How very informally polite they were being, Ria thought, now that they were alone together for the first time since he’d kissed her. There was nothing in his expression to suggest that it had crossed his mind since—and how was

she

managing to appear so casual…so completely normal? She’d even stopped herself from blushing—which must be a first.

Susanne James

has enjoyed creative writing since childhood, completing her first—sadly unpublished—novel by the age of twelve. She has three grown-up children who were, and are, her pride and joy, and who all live happily in Oxfordshire with their families. She was always happy to put the needs of her family before her ambition to write seriously, although along the way some published articles for magazines and newspapers helped to keep the dream alive!

Susanne’s big regret is that her beloved husband is no longer here to share the pleasure of her recent success. She now shares her life with Toffee, her young Cavalier King Charles spaniel, who decides when it’s time to get up (early) and when a walk in the park is overdue!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE BOSELLI BRIDE

THE PLAYBOY OF PENGARROTH HALL

THE BRITISH BILLIONAIRE’S INNOCENT BRIDE

Highbridge Manor

Susanne James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

RIA drove slowly towards the entrance of the large Victorian building, the tyres of her elderly car grumbling along the gravel drive. A faint smile played around her lips as she took in the scene…This was the archetypal daunting place of learning, she thought, as she imagined the scores of palefaced children who would have come to this boarding school for the first time, their stomachs churning, their mouths dry. Something she could easily identify with.

The school was a long two-storey building, its two sections separated by a bell tower and, although it had obviously stood for a hundred years or more in this rather remote area of the Hampshire countryside, it looked well-maintained and cared for. The lawns flanking the drive were neat and orderly, with white stones placed at regular intervals along the edge to prohibit the unauthorized parking of cars, and over to the left were the four tennis courts, their nets taut and bristling with the anticipation of four hundred boys coming back for the start of the summer term.

A rush of familiarity filled Ria as she parked a little way away from the pillared-stone entrance and got out of the car. She had spent so much of her own childhood in a boarding school and, although she’d not yet set foot inside Highbridge Manor, she knew it would present her with nothing new. There would be the smell of cleaning materials and polished wood, the distinctive dusty scent of books and paper, and somewhere from away in the distance the unmistakable odour of vegetables being boiled. Not that she would expect there to be any sign of cooking today, she realized, as she reached up to pull the doorbell, because the students were not due to return until next week.

As the heavy door was opened, Ria found herself looking up into the shrewd blue eyes of a smartly dressed woman in a grey skirt and jumper, her reading spectacles pushed up and planted safely on the top of her slightly greying brown hair. Ria instinctively guessed her to be about fifty, her self-assured manner demonstrating a comfortable familiarity with the place.

‘Ah—Ria Davidson?’ The woman’s smile was strangely wary, and Ria answered quickly.

‘Yes. I’ve an appointment with Mr Trent at ten-thirty,’ she said.

There was a pause. ‘We’ve been expecting you. Do come in.’ She gestured for Ria to enter. ‘I’m Helen Brown. I’m the school secretary,’ she added.

Of course you are, Ria thought. You couldn’t be anything else. In her experience, school secretaries were a breed apart—competent, possessive…and scary.

Ria followed Helen along the corridor and into a small room which overlooked the tennis courts.

‘This is my abode, my study,’ Helen said. ‘Do sit down for a moment. I’ll let Mr Trent know you’re here.’ She picked up the phone and dialled an internal number. ‘Miss Davidson has arrived,’ she murmured. ‘Shall I bring her along now?’ Then, ‘Oh, yes, OK—we’ll be with you in ten minutes.’

Glancing at the small clock on the wall in front of her, Ria noticed that it was still only ten-twenty—she’d arrived rather early. But, clearly, Mr Trent was sticking to the arrangement, she thought. Ten-thirty was ten-thirty—not ten-twenty! She sighed inwardly. He was going to be one of those, she thought—a stickler for precise detail.

