Kitabı oku: «Undressed by the Billionaire», sayfa 3

Her nipples responded with indecent eagerness to this brief contact with him, just as a fresh flurry of car horns started up on shore. Who could blame the drivers? Savannah thought. The sight of a decidedly scruffy girl in an ill-fitting evening dress onboard a fabulous powerboat in the middle of the afternoon with a clearly influential man of some considerable means would naturally cause a sensation in Rome. But why couldn’t Ethan notice her?

‘What’s wrong?’ he said when he straightened up, and then his stare swept the line of traffic. One steely look from him was all it took for the cars to speed up again. ‘Will this do?’ he said, turning back to Savannah. He thrust a scrunched-up nondescript bundle at her.

The shirt was maybe twenty sizes too large, Savannah saw as she shook it out, but in the absence of anything else to wear she’d have to go with it. Plus it held the faint but unmistakeable scent of Ethan’s cologne. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you.’ Slipping it on, she realised it brushed her calves, but at least she was decent. She pulled the shirt close and, inhaling Ethan’s scent deeply, gave a smile of true contentment, the first she’d unleashed that day.

He was stunned by the sight of Savannah wearing his shirt. She looked … adorable. She looked, in fact, as he imagined she might look if they had just been to bed together. Her hair was mostly hanging loose now, and the make-up she’d worn for her appearance on the pitch was smudged, which made her eyes seem huge in her heart-shaped face, and her lips appeared bruised as if he’d kissed them for hours. His shirt drowned her, of course, but knowing what was underneath didn’t help his equilibrium any. Hard to believe he had looked at her properly, critically, for the first time just a few moments ago when she’d asked for the shirt. Nothing on earth would have induced him to stare at her out on the pitch where she’d been at such a disadvantage. But now? Now he couldn’t take his eyes off her fuller figure.

Savannah tensed guiltily as unexpectedly Ethan’s gaze warmed. What was he thinking—that she was a fat mess? A nuisance? As sophisticated as a sheep? Before her imagination could take her any further, she took her seat. ‘I’m on it,’ she assured Ethan when he glanced at the harness.

She couldn’t do the darn thing up. And now Ethan was giving her the type of superior male appraisal that got right up her nose.

‘I don’t seem to have the knack,’ she admitted with frustration. Maybe because her hands were shaking with nerves at being in such close proximity to Ethan.

‘Would you like me to fasten it for you?’ Ethan offered with studied politeness.

As he leaned over to secure the catch for her, Savannah felt like she was playing with fire. Ethan’s hair was so thick and glossy she longed to run her fingers through it. And he smelled so good. His touch was so sure, and so … disappointingly fast. She looked down. The clasp was securely fastened. ‘Is that it?’

‘Would you like there to be something more?’

As he asked the question Savannah thought Ethan’s stare to be disturbingly direct. ‘No, thank you,’ she told him primly, turning away on the pretence of tossing her tangled hair out of her eyes. But even as she was doing that Ethan was lifting his overlarge shirt onto her shoulders from where it had slipped.

‘Are you sure you’re warm enough?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Only it can be cold out on the river.’

Or hot to sizzling. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’ Each tiny hair on the back of her neck had stood to attention at his touch, and it was a real effort not to notice that Ethan had the sexiest mouth she had ever seen. She would have to make sure she stared unswervingly ahead for the rest of the boat ride.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘NOW what are you doing?’ Ethan demanded. He had just opened up the throttle, and as the boat surged forward it pitched and yawed; Savannah had chosen that very moment to shed her harness, which forced him to throttle back.

‘I’m calling my parents.’

‘Calling your—?’ He was lost for words. ‘Not now!’ he roared back at her above the scream of the boat’s engine.

‘They’ll be worried about me.’

This was a concept so alien to him it took him a moment to respond. ‘Sit down, Savannah, and buckle up.’ He spoke with far more restraint than he felt and, after congratulating himself on that restraint, he conceded in the loud voice needed to crest the engines, ‘You can speak to them later.’

She reluctantly agreed, but he detected anxiety in her tone. He also detected the same desire to protect Savannah he’d felt out on the pitch, except now it had grown. His intention to remain distant and aloof, because she was young and innocent and he was not, was dead in the water. There was too much feminine warmth too close. ‘I’ll speak to them,’ he said, wanting to reassure her.

