A Case For Trust Read Free

wouldn’t want to keep you from the celebrations …’
    â€˜How far?’
    Pippa damned herself for all sorts of fool. She’d done the right thing and parked her car at the bottom of the hill below the lighthouse, rather than take one of the limited number of parking spots near the reception venue. She’d expected to sneak away quietly, to be able to change her high heels for the ballet flats in her briefcase before making her way down the treacherous, winding, long—and yes, dark—road to her car. But she wasn’t about to tell Mr Hostile that. She waved vaguely in the direction of the cars behind them. ‘Just over there. I’ll be a few minutes yet, I need to pack up a couple more things. Please, don’t let me keep you from the reception …’
    â€˜You’re not keeping me. I’ll help you pack up.’
    Pippa almost stomped her foot in frustration. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know you from Adam. It’s kind of you to offer, thank you, but I don’t need your help packing up and I’ll be fine getting myself to my car.’
    â€˜I’m Matt Mason. And I’m walking you to your car because I want to tell you some things you’re not going to want anybody else hearing.’
    â€˜Matt Mason ? Justin’s brother Matt?’
    Pippa’s surprise at Mr Hostile’s identity temporarily distracted her from the rest of his statement. She’d heard of Matt, of course she had. He was the eldest of five siblings, the heir to the Mason legal dynasty, a formidable commercial lawyer and … The rest of his words, their implied meaning, caught up with her, and her delighted smile slackened. She looked at him uncertainly. ‘I can’t imagine what you want to talk to me about, Mr Mason, but I’m afraid I can’t discuss my clients with anyone, not even their brothers. It would be unethical—’
    â€˜What would you know about unethical?’ The savage snap confirmed Pippa hadn’t imagined his earlier hostility. ‘You call yourself an accredited marriage celebrant, you purport to have some training in psychology and relationship counselling—oh yes, I’ve seen your website, Ms Lloyd—but you have a curious interpretation of ethical conduct when you commence affairs with your clients and destroy their relationships.’
    Alternately bewildered and horrified by his accusation, frightened by the barely suppressed violence of his anger, all the more threatening in its quiet, assured delivery, Pippa fought a lifetime’s habit to placate and appease. Instead she lifted her chin a little higher, met his glare with her own.
    â€˜I will not discuss my clients with you, Mr Mason. My affairs, and theirs, are none of your business.’
    â€˜You don’t deny it, then? You don’t deny your role in ending my brother’s engagement to Lucy? For god’s sake, they were going to be married , they came to you—’
    â€˜I will not discuss my clients with you. Goodnight, Mr Mason.’
    Pippa was proud of the way she controlled her breath and her tone. She could do nothing about her hands, trembling as she snapped shut the lock on her briefcase, but she trusted the darkness to hide their tremors. He grabbed her elbow as she turned away, and she almost stumbled in her stilettoes as she wrenched her arm out of his grip, her skin burning from the brief contact. ‘Do not manhandle me!’
    â€˜I wasn’t manhandling you.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at her. ‘We’re not done yet.’
    â€˜Oh yes, Mr Mason, we are very much done.’ Pippa snatched up her briefcase, spun on her spindly heels and strode away. Her confident exit was spoiled a little when she realised she would have to pretend to walk to the car park. She was sure those laser-like eyes were burning another hole in her back. Damn the man, why didn’t he