Helen replaced the receiver. ‘He’s caught up with the caretaker at the moment,’ she said. ‘But he won’t be long.’

Ria sat back, glad of a brief opportunity to find out a few things. ‘The agency only contacted me yesterday about this position,’ she began, and Helen interrupted.

‘I know; it’s been an absolute pain.’ She paused. ‘One of our English tutors left very unexpectedly just before the end of last term—which was somewhat unfortunate, but frankly…’ and, speaking slightly from the corner of her mouth as if she might be overheard, Helen added, ‘…it was something of a blessing in disguise. No tears shed, I can tell you.’ She sighed. ‘We’ve already interviewed three candidates, only one of whom was suitable—and she turned us down! So, we’re in a bit of a fix at the moment.’

‘Yes, I gathered this was a rush job.’ Ria smiled.

‘It’s only a temporary post until the end of next term, in any case—as you know, I’m sure,’ Helen went on. ‘It should be easier to find someone permanent for September.’

‘Have you been here a long time?’ Ria asked Helen.

The woman smiled, studying her well-kept nails for a second. ‘About fifteen years,’ she said, ‘so I feel I’ve earned my apprenticeship!’

‘I understand it’s always been a private school,’ Ria said.

‘Oh, yes—owned and run, very successfully, by the Trent family for as long as the school has been in existence,’ Helen said. ‘Which I think is quite a record of continuity, don’t you?’

Presently, Helen stood up. ‘I think we can go now,’ she said, glancing up at the clock. It was exactly ten twenty-eight.

They walked together along the polished floor of the long corridor, arriving at a door at the end which stated ‘Headmaster’ in bold lettering. Helen knocked timidly and waited and, after a moment, a strong voice answered, ‘Come.’

As she followed Helen inside, Ria had to shade her eyes against the strong sunlight which shafted in through the windows, but as she quickly adjusted her vision she was almost bowled over by the awesome vision of Mr Jasper Trent.

He was

young

—not old at all—which she’d thought he would be, probably only in his late thirties, and was six feet four at least, she guessed, broad-shouldered and well-built, and dressed formally in a dark suit and tie. His black hair was fashionably cut, his strong, bold features dominated by the most all-seeing dark eyes Ria had ever seen in her life. My goodness, she thought; there wouldn’t be any problem with discipline in this school! Would anyone like to argue with Mr Jasper Trent? And, when he spoke, his crisp, authoritative voice answered that question!

‘Miss Davidson? Please come in and sit down,’ he said, the rather solemn features breaking into a brief smile as he came towards Ria. He held out his hand in greeting, clasping hers tightly. Then, ‘Thank you, Helen.’

‘Thank you, Mr Trent,’ Helen said deferentially as she went out, closing the door softly behind her.

Trying hard to quell the anxious fluttering of her heart, Ria sat down on the large leather swivel chair she was offered, while Mr Trent took his own place behind the desk opposite and studied the latest candidate for the post on offer, his unblinking gaze holding Ria almost spellbound.

Two immediate thoughts arose in his mind as he continued looking at her—the first being one of undeniable enchantment, very closely followed by one of intense irritation. This woman was not at all what he had expected, and he frowned, glancing down at the papers in front of him.

‘You will forgive me for beginning by mentioning your age, Miss Davidson,’ he said coolly, ‘but I understood you to be…um…fifty-five years old.’ He paused. ‘Which, clearly, you are not.’

Ria couldn’t help smiling—they’d both got something wrong this morning. ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I am twenty-five.’

‘Well, that’s something we’ve cleared up straight away,’ Mr Trent said flatly and, noting the somewhat discouraging expression on his handsome features, Ria automatically held on to the arms of her chair to stop her hands from shaking. She’d always loathed interviews—and today’s was no exception. Someone might have warned her what—who—to expect! Why had she thought he’d be a kind, fatherly person with grey hair and glasses and a body showing signs of wear and tear?

