Kitabı oku: «Their Engagement is Announced», sayfa 3
Griffin burst out laughing, uncaring of the female heads that turned his way as he did so. ‘Take my advice, Izzy, and never take up acting—you’re lousy at it!’
‘But surely it is interesting?’ She hurriedly tried to rectify what he had obviously taken as an insult. This place, or being called Izzy, must be having a strange effect on her; she wasn’t usually so outspoken! ‘I’ve always wanted to travel,’ she added wistfully, knowing that while she worked for her father she probably never would, other than on business trips like this one. And she only made those because her father now felt he was too old for making such long drives himself.
When she was younger Dora had imagined she would perhaps take a year out after finishing school and before taking up a course at university, but her mother’s death, and the need for her at home, meant that that had never happened. And now, with her father and herself both working in the shop, they had necessarily to take separate holidays. Most of Dora’s friends were now either married or had moved away from the area, and it didn’t feel right, nor would it be as much fun, for her to travel on her own. And so her holidays were usually spent at home.
Although travelling for a living, while it might be fun to start with, must surely become boring after a while…
‘It can be interesting.’ Griffin shrugged. ‘Although my family keep asking me when I’m going to get a ‘‘proper’’ job!’
From what Griffin had said about his family, his mother in particular, Dora had the feeling he was quite happy to continue as he was—if it managed to annoy his family at the same time as providing him with a living!
Dora couldn’t imagine living with such tension between herself and the only living member of the family she had left: namely her father. She preferred life to run smoothly and comfortably, not to be in constant conflict with those around her. Griffin gave every impression of not giving a damn about who he upset!
Her mouth twisted wryly. ‘I’m sure they must be proud of you.’ After all, he must be quite good at what he did, otherwise he wouldn’t still be in employment.
‘And I’m damned sure they’re no such thing!’ he returned unconcernedly.
Dora took another sip of her wine. In fact, she seemed to sip rather a lot of wine during the next couple of hours as they enjoyed their meal, and Griffin ordered another bottle halfway through their main course.
Dora wasn’t sure it was exactly prudent to drink any more wine, but she wasn’t driving, and she really was quite enjoying herself. Griffin was genuinely interesting as he told her some of the funnier stories of his travels, and she didn’t want to refuse the wine and so put a dampener on their evening. Even Derry, as he wandered about the place, didn’t seem quite as big and frightening as he had earlier. In fact, he seemed to have decided he quite liked her, coming to lie on the carpeted floor at her feet.
‘Five feet nothing, and yet you seem to have some sort of power over rogue males,’ Griffin murmured thoughtfully.
Dora gave him a sharp look, searching for some sort of hidden meaning in his comment—or one that wasn’t so hidden! There was no doubting that Griffin was male, a fact that her racing pulse had been telling her all evening, and as for rogue—he was the most unorthodox man she had ever met! He had made no effort to dress for dinner, and was still wearing his denims. He’d swapped his black tee shirt for a green one, which seemed to darken the colour of his eyes, adding to their enigmatic depth. Those eyes combined with that over-long blond hair made him very much a ‘rogue male’ himself. But perhaps that wasn’t what he had meant…?
‘It was exactly what I meant, Izzy.’ He sat forward, his expression suddenly intense as he reached out and clasped one of her hands in his own. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’ he muttered grimly.
She swallowed hard. He was playing with her; he had to be. In fact, she had been wondering all evening why a man like him should choose to have dinner with someone as ordinary as herself. In the end she had decided he was having dinner with her because there was simply no one else here for him to have dinner with!
‘Hampshire, actually.’ She deliberately misunderstood him.
Oh, she was tempted, so very tempted—what woman wouldn’t be?—to go along with his flirtation, just once in her life to forget—
But, no! She was Isadora Baxter—Dora, who had never been involved in a serious relationship in her life—and she was not about to jump into a flirtatious fling now with a man she had only met for the first time this morning. A man who was the complete opposite of everything she had ever looked for in a man. She wanted someone sober, hardworking—a son-in-law that would at last make her father proud of her.
Her father loved her, she knew that he did, it was just that he’d always wanted a son, and having another child had been an impossibility after Dora was born. So it had always been Dora’s wish to give him the next best thing; a son-in-law he could be proud of. She knew he would be horrified at her attraction towards a man like Griffin Sinclair!
