Free Sold to the Surgeon by Ann Jennings Page B

nodded, and they followed Greg across to one of the rustic wooden picnic tables which were dotted about the site.
    â€œThis is nice,” said Lynne, while Greg went off in search of some wine for their party. “He’s thoughtful isn’t he?”
    â€œSometimes,” replied Abigail, making a face; she was thinking of that afternoon when he’d left her to shoulder the wrath of Sister Collins!
    Greg returned and they sat squashed together eating and drinking. “It tastes really good,” remarked Abigail, tucking in with relish. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was. I could eat a horse.”
    â€œYou probably are,” joked Lynne.
    Rupert laughed, “It’s because of all that energy you’ve used up,” he said, putting an arm around Abigail’s shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Penelope was right—you do smell smoky.”
    â€œYou have no taste,” Abigail teased him. “It’s the latest perfume, ‘Smoke gets in your Eyes’!”
    â€œSorry, but I definitely prefer Chanel No 5,” said Rupert. “Promise me you’ll be wearing that next time I see you.”
    â€œI promise,” laughed Abigail, and kissed him lightly on the side of his cheek before turning back to her barbecued supper.
    It was as she turned that she was startled to catch a strange gleam in Greg’s dark eyes. She was certain it was almost a kind of anger she saw glinting in the depths of his eyes. At least, she thought it was a kind of anger. But why? Why should he be angry? Puzzled, she stared back, only to find his gaze caught hers and ensnared it. Suddenly the memory of him on the night of the storm flashed before her mind’s eye; she could see him sitting in her kitchen, his bronzed torso gleaming in the light of the lamp while his shirt had been drying. At the uninvited memory, an involuntary shiver ran the length of her spine, and hurriedly she looked at her plate, afraid that her agitated thoughts might be mirrored in her eyes. Precisely at that moment Penelope Orchard chose to come across to their table, and for once in her life Abigail was actually glad to see her.
    â€œHi, everyone,” Penelope purred throatily, sliding her elegant form down on to the wooden seat beside Rupert. “I really must congratulate you, Lynne, you’ve organised a superb barbecue supper as usual, and I gather we’re to have live music as well as the canned variety this year.”
    Lynne looked at her watch. “Thanks,” she said briefly, then stood up. “I’d better ask Bruce and Dougie to start playing, we only have until half past midnight on the site.” She left them and went off to find the two guitar players.
    The assembled company crowded round the fire, which had been given a new lease of life. Someone had thrown on some dry logs, and the orange flames licked hungrily at the tinder-dry bark, illuminating the faces of the crowd. Soon everyone was singing along in company with the lilting music.
    In the crush Abigail lost sight of Rupert, but she didn’t worry, she knew he was there somewhere and she would find him when it was time to go. She was content to sit on the sweet-smelling grass watching the faces of her friends in the flickering firelight.
    â€œYou look like a pixie sitting there with your knees hunched up under your chin.” Greg’s voice at her side startled her. He sat down beside her and casually draped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s a lovely evening isn’t it?” he said.
    Abigail stiffened at the touch of his arm. “Yes, it is a lovely evening,” she agreed uneasily. “At this time of the year the weather is usually beautiful in England.”
    â€œIt wasn’t the weather I had in mind,” he rejoined, his low voice and teasing. “I was thinking how lovely it was sitting here with you.”
    â€œOh,” said