Savannah was right, he conceded, her parents must be worried about her, having seen everything unfold on television. ‘You can speak to them after I do,’ he said. ‘But for now sit down.’ And on this there could be no compromise.

Even Savannah couldn’t defy that tone of voice, and he made sure she was securely fastened in before picking up speed again. It amused him to see she had pushed back the sleeves on his overly large shirt and pulled it tightly around her legs, as if she felt the need to hide every bit of naked flesh from him. He supposed he could see her point of view. They were diametrically opposed on the gender scale. He was all man and she was a distraction. Fixing his attention to the river, he thrust the throttles forward.

‘This is wonderful!’ she exclaimed excitedly as the powerboat picked up speed and the prow lifted from the water.

It pleased him to see her looking so relaxed, and he even allowed himself a small smile as he remembered her jibe about opposing thumbs. There was a lot more to Ms Ross than the circumstance of their first meeting might have led him to suppose.

What exactly that might be was for some other man to discover, though, because this was strictly a taxi service to get Savannah out of harm’s way as fast as he could.

Oh, yes, it was, he argued with his unusually quarrelsome inner voice.

She was only here because she had no other option, Savannah reassured herself as the powerboat zoomed along the river. She was glad she’d been able to catch the rope and prove to Ethan she wasn’t completely helpless—after the debacle at the stadium she certainly needed something to go right, but she still had some way to go. She cupped her ear as he said something to her. It was so hard to hear anything above the rhythmical pounding of the boat.

‘You’re not feeling seasick, are you?’

‘On the river?’ she yelled back. This riposte earned her a wry look from Ethan that made her cheeks flame. He might be stern and grim, but she still thought he had the most fantastic eyes she had ever seen, and there was some humour in there somewhere. It was up to her to dig it out. But for now … To escape further scrutiny, she dipped her head to secure the strap on her sandals.

‘You can’t put those on here.’

Savannah’s head shot up. ‘But my feet are filthy. Surely you don’t want them soiling your pristine deck?’

‘I don’t want them anywhere near me,’ Ethan assured her, which for some reason made Savannah picture her naked feet rubbing the length of Ethan’s muscular thighs and writhing limbs entwined on cool, crisp sheets.

Swallowing hard, she quickly composed herself whilst tucking her feet safely away beneath the seat. Such a relief she had Ethan’s shirt to wrap around her; Madame’s gown was split to kingdom come, and what little modesty she had left she had every intention of hanging on to.

But as the river rushed past the side of the boat, and Savannah thought about the flicker of humour she’d seen in Ethan’s eyes, modesty began to feel like a handicap. If only she knew how to flirt …

Flirt? Fortunately, she wouldn’t be given a chance. Savannah’s sensible inner self breathed a sigh of relief as at that moment Ethan looked behind them. He must think they were still being followed, Savannah reasoned. She did too. The paparazzi would hardly have given up the chase. But she felt safe with Ethan at the helm. With his sleeves rolled back, revealing hard-muscled and tanned forearms, he gave her confidence—and inner flutters too. In fact the sight of these powerful arms was apparently connected to a cord that ran from her dry throat to a place it was safer not to think about.

Had she lost her grip on reality altogether?

With every mile they travelled she was moving further and further away from everything that was safe and familiar into a shadowy world inhabited by a man she hardly knew. As the boat spewed out a plume of glittering foam behind them, Savannah couldn’t shake the feeling she was racing into danger, and at breakneck speed.

There were many things he could do without in life, and of all them this fluffy thing in the oversized shirt was top of his list—though Savannah could be feisty. She had a stinging retort, for example, should she wish to use it. Far from that being a negative, he found it very much in her favour. She was also a real family girl, and, given that her parents would have undoubtedly seen everything unfolding live on television in their front room she had kept a cool head and thought not of herself but of them. A quick glance revealed her checking her feet. No doubt her pedicure was ruined. She was the smoothest, most pampered and perfect person he’d ever met, and possessed the type of wholesomeness that could only be damaged by him.