‘Would you like coffee now, or shall we wait until after our walk?’
Walk? What walk? She didn’t remember him mentioning the two of them going for a walk, let alone her own agreement to the idea. ‘I—’
‘It’s a beautiful evening, Dora,’ Griffin added encouragingly, standing up to pull back her chair for her.
Dora stood up. She was feeling too mellow—from drinking too much good wine, she freely admitted—to be bothered to argue the point. Besides, the night air might clear her head.
She shivered slightly as they got outside. ‘I thought you said it was a beautiful evening,’ she said ruefully.
‘Beautiful doesn’t necessarily mean warm!’ he chuckled. ‘Here.’ He took off his jacket and draped it about her shoulders, lightly grasping her arm as they walked across the forecourt and into the gardens beyond.
Dora tried desperately not to react to the lightness of his touch, which wasn’t very easy when wrapped in the warmth of his jacket; the material smelled of him, a mixture of maleness and his aftershave. It wasn’t doing anything to clear her head, either!
She sat down at one of the picnic tables placed around the garden, lit by the lamps placed strategically to emphasise the flowers and topiary. Unfortunately for her already shaky senses, Griffin chose to sit down next to her, so close that the warmth of his breath stirred the hair at Dora’s temple.
And yet she couldn’t seem to move away. She seemed to be held there mesmerised by the dark intensity of his gaze. And so she used the only line of defence open to her—words!
‘I suppose you’re going to give the hotel a good write-up?’ She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but even as she said the words she knew that she did.
Griffin tilted his head to one side. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ he said mildly.
He knew exactly what she meant; he was just playing with her!
She could feel the hot colour of embarrassment in her cheeks. ‘I just thought, being such a close friend of Fiona’s…’ she mumbled awkwardly.
‘I knew what you meant, Izzy,’ he drawled with amusement. ‘I just wondered if you had nerve enough to say it!’
Her eyes flashed angrily now. ‘Don’t play games with me, Griffin—’
‘Then don’t jump to erroneous conclusions—Izzy,’ he returned hardly. ‘Fiona is a nice woman; I may deserve your derision, but I’m not sure she does!’
Wonderful. Now she felt really awful! But he was right. Her sarcasm hadn’t been directed at the other woman but at this man at her side. Unfortunately, it had backfired on her…
‘They are erroneous conclusions, Izzy,’ Griffin murmured softly as he saw her dismay. ‘Fiona was very much in love with her husband.’
But her husband was dead…
Besides, that explanation didn’t rule out Griffin being attracted to the beautiful widow. And Griffin was a very attractive man—even if he did give the impression he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone!
She swallowed hard. ‘Griffin—’
‘Izzy…!’ he murmured throatily, before kissing her!
And with a passion Dora had never known before!
One minute they were sitting side by side on the bench-seat, the next he had pulled her to her feet, his jacket falling unheeded to the ground by both of them as he moulded her body to his, his mouth laying claim to hers.
For there was no other way to describe the passionate demand of Griffin’s mouth against hers. No gentle caress, no searching for a response, simply taking. As if he had been aware of her compliance all along!
Had she been so obvious in her attraction towards this man? Had she shown from the first how bowled over she was by his rakish good-looks?
Worse, had Griffin taken one look at her, a single woman of twenty-four, not beautiful, but not plain either, and realised she would be an easy conquest for his undoubted charm?
Was that the reason he had so arrogantly arranged for the two of them to have dinner together this evening?
Dora wrenched away from him. ‘That’s enough, Griffin!’ she told him coldly.
He kept his arms firmly about her waist. ‘We’ve barely begun, Izzy,’ he assured her huskily.
She swallowed hard, looking up at him in the glow of the garden lights. Lovemaking with this man, she knew, would be wild and beautiful—everything she had ever dreamed it to be. But he was a stranger, a man on the make—and not for love either!
‘You’re wrong, Griffin—we’ve finished!’ she told him scornfully, pulling completely out of his arms, resisting the impulse to smooth down her hair where seconds ago his fingers had run through it. ‘It’s been a charming interlude—’
His expression hardened, his eyes glacial. ‘Don’t dismiss me like someone you just picked up for the evening.’
