her mother accomplished on the home front had increased by leaps and bounds since she’d arrived home.
She ripped the scrunchy thing that had slid down to the slippery end of her shiny pony-tail free and shoved it in her pocket before she gave her head a little shake and lifted her fine hair free of the collar of her ribbed polo-necked sweater.
‘I’ll just clean up this head wound first.’ He endured her cleaning the small but deep head wound with stoicism. ‘I think it might be your collar-bone.’ Darcy bent over the chair, bringing her face almost on a level with his.
He didn’t know where she’d come from but he wasn’t complaining; she was a major improvement on all the brawn. He watched her narrow, slender hands as she set about her task. They were nice hands, and it was an even nicer face. A roundish face with a pointy little chin, a hint of sultriness about the full lower lip…? No more than a hint, he decided, revising his original estimate as she raised the big blue kitten eyes to his face and murmured… ‘Sorry. I broke mine once,’ she continued in a slightly husky, oddly familiar voice. ‘I know how much it hurts. I think it’ll be less painful if it’s supported, but if I hurt you too much, yell.’
‘I will.’
Darcy’s eyes lifted; under the scrutiny of those wide-spaced blue eyes, Reece got that strange feeling of familiarity again as she gave an unconvinced little smile.
‘A fine little nurse our Darcy is,’ the fatherly-looking figure remarked fondly.
Darcy; where had he heard that before…?
‘They’ll want to X-ray you in the hospital, I expect.’
She was halfway through tying the supportive sling gently around his neck before a stunned Reece saw what had been blindingly obvious all along.
The schoolboy and the slender, but very obviously feminine blonde were one and the same person!
‘You’re a girl!’ he blurted out unthinkingly.
The note of resentment in the shocked cry made Darcy’s lips twitch and her stepfather’s expression grow concerned.
‘Perhaps I ought to call that ambulance.’
Darcy put the final twitch to the knot around his neck and straightened up, brushing her hands down the gentle curve of her thighs.
‘I’m Darcy.’
‘Reece,’ he gulped, not meeting her eyes. Since discovering the gender of his rescuer Reece seemed unable to stop looking at her breasts; they were full, rounded and at that moment strained against the tight sweater she wore.
She bent a little closer. ‘34 C,’ she whispered.
His head came up with a jerk; predictably she was smiling.
In someone more fair-skinned the deepening of colour beneath that even olive tone of his skin would have been a full-scale blush.
‘Mr Erskine thought I was a boy,’ she explained solemnly to her family. Having been the victim of this mortifying case of mistaken identity, she didn’t feel inclined to spare her patient’s embarrassment.
After a startled pause, this announcement was greeted with predictable hilarity. The twins cracked up; even Jack looked amused.
‘Now, there’s a novelty.’ Nick lost his habitual sardonic sneer as he grinned in malicious delight at his sister.
Not wanting to come over as someone totally without humour, Reece smiled—it wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done.
Darcy wasn’t a vindictive girl—she’d made her point, and she had no wish to see him squirm excessively. She decided to take the spotlight off his mistake.
‘Wasn’t it you, Nick who gave up your seat on the train to the pregnant lady who wasn’t…?’
Nick winced. ‘Don’t remind me.’
Reece’s eyes did another unscheduled detour—this time in the direction of her flat midriff. There was no possibility that anyone would make that particular mistake in her case. Her jeans were cinched in around an impossibly narrow waist by a wide leather belt, and the blue denim clung to a nicely rounded bottom and slender thighs… The more details he took in, the more he felt inclined to think he really was concussed—nothing else could explain the fact he’d mistaken her for a boy!
‘I’ll take him to the hospital.’
‘That’s all right, Darce, I’ll do it,’ Nick offered.
Darcy reached up and ruffled his hair affectionately. ‘No, you’ve just had a long drive—I’ll do it. Always supposing you two filled up my car last night after you used it.’
The blond-haired seventeen-year-olds looked innocently hurt that she’d raised the possibility they might have found a better use for her twenty quid.
‘As if we would.’
The three older members of their family snorted.
‘It’s really not necessary…’ Reece began, getting to his feet. ‘I’ve no wish to impose.’
The pocket-sized blonde looked amused by his attempt to regain a bit of dignity. ‘You’ve already imposed, Mr Erskine,’ she responded bluntly. ‘So you might as well get your money’s worth.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ud852a80d-a343-5eee-9512-0f0e7d751d2d)
REECE levered himself into the cramped front seat of the Beetle. He rapidly discovered there was a soggy patch in the worn upholstery. A quick survey revealed the half-open window was the most likely culprit. He tried to close it, but it seemed as though the ventilation was permanent.
Reece, who liked his cars the same way he liked his women—sleek, racy and maintenance-free—gritted his teeth and settled back to make the best of it.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ the diminutive blonde promised, bending down to peer with concern at him through the window.
Reece saw she’d discarded the yellow cagoule thing in favour of more feminine garb—a dark ankle-length trench coat that billowed as she ran off down the steep path towards the grim-faced big brother, who, it seemed to Reece, was the only one of the family with enough common sense to view him, a total stranger, with even a hint of suspicion.
A heated conversation ensued and, thanks to the broken window and prevailing icy wind, Reece could hear snatches of what they were saying.
‘Give me the keys, Darcy.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Nicky, you’re shattered.’
‘And you’re not?’
A blustery gust snatched away the next section of the conversation but it involved a considerable amount of gesticulation—it seemed to Reece that his colourful neighbours favoured extravagant body language.
‘What if he’s a homicidal psychopath…or a sex maniac? Or worse?’
Reece’s muzzy, throbbing head didn’t immediately make the connection between the sinister character they were discussing and himself until the brother continued in a suspicious growl, ‘…And I’m sure I’ve seen his face somewhere before. Erskine…Erskine…why does that sound familiar…? Don’t laugh, Darce, I’m serious. Your trouble is you’re too damned trusting.’
Under the circumstances, it seemed more than legitimate to eavesdrop. Reece leant casually towards the open window but unfortunately a large dog chose that particular moment to poke his nose through the gap and lick him affectionately on the forehead. He withdrew swiftly to avoid any more displays of overt affection.
‘See!’ he heard the girl cry triumphantly. ‘Wally likes him.’
He assumed the canine approval finally swung it because a few moments later the blonde came jogging energetically down the path towards the car. She fended off the affections of the dog, who bounded over as he saw her coming, and only clicked her tongue in irritation as she brushed off the large muddy paw-prints on her coat.
‘No, Wally, you can’t come today.’
Reece didn’t think he’d miss the large, slobbering dog.
‘Sorry I was so long.’ Darcy’s smile faded as her eyes collided with the large stranger’s green eyes and their gazes meshed. His stare had a heady, narcotic quality, and for a moment Darcy was physically incapable of looking away.
A breathless, confusing moment later she was free of that mesmeric gaze, and other than a heart that was still thudding too fast and loud and a dryness in her throat there were no lasting side-effects. It all happened so fast she wasn’t really sure in retrospect if anything unusual had happened—he certainly wasn’t acting as if it had.