Feeling his interest, she looked up. He should be glad they couldn’t hold a conversation above the thundering of the hull on the water. He had no small talk for her; he’d lived alone too long. His passion for rugby, one of the roughest contact-sports known to man, defined him. The majority of his business dealings were conducted on construction sites, where he loved nothing more than getting his hands dirty.

He was well named the Bear, and the contrast between him and Savannah was so extreme it was almost laughable; only the music they both loved so much provided a tenuous link between them. Forced to wrench the wheel to avoid some children fooling around in a dinghy, he was surprised at the way his body reacted when Savannah grabbed hold of him to steady herself.

‘Sorry!’ she exclaimed, snatching her hand away as if he’d burned her.

He was the one who’d been burned. Savannah was playing havoc with his slumbering libido and, instead of shouting at her to sit down, he found himself slowing the boat to check that she was all right.

‘I am now,’ she assured him, and then they both turned around to make sure the children were okay.

As their eyes briefly clashed he was conscious of the ingenuous quality of her gaze. It warmed him and he lusted after more of that feeling. He needed innocence around him. And yet he could only sully it, he reminded himself. But he hadn’t meant to frighten her, and it didn’t hurt to take a moment to reassure her now.

‘You’re not such a baddy, are you?’ she said to his surprise.

In spite of his self-control his lips twitched as he shrugged. A baddy? He had to curb the urge to smile. He’d shut himself off from all that was soft and feminine for too long. Living life by his own very masculine rules and preferences, he hadn’t been called upon to take anyone else’s feelings into account for quite some time. And a woman like Savannah’s? Never. ‘A baddy,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve never been called that before.’

It was as if she saw him differently from everyone else on the planet. He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Paying close attention to the river, he didn’t look at her, but he knew that she was smiling too.

No sooner had he begun to soften towards Savannah than he reverted to coldly examining the facts. Did he need this sort of distraction in his life? Savannah was very young and had a lot of growing up to do. Did he want the attention of the world centred on him, when he’d successfully avoided publicity for so long? He’d gone to the match with the sole intention of supporting his friends in the England squad, and it was them who should be getting the attention, not him. He felt a stab of something reprehensible, and recognised it as envy. The days when he’d hoped to play rugby for England weren’t so far away, but the past could never be recaptured. He had learned to adapt and change direction since then; he’d moved on. But the facts remained: the injuries he’d sustained during a prolonged beating by a gang of thugs had meant the club doctors had been unable to sign the insurance documents he needed to play his part in the professional game. And so his career had come to an abrupt and unwanted end.

But none of this was Savannah’s fault. He might be drawn to her, but he wouldn’t taint her with his darkness. He would fight the attraction he felt for her. Some might say he needed a woman like Savannah to soften him, but he knew that the last thing Savannah needed in her life was a man like him.

‘I’m sorry you’ve missed the match, Ethan.’

The river was quieter here and he cut the engines. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll watch the replay on television later.’

‘But you can’t detect the scent of excitement on a screen,’ she said with concern.

Or feel the ravages of failure, the blaze of triumph … Yes, he knew that, but he was surprised Savannah did. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘Yes it is,’ she said, pulling a face that made him think how pretty she was. ‘You’d be there now if it wasn’t for me.’ Frowning with concern, she began plucking threads from his ancient shirt.

He didn’t prolong the exchange. He didn’t like people getting close to him. He was a bear licking his wounds in the shadows, full of unresolved conflict and bitterness, and chose not to inflict himself on anyone—least of all an innocent young girl like Savannah.

‘Watching England play must be both a passion and a torment for you.’

Why wouldn’t she let it rest?

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, accepting she meant no harm by these comments and was only trying to make conversation. It was public knowledge that the damage to his spine had ended his career. Lifting he could do, running he could do, but to risk another knock, another blow …

‘You could let me off here, if it’s quicker for you.’

He followed her gaze to a nearby landing stage. ‘I could let you swim to the far bank,’ he offered dryly. ‘That might save some time.’

Her expression lifted, which pleased him. He didn’t want to intimidate her, though his appearance must have done that already. Mooring up and calling a cab to take her to the airport was what he should do. He should let her go.

But the decision was taken out of his hands by the sound of rotor blades. The paparazzi’s helicopter was still some way off, but it was approaching fast. There was no time to do anything more than hit the throttle and tell Savannah to hold on.

