The Forbidden Innocent Read Free

‘formidable’ really meant. Little piecesof reality began to lock together to form a bigger picture which suddenly became crystal-clear.
    And Ashley’s heart began to pound as she realised just who the man on the horse had been. Her brand-new boss—Jack Marchant.

CHAPTER TWO
    T HE bare branches of the tree rattled wildly against Ashley’s window but she barely heard them as she stared out into the garden. All she could think about was the man with the hard black eyes who had fallen from his horse—and how she had unwittingly tumbled across her new boss in the most bizarre of circumstances.
    Her new boss.
    She swallowed down her panic. Was he hurt?
Badly
hurt? Lying even now in some sterile cubicle at the local accident and emergency department—with some slow haemorrhage seeping all the lifeblood out of him? So that maybe she would never get the chance to see him or speak to him again.
    She wondered what the X-ray would show—because she knew how life could change in a heartbeat. One moment, you could be out galloping and enjoying life and the next. She swallowed. What if he had been badly injured—and if that were the case, then hadn’t she been a fool for letting him ride off alone like that?
    But Christine had said there was no news—andnothing for her to do until Mr Marchant returned—and so Ashley had gone to her own room, to quieten her thudding heart and try to calm herself. And once she had washed her hands and brushed her hair she looked around at the subdued comfort of her brand-new room to try to calm her ruffled nerves.
    She was more used to accommodation the size of a shoe-box but this one was huge. There was a queen-sized bed covered with a cashmere throw—as well as extra blankets in the cupboard, since Christine had warned her that these northern temperatures could plummet. A sofa heaped with cushions overlooked the gardens and there was a small television set perched on top of a beautiful chest of drawers.
    ‘Mr Marchant doesn’t really watch a lot of television and we don’t have it on much downstairs,’ Christine had confided. ‘But I told him that you can’t bring people out into the middle of nowhere without giving them anything to entertain themselves of an evening!’
    Ashley had smiled. No, she couldn’t really imagine the brooding Jack Marchant huddled over a soap opera or some kind of reality game show.
    Actually, she wasn’t a great fan of TV herself and, pulling a paperback from the small pile of books she’d brought with her, she sat down and began to read as she waited for news from the hospital. But for once the words failed to conjure up the power to take her into the imaginary world she preferred to the real-life version. Instead, she kept seeing images of that powerful body lying crumpled and temporarily winded.
    So
that
had been Jack Marchant. She had been expecting someone older—and more remote. Some bespectacled and crusty academic, perhaps—as befitted the author of several well-received military biographies who was branching out into novel-writing. But he had been the very opposite of that. Different, in fact, from anyone she’d ever met.
    Her book forgotten, she hugged her arms around her chest. Ashley had mixed with plenty of boys when she’d been growing up, but they had been just that—boys—with all their swagger and bravado. Whereas the man who had leaned on her today had exuded a commanding masculinity she’d never experienced before. And she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to deal with someone like that on a day-to-day basis.
    But you don’t have to deal with anything other than the work he gives you to do,
taunted a small voice inside her head.
He’s your boss, remember? You type his work for him, you live quietly in his house—and at the end of every month you collect the generous salary he’s providing. That’s the reason you’re here, after all.
    Her thoughts were broken by a sudden tap on her bedroom door—and she opened it to find