‘Then don’t treat me like someone you picked up for the evening, either!’ she came back heatedly, her cheeks burning with humiliated colour. ‘Dinner was enjoyable, the conversation fun—up to a point. But in the morning I go back to my own life, and you’ll return to yours. Don’t delude yourself into thinking this place is reality, Griffin!’ She looked about them pointedly. Even the gardens seemed to have a magic quality to them now: the profusion of spring flowers, the shadowy corners a perfect foil for the house itself.
Griffin still looked down at her with narrowed eyes. ‘And just what is your reality, Izzy?’ he rasped. ‘Is there a man already in your life? Someone you go back to tomorrow?’
Only her father. There didn’t seem to be much time or space for other men in her life at the moment. Her last date had been over a year ago, and, as she recalled, that hadn’t been too successful.
But that didn’t mean she had ruled out the possibility of falling in love, of marrying, of having children. She was only twenty-four, and she had all those natural yearnings; she just hadn’t found the right man to share them with yet.
But that didn’t mean she would settle for indulging in meaningless affairs until she met the right man for her. And there was certainly no room in her life, even briefly, for a man like Griffin Sinclair!
She raised her head, meeting the angry challenge in his expression. ‘Yes, there’s a man in my life,’ she told him curtly, forgiving herself for not being exactly truthful about the role that man had in her life. ‘As I’m sure there are dozens of women in yours’!’ she added insultingly.
‘We weren’t talking about me,’ Griffin grated harshly.
‘Of course not,’ she scorned. ‘I’m sure you never answer those sort of questions about yourself!’ Her anger was bordering on tears now. Tears of dismay. At herself. For allowing Griffin to get even this close to her.
No doubt he would return to his own life eventually, and he wouldn’t even remember meeting someone called Isadora Baxter.
She wasn’t sure she would have the same success in forgetting him. ‘I should go back inside now,’ she said haltingly.
‘Should you?’ He was angry himself now. ‘Why?’ Because this man was disturbing her, was upsetting the even tenor of her life. She should never have agreed to have dinner with him.
‘Because I have an early start in the morning!’ she snapped, turning away.
And with each step she took she expected to find her arm grasped as Griffin turned her angrily back to face him.
It didn’t happen…
By the time Dora reached the sanctuary of her bedroom she was shaking so badly she had to sit down on the side of the four-poster bed. What a fool she’d been. An absolute fool! Griffin Sinclair had just been teasing her after all.
Just how far had he been willing to take it…?
As far as she allowed it to go, Dora realised with a self-disgusted groan.
The sooner she left this hotel, and forgot she had ever met someone called Griffin Sinclair, the better it would be. Most definitely for her, at least.
How could she possibly have known at that time that within six months of her visit to Dungelly Court she would find the ‘right man’ for her; the man she was to marry, to have children with? And that he would turn out to be Griffin Sinclair’s older brother, Charles!
CHAPTER THREE
‘RELAX, for goodness’ sake,’ Griffin chided impatiently. ‘We’re going to a wedding—not an execution!’
Dora sat tensely beside him in the Jaguar sports car. He was right, they weren’t going to an execution, but apart from the occasional coffee with Charlotte, and Griffin’s unexpected visit to the shop four weeks ago, she hadn’t seen any of the Sinclair family since Charles’s funeral. And she had no idea how Margaret Sinclair was going to feel about her presence today. Dora had sent a formal acceptance of her invitation to the wedding, but there had been no response to that, either negatively or positively.
Time and time again in the last few weeks, since she had sent off her letter of acceptance, Dora had been on the point of picking up the telephone and telling Charlotte she couldn’t be at the wedding after all. But while she had known Charlotte might accept her refusal, she had known that Griffin most certainly wouldn’t. And the last thing she’d wanted was another personal call from him, either to the shop or her home. She didn’t feel she’d handled his last visit too well, and she had known that her protestations about attending the wedding would be in vain, anyway; Griffin just refused to accept no for an answer!
And so she’d struggled through the last four weeks without telephoning Charlotte, had even taken Griffin’s advice not to wear black today. Although she had changed her clothes several times, before settling for the tan-coloured dress matched with the cream jacket, leaving her hair loose about her shoulders and her make-up light.
She looked cool and elegant; she was definitely Isadora today. And with one look at Griffin in the formal morning suit as he’d stood on her doorstep twenty minutes ago, she’d known she had to be the ‘cool’ Isadora today!