‘They’ve found us?’ she shouted above the roar of the engines.

Oh, yes. The race was back on. And no way was he going to let them catch her. ‘Yes, they’ve found us,’ he confirmed grimly. ‘Sit tight.’

The spray was in her hair, her eyes, and her knuckles had turned white with holding on. If she’d been nervous before, she was terrified now. It was one thing showing a brave face to the world when things were going well, but the black, menacing shadow of the paparazzi helicopter would soon beam a travesty of the true situation around the world. Adding fuel to the paparazzi’s fire, she was forced to cling to Ethan as he pushed the powerboat to its limits, because he was the only stable element in a world that was tipping and yawing as the currents played bat and ball with their hull.

Nothing had gone right for Ethan since she’d turned up in Rome, Savannah thought guiltily, and though he hardly knew her he had insisted on fighting her corner in spite of the personal cost to him. He must be wondering what he’d done to deserve such aggravation!

CHAPTER FIVE

AS A surge of water threw the delicately balanced boat off kilter, Ethan fastened his arm protectively around Savannah’s shoulders. At first she tensed, but then slowly relaxed. Ethan had no idea how profoundly his protective instinct affected her. Coming from a man as cold as he was, his smallest touch bore the intensity of a kiss. She could get used to this physical closeness all too easily. But they would soon reach the airport, she would fly home, and she would be nothing more than a tiresome memory to him. But at least the helicopter was wheeling away. ‘Fuel shortage?’ she suggested hopefully.

‘I think you’re being a little over-optimistic,’ Ethan said as he powered back the engines. ‘My best guess is they got the photographs they came for and their work is done.’

‘How can you be so calm about it? Don’t you care?’

‘I don’t waste time regretting things that can’t be changed.’

‘But they breached your privacy. Won’t you make some sort of protest?’

Her heart jolted to see Ethan’s lips tug in a smile. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting I should try to curb the freedom of the press?’

‘Of course not, but.’

‘But?’ he pressed.

‘Well, I just can’t roll over.’

‘You don’t have to,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s happened and I’ll deal with it.’

‘Okay, well, my parents are going to be devastated. What if the press are there right now, hammering on their door? Ethan, I have to call them.’

He couldn’t imagine anyone else on earth in this predicament thinking of placing an international call, but he was fast learning that Savannah’s first thought was always for others, and he envied the loving relationship she obviously enjoyed with her parents and would never stand in the way of it. ‘I’ll speak to them first to reassure them, and then you can speak,’ he suggested, warming to her.

‘Would you really do that?’

Her relief made him think he should have done it sooner. ‘Number?’

As she recited it he punched it in to his mobile phone, and it occurred to him that Savannah must have no idea how lucky she was to have a loving family.

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said several minutes later when she had finished speaking to her mother.

‘I wanted to,’ he admitted. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ he added sternly when Savannah’s face softened into a smile.

‘It was very kind of you.’

‘It was nothing,’ he argued, turning his attention back to sailing the boat. ‘All I did was point out that my legal team will handle any press intrusion, and reassure your parents that they mustn’t worry because you were safe with me.’

‘You gave them your private number.’

‘How else are they supposed to call me?’

‘Well, thank you,’ she said sincerely.

‘Your mother seemed reassured,’ he said, unbending a little. His reward was to see Savannah’s face softening into a smile.

Her mother had been reassured, Savannah reflected with relief. Her romantic mother had always been a sucker for a strong man, though she preferred them safely corralled on the cover of a book or on a screen at the cinema, and kept a well-trained beta hero at home. She wondered if her mother would be quite so reassured if she could see Ethan in the flesh.

‘I have another call to make,’ Ethan told her, turning away.

As Ethan stood in profile his scars were cruelly exposed, and it appalled her to think one person could do that to another. But surely it couldn’t have been one person—it had to have been more—a gang, maybe? She’d felt a fraction of Ethan’s strength today and he was bigger, stronger and fitter than most men. What kamikaze group of yobs would have dared to take him on?

Trained yobs—professional thugs, truly evil men—was the only conclusion she could possibly come to. No casual attack could result in such serious injuries. But who would pay such men to beat Ethan so severely he’d nearly lost his life and had lost his sporting career? Professional rugby might be a highly competitive sport, but it was hardly a killing ground.