‘So,’ he went on, ‘Miss Davidson is—twenty-five—and according to the CV which was e-mailed through to me yesterday, you’re a graduate in English, with three years’ teaching experience, together with supply work and some private tutoring…?’

‘Correct,’ Ria said.

‘And you do realize that—if we find each other suitable—the position is only until the end of the present school year?’ Mr Trent went on, his mind rushing ahead as usual. It might have been for longer than that if she proved to be the perfect applicant, he thought, but all his instincts told him that he shouldn’t consider the possibility. Miss Ria Davidson was not only young, she was exquisite. Immaculately turned out in a cream linen suit, her rich auburn hair was coiled up on top and held with a tortoiseshell clip, while her fine buttermilk skin was flawless, her large hazel eyes set in whites of pure snow. Just the sort of woman he did not want on the premises, he told himself emphatically. For all sorts of reasons. He silently cursed the incompetence of the agency which had got her details wrong.

‘I do realize that,’ Ria said in answer to his question. ‘And it fits my own plans exactly…

if we

find each other suitable,’ she amended solemnly.

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Am I allowed to know what your plans are?’ he asked, and Ria shrugged.

‘Oh, they aren’t particularly original, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I have been enmeshed with school life from the age of four, and I suddenly feel the need to escape. So—’ she paused ‘—in September I intend to travel to as many unusual destinations as I can. I have saved up enough to fund myself for about a year, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find teaching work along the way—if I get desperate.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want to leave it any longer or I’ll lose my nerve.’

‘Will you go alone?’ Mr Trent enquired, his gaze flickering briefly at her long slender legs crossed neatly there in front of him.

‘Yes, because unfortunately none of my friends can afford to have the time off,’ Ria said, ‘so I shall have to pluck up my courage. Anyway,’ she added, ‘I expect to meet plenty of ordinary people like me, doing the same thing.’

Several moments passed, during which he appeared to be deep in thought, before he spoke again.

‘You would be required to teach the younger boys,’ he said, ‘and to complete the course already set for them. The Head of Department—Tim Robbinson—would give you full support, naturally.’

Looking back at him steadily, Ria had the impression that the job was as good as hers…if she wanted it. And she couldn’t deny that she did want it!

‘If our salary scale was not acceptable, I imagine that you wouldn’t have come here today,’ he said, glancing down and moving some papers on his desk, and Ria was painfully aware of his strong brown hands and long sensitive fingers.

‘No—I mean, yes—your terms are…acceptable,’ she said quickly.

There was another long pause, then, ‘So…then I’m happy to offer you the post, Miss Davidson,’ he said slowly, putting down the pen he’d been holding and leaning back in his chair. ‘And, if you accept, I am sure you have some questions of your own.’

Ria felt a rush of exhilaration. She’d made it! And, even if it was only to be a very temporary position, it didn’t alter the fact that she’d succeeded. Succeeded in convincing the head of this school that she was worth paying. For the first time during their meeting, Ria felt able to relax and give him the benefit of one of her dazzling smiles.

‘Thank you—and I am pleased to agree,’ she said lightly, adding, ‘The agency gave me one of your brochures, so I don’t think I need to ask you anything—at the moment,’ she added slowly. Now that she was coming here, she thought, she’d take more time to really study the literature regarding this wellestablished place.

He stood up then, obviously relieved that the matter was settled. ‘I’d better show you your accommodation,’ he said. ‘The caretaker has been making sure it’s up to scratch.’

The main thing which had attracted Ria to the post was the fact that a room went with the job, because at the moment she had nowhere of her own in which to live. The lease on the flat she’d shared with her friend Sara had expired, and Sara was about to be married in any case. So, for the moment, the only valid address which Ria had was the parental family home in north London and, although she had her own space there if she needed it, it had never seemed like home. Why should it? She’d spent so little time there. And now, with Diana, her father’s second wife, in control, it seemed less like home than ever.

Mr Trent opened the door for her to go in front of him, then they left the room and walked side by side along the corridor. He glanced down at her, noting the way that the sun’s rays were adding golden lights to the glossiness of her hair.