‘I’m sure it’s going to be a wonderful day,’ she said lightly in dismissive response to his impatient remark. ‘Charlotte will make a beautiful bride.’ Like all the Sinclair children, Charlotte was extremely attractive.
‘It is, and she will,’ Griffin returned dryly. ‘Now, would you kindly stop digging your nails into the edge of your seat? You’ll mark the leather!’
Dora instantly moved her hands self-consciously into her lap, shooting Griffin an irritated glance as he chuckled softly beside her. ‘I’m just a little nervous…’
‘I would never have guessed!’ He grinned at her before turning his attention back to the road, driving the sports car with easy familiarity.
Dora hadn’t known, when they were at Dungelly Court two years ago, what sort of car he drove, but it had come as no surprise to her, when she’d met him again almost a year later, to find that he opted for powerful sports cars.
Charles had driven a Jaguar saloon, much more in keeping with his own image as an up-and-coming politician…
‘It’s all right for you to laugh, Griffin.’ She frowned across at him. ‘Personally, I would rather be going to the dentist to have all my teeth extracted than going to this wedding!’ Especially with you, she could have added, but didn’t. Because she knew damn well that Griffin would try to make something of it if she did!
As far as the rest of the Sinclair family were concerned, including Charles when he was alive, she and Griffin had met for the first time the evening she’d been introduced to him as Charles’s finacée. Not by word or deed had either of them ever betrayed the fact that they were already acquainted with each other.
It had been as if by unspoken agreement that the two of them had met that evening a year ago as if they were complete strangers. Although Dora had known by the determined glint in Griffin’s eyes that he would have a lot more to say on the subject when they were alone together!
And he had; he’d been mockingly derisive of her choice of his brother for her future husband. Although, to give Griffin his due, he’d never told Charles, or any other member of his family as far as she was aware, that the two of them had once spent an enjoyable flirtatious evening together. Or that he had kissed her!
‘Personally—’ he grimaced now ‘—so would I! Weddings bring me out in an allergic rash!’
She had guessed that two years ago, had known then that Griffin wasn’t the marrying kind. But she most certainly was; she’d always wanted a husband, and children of her own. Although she wasn’t so sure that would ever happen now…
Griffin shrugged. ‘Unfortunately someone has to give the bride away, and as I’m the only male in the family eligible to do that, I’m doing it!’
Dora’s eyes widened in dismay at this statement. In all the days and weeks she’d been dreading attending this wedding, she hadn’t considered that Griffin, as her partner for the day, wouldn’t be at her side during the whole thing. But of course he was going to give the bride away; so where did that leave her, Dora, during the course of the ceremony, and indeed during the wedding reception afterwards?
‘We’re going to the house so that you can drive to the church in the car with my mother.’ Griffin lightly answered her panicked thoughts. ‘You’re sitting next to her in the church, too.’
Dora swallowed hard, gripping her hands tightly together in her lap. This was just getting worse and worse by the minute!
‘Let’s face it,’ Griffin added derisively at Dora’s stunned silence, ‘someone has to sit next to her!’
But why Dora?
Griffin might find all this very amusing, but Dora had only ever found Margaret Sinclair daunting, to say the least, even when she’d expected to be the other woman’s daughter-in-law! As a complete outsider now that Charles was dead, she didn’t stand a chance against the other woman’s cold condescending manner.
‘Does she know?’ Dora prompted reluctantly. ‘That I’m to be there at all, I mean?’
Griffin relaxed back in his car seat, long hands easily steering the wheel. ‘Now would I be so unkind as not to have mentioned it?’ he taunted. ‘Unkind to you, I mean,’ he added dryly.
‘In a word—yes!’ Dora came back knowingly. ‘It’s just the sort of thing that would appeal to your warped sense of humour!’
‘My warped sense of humour?’ He gave her a sardonic glance. ‘Who was the one responsible for setting that elderly lady on me at the bookshop last month?’
Dora couldn’t help smiling at the memory. ‘I knew you could handle it,’ she dismissed. ‘If it hadn’t been for the objection of her husband, I think she would have taken you home with her!’
‘There was only one woman I would have consented to go home with that day—and you weren’t asking! No, don’t stop smiling, Izzy,’ he instructed impatiently as she did exactly that. ‘You have a lovely smile,’ he continued chidingly. ‘And there’s no longer a reason why you can’t smile at me,’ he added huskily.