As Ethan finished his call and stowed the phone, turning the wheel to negotiate a bend in the river, Savannah was wondering if the person behind Ethan’s beating also accounted for the darkness in his eyes. If so Ethan carried far more scars than were visible to the naked eye. ‘Are we going to the airport?’ she said, noticing he was steering the boat towards a tributary.

‘To the airport first, and then to my place in Tuscany—just until the heat dies down.’

‘To Tuscany?’ She was feeling more out of her depth than ever.

‘Unless you’d prefer me to leave you to the mercy of the press?’

Savannah’s heart turned over as Ethan looked at her. How childish he must think her. Women would scratch each other’s eyes out for the chance to be with Ethan like this, and yet she had sounded so apprehensive at the prospect of staying with him. ‘I don’t want to be left to that pack of hounds,’ she confessed. ‘But I’ve put you out so much already.’

‘So a little more trouble won’t hurt me,’ Ethan reassured her dryly.

Maybe his lack of enthusiasm didn’t match up with her fantasies, but what Ethan had suggested was a sensible solution. And his place in Tuscany sounded so romantic—such a pity it would be wasted on them. ‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be easier for you if I just fly home?’

‘If you do that you won’t be able to take advantage of the security I can provide. It would take me quite some time to get the same level of protection set up for you in England, which is why I’ve made some arrangements for your parents.’

‘Arrangements? What arrangements?’ Savannah interrupted anxiously.

‘I decided a cruise would take them well out of the range of prying eyes.’

‘A cruise?’ She gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be serious?’

‘You mean you booked a holiday for them?’

‘It’s the best solution I could come up with,’ he said, as if booking fabulously expensive trips was nothing unusual for him.

Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. ‘You have no idea what this will mean to them. I can’t remember the last time they went away—or even if they ever have been away from the farm.’

‘The farm?’

‘I live on a farm.’ She shook her head, full of excitement. ‘You must have seen my address on file?’

‘Lots of addresses have the word “farm” in them. It doesn’t mean a thing.’

‘Well, in this instance it means a great deal,’ she assured him, turning serious. Savannah’s voice had dropped and emotion hung like a curtain between them, a curtain Ethan swiftly brushed aside.

‘Well, I’m pleased I’ve made the appropriate arrangements.’

‘Oh, you have,’ Savannah said softly, thinking of all the times she’d wished she could have sent her exhausted parents away for a break, but she had never had the money to do so. Their grief when they’d lost their herd of dairy cows to disease had exacted a terrible toll, and they’d only survived it thanks to the support of the wonderful people who worked alongside them. Those same people would stand in for them now, allowing them to take the holiday they deserved.

‘You’ve no idea what you’ve done for them,’ Savannah assured Ethan.

He brushed off her thanks, as Savannah had known he would. But because of his generosity she thought he deserved to be wholly in the picture, and so she told him how her parents had stood by and watched their whole herd being slaughtered—animals they’d known by name.

‘That must have cost you all dearly,’ he observed, looking at her closely. ‘And not just in financial terms.’

It was a rare moment between them, but Ethan scarcely gave her a chance to enjoy it before switching back to practicalities. He treated emotion like an enemy that must be fought off at every turn, Savannah thought as Ethan told her that her bags would probably arrive at the palazzo before she did.

‘Just a minute,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘Did you say “the palazzo”?’ Of all the day’s surprises, this was the biggest. Ethan had just turned all her points of reference on their head. As far as Savannah was concerned, a palazzo was somewhere people who existed on another planet lived.

‘There are a lot of palazzos in Tuscany,’ Ethan explained, as if it were nothing, but as Savannah continued to stare incredulously at him he finally admitted, ‘Okay, so I’ve got a very nice place in Tuscany.’

‘You’re a very lucky man,’ she told him frankly.

In the light of what Savannah had just told him about her parents’ hardships, he had no doubt that was true. At least they’d be able to put plenty of space between each other at the palazzo, he reminded himself thankfully.

‘Tell me about your palazzo.’

