Jenefer glanced up from the list of provisions they needed. She knew Maggie was busy in the kitchen but surely Treeve had heard? The tattoo was repeated indicating otherwise. So where was he? Rarely where he was needed. Sighing Jenefer hurried out into the hall. As she opened the front door her breath caught in her throat. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ The words spilled out before she could stop them. He had been so much in her thoughts though she had tried hard to dislodge him. Now here he was in person: formidable, unnerving. ‘And a good morning to you too, Miss Trevanion.’ Lifting one dark brow Devlin made a mocking bow. Angry with herself Jenefer tried not to think about her burning face, the hot colour that signalled his effect on her as clearly as if she were waving a flag. ‘I beg your pardon. I thought – I wasn’t expecting –’ She bit her lip then took a deep breath. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Varcoe?’ He smiled.