Now that Charles, her fiancé, was dead? But that had never been the reason she wouldn’t smile on him in the past—she hadn’t even known Charles when she and Griffin had first met. The truth of the matter was she and Griffin were too unalike; she was quiet and hard-working, while Griffin was wild and irresponsible.
She turned away to look out the side window of the car, although she actually saw none of the pleasant Hampshire countryside; she was too disturbed by Griffin’s close proximity, and the things he’d just said, to be aware of anything else but him. And she didn’t want to be aware of Griffin. Even if she had once—very briefly!—believed herself half in love with him!
‘How are the alterations going at the shop?’
Dora looked at him blankly for several seconds, surprised—if somewhat relieved!—at the sudden change of subject. ‘Slowly,’ she finally answered him uncomfortably.
The shopfitters were due to come in next week, and she still felt nervous every time she thought of the changes she intended making there. Mainly because they were changes she knew her father, if he’d still been alive, would never have agreed to…
Griffin nodded—as if he understood only too well the reason for her nervousness. ‘Have you bought yourself a television set yet?’ he teased.
She’d been tempted, in the weeks since she had learnt that this man had his own television show. But, strangely enough, that was also the reason she had managed to resist the impulse. She’d made a fool of herself over Griffin once, and had been haunted by the man and his kisses for months afterwards; she did not intend doing it again—even by watching him on television alone in the privacy of her own home!
She had learnt, when she’d entered the Sinclair family as Charles’s fiancée, that everything she had suspected about Griffin that evening at Dungelly Court—the women, the wild lifestyle—was true. Griffin was most definitely the black sheep of the family—everything she had ever shied away from, in fact. He was a womaniser, a wastrel, and had no use for his family whatsoever.
She had firmly pushed to the back of her mind the fact that he was also the most exciting man she’d ever met in her life!
‘I start filming my second series next week,’ Griffin informed her softly—seeming once again to be aware of at least some of her thoughts.
‘That will be nice for you,’ she said uninterestedly. ‘And your mother…?’ she added pointedly.
He laughed huskily. ‘You never give an inch, do you, Izzy?’ he said appreciatively. ‘I’m not sure Charles really knew what he was getting when he became engaged to you!’ He gave a rueful shake of his head.
Dora stiffened. ‘I had every intention of being a good wife to him,’ she returned stiltedly.
‘Izzy, even the best intentions can fall far short of reality,’ Griffin taunted.
‘I have asked you repeatedly to stop calling me Izzy!’ There were two angry spots of colour in her cheeks now. She was furious. Although she wasn’t quite sure why. Because Griffin had mocked her ability to be a good wife to Charles? Or because she feared he might have been right…?
Charles had been everything she could ever have wished or hoped for in a future husband: good-looking, hardworking, ambitious. But, as a result, he had also lacked a little excitement. She had cared for Charles very much, and she’d been sure they would have a happy married life together. And her father had approved of him…
If Charles hadn’t died, they would have been married by now. They might even have been expecting the child they had planned to have as soon as they were husband and wife…
Her anger faded as quickly as it had erupted, and she suddenly found herself on the brink of tears instead.
‘What the hell—?’ Griffin turned the car wheel sharply, bringing the car to a halt on the side of the road before turning in his seat to look at her. ‘Why the hell are you crying, Izzy?’ he rasped incredulously.
‘Why do you think?’ she cried accusingly. ‘The man I was to have married hasn’t been dead a year yet, and—’
‘Tell me about it!’ Griffin muttered disparagingly, obviously thinking of the battle they had had with his mother over the timing of Charlotte’s wedding.
‘And you as good as say I wouldn’t have made him a good wife, anyway!’ Dora continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted her. ‘Just what I wanted to hear, today of all days!’ She began to cry in earnest now, although she was inwardly aware that there was more than a little self-pity in her tears.
A year ago she had been an engaged woman, on the brink of marriage herself. And her father had been alive then, too. In just eleven months she had lost the two most important men in her life.
And what did she have in their stead? This devil of a man who sat beside her now, a man who teased and tormented her at every opportunity!
Griffin’s arms were about her now, as he pulled her to him and buried her face against his neck. ‘All I was trying to say was that you can’t make people happy, Izzy,’ he told her gruffly. ‘I wasn’t getting at you; it was Charles’s self-centred nature I was questioning. You— What did you say?’ he prompted as she muttered something against the hard column of his throat.