Finding he was staring at her lips as she spoke, he turned away. ‘Later,’ he said, relieved to see his driver waiting exactly where he had asked him to, by the landing stage. He waved to the man as he cut the engines and allowed the powerboat to glide into shore. ‘We’ll disembark first, and then I’ll tell you more about it when we’re on my jet.’

But she was back on the ground and in the back of a second limousine before Ethan turned to answer her questions.

‘The name of the palazzo?’ he resumed, leaning over from the front seat where he sat next to the driver. ‘The Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati.’

‘That’s quite a name.’ Savannah laughed as she tried to say it, stumbling over the unfamiliar Italian words, acutely conscious as she did so that Ethan was watching her lips move.

‘Not bad,’ he said, congratulating her on her accent.

‘What does it mean?’ Savannah found that she badly wanted to hold Ethan’s attention.

‘It means “the Palace of the Golden Sunset”.’

He hadn’t meant to enter into conversation with her, but how could he not when she glowed with pleasure at the smallest thing? It reminded him, of course, of how very young she was, but even so he couldn’t subdue the urge to tell her about a home he loved above all his others.

‘It sounds so romantic!’ she exclaimed, her eyes turning dreamy.

‘Yes, it’s a very old and very beautiful building.’ He knew he was being drawn in, but he would never forget his first sight of the palazzo, and he’d had no one to share it with before. ‘The towers glow rose-pink at sunset,’ he explained, though he left out the emotional angle, which had entailed a longing to own the ancient palazzo that had come from the depths of his soul.

‘The palazzo is located in a glorious valley blessed with sunlight, and the medieval village surrounding it is inhabited by wonderful people who appreciate the simple things in life.’ And who had taken him to their heart, he remembered with gratitude. As he tried to convey something of this passion to Savannah without becoming overly sentimental, she remained silent and alert, as if what he didn’t say told her everything she needed to know.

She confirmed this, saying softly when he had finished, ‘You’re even luckier than I thought.’

‘Yes, well …’ He left the statement hanging, feeling he’d gone too far. He wasn’t a man to brag about his possessions, or even mention them.

Ethan was full of surprises. His sensitivity was obvious once he started talking about the palazzo. He flew planes, he rode bikes, he drove powerboats, and he had a perfect command of the Italian language. The thought that he did everything well and was capable of such passion sent a frisson of arousal shimmering through her.

Which she would put a stop to right away! Savannah’s sensible inner voice commanded. It was one thing to fantasise about sexual encounters with Ethan, but quite another to consider the reality of it when she was saving her virginity for some sensible, ‘steady Eddie’ type of bloke, and then only when they were married.

‘Are you too warm?’ Ethan asked, misreading the flush that rose to her cheeks as she moved restlessly on the seat. ‘I can easily adjust the temperature for you.’

Savannah bit her lip to hide her smile.

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded suspiciously.

What was so funny? Ethan was the man most women had voted to go to bed with, and she was the woman most men had decided not to go to bed with—that was funny, wasn’t it?

‘I asked you a question, Savannah.’

The easy atmosphere that had so briefly existed between them had suddenly gained an edge.

‘Is it my scars?’ he pressed. ‘Do they make you nervous?’

Ethan had read her all wrong, Savannah realised. He was so far off the mark, she shook her head in shock. ‘Of course they don’t.’ It was no use, because Ethan wasn’t listening.

‘Is that why you’re trying so hard not to laugh?’ he demanded.

‘I’ve told you, no!’ She held his gaze. There must be no doubt over this. She would be the first to admit she was overawed by Ethan, and that he even frightened her a little, but those feelings were all tied up in his worldliness contrasted with her own inexperienced sexual-self, and had not the slightest connection with his scars. If he thought she was shallow enough to be intimidated by them … Savannah shook her head with disgust at the thought. As far as she was concerned, Ethan’s terrible scars were just a reminder that even the strongest tree could be felled. ‘I see the man, not the scars,’ she told him bluntly.

In the confines of the limousine his short, disbelieving laugh sounded cruel and hard.

That had to come from some memory in his past, Savannah reassured herself, refusing to rise to the bait. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, she was learning, and to persuade Ethan she was more than the fluffy girl he thought her would take action, not words. She had been raised on a working farm and knew the value of hard work. She was used to getting her hands dirty and wasn’t frightened of much.