‘The place is obviously very quiet when the kids are away,’ he remarked, trying to ignore the physical sensations rippling through his body at her closeness. ‘But I try to make the most of it because a lot of noise goes with the job, I’m afraid. This time next week it’ll be a very different matter.’ He steered her around a corner at the far end of the corridor and they began mounting a wide stone staircase.

‘I think anyone who’s been in teaching, even for five minutes, would be impervious to noise and mayhem,’ she said. She paused. ‘But I’ve never worked at an all-boys boarding school before, so maybe I will have to ask for some advice now and then.’ She looked up to find him staring down at her thoughtfully, and Ria coloured up immediately. She hoped that didn’t make her sound pathetic. She swallowed. ‘But I’m sure I’ll soon fit in…’ she added.

He nodded briefly. ‘Everyone needs advice from time to time,’ he said.

No more was said, and in a moment or two he unlocked a door at the end of the row and, going inside, Ria gazed around her, not believing her luck. This was not just a room—it was a small, well-contained flat! She followed Mr Trent as he showed her the tiny sitting room containing two armchairs and a round coffee table, a desk, bookcase and television set and, slightly cut off in one corner, what passed for a kitchen. It had a minute sink, a neat fridge, a kettle and a toaster and a microwave. It was just perfect for one person to eat casually, she thought, already sensing that she would feel at home here. The en suite bathroom adjoining the compact bedroom was the finishing touch. And she was going to have the place all to herself! What more did anyone need? She looked up gratefully.

‘This is lovely,’ she said. ‘Far nicer than I expected,’ she added truthfully, and he shrugged.

‘It’s very important for the staff to feel comfortable while they’re working here,’ he said. ‘By the way, as a general rule, the staff have their main evening meal together in the dining room, but it’s entirely up to you. Sometimes you may have work to complete and would prefer to eat alone in your room—which is why there are basic facilities here.’

‘Do all the staff live in?’ Ria asked, wandering over to the window to admire the tranquil view.

‘No—only about half of them, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘The rest live close enough to do the daily commute.’

Presently, they made their way back downstairs and Mr Trent accompanied Ria to the entrance door, just as Helen emerged from her room.

‘Ah, Helen—Miss Davidson will be taking up her post next week,’ he said, and the woman smiled a rather strange little smile.

‘Oh, good,’ she said, and Ria looked at her quickly. She didn’t know quite what to make of Helen Brown—was she friend…or foe? Too early to tell, she thought.

‘I’ll sort out all the formal stuff with the agency,’ Helen said primly, going back into her room.

Outside, it was pleasantly warm as the two made their way to Ria’s car, and she looked longingly at the tennis courts. She’d love a game now, she thought—to get some air into her lungs and to clear her head, which had felt distinctly dizzy since meeting Mr Trent.

Holding the car door open for her, he said, ‘Do you have far to go? I don’t think I was told where you live…’

‘Actually, I’m homeless at the moment,’ Ria said lightly. ‘But a friend has been putting me up at her house in Salisbury for a few days.’ She smiled. ‘I expect she’ll be quite glad to know that I’ve got somewhere else to live for a bit.’

She looked up uncertainly. He didn’t seem in any hurry to go, but just stood there, leaning his arm on the open car door, his other hand thrust casually in his pocket.

‘So,’ he said, ‘are you going back to Salisbury straight away?’

‘Um…I don’t know. I haven’t really decided,’ Ria said. She hadn’t thought further than the morning’s interview.

‘Well, perhaps we’d better have some lunch,’ he said. ‘There are several decent places around here, and you’ll need to get to know the area.’

That was the most unexpected invitation she’d had in a long time! And, after she was about to graciously refuse—this man was going to be her boss, after all; she didn’t want to get too cosy!—something made Ria change her mind.

‘Well…thanks,’ she said simply. ‘That’s…very kind. Thank you,’ she repeated.

He did stand back then. ‘Hop out,�

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