Chapters (39)
- Cover
- About the Authors
- ALSO BY BARBARA & STEPHANIE KEATING
- Map
- Dedication
- Blood Sisters
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Glossary
‘Hannah, you’ve always worked together, and you’ll have to go on doing that. He’s my manager, for God’s sake, and you shouldn’t let go of that vital fact. He has his job to do, and you have yours. So stop talking about Viktor all the time. Use some tact and common sense, Sis, and get on with your work.’
In the office she had tried to concentrate on the week’s accounts, but it was a grey morning and her mind refused any attempt at discipline. After an hour she gave up and went outside, calling for the dogs. She was halfway down the drive when she came across Lars, walking out of the stores.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked her.
‘I thought I’d take the dogs for a walk.’
‘I will come with you,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’
She could think of no reason to refuse his offer. They walked for a while in silence.
‘I was wondering whether you are planning to visit Sarah soon,’ Lars said.
‘No. I’m going to stay here for the time being. I want to stay at home.’
‘Waiting for him to return, I suppose,’ he said. ‘So that he can play with you and hurt you, and drive a wedge between us, and then leave you.’
‘For God’s sake, Lars, I don’t know what’s got into you,’ she said. ‘What I think about Viktor is nothing to do with you. I know you have special feelings for me, but I’ve told you I’m not ready for that. So don’t bring it up again. You’re here to run this farm, not to act as some kind of policeman in my private life.’
‘Is that how you see me, even now?’ He was furious. ‘As a hired hand that you can just ignore, because some fancy gigolo turns up from Nairobi and gets you into his bed?’
They came to a halt and were standing face to face on the path. There was an awful silence around them, and even the birds and crickets had ceased to sing so that the air was oppressive and deathly still.
‘Don’t you dare to talk to me in that way, Lars Olsen,’ she shouted at him, all composure gone. Her heart was hammering in her ears and she was scarlet with rage. ‘I’m a grown woman and I’ll decide what I want to do with my life. If you’re going to work here you’ll have to respect that.’