‘I said—’ She raised her head to glare at him. ‘I said…’ Her words trailed off as she realised exactly how close they were, with Griffin looking down at her with protective tenderness. Neither was a quality she wanted to associate with this man, and especially not now!
She swallowed hard, her breath caught somewhere in her throat as she looked into the depths of those luminous eyes.
Griffin returned the intensity of her gaze, his face only inches away from hers. ‘You know, Izzy,’ he finally said huskily, ‘when you’re physically aroused, a black ring appears on the edge of the iris of your eyes. I wonder…’ he added softly. ‘I wonder if Charles ever knew that…?’
The full significance of his words took several seconds to penetrate her temporarily befuddled brain. But once they did she pulled angrily away from him, her tears forgotten as she glared the width of the car at him.
How dared he? How dared he imply that Charles had never seen her physically aroused? Griffin knew nothing of her relationship with Charles. Nothing!
She was filled with self-reproach for her moments of weakness. Griffin was a man who accepted no limits, no barriers, not even those of decency. She had been going to marry his brother, his brother who had died, and yet Griffin seemed to make such a mockery of it all.
She turned sharply away from his eyes. ‘You aren’t a nice man, Griffin,’ she told him coldly, wishing he would restart the car now, so that they could be on their way.
To her relief that was exactly what he did, manoeuvring the car back into the flow of traffic before speaking again. ‘I’m going to take your last remark as a compliment, Izzy,’ he drawled.
He would!
She was twenty-six years old, and yet this man reduced her to the actions and thoughts of a juvenile!
She shook her head in self-disgust. ‘Could we just call a truce for today, Griffin?’ she said wearily.
‘Truce?’ He quirked one brow wryly, driving the car with his previous ease.
Dora sighed. ‘As in pretending that we actually like each other!’ This whole scenario was difficult enough, without having to deal with Griffin’s taunts all day as well!
He shrugged. ‘You can pretend if you have to, Izzy. As for me, I’ve always liked you.’
Always? As in from when they had first met at Dungelly Court…?
‘Actually, that’s not strictly true,’ he added thoughtfully, causing Dora to look at him sharply. He looked grim. ‘I didn’t like you very much the day you were introduced to me as Charles’ fiancée,’ he explained reprovingly.
She grimaced. ‘Not good enough, hmm?’
‘Totally unsuitable,’ Griffin snapped. ‘Charles was just a younger version of your father—’
‘Stop it, Griffin!’ She cut in firmly—before he could launch into another round of insults concerning her father! Admittedly he had been a hard man, not given to shows of emotion where his only child was concerned, but he hadn’t always been like that. When her mother had been alive the house had been full of love and laughter; it had only been after her premature death that Dora’s father had seemed to close in on himself and become so unapproachable. ‘I meant that I wasn’t good enough for Charles,’ she firmly corrected Griffin.
‘He wasn’t fit to kiss your shoes,’ Griffin rasped harshly. ‘Let alone the feet inside them!’
‘I—’
‘Why the hell is it that women invariably choose a replica of their father for their life partner?’ he muttered, as if to himself. ‘What was your mother like, Izzy?’ He frowned.
‘Griffin—’
‘Come on, Izzy, humour me,’ he encouraged lightly. ‘Tell me about your mother.’
She drew in a sharp breath. Humouring him was definitely the right way to describe his request; her mother had been dead ten years now, and Dora still missed her…
‘She was beautiful,’ Dora told him.
‘I already knew that bit,’ he dismissed impatiently.
Her eyes were wide. ‘How could you possibly—?’
‘It’s a sure fact that you didn’t get your looks from your father!’ he cut in scathingly. ‘So consequently it has to have been your mother!’
Dora knew there was a compliment in that statement somewhere, no matter how aggressively it had been given, but there was also yet another insult towards her father…
‘We’ll have to save this conversation for another time,’ Griffin muttered before she could form an answer. ‘I hope you’re ready for this,’ he added grimly as he turned the Jaguar on to the long gravel driveway that led up to the Sinclair home.
It was a long, imposing drive, leading to an equally imposing house made of grey stone, its symmetrical windows looking out blankly at the extensive gardens.
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