Page 61 of Riding High

Eden was instantly rocketed back to the present, and she just managed to catch her shocked gasp.Shit!They werehere?Tara and Vince?In the house?What thehell?Meeting them when her head was still reeling from good– no, fabulous sex– and feeling upside down and inside out, was not an option.If, or when, she spoke to them again, hopefully never, she needed to be calm and collected, mentally alert.

‘Are they staying for lunch?’Jed asked breezily.

‘I asked, but they said they have to get back to the city, but Troyden will persuade them,’ Diana said, sounding certain.

Jed smiled.‘He always does.’

Shit.Shehadto avoid them.And that meant missing out on Diana’s famous chicken pie.A pity, because she was starving.

Eden edged away from Jed, her hand in his.She tugged, but he refused to let go.She tugged harder and finally got him to look at her, and she widened her eyes, silently asking him to release her.

‘Where are you going?’

His grip on her hand tightened.Dear God, the man had no idea how to take a hint.Stepping closer to him, she stood on her toes so that her lips were an inch from his ear.‘Jed, I need to go to the bathroom, and… clean up,’ she whispered.It was, she thought, a decent excuse, and one he couldn’t argue with.

It worked as a hint of a blush appeared on the ridges of his ears.‘Ah… right.’He squeezed her hand and touched his lips to her temple.

‘Hurry back, Alistair might eat your portion if you’re not here.’

What excuse could she come up with if the Bancrofts joined them for lunch?Could she manufacture an emergency around the charity polo match?But Jed and Mick were on the committee and could easily fact-check her.Maybe she could say that a pipe in her flat had burst?

God, she hated lying, but what choice did she have?She had to avoid the Bancrofts, and not only because she wanted to.She’d been instructed to keep her involvement in the case quiet, to not discuss it with anyone and she did not want to get on the wrong side of the Metropolitan Police.She could live without an obstruction of justice or impeding an investigation charge levied against her.

She would figure out an excuse later, crossing that bridge when she came to it.Right now, she needed to slip up to her room, use the bathroom– she had the opportunity so she might as well clean up, brush her hair and splash water on her face– and then she’d tiptoe down the stairs, and wait in the corridor.There was a massive, convenient suit of armour she could hide behind, just a few yards from the study door.She’d hang out with the seventeenth-century equivalent of Iron Man until she could establish whether the Bancrofts would be joining the family for lunch or not.

How much longer could she keep juggling these emotional balls?She pushed her hands into her eye sockets, feeling the burn of tears.She was physically tired and emotionally whipped.

Hopefully, not for that much longer.But whether it was five days or five weeks, what choice did she have?Walk away from Jed and the family now, or stay for as long as she could, banking a few more memories?It was a simple choice to make.She’d been alone before and would be alone again, but not today.Not tonight.

Hopefully not tomorrow, or the next day.The best scenario was to keep the situation under wraps until the charity polo match was over.The Castle clan might hate her, but at least Hope Harbour would be saved.And by helping to organise the event, she would’ve been a force for good, not destruction.

That had to count for something, right?